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By Root 1463 0

food box, as if trying to save him the trouble of having to carry it. In fact, he knew that the box still contained two slices of cold veal, some bread and a bottle that had hardly been started, and it was the thought of this food that was making him feel hungry. The rain was heavier than ever. Yet another clap of thunder shook the building. The two men walked through the little door on the left of the shed, which led to the canteen. La Lison was already cooling down. They left her on her own in the dark, with the lightning flashing all around her and great splashes of rain water running down her back. Water trickled from a nearby tap which had not been properly turned off, forming a pool that ran down between her wheels into the ash-pit.

Before going into the canteen, Jacques wanted to clean himself up. One of the rooms was always provided with hot water and hand bowls. He fished a bar of soap out of his basket and washed his hands and face, which were black after the journey. He had taken the precaution of bringing a change of clothing with him, as all drivers are advised to do, so he had something clean to wear. In fact, when he arrived at Le Havre on a night that he was going to meet Séverine, he always changed into clean clothes in order to look his best. Pecqueux was already in the canteen, having only bothered to wash the end of his nose and his fingertips.

The canteen consisted simply of a little, bare room, painted yellow, with a stove for heating food on and a table that was fixed to the floor and had a zinc top which served as a tablecloth. The only other pieces of furniture in the room were two benches. The men had to bring their own food, which they ate off a sheet of paper with the end of a knife. The room was lit by one large window.

‘What a downpour!’ exclaimed Jacques, standing at the window.

Pecqueux had sat down on one of the benches at the table.

‘Aren’t you eating, then?’ he asked.

‘You carry on,’ answered Jacques. ‘I’m not hungry. Eat the rest of the bread and meat if you want it.’

Pecqueux didn’t need to be asked twice. He attacked the veal and downed the rest of the bottle. These little windfalls often came his way because Jacques was such a small eater. Pecqueux had a dog-like devotion to his driver, and he liked him all the more for giving him his leftovers. After a pause, he spoke again, his mouth full: ‘Who cares about the rain! We got here safely! If it goes on raining, mind you, I’ll be going next door.’

He laughed. It was no secret between them. Pecqueux had had to tell Jacques about his affair with Philomène Sauvagnat so that he wouldn’t wonder where he’d got to every time he went to see her. She lived in her brother’s house on the ground floor next to the kitchen; he only had to tap on the shutters and she would open the window so that he could climb in. What could be easier! People said that all the engine men at Le Havre knew the routine. But now, it seemed, Pecqueux was all the company she needed.

‘Bloody hell!’ muttered Jacques under his breath, as, after a brief respite, the rain began to fall again more heavily than ever.

Pecqueux was brandishing the last piece of meat on the end of his knife. He laughed pleasantly.

‘Had you got something planned for tonight?’ he said. ‘I tell you what, they can’t accuse you and me of wearing the beds out in the Rue François-Mazeline, can they?’

Jacques turned quickly away from the window.

‘What makes you say that?’ he asked.

‘Well,’ said Pecqueux, ‘ever since the spring, you’ve been like me. You’re never in till two or three in the morning.’

He must know something, he thought. Perhaps he had seen them together. The dormitory had two beds in each room, so that driver and fireman could sleep next to each other. The Company liked to encourage a sense of camaraderie between men whose work inevitably brought them so close together. So it was hardly surprising that Pecqueux had noticed his driver’s sleeping habits becoming somewhat erratic, when previously they had been perfectly normal.

‘I get headaches,’ answered Jacques, saying the first