Five Quarters of the Orange / Пять четвертинок апельсина

“The plums, I mean?”

The German nodded.

“I did, Backfisch. I still remember the taste.”

“And you weren’t caught?”

“That too.” The grin became rueful. “I ate so many that I made myself sick, and so I was found out. I got such a hiding! But I got what I wanted in the end. That’s what matters, isn’t it?”

“That’s good,” I agreed. “I like to win.” I paused. “Is that why you didn’t tell anyone about the orange?”

The German shrugged.

“Why should I tell anyone? It was none of my business. Besides, the grocer had plenty more.

I nodded. “He’s got a van,” I said, licking the square of silver paper so that none of the chocolate would be lost. The German seemed to agree.

“Some people want to keep everything they’ve got to themselves,” he said. “That isn’t fair, is it?”

I shook my head. “Like Madame Petit at the sewing shop,” I said. “Charges the earth for a bit of parachute silk she got for free.”

“Precisely.”

It struck me then that perhaps I shouldn’t have mentioned Madame Petit, and I shot him a quick glance, but the German seemed hardly to be listening.

“That’s my brother,” I said.

“Is it?” The German looked back at me again, smiling. “You’re quite a family. Are there any more of you, I wonder?”

I shook my head.

“I’m the youngest. Framboise.”

“I’m very pleased to meet you, Fran?oise.

I grinned.

“Framboise,” I corrected.

“Leibniz. Tomas.”

He held out his hand. After a moment’s hesitation, I shook it.

14

So that was how I met Tomas Leibniz. For some reason Reinette was furious with me for talking to him, and sulked all the way through the rest of the film. Hauer had slipped Cassis a packet of Gauloises, and we both crept back to our seats, Cassis smoking one of his cigarettes and myself lost in speculation. Only when the film was finished was I ready to ask questions.

“Those cigarettes,” I said. “Is that what you meant when you said you could get things?”

“Of course.”

Cassis was looking pleased with himself, but I still sensed anxiety beneath the surface. He held his cigarette in the palm of his hand, as if in imitation of the Germans, but on him the gesture looked awkward and self-conscious.

“Do you tell them things? Do you?”

“We sometimes… tell them things,” admitted Cassis, smirking.