Шоколад / Chocolat

”

Behind him Anouk watches me closely. A dozen smudgy faces in the background mouth shy entreaties.

“A Grand Festival du Chocolat.”

I consider the thought. In a month’s time the lilacs will be out. I always make a nest for Anouk, with an egg and her name on it in silver icing. It could be our own carnival, a celebration of our acceptance in this place. The idea is not new to me, but to hear it from this child is almost to touch its reality.

“We’d need some posters.” I pretend hesitation.

“We’ll make those!” Anouk is the first to suggest it, her face vivid with excitement.

“And flags – bunting – ”

“Streamers-”

“And a chocolate Jesus on the cross with – ”

“The Pope in white chocolate – ”

“Chocolate lambs – ”

“Egg-rolling competitions, treasure hunts – ”

“We’ll invite everyone, it’ll be – ”

“Cool!”

“So cool – ”

I waved my arms at them for silence, laughing. An arabesque of acrid chocolate powder followed my gesture.

“You make the posters,” I told them.

“Leave the rest to me.”

Anouk leaped at me, arms out flung. She smells of salt and rainwater, a cuprous scent of soil and waterlogged vegetation. Her tangled hair is barbed with droplets.

“Come up to my room!” she shrieked in my ear. “They can, can’t they, Maman, say they can! We can start right now, I’ve got paper, crayons – ”

“They can,” I said.

An hour later the display window was embellished by a large poster – Anouk’s design executed by Jeannot.

The text, in large shaky green letters, read:

GRAND FESTIVAL DU CHOCOLAT

AT LA CELESTE PRALINE BEGINS EASTER SUNDAY EVERYONE WELCOME!!! BUY NOW WHILE STOCKS LAST!!!

Around the text capered various creatures of fanciful design. A figure in a robe and a tall crown I took to be the Pope. Cutout shapes of bells had been pasted thickly at his feet. All the bells were smiling.

I spent most of the afternoon tempering the new batch of couverture and working on the window display.

A thick covering of green tissue-paper for the grass. Paper flowers – daffodils and daisies, Anouk’s contribution – pinned to the window-frame. Green-covered tins which once contained cocoa, powder, stacked up against each other to make a craggy mountainside. Crinkly Cellophane paper wraps it like a covering of ice. Running past and winding into the valley, a river of blue silk ribbon, upon which a cluster of houseboats sit quiet and unreflecting.