chronology. On the ground floor, there is the unknown, primeval chaos, total confusion, i.e. the shared rooms. On the first floor, the first stirrings of conscious life, man in his nakedness stands erect and silent for the first time, that’s you, Mathias. Moving up the ladder of time …’
‘What the hell is he on about?’ asked Vandoosler senior.
‘He’s preaching,’ said Mathias. ‘And why not? There’s no curfew on public speaking.’
‘Moving up the ladder of time, as I was saying, we jump over antiquity and land straight in the glorious second millennium, with the contrasts and the audacity of the Middle Ages, that’s me on the second floor. Next the age of decadence and collapse, contemporary civilisation. This one,’ said Marc, shaking Lucien by the arm. ‘Up on the third floor, bringing the strata of history and the staircase proper to an end, with the shameful Great War. Even further up, we have the godfather who continues to disrupt the present day in his own special way.’
Marc stopped and sighed.
‘You see, Mathias, even if it might be more practical to have Lucien on the first floor, we can’t mess about with chronology and disturb the layers as set out by the staircase. The ladder of time is all we have left. We can’t upset the staircase which is the only thing we have managed to keep in good order. The only thing, Mathias. We can’t destroy it!’
‘Quite right,’ said Mathias gravely. ‘That is not to be countenanced. We have to carry the Great War up to the third floor.’
‘If I might interject at this point,’ said Vandoosler senior in his mild voice. ‘You’re all as pissed as each other, and I would really like you to haul the Great War up to his correct layer of history so that I can reach the dishonourable stages of the present day where I lodge.’
To his great surprise, next morning at eleven-thirty, Lucien watched as Mathias got himself ready, after a fashion, to go to work. The final stages of the evening-and in particular Juliette’s offer to employ Mathias as a waiter-had completely passed him by.
‘Well,’ said Mathias, ‘you did embrace Sophia Siméonidis, twice, to thank her for singing. That was a bit familiar of you, Lucien.’
‘No memory of that at all,’ said Lucien. ‘So now you’ve signed up for the Eastern Front, have you? And are you going off with a song in your heart and a flower in your rifle? Don’t you know that everyone thinks it will all be over by Christmas, but in real life it takes longer?’
‘You really were pissed last night,’ said Mathias.
‘Keep the home fires burning. Good luck, soldier!’
XII
MATHIAS DUG IN ON THE EASTERN FRONT. WHEN LUCIEN WASN’T teaching, he and Marc crossed the line and ate their lunch at Le Tonneau to encourage him, and because they liked it there. On the first Thursday, Sophia Siméonidis ate lunch there too, as she had every Thursday for years.
Mathias operated steadily, carrying cups one by one, not trying to balance everything at once. After three days, he had worked out which was the customer who ate crisps with a fork. After a week, Juliette was giving him leftovers from the kitchen, and dinners in the disgrace had improved as a result. After nine days, Sophia invited the other two to share her Thursday lunch. The following Thursday, sixteen days later, she failed to appear.
Nobody saw her on the next day either. Juliette anxiously enquired of St Matthew if she might have a word with the ex-commissaire, after closing the restaurant. Mathias was rather put out that she called him St Matthew, but since the old man had used these ridiculous names the first time he had introduced his three fellow residents, she couldn’t think of them in any other way. So after closing Le Tonneau, Juliette accompanied Mathias to the disgrace. He had explained to her the chronological division of the lodgings, so that she would not be shocked that the oldest resident lived at the top of the house.
Out of
‘What the hell is he on about?’ asked Vandoosler senior.
‘He’s preaching,’ said Mathias. ‘And why not? There’s no curfew on public speaking.’
‘Moving up the ladder of time, as I was saying, we jump over antiquity and land straight in the glorious second millennium, with the contrasts and the audacity of the Middle Ages, that’s me on the second floor. Next the age of decadence and collapse, contemporary civilisation. This one,’ said Marc, shaking Lucien by the arm. ‘Up on the third floor, bringing the strata of history and the staircase proper to an end, with the shameful Great War. Even further up, we have the godfather who continues to disrupt the present day in his own special way.’
Marc stopped and sighed.
‘You see, Mathias, even if it might be more practical to have Lucien on the first floor, we can’t mess about with chronology and disturb the layers as set out by the staircase. The ladder of time is all we have left. We can’t upset the staircase which is the only thing we have managed to keep in good order. The only thing, Mathias. We can’t destroy it!’
‘Quite right,’ said Mathias gravely. ‘That is not to be countenanced. We have to carry the Great War up to the third floor.’
‘If I might interject at this point,’ said Vandoosler senior in his mild voice. ‘You’re all as pissed as each other, and I would really like you to haul the Great War up to his correct layer of history so that I can reach the dishonourable stages of the present day where I lodge.’
To his great surprise, next morning at eleven-thirty, Lucien watched as Mathias got himself ready, after a fashion, to go to work. The final stages of the evening-and in particular Juliette’s offer to employ Mathias as a waiter-had completely passed him by.
‘Well,’ said Mathias, ‘you did embrace Sophia Siméonidis, twice, to thank her for singing. That was a bit familiar of you, Lucien.’
‘No memory of that at all,’ said Lucien. ‘So now you’ve signed up for the Eastern Front, have you? And are you going off with a song in your heart and a flower in your rifle? Don’t you know that everyone thinks it will all be over by Christmas, but in real life it takes longer?’
‘You really were pissed last night,’ said Mathias.
‘Keep the home fires burning. Good luck, soldier!’
XII
MATHIAS DUG IN ON THE EASTERN FRONT. WHEN LUCIEN WASN’T teaching, he and Marc crossed the line and ate their lunch at Le Tonneau to encourage him, and because they liked it there. On the first Thursday, Sophia Siméonidis ate lunch there too, as she had every Thursday for years.
Mathias operated steadily, carrying cups one by one, not trying to balance everything at once. After three days, he had worked out which was the customer who ate crisps with a fork. After a week, Juliette was giving him leftovers from the kitchen, and dinners in the disgrace had improved as a result. After nine days, Sophia invited the other two to share her Thursday lunch. The following Thursday, sixteen days later, she failed to appear.
Nobody saw her on the next day either. Juliette anxiously enquired of St Matthew if she might have a word with the ex-commissaire, after closing the restaurant. Mathias was rather put out that she called him St Matthew, but since the old man had used these ridiculous names the first time he had introduced his three fellow residents, she couldn’t think of them in any other way. So after closing Le Tonneau, Juliette accompanied Mathias to the disgrace. He had explained to her the chronological division of the lodgings, so that she would not be shocked that the oldest resident lived at the top of the house.
Out of
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