Queen of the Trailer Park (Rosie Maldonne's World Book 1) (17 page)

48

We were finally able to sit down and enjoy our picnic in peace.

The birds were singing, the river was babbling, and the ants were tickling our legs.

Food, glorious food! What a picnic!

But not quite: we’d hardly started on our sandwiches when the noise of a motorbike assaulted our ears.

I was trying to persuade Simon that there was
not
too much butter on his bread, that the fat from the ham
had
been removed, that all his lettuce leaves were now in
my
sandwich, that the seeds had been painstakingly removed from
all three
of his measly slices of tomatoes, and that the crust on his bread was
not
too hard. Basically, I was trying to get him to swallow at least one mouthful—when I saw the head of Jérôme Gallo pop up from behind the ruins.

His motorcycle roared and he almost ran into all four of us. I guess he wasn’t expecting to find us in that particular spot. He was a bit late, but I was glad to see he was worried about me. He was practically my knight in shining armor, right?

“Hey! Hold your horses!” I shouted as I continued to deal with Simon.

“But . . . what are you doing?”

“We’re having a picnic. You?”

“Was it you who left a message with us?”

“Yes, sir!”

“Well, so . . .”

“Well, so what?”

“Where are your attackers?”

“They left.”

“Rosie, come on. You shouldn’t be joking about these things. I can’t keep covering for you. They’re going to ask me what happened.”

“Just tell them then.”

“You’re messing with me. It has to stop.”

“You don’t believe I was attacked? That’s richer than Bill Gates. Do you really think I’m so fu—?” I glanced at Sabrina, who waited to see how I would end that. “That I’m so bored I’d call the cops and make up a story just to pass the time? Do you think I put these marks on my face on purpose too? Or that my clothes are covered in mud because I enjoy rolling around in the stuff?”

“Uh . . .”

“OK. I’m not going to get angry. It hurts that you could think that of me. Sit down and have a sandwich. Let me tell you everything that’s happened.”

Since I’d already blabbed everything to Ismène, I decided I was going to have to be less paranoid, so I went ahead and told Jérôme the whole story too. But if I thought I was onto a winner with that idea, I had another think coming.

Innocent young Jérôme didn’t believe a word of it. He wanted nothing to do with it.

Firstly, he didn’t want to accept that I’d found all that money, even when I showed him how much cash I had in my purse. He said it had to belong to Gaston, who’d given it to me to splash about this weekend.

Secondly, he didn’t want to hear anything about the casino, city hall, or bribery. Just like he’d said a couple of days earlier: he didn’t like getting mixed up in things like that.

And thirdly, he flat out refused to believe that the Mafia’s henchmen had been up that mountain and had attacked us. I suppose if I hadn’t experienced it firsthand, I’d also have trouble getting my head around it all. It really did sound like I’d made that up as I sat there enjoying a picnic with my babies.

“The other day, you asked me where I was getting all my money from. Aren’t you glad you know the truth now?”

He took a sip of his beer and stared at me. Finally, he said, “Listen, enough of this. I’m happy to see you, but my boss will be wondering where I went. I’ll just tell him I couldn’t find you. I don’t need to tell you not to mention any of this the next time you bump into Borelli, do I?”

“Why not?”

“If you don’t understand why not, just think on it a while. It’s best that the cops don’t hear anything about your ludicrous tale. I thought maybe you might have remembered something about Pierre’s case.”

I sulked awhile. I didn’t even tell him about Véro’s phone call. He rode off, his engine backfiring.

After our picnic, we walked as far as the village. We enjoyed an ice cream on the terrace of a lovely little bar. Then I called a taxi and we returned to the hotel. The children played while I took a shower. Afterward, I had a bit of a nap.

We ate in our suite, earlier than usual because our adventures in the mountains had left us wiped out. The nippers fell asleep without any fuss.

I did the same. But just before going to bed, I managed to make a list of everything I had to buy the next day, before I’d have to give all the dough back.

49

I loved making my list.

I can tell you that making a shopping list with no limits is awesome. I could afford to buy anything. A fairy tale come true. Gaston was right: fairy tales do exist.

First off, I’d take care of my four chickies—but then there was Mimi’s kid, Léo, too. I decided I’d go and see him at child services and take him some gifts.

The idea was to make sure my babies didn’t want for anything. And I wanted them to have a bit extra for the years ahead.

Anticipate everything
. Clothes for summer and winter, underwear, outerwear, sports clothes, stuff for school. There was a lot to think about: swimming, dancing, judo, and skiing, both the equipment and membership fees.

I’d also need a whole new wardrobe. For summer and winter too. Plus, I’d always dreamed of having a massage . . .

I also wanted to take this opportunity to book us vacations for Christmas, the February school break, and Easter. We could buy some package deals for all-inclusive ski resorts with transportation and ski lessons for me and the kids. Or why not Club Med? The whole Club Med deal sounded amazing.

I’d have to get a garden shed to put behind my trailer, because there wouldn’t be enough room inside for everything.

Oh, I nearly forgot! I needed a sound system with a really ace microphone, speakers, and a karaoke program so I could practice my singing. And tons of CDs.

The list was endless. I wondered how the hell I could get all this shopping done in one day. It was impossible.

It meant I’d have to keep a little bit more of the cash back, so I could fit in some more shopping while I waited for my next welfare check to come at the end of the month. But wait, after I’d given everything back to the city council on Tuesday, I was going to have journalists and maybe even the cops on my ass. I’d have a hard time buying more stuff inconspicuously, especially if I was going to claim that all the money was accounted for.

There was no way around it. All the shopping had to be done on Monday.

I went to bed at a quarter to nine and fell asleep without a second thought—my face on top of my pile of lists. At a quarter past nine, my cricket started chirping. I awoke with a start.

“Hello?”

“Rosie, is that you?”

“Gaston! How’s it going?”

“Did I wake you?”

“Yes.”

“I just got back.”

“I saw you in the paper. Did you have a good time?”

“Amazing! Everyone was wonderful. Do you have plans tomorrow? Think you’ll need a chauffeur?”

“Yes! How did you guess?”

“I want you to sign up for your driving exam. I hope you didn’t forget that. And your trailer is being delivered tomorrow.”

“You’re such a stubborn old thing. I have so much to do. I don’t even know if I’ve got time to do it all. I absolutely have to get everything done tomorrow. I’ve only got one day. I can’t tell you why, but . . .”

“I’m the king of organization. I can help you with it all. No questions asked.”

“I’ve actually made a list—”

“Perfect. You should always start with a list.”

“You want to come over and see it?”

“Yes, I’ll come over now and go through tomorrow’s program, and then I’ll leave you in peace.”

He showed up at my suite with a bottle of champagne. He gave my list the once-over and added
driving school
to the bottom. He asked if I wanted to take a foreign-language class while I was at it.

“Learning languages can be very expensive. A lot of progress has been made with all these modern methods, and everyone needs to be able to speak another language these days. My entire life I’ve regretted not learning one.”

“Not me,” I said.

“Yes, you and everybody else. Stop going around thinking you don’t live in the same world as the rest of us. Look, here’s how I see it. This list needs several columns. You need to group the items geographically so we can plan the best route. First of all, we make a phone call to the trailer salesman. We want him to deliver it without either one of us having to be there. Next, let’s start with all the intangible items. Club memberships, vacations . . . all that can be done downtown. I’ll drop you off in front of the shops. I can double-park . . . No, I have a better plan: we’ll rent a driver for the day, and he can stay in the car! That way, we won’t get any tickets. We should have enough time in the morning to cover it all. One: driving school. Two: Club Med. Three: language lessons. Four: judo and dance at the fitness center. Five: massages. Then lunch. We’ll go to a restaurant for lunch. In the afternoon, we’ll go to the sports store. And then . . . Where do you want to buy your clothes?”

“Um . . . Monoprix and H&M?”

“Only two shops?”

“That’s more than enough. And what about the shed? We need to go to a garden store for that, don’t we?”

“Fine, that’s perfect.”

I showed him to the door. He leaned in to kiss me on the cheeks, and somehow exactly the same thing that had happened with Ismène happened again. I really don’t know what had gotten into me. My face turned rosy pink like an offended virgin. He didn’t seem to have noticed.

I was cross. With myself, of course. I slammed the door in his face. Yes, I know it wasn’t his fault, but that’s just the way I am. I went back to bed.

50

After an hour I woke up in a sweat. This time, the words I awoke to were downright scary. Impossible to put a name to the band. It was more my mom’s era.

The lyrics spoke about a dead-end street—a kitchen sink leaking, a ceiling cracking, can’t pay the rent, out of work, and, most importantly, got no money. No money. No money. Money. Money.

Holy shit. The fucking money.
Thanks, Mom
.

There’s no way I had enough in my purse for tomorrow’s shopping. And I’d have to pay for everything in cash. I needed to pick up my hidden stash in the railway station before Tuesday anyway, and I wouldn’t have the time to do it tomorrow. There was too much to do. How was I going to get it all back before it was too late?

There was only one solution. I’d have to go now.

I got dressed as quickly as I could. But I couldn’t leave the babas alone in the middle of the night. What if they woke up?

Pastis rubbed against my legs. He wanted to go for a roam outside too. He must have wondered why he’d been locked inside this prison. What had he done wrong? It was a five-star prison, of course, but all the same . . .

Pastis wasn’t the ideal babysitter.

Then I realized. Gaston.

I made a quick call to Gaston and asked him to take care of the kiddies.

Gaston came without the slightest complaint. Such a gentleman. He didn’t even ask me what I was doing. He just left me to get on with it, adding as I was leaving, “Don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll watch over them. Come back to us soon!”

Clearly this guy was too good to be true.

I walked down to the old railway station by way of a whole bunch of detours, just in case Marco or the other guy was following me. I thought about Jérôme and how he spent his nights in the hotel parking lot looking up at my window, but I’d never seen him.

When I got there, the first thing I did was take a look at my broken-up trailer.

It was as depressing as ever.

Michel wasn’t there. At least that was something. Perhaps this whole sorry tale was finally taking an upturn? Slowly.

I took a plastic bag from the back of a closet, dumped out all the useless contents I’d crammed into it, and then went out to the tree and climbed up to the second floor of the station.

I filled the bag up with the mint I’d stashed in the back of the drawer.

I had a sudden brainwave. Rather than go with my first idea and hand back the money so publicly, maybe I should try to negotiate with the mayor in private. I certainly had a powerful bargaining tool. Either he abandoned the idea of the casino and gave me the right to camp forever,
ad vitam aeternam
, in the new library garden (discreetly, of course) or I’d expose his corruption in public.

Either way, I’d still lose my jackpot. I went over and over the problem and all its possible outcomes. I couldn’t find a way of playing it where I’d also be able to keep the stash.

As I made my way back to the hotel, bag in hand, I thought of what was ahead of me the next day. Not the shopping—no, that was cool. It was going to be incredible. I was really going to go wild.

No. I was mulling over seeing Véro, trying to work out the best way of finding her. I could go very early in the morning, as soon as the Midi Health Insurance building opened, sneak in, root her out, and talk to her.

No, that was stupid. In the daytime, Véro would be well hidden. I’d never manage to find her. And I couldn’t exactly go in there shouting out her name. There’d be too many people. The best was to go at night, just as they were closing the building. I could slip into a bathroom, maybe near a fire exit, or hide in a janitor’s closet and wait quietly until all the employees had left. I’d have to find her before the cleaners showed up to work.

I could ask Gaston to pick up the kiddos from school and daycare and babysit them awhile.

Back in my suite, I found him absorbed in a book of poetry.

“What are those poems about?”

“The memory of the sea. The fact that she understands the diversity of the human species. A diversity that could guarantee our survival. The memory of stones. How they relate the history of mankind, tell us stories of our common ancestors. But they’re only metaphors, of course.”

“Exciting. Say, Gaston . . .”

“Yes?”

“At four thirty tomorrow, we’ll have to be finished with our spree, because I have to pick up the munchkins, and then I’ve got something to do at the Midi Health Insurance building.”

“You’re right to think about the little ones.”

“Do you think you could pick them up while I go there? It would be quicker that way. And they’d get bored with me. I’ll write a note so you can collect them, and then could you stay with them until I get back?”

Gaston, classy as ever, said, “But of course, my dear! It would be my pleasure.”

The song in my head told me we were strictly second class, living on dead-end streets—that everyone was living on dead-end streets, would live and die on dead-end streets.

Gaston was living proof that the song was a total lie.