Five Quarters of the Orange / Пять четвертинок апельсина

Water was still splashing in the bathroom, and I could hear the sound of my mother brushing her teeth. Moving quickly and silently I removed her pillow from its striped cover, then, with the tip of my pocketknife, made a tiny slit in the seam and poked the muslin bag inside. I pushed it as far in as I could with the hilt of the knife, so that no bulge should betray its presence. Then I replaced the cover, my heart now hammering wildly, smoothing the quilt carefully to prevent creases. Mother always noticed things like that.

I was only just in time. I met her in the passageway, but although she gave me a suspicious look she said nothing. She looked vague and distracted, eyes creased small, her gray-brown hair unbound. I could smell soap on her, and in the gloom of the passageway she looked like Lady Macbeth-a tale I had culled recently from another of Cassis’s books-her hands rubbing against each other, lifting to her face, caressing, cradling it, rubbing again, as if blood, and not the juice of oranges, were the stain she could not wash away.

For a moment I hesitated. She looked so old, so tired. My own head had begun to throb sharply and I wondered what she would do if I went up to her and pressed it against her shoulder. My eyes stung briefly. Why was I doing this, anyway? Then I thought of Old Mother waiting in the murk, of her mad and baleful gaze, of the prize in her belly.

“Well?” My mother’s voice was harsh and stony. “What are you gawking at, idiot?”

“Nothing.

I heard the door snick shut behind her and returned to the living room, where my brother and sister were waiting for me. Inside, I was grinning.

9

“You’re crazy.”

That was Reinette again, her usual helpless cry when all other arguments had been exhausted. Not that it took long to exhaust her-lipsticks and film stars apart, her capacity for argument was always limited.

“It’s as good a time as any,” I told her straightly. “She‘ll sleep late in the morning. As long as we get the chores done, we’ll be able to go wherever we like afterward.”

I looked at her, hard. There was still that business of the lipstick between us, my eyes reminded her. Two weeks earlier. I hadn’t forgotten. Cassis looked at us with curiosity; I was sure she hadn’t told him.

“She’ll be furious if she finds out,” he said slowly.

I shrugged.