Part 11 (1/2)

”She wasn't very saintly,” said Soeur Therese.

”Nono,” agreed Soeur Extase. ”Not very saintly at all.”

”That's because she's a Salannaise,” replied Desiree. ”Not a mealymouthed Houssine.” She smiled and took Aristide's hand. ”I wish you'd been there, Aristide. I wish you'd heard her speak. It's been too long since our son drowned, thirty years too long. Since then, there's been nothing but bitterness and rage. You couldn't cry-you couldn't pray-you drove our other son away with your anger and your bullying-”

”Shut up,” said Aristide, his face stony.

Desiree shook her head. ”Not this time,” she said. ”You pick fights with everyone. You even pick on Mado when she suggests that life might go on instead of stopping here. What you really want is to see everything go down with Olivier. You. Me. Xavier. Everyone gone. Everything finished.”

Aristide looked at her. ”Desiree, please-”

”It's a miracle, Aristide,” she said. ”It's as if he'd spoken to me himself. If only you'd seen it ...” And in the rosy light she raised her face toward the Saint, and at that moment I saw something falling gently down toward her from the high dark alcove, something like scented snow. Desiree Bastonnet kneeled on Pointe Griznoz, surrounded by mimosa blossoms.

At that all eyes turned to the Saint's alcove. For a second it seemed that something moved-a jumping shadow, perhaps, cast by the lamps.

”There's someone up there!” snapped Aristide, and s.n.a.t.c.hing the rifle from his grandson's hands, he took aim and shot both barrels at the Saint in her alcove. There was a loud crack, shocking in the sudden silence.

”Trust Aristide to fire at a miracle,” said Toinette. ”You'd fire at the Virgin of Lourdes if you could, you halfwit, wouldn't you?”

Aristide looked abashed. ”I was sure sure I saw someone-” I saw someone-”

Desiree had stood up at last, her hands still full of flowers. ”I know you did.”

The confusion lasted several minutes. Xavier, Desiree, Aristide, and the nuns were at the center of it, each trying to stem the wave of questions that broke upon them. People wanted to see the miraculous flowers, to hear the Saint's words, to inspect the signs on the wall of the chapel. Looking beyond the Pointe I thought for a moment I saw something bobbing against the waves far below, and in a lull of the turning tide I might even have heard a splash, like something hitting the water. But that could have been anything. The figure in the alcove-if it had been there at all-was gone.

3.

A round of drinks in Angelo's bar-reopened for this exceptional occasion-did much to calm us. Apprehensions and suspicions were forgotten, the devinnoise devinnoise poured freely, and half an hour later the scene had swung into what was almost a carnival mood. poured freely, and half an hour later the scene had swung into what was almost a carnival mood.

The children, delighted at this excuse to stay up, played at pinball in one corner of the bar. There would be no school in the morning, and that was in itself cause enough for celebration. Xavier eyed Mercedes shyly, and for the first time was eyed in return. Between drinks, Toinette cheerily insulted as many people as she could. The nuns had finally persuaded Desiree to go back to bed, but Aristide was there, looking oddly subdued. Flynn came in at the tail end of the crowd, wearing a black knitted cap that covered his hair. He winked briefly at me, then settled himself discreetly at a table behind me. GrosJean sat beside me with his devinnoise devinnoise, smoking a Gitane, smiling incessantly. From being afraid that the strange ceremony might have distressed him in some way, I realized that for the first time since my return, my father seemed truly happy.

He remained by my side for over an hour, then left so quietly that I barely saw him go. I did not try to follow him; I didn't want to tip the delicate balance between us. But from the window I watched him as he made his way home, only the glow of his cigarette faintly visible above the dune.

The discussion went on; Matthias, sitting at the largest table with the most influential Salannais gathered around him, was utterly convinced that the appearance of Sainte-Marine had indeed been a miracle.

”What else could it be?” he demanded, sipping a third devinnoise devinnoise. ”History is filled with examples of the supernatural interceding in daily life. Why not here?”

Already there were as many variations to the story as there were witnesses. Some declared they had actully seen the Saint fly fly to her perch in the ruined tower. Others had heard ghostly music. Toinette, given pride of place alongside Matthias and Aristide and greatly enjoying the attention, sipped her drink and explained how she had been the first to notice the signs on the church wall. There was no doubt it was a miracle, she said. Who could have found the missing Saint? Who could have carried her all the way across to La Griznoz? Who could have lifted her to the niche? No one human, certainly. It simply wasn't possible. to her perch in the ruined tower. Others had heard ghostly music. Toinette, given pride of place alongside Matthias and Aristide and greatly enjoying the attention, sipped her drink and explained how she had been the first to notice the signs on the church wall. There was no doubt it was a miracle, she said. Who could have found the missing Saint? Who could have carried her all the way across to La Griznoz? Who could have lifted her to the niche? No one human, certainly. It simply wasn't possible.

”Plus there's the bell,” declared Omer. ”We all heard that. What else could it have been but La Marinette? And the marks on the chapel wall-”

Certainly, it was agreed, something supernatural had been at work. But what did it mean? Desiree had taken it as a message from her son. Aristide did not speak of this but stayed unusually thoughtful over his drink. Toinette said it meant our luck was on the turn; Matthias hoped for better fis.h.i.+ng. Capucine left, taking Lolo with her, but she too seemed subdued, and I wondered if she was thinking of her daughter on the mainland. I tried to catch Flynn's eye, but he seemed happy to let the discussion take its course. I took my cue from him and waited.

”You're losing your touch, Rouget,” Alain told him. ”I thought you at least would be able to tell us how the Saint flew up La Griznoz on her own.”

Flynn shrugged. ”Search me. If I knew how to work miracles, I'd be off this dump and drinking champagne in Paris.”

The tide had dropped, and the wind with it. The clouds were dispersing, and beyond them the sky was red raw with the approach of dawn. Someone suggested we go back to the chapel and inspect the scene in daylight. A small group volunteered; the rest made their way back home, swaying a little, across the uneven road.

But after close inspection of the marks on the chapel wall, we were still no more enlightened. They looked scorched scorched, somehow, burned into the stones; but there were no letters that anyone could make out, simply some kind of primitive drawing and some numbers.

”It looks like-a sort of plan,” said Omer La Patate. ”Those could be dimensions written there.”

”Maybe it has some religious significance,” suggested Toinette. ”You should ask the sisters.” But the nuns had gone with Desiree, and no one wanted to be the one to miss out by fetching them.

”Perhaps Rouget knows,” suggested Alain. ”He's supposed to be the intello, intello, isn't he, heh?” isn't he, heh?”

Heads nodded in agreement. ”Yes, let's have Rouget here. Come on, let him through.”

Flynn took his time. He looked at the burned marks from every angle. He narrowed his eyes, squinted, tested the wind, walked out to the edge of the cliff and looked out to sea, then returned to touch the marks again with his fingertips. If I hadn't known better I would have believed he had never seen them before in his life. Everyone watched him, awed and expectant. Behind him, the dawn.

At last he looked up.

”Do you know what it means?” said Omer, unable to control his impatience any longer. ”Is it from the Saint?”

Flynn nodded, and though his face remained serious, I could tell he was grinning inside.

4.

Aristide, Matthias, Alain, Omer, Toinette, Xavier, and I listened in silence as Flynn explained. Then Aristide exploded. ”An ark? You're saying she wants us to build an ark? ark?”

Flynn shrugged. ”Not exactly. It's an artificial reef, a floating wall. Whatever you call it, you can see how it works. The sand here”-he pointed to a far point out on La Jetee-”instead of being pulled away from the coast, returns here, to La Goulue. A plug, if you like, to stop Les Salants from leaking away into the sea.”

There was another long, astonished silence.

”And you think the Saint left this?” said Alain.

”Who else?” said Flynn innocently.

Matthias concurred. ”She's our Saint,” he said slowly. ”We asked her to save us. This must be her way of doing it.”

More nods. It made sense. Obviously the Saint's disappearance had been misconstrued; she'd needed the time for research.

Omer looked at Flynn. ”But we don't have anything to build a wall with,” he protested. ”Look what I paid just to bring over the stone for the windmill, heh? Cost me a fortune.”

Flynn shook his head. ”We won't need any stone,” he said. ”This has to be something that floats. And this isn't isn't a seawall. A seawall might stop erosion-for a while, anyway. But this is much better. A reef-properly positioned-builds its own defenses. Given time.” a seawall. A seawall might stop erosion-for a while, anyway. But this is much better. A reef-properly positioned-builds its own defenses. Given time.”