Read Online Too Close to the Edge by Pascal Garnier - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Pascal Garnier
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eh? What would you say?’ he asked insistently.
He was now standing close behind her, his rough hands clamped around her shoulders.
‘You’re hurting me, Paul. It’s the alcohol talking, and the pain you’re in. You should go home.’
‘I’m not pissed. I could drink a whole tank of pastis and I still wouldn’t be drunk. Why shouldn’t I get to do what I want, the way everyone else does? I want you! You have no idea how much I want you!’
Trapped in his gnarly arms, Éliette could do nothing but squirm in her chair, saying over and over again, ‘That’s enough, Paul. You’re hurting me!’
But the harder she fought back, the tighter he gripped. His stubble scratched her cheek. Stale sweat and the taste of aniseed made her retch. They fell to the floor together. Paul’s left hand clasped Éliette’s face, while his right hand groped under her dress. His fingers were like tools, hard and coarse. His breath whooshed in her ear like a pressure hose. The more Éliette squirmed, the more Paul bore down on her, a ton of long-suppressed desire. He was on the verge of penetrating her when a noise rang out like a gong.
Paul let out a groan and fell onto his side, clutching his head. Étienne was standing above them with a cast-iron casserole dish in his hand.
‘Don’t just lie there, Éliette. Run.’
‘Is he …?’
‘No, just stunned. Get out of here.’
Éliette limped out of the kitchen.
Étienne pulled up a chair and placed the casserole dish on his lap. Paul was moaning and wriggling on the ground like a big flaccid worm. Blood was trickling from his ear. He stammered, ‘I didn’t do anything! … I didn’t do anything!’ Étienne kicked him in the side.
‘Get out.’
Paul propped himself up on his elbow and stared at Étienne, red-eyed.
‘Bastard!’
‘Get out, before I do your face in.’
Paul got up on all fours and ran his hand across his blotchy face. He coughed, spat, and eventually got to his feet.
‘You ain’t seen the last of me …’
‘I’m telling you, fuck off or you’re gonna get it!’
‘This isn’t over … No way …’
Paul glared at Étienne, his blue eyes washed out by pastis, and left, cackling like the witch in a bad dream.
Éliette had retreated to the living-room sofa where she lay huddled, clutching her knees to her chest. She wasn’t crying but was shivering uncontrollably. Étienne sat in an armchair facing her. He was incredibly pale.
‘It’s OK. He’s gone.’
Éliette could not unclench her teeth. Her heart was beating like a banging shutter.
‘What can I do to help?’
Éliette raised her eyebrows, but couldn’t produce a sound. She felt a wave of nausea rising in her stomach. She just made it to the toilet in time to throw up her breakfast. It took a good half-hour in the shower to scrub off the smell of Paul which had seeped into her skin. She got changed and threw her soiled clothes into the bin. Étienne was waiting in the garden, smoking a cigarette.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, I think so. It’s just … unbelievable! Thirty years we’ve known each other … I don’t know what got into him … I would never have imagined he was capable of … I don’t know what to do, Étienne. I just don’t know …’
‘He was drunk. Maybe he’ll apologise when he’s sobered up.’
‘Maybe. But I won’t ever forget what’s happened. Things can’t go back to the way they were. What on earth’s been going on the last two days? I don’t have a clue any more! It’sas if the whole world’s gone mad, me included!’
‘That’s life, Éliette, that’s all. You think you’re safe, like when you’re on the motorway; it’s a bit boring, you lose concentration and then … a loose bit of gravel, an insect, and whoops! You’ve lost control, spun round, and find yourself facing the wrong way. But hey, if you’re not dead, you’ll still end up somewhere! I bought some tomatoes and lamb chops. Do you fancy some food?’
‘I’m not
He was now standing close behind her, his rough hands clamped around her shoulders.
‘You’re hurting me, Paul. It’s the alcohol talking, and the pain you’re in. You should go home.’
‘I’m not pissed. I could drink a whole tank of pastis and I still wouldn’t be drunk. Why shouldn’t I get to do what I want, the way everyone else does? I want you! You have no idea how much I want you!’
Trapped in his gnarly arms, Éliette could do nothing but squirm in her chair, saying over and over again, ‘That’s enough, Paul. You’re hurting me!’
But the harder she fought back, the tighter he gripped. His stubble scratched her cheek. Stale sweat and the taste of aniseed made her retch. They fell to the floor together. Paul’s left hand clasped Éliette’s face, while his right hand groped under her dress. His fingers were like tools, hard and coarse. His breath whooshed in her ear like a pressure hose. The more Éliette squirmed, the more Paul bore down on her, a ton of long-suppressed desire. He was on the verge of penetrating her when a noise rang out like a gong.
Paul let out a groan and fell onto his side, clutching his head. Étienne was standing above them with a cast-iron casserole dish in his hand.
‘Don’t just lie there, Éliette. Run.’
‘Is he …?’
‘No, just stunned. Get out of here.’
Éliette limped out of the kitchen.
Étienne pulled up a chair and placed the casserole dish on his lap. Paul was moaning and wriggling on the ground like a big flaccid worm. Blood was trickling from his ear. He stammered, ‘I didn’t do anything! … I didn’t do anything!’ Étienne kicked him in the side.
‘Get out.’
Paul propped himself up on his elbow and stared at Étienne, red-eyed.
‘Bastard!’
‘Get out, before I do your face in.’
Paul got up on all fours and ran his hand across his blotchy face. He coughed, spat, and eventually got to his feet.
‘You ain’t seen the last of me …’
‘I’m telling you, fuck off or you’re gonna get it!’
‘This isn’t over … No way …’
Paul glared at Étienne, his blue eyes washed out by pastis, and left, cackling like the witch in a bad dream.
Éliette had retreated to the living-room sofa where she lay huddled, clutching her knees to her chest. She wasn’t crying but was shivering uncontrollably. Étienne sat in an armchair facing her. He was incredibly pale.
‘It’s OK. He’s gone.’
Éliette could not unclench her teeth. Her heart was beating like a banging shutter.
‘What can I do to help?’
Éliette raised her eyebrows, but couldn’t produce a sound. She felt a wave of nausea rising in her stomach. She just made it to the toilet in time to throw up her breakfast. It took a good half-hour in the shower to scrub off the smell of Paul which had seeped into her skin. She got changed and threw her soiled clothes into the bin. Étienne was waiting in the garden, smoking a cigarette.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, I think so. It’s just … unbelievable! Thirty years we’ve known each other … I don’t know what got into him … I would never have imagined he was capable of … I don’t know what to do, Étienne. I just don’t know …’
‘He was drunk. Maybe he’ll apologise when he’s sobered up.’
‘Maybe. But I won’t ever forget what’s happened. Things can’t go back to the way they were. What on earth’s been going on the last two days? I don’t have a clue any more! It’sas if the whole world’s gone mad, me included!’
‘That’s life, Éliette, that’s all. You think you’re safe, like when you’re on the motorway; it’s a bit boring, you lose concentration and then … a loose bit of gravel, an insect, and whoops! You’ve lost control, spun round, and find yourself facing the wrong way. But hey, if you’re not dead, you’ll still end up somewhere! I bought some tomatoes and lamb chops. Do you fancy some food?’
‘I’m not
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