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courtyard of a brick farm, with many dark green doors and windows;
the sun was shining although it was cold, but not freezing. Part of the
yard was paved with stones, square rosy stones shiny with morning dew,
and the rest was gravel, noisy under her feet and her father’s feet when
they crossed it. She used to enjoy making as much crunching noise as
possible when she was walking on blue metal, but not this time. She felt
that there was going to be a nice surprise for her, if she walked quietly.
A hairy black puppy came running toward her; she was not scared, she
knew that it was a good little doggy, it was wagging its tail, not barking,
and it wanted to be patted on the back, she dug her little hands in the
thick fur of the dog, and it licked her face, and it wanted to run with
her. So she started to run with the dog, it ran before her, stopped to
wait for her and ran again. Now she was out of breath, sitting on a low
stone bench, with her legs dangling, one of her shoes about to fall; the
dog was sitting at her feet, she was touching the hair on its back with
the shoe that was about to fall; the dog sat up and put its fore legs in her
lap, and tried to lick her hands, then it lay down again. Maybe it was
late already, she was a bit hungry, she thought that it could be a fairy
tale and a good fairy would appear with a wicker basket full of buttered
bread and jam, and apples, and a bottle of milk. But it was a tall man
before her; she had not seen him before, she knew who he was, although
she could not tell. The man was nice and good-mannered, he said: “I
was looking for you everywhere. So, you were hiding out the back of the
house!” “I was with the dog”, she said. “He’s a good dog. Will you let
me play with the dog, sir? —Sure, he answered, he’ll stay with us now.
He’s a gift from your brother Joe.” She did not feel hungry any more. The
man had not asked her whether she was happy, because he knew she was.
He just said: “Muriel, you can stay here for the holidays, you will spend
Christmas and the New Year with us.” When he had finished talking,
she woke up. There was a bird singing on the window sill, it was dark
grey with a big reddish spot on its chest. As she went to the bathroom,
she felt hungry for buttered toasts and jam, she wondered whether she
would remember the dream. If she could, she would tell Joël. Or perhaps
not, because he was not her brother after all, and she realized that she
had lost sight of her father when the dog had arrived.
A few days later, she merely asked Joël in bed: “Have you ever
had a furry black dog when you were little?” He said: “No, why? What
a funny question.”
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