Josette sighed deeply as if she couldn’t believe how annoying boys could be, and folded her arms, staring directly at him but refusing to give ground. Pierrot held back, wishing they had never come out here at all.
‘All right then,’ she said. ‘What’s the forfeit?’
‘Five francs,’ said Hugo.
‘I’ll owe it to you.’
‘Then I’ll have to attach interest. Another franc for every day you go without paying.’
‘That’s fine,’ said Josette. ‘Let me know when it hits a million and I’ll get in touch with my bank to make the transfer to your account.’
‘You think you’re so clever, don’t you?’ Hugo said, rolling his eyes.
‘Cleverer than you, that’s for sure.’
‘As if.’
‘She is,’ said Pierrot, feeling that he’d better say something or end up looking like a coward.
Hugo turned to him with a half-smile. ‘Standing up for your girlfriend, are you, Fischer?’ he asked. ‘You’re so in love with her, aren’t you?’ And then he made kissy noises in the air before turning and wrapping his arms round his own body while running his hands up and down his sides.
‘Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look?’ asked Josette, and Pierrot couldn’t help but laugh, even though he knew it was not a good idea to provoke Hugo, whose face went even redder than usual at the insult.
‘Don’t get smart with me,’ Hugo said, reaching out and poking her shoulder sharply with the tip of one of the sticks. ‘Just you remember who’s in charge around here.’
‘Ha!’ cried Josette. ‘You think you’re in charge? As if anyone would ever let a filthy Jew be in charge of anything.’
Hugo’s face fell a little and his brow furrowed in a mixture of confusion and disappointment. ‘Why would you say something like that?’ he asked. ‘I was only playing.’
‘You never play, Hugo,’ she said, waving him away. ‘But you can’t help it, can you? It’s in your nature. What should I expect from a pig but a grunt?’
Pierrot frowned. So Hugo was a Jew too? He wanted to laugh at what Josette had said, but remembered some of the things the boys in his class had said to Anshel and how badly they had upset his friend.
‘You know why Hugo wears his hair so long, don’t you, Pierrot?’ asked Josette, turning to him. ‘It’s because he has horns under there. If he got it cut, we’d all see them.’
‘Stop it,’ said Hugo, his tone not quite as fearless as before.
‘I bet if you pulled his pants down he’d have a tail too.’
‘Stop it!’ repeated Hugo, louder this time.
‘Pierrot, you sleep in the same room as him. When he gets changed for bed, have you seen his tail?’
‘It’s really long and scaly,’ said Pierrot, feeling brave now that Josette was taking control of the conversation. ‘Like something a dragon would have.’
‘I don’t think you should have to share with him at all,’ she said. ‘It’s best not to mix with people like that. Everyone says so. There’s a few of them in the orphanage. They should have their own room. Or be sent away.’
‘Shut up!’ roared Hugo, advancing on her now, and she jumped back just as Pierrot stepped between them. The older boy’s fists lashed out, catching Pierrot directly on the nose. There was a nasty crunching sound and he fell to the ground, blood rushing down his upper lip. Josette screamed as Pierrot went ‘Uuuurgh!’ and Hugo’s mouth dropped open in surprise. A moment later he was gone, disappearing into the woods with Gérard and Marc running after him.
Pierrot could feel a strange sensation in his face. It wasn’t entirely unpleasant; rather as if a really big sneeze was on its way. But a throbbing headache was forming behind his eyes and his mouth felt very dry. He looked up at Josette, who had both hands pressed to her cheeks in shock.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, standing up but feeling very weak on his legs as he did so. ‘It’s just a scratch.’
‘It’s not,’ said Josette. ‘We need to get you to the sisters right away.’
‘I’m fine,’ repeated Pierrot, putting a hand to his face to make sure everything was still where it was supposed to be. When he took it away again, however, his fingers were covered in blood, and he stared at them, his eyes opening wide. He remembered how Maman had taken the handkerchief away at her birthday dinner and it too had been spotted with blood. ‘That’s not good,’ he said, before the whole forest started to spin, his legs grew weaker and he fell to the ground, passing out cold.
When he woke, Pierrot was surprised to find himself lying on the sofa in the Durand sisters’ office. Standing by the sink, Simone was holding a face cloth under running water before wringing it out. Stopping only to straighten a photograph on the wall, she came towards him and placed the cloth over the bridge of his nose.
‘You’re awake then,’ she said.
‘What happened?’ asked Pierrot, propping himself up on his elbows. His head ached, his mouth still felt dry and there was an unpleasant burning sensation above his nose where Hugo had punched him.
‘It’s not broken,’ replied Simone, sitting down next to him. ‘I thought it was at first, but no. Although it will probably be quite sore for a few days and you might have a black eye as the swelling goes down. If you’re squeamish, you should probably avoid the mirror for a little while.’
Pierrot swallowed and asked for a glass of water. In the months since he’d arrived at the orphanage these were the most words Simone Durand had ever said to him. Usually she barely spoke at all.
‘I’ll talk to Hugo,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell him to apologize. And I’ll make sure that nothing like this ever happens to you again.’
‘It wasn’t Hugo,’ said Pierrot in an unconvincing tone, for despite the pain he was in, he still didn’t like the idea of getting someone else in trouble.
‘Yes it was,’ replied Simone. ‘Josette told me, for one thing, although I would have guessed anyway.’
‘Why doesn’t he like me?’ he asked quietly, looking up at her.
‘It’s not your fault,’ she replied. ‘It’s ours. Adèle’s and mine. We’ve made mistakes with him. Many mistakes.’
‘But you take care of him,’ said Pierrot. ‘You look after all of us. And it’s not like any of us are your family. He should be grateful to you.’
Simone tapped her fingers against the side of the chair as if she was weighing the importance of revealing a secret. ‘Actually, he is family,’ she said. ‘He’s our nephew.’
Pierrot opened his eyes wide in surprise. ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know. I thought he was an orphan, just like the rest of us.’
‘His father died five years ago,’ she said. ‘And his mother . . .’ She shook her head and wiped a tear from her eye. ‘Well, my parents treated her quite badly. They had some very silly, old-fashioned ideas about people. In the end they drove her away. But Hugo’s father was our brother, Jacques.’
Pierrot glanced across at the picture of the two little girls standing hand in hand with the small boy, and the portrait of the man with the pencil moustache dressed in a French army uniform.