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one with broken ribs and commotion, the other with a broken wrist and
minor injuries. They had found no alcohol at all in Dr. Voisin’s blood,
although he carried a full carton of wine bottles in the boot. Maybe he
had been a victim of stress, a heart attack. He had not changed his old
address on his driving license or any other I.D. When one of the passengers
had got over her state of shock, she had remembered that the
driver was a University teacher of French and he lived north of Collaroy.
But it had taken some time, and quite a few calls to his colleagues to
find his exact whereabouts and phone number, since the latter was not
listed in his name. Was Ms. Kathy Powell his wife? Could she or another
relative or close friend go to the Morgue at their early convenience in
order to formally recognize the body of the deceased? They were sorry
about this requirement, a police routine, it had to be done before a burial
license could be delivered. Dr. Voisin was not disfigured.
Matilda said that she would go, she would identify the body. She
was Mrs. Voisin’s aunt. Her niece was pregnant, it was better for her not
to have to go through all this, if she did not wish to. They understood
very well. Could Ms. Matthews be so kind as to call Inspector Liu when
she was ready. Tomorrow morning would be all right.
Kathy was sound asleep. Except for her red eyelids and slightly
short breath, she looked very quiet. Fred hugged Matilda. “I am here, I’ll
be here forever,” he said in a soft voice. He called his daughter to ask her
to take care of little La until midday tomorrow. Carol’s niece had just lost
her husband in a car accident. Patricia could open the nursery as usual.
Kathy’s parents and her younger sister arrived toward three in the morning.
It was her sister who told her when she woke up at four. She pressed her
hands hard against her belly and said: “But his baby! He would have loved
the baby so much. His baby had done nothing wrong! Does it have any
reason to live now?” “I want to have an abortion,” she added in the tone of
a final decision. She began to cry silently and did not utter a word for the
next three days before the ceremony. Jacques’ will was found in a drawer
of his desk. Two years before, he had written that, if he died in Australia,
his ashes should be scattered over the sea at Long Reef, Dee Why, Sydney.
On the 25th, early in the morning, Kathy decided that the house should be
sold as soon as possible, she would move to France in a few days and never
return here. “This place belongs to him,” she said to Matilda, “I don’t want
to interfere with his memories, or mine, or yours.” “He was just beginning
to live,” answered Matilda, “you were his only companion.”
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