Chapter 6
Gradually the boxes were unpacked and Nora began to organize her life.
Tidying, sorting, choosing which things to throw away, which to keep.
Finding a place for every object, a nuance in every gesture, a motive behind every decision.
She was furnishing both her house and her life, the life of a single mother with daily responsibilities that weren’t the most straightforward.
Her children gave her the motivation to deal with myriad things, but at the end of the first week her confidence took a knock when Inès and Nassim walked out the front door, their overnight bags slung over their shoulders, and climbed into their father’s car.
The door slammed shut with a week on her own ahead of her, during which she found herself beset by doubts.
She missed them. What was she doing there, all alone in an empty house?
Wasn’t she supposed to be with her children, no matter the sacrifice?
Had she really tried everything before making such a radical decision?
The relationship between her and Gérard remained strained.
He was furious with her for leaving, for not having given their relationship another chance, and thus denying their family a future.
And to make matters worse, she hadn’t found a job yet.
Her financial situation was terrible, and every morning, when the mailbox spat out nothing but bills and flyers, she had to fight to keep panic at bay.
And then, one Tuesday, two weeks after she moved into the house on rue Edmond-Petit, a phone call shone the first ray of sunshine onto the gloom of her increasingly worrying situation.
It was the principal of the nursery school, Madame Stillet.
When she realized who she was speaking to, Nora held her breath.
Her heart began to race. After the usual preliminaries, Madame Stillet told her she was going to take her on part-time, for an initial three-month probationary period.
Nora stifled a triumphant little cry. She would obviously have preferred a full-time job, but this half-positive answer was nonetheless excellent news.
Madame Stillet said she’d like her to start the following week, and Nora found herself getting all tangled up in thanks.
At last, some good news. The proverbial light at the end of the tunnel.
Even if it was still only a faint glimmer, Nora was determined to see in it a sign that things were going to get better.
The children were with their father, which meant she’d have to wait until the following Sunday before she could tell them the news.
Not that she couldn’t phone them, on the contrary: she spoke to them briefly every evening, just to hear their voices, ask about their day, send them her love.
But she didn’t want Gérard to know yet. Not right away, not until she actually started working.
Instead, the newly minted kindergarten assistant called her lifelong friend Mathilde.
She had to celebrate with someone. Mathilde answered on the second ring.
She tried to understand through Nora’s laughter and cries of joy what she was so happy about, and let out a shriek of delight when she eventually understood.
“Can you get away this evening?” asked Nora. “I don’t want to celebrate on my own.”
“I could be at yours around eight. That way I’ll have time to put the little one to bed. Do you want to go out?”
“Not necessarily, we could have a bite to eat at my place.”
“I’ll bring the champagne!”
It was a wonderful evening. The two women sat on the deck enjoying the mild early summer evening that foreshadowed the gorgeous days and starry nights to come.
For the first time in weeks, Nora felt renewed self-confidence.
She wasn’t out of the woods yet, but at least there was some hope that things were soon to get better.
“What you have to do is make yourself indispensable,” Mathilde told her. “I bet you at the end of the three months she’ll be begging you to work full-time.”
“I goddamn hope so!”
Mathilde and Nora had known each other since their mildly reckless student days.
They’d plotted their dazzling futures, shared the typical sorrows and joys of that age of promise, sworn to be friends forever.
And then they’d lost touch. Mathilde met her first husband, who sent her into exile in the suburbs of Paris.
There were rules to being in a couple: girls’ nights out became more and more infrequent, and then Mathilde’s pregnancy finished the friendship off entirely.
They saw each other again five years later, quite by chance.
Nora, by then pregnant with Inès, and Mathilde, divorced but about to remarry, fell into each other’s arms, swore to see each other again soon.
Another four years passed until they reconnected on Mathilde’s initiative: she had just had her second child, and she wanted Nora to be godmother.
Nora was surprised and delighted to accept, and this time the friendship was truly rekindled.
They introduced their respective families, and the two couples began inviting each other over regularly.
Nora and Gérard succumbed to the charms of the affluent suburb where their friends lived, and a few months later they moved there too. That was where Nassim was born.
The two friends spoke to and saw each other all the time.
Mathilde gave birth to her third child, a little girl named Justine, who was now four.
Even though she was juggling work and marriage, she was very present during the painful period of her friend’s separation, always there to listen to Nora’s sorrows and anger.
She was particularly good not only with supportive words, but also with healing silences.
For Mathilde, too, the evening was life-affirming: it had been too long since they spent such a joyful time together, and to see Nora getting tipsy for a reason other than her misfortunes was a delight.
“Okay, so you’re a kindergarten assistant.” Mathilde giggled as she refilled their glasses. “How about this: a three-year-old kid keeps smacking his little buddies. What do you do?”
“I crush his hand in the door to teach him a lesson,” Nora answered as if it were obvious.
“Excellent!” Mathilde laughed. “How about this, then: a little girl asks you to go with her to the bathroom, except you’re on your own, surrounded by kids, and you can’t leave the classroom.”
“That doesn’t work. I’m the one who’s meant to be helping the teacher with this kind of thing.”
“Let’s say she’s had to leave the classroom for half an hour.”
“Well then, I tell her she has to hold it in.”
Mathilde burst out laughing.
“You’re going to be great, babe. You’re going to be a real hit.”
“You said it.”
“You know what, I’d kill for a joint.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Nope. I haven’t smoked in years. I have this urge suddenly.”
Nora grinned at the memory of getting stoned with Mathilde when they were students; endless late nights filled with delirious laughter.
“Well, we don’t have any weed, anyway,” she said, lifting her shoulders in mock resignation.
“I do,” said a voice from the other side of the hedge.
The two women started with surprise. For a moment they stared at each other, each trying to work out from the other’s expression how to respond.
A figure appeared through the foliage, standing on next door’s deck.
“Hi there!” said Nora, with insincere enthusiasm.
“Hi,” answered Tiphaine.
“Hi!” said Mathilde in turn, suppressing an embarrassed giggle.
“So, will you join me?” asked Tiphaine.
Mathilde and Nora exchanged a glance. Hesitation quickly gave way to excitement, and they acknowledged their assent with perfectly synchronized nods.
“Do you want to come over here, Tiphaine?”
“Oh no! You should come over to my place.”
“All right.”
“Bring the champagne,” said Tiphaine.