the human eye can
see.’
‘Supposing there is?’
‘That’s what we have to find out.’
I drank some more wine, and I could almost feel it put hairs
on my chest as I sat there. I said: ‘What do they put in this stuff? Rust
remover?’
Madeleine answered: ‘ Ssh . Madame Saurice used to entertain an American sergeant in the war,
and she knows English well. All the slang English, like shucks.’
‘Shucks? You sure it wasn’t the war of I8I2?’
Madeleine said, ‘I never wanted to open the tank before,
Dan. I never met anyone who gave me the strength to do it. My father wouldn’t
have touched it; nor would Eloise. But Eloise will tell us how to ward off
demons and evil spirits while we do it, and I’m sure Father Anton will give you
help if you ask him.’
I lit another cigarette. ‘I don’t see why it’s so important
to you. If you dislike the tank that much, why don’t you move away? There isn’t
anything to keep you in Pont D’Ouilly , after all.’
‘Dan, it’s important because it lies on my father’s farm,
and my father’s farm has always been home. Even if I go away for ever , that farm will still be the place where I was
brought up, and that tank will still be there.’
She drank a little wine, and looked at me intently. ‘And,
anyway,’ she said, ‘I have dreamed about that tank ever since I was a little
girl. That tank has given me terrible dreams.’
‘Dreams? What kind of dreams?’
She lowered her eyes. ‘They were cruel dreams. Nightmares. But they were exciting as well.’
‘Sexually exciting?’
‘Sometimes. I dreamed of being
forced to have sex with bristly beasts and strange creatures. But sometimes the
dreams were different, and I imagined that I was being mutilated or killed.
That was frightening, but it was exciting, too. Pieces were being sliced off
me, and there was lots of blood.’
I reached across the table and held her thin wrist.
‘Madeleine. . . you know this tank
isn’t a joke. What’s in there, whatever it is, is something really malign.’
She nodded. ‘I have always known it. But I have also known,
all my life, that one day I would have to face up to it. Of course, I tried to
evade my responsibility. I tried to persuade you not to go down there to make
your recording. But I am led to the conclusion that the time has probably
come.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘it looks as though we’ve talked ourselves
into it.’
She gave a fleeting, humourless smile.
Later that afternoon, I telephoned Father Anton and told him
what we were planning to do. He was silent for a long time on the other end of
the line, and then he said: ‘I cannot persuade you otherwise?’
‘Madeleine’s set on it, and I guess I am, too.’
‘You’re not doing this out of a mistaken sense of affection
for Madeleine? Because it can only do her harm, you know. You must realise that.’
I looked across the polished floor of Pont D’Ouilly’s post office, marked with muddy footprints where
the local farmers had come in to draw their savings or to post their letters.
There was a tattered poster on the wall beside me warning of the dangers of
rabies. Outside, a thin wet snow was falling, and the sky was unremittingly
grey.
‘It has to be done sometime, Father Anton. One day that
tank’s going to corrode right through, and that demon’s going to get out
anyway, and maybe someone completely unsuspecting is going to be passing by. At
least we have some idea of what we’re in for.’
Father Anton was silent for even longer. Then he said
hoarsely: ‘I’ll have to come with you, you know. I’ll have to be there. What
time are you planning to do it?’
I glanced up at the post office clock. ‘About
three. Before it gets too dark.’
‘Very well. Can you collect me in
your car?’
‘You bet. And thank you.’
Father Anton sounded solemn. ‘Don’t thank me, my friend. I
am only coming because I feel it is my duty to protect you from whatever lies
inside that
see.’
‘Supposing there is?’
‘That’s what we have to find out.’
I drank some more wine, and I could almost feel it put hairs
on my chest as I sat there. I said: ‘What do they put in this stuff? Rust
remover?’
Madeleine answered: ‘ Ssh . Madame Saurice used to entertain an American sergeant in the war,
and she knows English well. All the slang English, like shucks.’
‘Shucks? You sure it wasn’t the war of I8I2?’
Madeleine said, ‘I never wanted to open the tank before,
Dan. I never met anyone who gave me the strength to do it. My father wouldn’t
have touched it; nor would Eloise. But Eloise will tell us how to ward off
demons and evil spirits while we do it, and I’m sure Father Anton will give you
help if you ask him.’
I lit another cigarette. ‘I don’t see why it’s so important
to you. If you dislike the tank that much, why don’t you move away? There isn’t
anything to keep you in Pont D’Ouilly , after all.’
‘Dan, it’s important because it lies on my father’s farm,
and my father’s farm has always been home. Even if I go away for ever , that farm will still be the place where I was
brought up, and that tank will still be there.’
She drank a little wine, and looked at me intently. ‘And,
anyway,’ she said, ‘I have dreamed about that tank ever since I was a little
girl. That tank has given me terrible dreams.’
‘Dreams? What kind of dreams?’
She lowered her eyes. ‘They were cruel dreams. Nightmares. But they were exciting as well.’
‘Sexually exciting?’
‘Sometimes. I dreamed of being
forced to have sex with bristly beasts and strange creatures. But sometimes the
dreams were different, and I imagined that I was being mutilated or killed.
That was frightening, but it was exciting, too. Pieces were being sliced off
me, and there was lots of blood.’
I reached across the table and held her thin wrist.
‘Madeleine. . . you know this tank
isn’t a joke. What’s in there, whatever it is, is something really malign.’
She nodded. ‘I have always known it. But I have also known,
all my life, that one day I would have to face up to it. Of course, I tried to
evade my responsibility. I tried to persuade you not to go down there to make
your recording. But I am led to the conclusion that the time has probably
come.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘it looks as though we’ve talked ourselves
into it.’
She gave a fleeting, humourless smile.
Later that afternoon, I telephoned Father Anton and told him
what we were planning to do. He was silent for a long time on the other end of
the line, and then he said: ‘I cannot persuade you otherwise?’
‘Madeleine’s set on it, and I guess I am, too.’
‘You’re not doing this out of a mistaken sense of affection
for Madeleine? Because it can only do her harm, you know. You must realise that.’
I looked across the polished floor of Pont D’Ouilly’s post office, marked with muddy footprints where
the local farmers had come in to draw their savings or to post their letters.
There was a tattered poster on the wall beside me warning of the dangers of
rabies. Outside, a thin wet snow was falling, and the sky was unremittingly
grey.
‘It has to be done sometime, Father Anton. One day that
tank’s going to corrode right through, and that demon’s going to get out
anyway, and maybe someone completely unsuspecting is going to be passing by. At
least we have some idea of what we’re in for.’
Father Anton was silent for even longer. Then he said
hoarsely: ‘I’ll have to come with you, you know. I’ll have to be there. What
time are you planning to do it?’
I glanced up at the post office clock. ‘About
three. Before it gets too dark.’
‘Very well. Can you collect me in
your car?’
‘You bet. And thank you.’
Father Anton sounded solemn. ‘Don’t thank me, my friend. I
am only coming because I feel it is my duty to protect you from whatever lies
inside that
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