A silence greeted the last word. Odile stood uncertainly on the porch. Then, to his horror, Gamache saw Ruth move through the crowd, the Sarah Binks book clutched in her hand and Rosa quacking behind.
‘Make way for the duck and the fuck,’ yelled Gabri.
Ruth hauled herself onto the porch and stood beside Odile, taking the younger woman’s hand. Gamache and Myrna held their breaths.
‘I have never heard a poem that moved me so much. That speaks so clearly of loneliness and loss. Using the man as an allegory for the house was brilliant, my dear.’
Odile looked confused.
‘And like the blighted man the old Hadley house will be loved again,’ Ruth continued. ‘Your poem brings hope to all of us who are old and ugly and flawed. Bravo.’
Ruth slipped the book into her tattered sweater as she embraced Odile, who looked as though she’d found heaven on the battered porch of the old Hadley house.
Peter and Clara arrived, carrying a welcome case of beer. But they stopped just short of the house. Gamache watched and wondered what they’d do. More than any villager the old Hadley house had haunted Peter and Clara. And now the two stood outside the buzz of activity, and stared. Then Clara bent down and lifted the ‘For Sale’ sign. Using her sleeve she wiped the worst of the mud and dirt from its face, then she handed it to Peter, who thrust it into the ground. The sign stood upright, clean and proud.
‘Do you think anyone will buy it?’ Clara asked, wiping her hands on her jeans.
‘Someone will buy it and someone will love it,’ said Gamache.
‘
‘At least Ruth now has an excuse for the quacking,’ said Clara.
In the bright sunshine Armand Gamache watched as the old Hadley house was brought back to life, then he put down his beer and joined them.
