French Exit: A Novel by Patrick deWitt

Author:Patrick deWitt [deWitt, Patrick]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Ecco
Published: 2018-08-28T04:00:00+00:00

20.

Frances was explaining the second part of her private, two-part plan to Small Frank, and what she saw as his role in it. She spoke in terms more graphic than were necessary, perhaps, and she perceived an opposition in him. It’s true that he did appear to wish to leave, but she held him fast by his middle. “Now, wait,” she said. “I know. Think about what I’m saying to you, though. As if it wasn’t correct.” She heard Malcolm’s key in the lock and turned to face the door. At the same moment Malcolm entered, Small Frank reared and bit Frances on her hand, then dashed from the apartment and down the stairwell. Malcolm inspected his mother’s hand; as the bite had pierced the skin, he volunteered to visit the corner pharmacie for first-aid products.

The pharmacie was bright and white and clean and busy and Malcolm enjoyed filling his basket with every conceivable supply that Frances might need: bandages and alcohol and aspirin and topical creams. The clerk asked if he’d been hurt, and Malcolm explained about Frances and Small Frank. “At the end of the day they’re still jungle creatures,” the clerk said.

“Yes, and we’re still apes,” Malcolm told her, and he made a monkey face, scratching at his ribs.

“Oh la la,” the clerk replied.

Walking back to the apartment, Malcolm spied Small Frank sitting at the edge of the park on the opposite side of the street. He crossed over to collect him but Small Frank saw him coming and ran off, darting under a bush.

Malcolm found Frances sitting on her bed, staring into space, her injured hand held to her breast. He led her to the bathroom and filled the sink with warm, soapy water. He rinsed her wounds, then dipped the cotton balls in hydrogen peroxide and wet the bite marks. Wrapping her hand in gauze, he asked, “Does that hurt?”

“No.”

“Thank you.”

Frances looked at Malcolm. “Why are you thanking me?” she asked.

He said he didn’t know. Frances insisted they go out in search of Small Frank, and they wandered for a full two hours before rainfall forced them back indoors.

Frances couldn’t sleep that night and in the morning she went out again, on her own, returning empty-handed and in a state of mounting agitation. Malcolm was unsure what he should do; that afternoon he invited over Mme Reynard to act as counsel. She brought champagne and orange juice and the three of them assembled in the living room to plot and ponder. Mme Reynard was touched to be there, and she told herself she would not leave her friends in disappointment. After some consideration, she said, “I believe we should hire a tracking dog. The dog will come here and memorize Small Frank’s scent, then begin its hunt.”

Malcolm had no deep faith in the scheme but thought to get behind it, if only to engage in some manner of proaction. He found a telephone directory in the kitchen and began calling around kennels and dog breeders, while Mme Reynard and Frances sat together, quietly drinking.

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