The Night Of The Bulls

Dionne shook her head helplessly. ‘I – I saw the caravan,’ she murmured. ‘I thought—’ She shrugged. ‘Never mind, I – look, Louise, this isn’t a social visit.’ She made a helpless gesture. ‘Surely you are not too young to realize that I would not be a welcome visitor at the mas.’

Louise’s eyes clouded. ‘Grand’m?re gets very few visitors,’ she said sadly. ‘But why are you here, Dionne? I thought Manoel went to see you last night.’

Dionne frowned. ‘You know about that?’

Louise shrugged. ‘But of course,’ she said, with typical continental inconsequence. ‘I recognized your voice on the telephone. It was I who told Manoel you must be here.’

Dionne pressed her hands to her sides. ‘And does – does everyone know this?’

Louise grimaced and kicked at the scrub grass beneath their feet. ‘Oh, non, not everyone. Just Manoel and me.’

Dionne bit her lip. ‘Tell me something, Louise,’ she said. ‘Is – is your father no longer at the mas?’

‘Papa is dead!’ Louise spoke regretfully. ‘He died two years ago. Manoel is in charge of the manade now. This is his farm, these are his bulls.’

Dionne shook her head in amazement. ‘I never guessed,’ she murmured, almost to herself. Then: ‘Does your mother still live with Manoel?’

Louise nodded. ‘Of course. And Yvonne.’

A knife twisted in Dionne’s stomach. ‘Oh, yes, Yvonne,’ she agreed tautly.

Louise stared at her for a long moment. ‘You are looking thinner, Dionne. How have you been? Are you still teaching?’

Dionne compressed her lips. ‘Oh, yes,’ she said dully. ‘Yes, I still teach. And you? Are you finished school?’

‘Manoel wants to send me to a school in Switzerland, but I don’t want to go. I love it here. I can see no possible reason for him to send me away. Just because he finds life so impossible.’ She flicked a glance in Dionne’s direction. ‘You know of Yvonne’s accident, of course.’

Dionne’s attention was riveted. ‘No,’ she denied swiftly. ‘What accident?’

Louise shrugged. ‘She was gored by a bull. She is paralysed from the waist down.’

Dionne gasped in horror. Louise said it so chillingly, so carelessly. Almost as though she considered the accident was nothing more than Yvonne’s due.

‘But how terrible!’ Dionne spread her hands. ‘When – when did this happen?’

Louise shrugged again. ‘Soon after you left, I suppose. Is it important?’

‘You don’t think so?’ Dionne was horrified.

Louise played with the reins of the bridle. ‘Yvonne asked for all she got,’ she said coldly. ‘She was angry with Manoel, and she thought she could annoy him by teasing his bulls.’ She gave a characteristic movement of her shoulders. ‘No one can play with bulls!’

Dionne tugged at a strand of silky hair that had come loose from her chignon. No wonder Manoel looked so much older, so much more experienced. What a terrible time it must have been for him!

Now Louise touched her arm lightly. ‘It’s good to see you again, Dionne. I mean that. But why did you want to see Manoel? I thought — we thought—’ She halted abruptly, biting her lips. ‘Are you staying long in the Camargue?’

Dionne fingered the rim of the car door absently. ‘I don’t know, Louise. It – it depends.’

Louise sighed. ‘Did you come out here to see Manoel?’

Dionne hesitated and then she nodded. ‘Yes. Where is he?’

‘Actually he is away today,’ replied Louise, frowning. ‘At the vineyards.’ She stared at the other girl for a long moment. ‘What happened last night?’

‘What do you mean?’ Dionne pretended not to understand.

‘Between you and my brother? Dionne, you know what I mean. He came home in a terrible temper! Not even Yvonne dared to question him. Only I guessed you must have had a row.’

Dionne made a wry face. ‘I must go, Louise. If Manoel is not here, there’s no point – I mean – I have no reason to go to the mas.’

‘And Grand’m?re? Do I tell her I’ve seen you?’

Dionne slid behind the wheel of the car. ‘I can’t stop you, of course,’ she said. ‘But perhaps it would not be kind, in the circumstances.’

‘Oh, Dionne!’ Louise clenched her fists, leaning on the bonnet of the car. ‘Why are you so secretive? Why have you come back after all this time? Surely you must have known what it would do to Manoel to see you again – now!’

Dionne started the car’s engine. ‘I’m sorry, Louise. I’m sorry if you think I’m secretive. And I would have liked to see Gemma.’ Her voice broke, and she shook her head. ‘Good-bye.’

‘Good-bye, Dionne.’ Louise straightened and then ran a few steps to catch up with her again. ‘May I come to see you at the hotel before you leave?’

Dionne’s fingers tightened on the wheel. ‘I don’t think that would be a very good idea,’ she said. ‘Au revoir.’

Louise raised a hand in farewell, and Dionne reversed on up the track until she came to a wider point where she could turn the car. Then she drove swiftly away, the lump in her throat threatening to choke her.

CHAPTER THREE (#u40a77a8b-5df9-5d81-9a1b-11e1b7ca488f)

AFTER dinner that evening Dionne went up to her room to write to Clarry. She needed to do something, some normal thing that had little to do with the Mas St. Salvador and its unhappy associations.

All day she had thought about Yvonne’s accident until her head ached with the futility of trying to guess at the other girl’s feelings. How terrible, she thought compassionately, to be paralysed, possibly for life! She forgot Yvonne’s maliciousness of the past; all she remembered was her skill on horseback, her superb physical condition, all destroyed in the space of a few careless minutes. And Yvonne was not the kind of person to accept her fate without constantly railing against it.

Dionne took out pen and paper, but she made no attempt to write. Unbidden came thoughts of Manoel and of the hopelessness of his position. He was such a virile man, so strong and vital. Did Yvonne vent her wrath on him? Was that why he wore that look of strain, that weary jaded air that had tom Dionne’s heart?

She cupped her chin on her hands tightly, willing the tears that pricked her eyes to go away. She ought not to have come here. She ought not to have allowed Clarry to persuade her that she owed this to Jonathan. What good would it do if nothing came of it except to leave Dionne feeling worse than she had ever done before she knew what had happened here?

Her lips softened. If only things could have been different, she thought desperately. If only she and Manoel had never been parted. Surely what they had shared had meant something to him. Theirs had seemed such a strong relationship and yet it had been severed so swiftly. Even now it was impossible not to feel the exquisite pain of that separation, made all the more poignant by what came after.