The Storyteller of Casablanca (36)
We stood by the table, waiting for the man to get up and leave, but he just stretched out his long legs and settled himself even more comfortably in his seat, taking a leisurely sip from the glass of pastis in front of him, so Papa had to be polite and ask him if he would care to join us for supper. He said yes, of course, and I got the impression he was quite enjoying the obvious discomfort that his presence was causing. I noticed that his eyes slid sideways towards Annette every now and then when he was pretending to be listening to what Papa and Maman were saying about all the fun we’d been having on our family holiday and how interesting it was to see a bit more of Morocco. He told us he himself was just back from a long trip to the desert, actually, and so Taza was the first bit of civilisation he’d seen for a while. He pricked up his ears (just like the Wolf) when Maman mentioned Casablanca. ‘And where exactly do you live in that fair city, Madame Duval?’ he enquired. I felt very uneasy again when she told him rather reluctantly and he said that by an amazing coincidence he had friends who lived on the Boulevard des Oiseaux and what number was our house? He didn’t look like the sort of person who would have any friends at all really.
When our supper was served, his table manners left a good deal to be desired. He talked with his mouth full and waved his fork around while he was chewing, which are things we’d been taught not to do when we were very young. I saw Maman shoot another very annoyed look at Papa, who just shrugged very slightly as if to say, ‘Well, what can I do?’ I don’t think Monsieur Guigner noticed as he was busy reaching past Annette to help himself to more of the lamb tajine, as if it was the first proper meal he’d eaten in days.
At last, he wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and stretched out in his chair again. The rest of us had already finished our meal and Annette and I politely declined Papa’s offer of dessert. The grown-ups ordered coffee and then Annette set aside her napkin and asked to be excused as she said she felt a little tired after our day of exploring. Maman nodded at her, and at me too, but I’d decided to stay put if Monsieur Guigner was going to, just in case anything interesting happened. After Annette left, he stood up suddenly and said he had very much enjoyed the meal and our company but if Papa and Maman would excuse him he thought it was time he got back to his lodgings too. They looked very relieved and relaxed a lot more as the waiter arrived with their coffee. But I was watching Monsieur Guigner leave and I noticed that, instead of turning right out of the restaurant door towards the exit, he turned left into the corridor leading to the hotel bedrooms. Something in the way he moved reminded me of the way the scorpion had scuttled across the floor of our bedroom towards Annette with its evil intent. I quickly put my own napkin on the table and excused myself, saying, ‘I think I will go up to the room, after all, and read my book for a while.’
Papa and Maman nodded, scarcely glancing at me, and I hurried off in the wake of the vulture man.
It turned out my instinct was right. When I reached the third floor, where the bedroom Annette and I were sharing was located, I caught sight of Monsieur Guigner at the end of the long corridor, disappearing into our room. After a second’s silence, I heard a faint scream so I ran along the hall as fast as I could and flung open the door. That awful man had grabbed Annette and was trying to kiss her while she was twisting and struggling to get out of his grip. His hands were on the buttons of her dress. I realised he was far too strong for the two of us to wrestle to the floor (knowing that I couldn’t count on Annette to be of much help in that department), so I decided to try the element of surprise. I said loudly, ‘Why, good evening again, Monsieur. Are you staying in the hotel too?’ He spun around and behind him I caught a glimpse of Annette’s pale, shocked face. She looked terrified, and fear is something my big sister rarely seems to show. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and then fumbled with the buttons of her dress, trying to do them up where he’d torn at them, even though several were now missing.
‘Papa and Maman are on their way,’ I said, as if I was talking to Annette. ‘They said they’d come and give us a hand getting everything packed up tonight to save having to do it in the morning.’
Vulture Man backed away from Annette, closer to the door, and I quickly slipped into the room, putting myself between him and my sister. She reached her hand out and grabbed my arm and I noticed she was shaking quite badly.
‘Ah well,’ said Monsieur Guigner, smiling and showing those yellow teeth again, ‘I too have an early start tomorrow, so I’ll say goodnight to you two charming young ladies. It has been a very great pleasure meeting you.’
‘Goodnight,’ I said, and I shut the door very firmly in his face. Annette reached past me with her trembling fingers and turned the key in the lock.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked her. She was still looking awfully pale.
She nodded. ‘I . . . he just appeared. I thought it was you coming in but . . . oh, thank goodness you appeared when you did!’
She hugged me so tightly I could hardly breathe. And, for once, I really felt like hugging her back. We agreed that we wouldn’t say anything to Papa and Maman. That would only have meant getting the police involved and we knew how much that would upset Maman. She’d never let any of us go anywhere ever again. So we kept it to ourselves and just hoped we wouldn’t be seeing anything more of Monsieur Guigner.
On the long drive home the next day, I heard Maman say to Papa, ‘What on earth was that dreadful man doing in Taza anyway? I know he said he’d been in the Foreign Legion, but do you think he could have been a deserter? He didn’t seem to have the slightest bit of military bearing about him. It was very annoying, him latching on to you like that in the restaurant.’