His wife was late. The sun’s brightness made him scan rather than linger on the scene below. Five floats decked out with fruit and vegetables and a little girl dressed as The Green Spirit perched on the middle lorry. Ten years to the day since his daughter Céline had done the same. But she was different now from most of Lanvière’s young. She had a job. She was a perfect dentist in Nancy, making perfect teeth. Rebuilding with the latest porcelain and acrylics so her wealthy patients could smile again. If only our kind and clever child could do the same for me. But I mustn’t ask too much... He fiddled with his blotter till it lay parallel to the desk edge, and for the third time restacked his pens into the ceramic pot she’d made at school, then rang for Marie-Claude. “Yes, sir?” “Would you see if my wife’s downstairs? Tell her I’m waiting.” This temp wasn’t prone to smiling either.
