Pickers 3: The Valley Page 2

"I didn't! Did I? No, I did not have a crush on him."

  "Yes. You followed him everywhere for two weeks, and tried to do everything he did. To be fair to him, he didn't seem to mind. Didn't make fun of you, like some would."

  "He made fun of my hair!"

  "Everyone made fun of your hair. I made fun of your hair."

  "Veronique, stop teasing your sister." Remy said, trying to sound serious.

  Georges and his compatriots had turned the corner at the end of the bridge, and were heading for the wagons. Maxine was looking for somewhere to hide, or some way to look busy, so she could avoid him when he reached them.

  "Sorry Maxine." Veronique said, "I couldn't resist. I only made fun because your hair was just like Mama's, with all those tight curls, and I was jealous."

  "Oh, right. Ten years on, you decide to apologise." Maxine was still looking for a hiding place.

  It was like returning to the Valley had emotionally regressed his daughters ten years, Remy thought. He stepped forward to greet Georges Meunier and his two Police friends. "Hello again, Monsieur Meunier. How can we help you?"

  Georges only missed a beat at the surprise of Remy suddenly knowing his family name. "Monsieur Giraud, if you and your family would like to accompany me. The mayor would very much like to see you."

  It had been a long time since anyone had used their family name. When dealing with others, they had long gone by their first names only, occasionally making up a family name. "We have been looking forward to seeing him." Remy announced. "Maxine, make sure the wagons are locked up."

  "I.... Could stay here and guard them."

  "Oh, I don't think there's any need for that, is there. You should come and meet the mayor."

  Georges led them across the bridge and into the centre of the town. A small crowd had formed near the hotel du ville, eager for a sight of the mysterious returnees.

  The town hall had been rebuilt after a big fire, back when Remy was still young. He remembered the much grander building that had been replaced by the brick built box they entered. The roof, he noticed, was now covered in a patchwork of solar cells, scavenged together over the years.

  The interior was at odds with the exterior. To give a sense of importance, if not quite grandeur, many of the towns older hotels had been plundered for furniture and fittings they no longer used, and the material mixed and matched. There was a lot of dark wood panelling, and the seating was all trimmed in reds and greens. The wear of years showed on some corners, but that leant the authority of age.

  They paused at the bottom of the wide staircase. There was a table with wicker baskets on top of it. Another officer guarded the table, her expression impassive, but her eyes never leaving the newcomers. "If you will leave your weapons here, I can take you up to see the mayor." Georges said.

  Remy had a pistol in a shoulder holster, which he unwrapped and put in a basket. Veronique had a large revolver and several quick loaders full of bullets. Tony had Left his pistol in the wagon, but he had a knife on his belt.

  Maxine put her 9mm semi automatic and two clips into a basket. Then her .38. She hitched up her trouser legs and bent down for the knife in her boot. And then the one on the other boot. The knuckle dusters in her thigh pocket counted as weapons, she decided, as did the coil of snare wire that could, at a pinch, be used as a garotte. She hovered before the basket, thinking, then released her belt. Sheathed inside the buckle was a small knife, which she twirled around a finger before she dropped it into the basket.

  "Is that everything?" Georges asked.

  "I think so." Maxine said, staring at the contents of the basket rather than look around at him.

  The council chamber was at the top of the stairs, taking up most of the first floor. They paused before the double doors- dug from the remains of a ski lodge buried in an avalanche- unconsciously straightening clothes and backs. Georges pushed the doors open with a hint of dramatic flourish, stepped inside then moved to one side.

  The council sat at a C-shaped collection of tables, open at the end facing the double doors. At the far end of the room, the head of the tables, was the mayor's seat, a grand throne made for some amateur theatre production and recast to give some formality to meetings. Julien Giraud wasn't sat on the throne, but leant back against the table in front of it, facing the door. He pushed himself upright as his brother entered the room.

  They walked to each other across the long floor of the council chamber, measured steps, not too leisurely but not too fast. They were the same height, but Julien was rounder than Remy. Not fat, but the more comfortable shape of a man who didn't have to pack up and move on every few days. They faltered as they drew closer, then threw arms wide and embraced.

  "My God, big brother, where have you been?" Julien asked, on the edge of tears.

  "I could draw you a spider web on a map. But mostly Spain."

  "Do you know the trouble you left behind, with your foolish.... Ah, no, I will shout at you some other time. Are these my nieces?"

  "Uncle Julien." Veronique almost curtsied before rushing over to hug her uncle. Maxine joined her, and all four of them formed a scrum of smiles and tears.

  Standing by the door, Georges was obviously uncomfortable. Tony tried to share a knowing nod, but the younger man looked away. "And who is this?" Julien asked. Tony turned his head to find the group hug had broken up, and Julien was gesturing at him.

  "My husband." Veronique said quietly, coming over to take his hand. "Tony."

  "A pleasure to meet you." Julien held out his hand to shake, then decided to go for another hug instead. "What happened to Alphonse and Henri?" he asked when he released Tony.

  "They met a woman and settled down." Remy said.

  "Really? I didn't think they were that way inclined."

  "She is a very special woman. The last time we saw them, they had three children."

  "Well, it is good you didn't get them killed, I suppose. I'm doing it again, aren't I? No shouting today. We shall save that for tomorrow, when you must face the whole council and tell them why you've come back now."

  * * *

  "We can find you some accommodation if you require." Georges said, stiffly and formally, when he left the council chamber. Julien had asked him to stay behind when everyone else had left, and now he was acting on the instructions delivered to him.

  "It may be better if we stay in the wagons tonight." Remy said. "Perhaps if it turns out we are staying longer...."

  "Very well. Let me take you back to your vehicles."

  "We can find our own way back, it's okay."

  "No, I must insist. Monsieur Giraud.... The mayor asked me to escort you until we are sure how the rest of the town feels about your return." Georges shifted uncomfortably, looking to his two Police friends, now standing at the top of the stairs.

  "Well, let's not cause any trouble." Remy said, his smile loaded with sarcasm.

  When Maxine had rearmed herself in the foyer, they were ready to leave the building. The crowd outside had grown. It was now full of curious and occasionally familiar faces, supplemented by a couple of the adults from the convoy. Georges straightened, trying to project authority through posture, and led the way through the crowd. Remy dawdled, nodding recognition at members of their audience, and even stopping to embrace a couple. Veronique shook her head at her father's game playing, and found herself looking at the ground to avoid catching anyone's eyes. Tony squeezed her hand, taking his anonymity as a chance to study the town and townsfolk.

  Maxine kept her eyes straight ahead, and slightly lowered. It was just a coincidence that this meant she was staring at Georges' butt and legs. She had an embarrassing, skin warming memory of the little girl crush she had borne for him, all those years ago. She really couldn't conjure up any clear images of it, though. A lot had happened since they had left the Valley, all of which had filled her head with much more vivid memories than her childhood. She kept staring at his butt- it was a nice butt, and he insisted on wearing tight trousers- in case i
t brought back memories.

  Steering by following the muscles she was studying, Maxine looked around in surprise when they came to a halt. They were back at the wagons, already. Surely the walk to the hotel du ville had been longer than that. She looked up, and found that Georges had turned on his heel and was looking back. For a moment, they stared at each other, as if ready to say something. Georges looked away first. "Monsieur Giraud. I hope you understand that Phillipe and Gaston shall be here until tomorrow. As a precaution." He gestured to the two Police, who didn't look at all familiar, now that she studied their faces, Maxine realised. They had been assigned a guard who wouldn't have any emotional attachment to them, she decided.

  "And I am sure that Phillipe and Gaston will understand that, in our years away, we have amassed a fair number of weapons." Remy replied. Gaston's gaze flicked, ever so quickly, to the side, to look at Georges.

  "I am sure that they understand. If you will excuse me, I have to go and help house all the children you, er.... You saved." Georges seemed ready to give a quick salute, but he resisted. Turning on his heel again, he headed up river to the farther bridge.

  Maxine felt like having a little sulk. She had wanted to get to know that butt better, to have Georges remind her what she had done as a child. But her father had played passive aggressive with him and sent him packing. Phillipe and Gaston didn't look like they had an interesting sentence between them. She twitched in surprise when she felt the hand on her shoulder.

  "Such a serious young man." said Remy. "Why would you be interested in him?"

  "I am not...."

  "Of course not. Come on, let's see what the damage is like inside the wagons."

  * * *

  Remy had hoped the room would be soft, but knew better than that.

  It would be the arrogance of a man who had spent a decade in the bad lands to think that town dwellers were coddled. They had their own hardships to deal with, ones a Picker or traveller would have trouble comprehending. Everything they owned was locked in one place, making it so much harder to move on when the world went against them. Sometimes, limited resources meant that they had to make hard decisions, harsh ones. For the longest time, the residents of the Valley had made one of the harshest, excluding all outsiders, sometimes with violence. It was one of the reasons Remy had left, taking his family out into the wild, where people could be kinder.

  Many of the faces at the table before him were familiar, if older. Most of them hadn't been on the council when he had left the Valley. Some of them had even, quietly, been supporters of his calls for greater contact with the outside world. For now, they all remained quiet, whilst one of the louder reactionary voices made itself heard.

  "You have decided to come back to us now, and you insist on bringing all those outsiders with you. I wanted you hunted down and killed, Remy Giraud, when you ran away with vital resources last time. What do you think I want to do with you now?"

  Remy had long hated Giselle Catellin, holding on to some of it far too long after he had taken the girls out of the Valley. For now, he held down all the responses he wanted to make, choosing to insult her by ignoring her. He studied the occupants of the table opposite hers, along the other side of the room.

  "The three trucks that Remy.... Escorted in, were expected, even if they did arrive earlier than planned. We had agreed to take them in, if you remember." The comment came from the woman on Julien's right. One of the younger members of the council- probably not much older than Veronique- Remy didn't recognise her. It was obvious enough why. Her skin tone was a touch darker than his daughters'. They, and their mother, had been the rare dark skinned ones in a community that was otherwise white, and suffered the prejudice- not all of it silent- that resulted.

  So this young woman was a newcomer, but had worked her way to the top table of the council. Catellin may still be a vile woman, but other things were improved greatly from when he had left the Valley. He glanced at Julien, whose expression was almost passive, but for a little hint of amusement. This was obviously another round of a battle of words that had been going on for some time.

  "I didn't vote to take in more mouths to feed." Catellin said.

  "That is true, but the council is a democracy, and the majority of us did vote to take them in." the young woman said. Catellin went an angry shade of pink. Remy forced the smile straight. "Remy and his family were heading here for a different reason. It was just good fortune that he could save the children before the raiders got to them."

  "Perhaps he should tell us why he is here, then." suggested another voice. Remy didn't catch who said it.

  The woman who had come to his defence sat back, and Julien leant forwards. "Yes, indeed. That is what this meeting is really about, after all. So, big brother, why have you come back to us after all this time?"

  * * *

  "Shouldn't we be in there with him?" Veronique said, staring at the double doors of the council chamber.

  "He'll be fine. He knows them. You've told me how he has argued his points with them before." Tony said, trying to get her to relax. "And he has the maps and all the information."

  "Yes, he has argued with them before. That's what worries me."

  Maxine was pacing from the top of the stairs, past the door then back again. Phillipe had come with them and now stood beside the doors, eyeing her suspiciously every time she went by him. She stopped in front of him, but, instead of turning to face him, she looked at Veronique and Tony. "How much information?" She walked over to them, and knelt down, to quietly ask, "Could they just keep the information and send us away?"

  "Not enough to get in. Or even find the right building." Veronique confided.

  "It'll have to do. Do you think they'll go for it?"

  "Papa's a salesman. He'll sell it to them."

  There was the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Maxine was about to go back to her pacing when Georges arrived. "How is it going in there?" he asked. Greeted by blank looks, he smiled and held up a large, fake-leather bound book. "When Maman heard you were back, she said she had something you would want to see." He held the book out to Maxine, who just looked at it, confused.

  Veronique and Tony stood to flank Maxine. "What is it?" Tony asked.

  "It's a collection of photographs. A few months before you.... Left, my mother found a collection of old chemical film. She thought it had been the last batch in the whole of France, and it was all past its use by date by many, many years. So she took lots and lots of pictures. Some of them came out. These are some of the ones that she found last night that you might be interested in."

  Maxine grasped the book, but kept herself from yanking it out of Georges' hands. "Can I...?" she said, almost meekly.

  "Of course, that is why I brought it."

  Maxine took the book back to the bench seat Tony and Veronique had been sat on. They sat either side of her as she rested it on her lap. She flipped the heavy cover open.

  The pictures in the book were presented in muted colours, desaturated by deteriorated chemicals somewhere in the process. It made the images feel like they were from even longer ago. The photographs were mounted on the card pages, held in place by a clear plastic sheet that folded over them.

  There was one, large picture on the first page. Maxine took in the details of it, and made a sound that may have been embarrassment. In the background of the image, the valley grew wider, but was still walled in by steep hills a hazy shade of blue. The mid ground was filled with earthworks, a large wall going up to dam the river and trap the water the fields would need over a long, hot summer. Closer to the camera, a group of children were playing in the mud and water of the newly created pond. The determined subject of the picture, however, was a little girl giving a defiantly cheeky glare to the photographer. Her baggy trousers had been rolled up multiple times until they became shorts and she had discarded her top along the way. Her black skin stood out from the pale children behind her, and her round face was framed by a halo of tight black curls. Sh
e brandished a spade almost as tall as her, but looked like she knew just what she was going to use it for.

  "Is that you?" Tony asked.

  Maxine studied the picture. "It must be. But I don't remember this. I thought the dam was older than me."

  "There is an older dam." Georges said. "Downstream from that one. This is the building of the new one. It holds more water."

  "I don't see you. Where are you?" Tony asked Veronique.

  "I was probably over where they were doing the work, looking at the designs and telling them what they were doing wrong."

  Maxine looked sideways at her brother in law. "Oh yes, Vee has always been far too clever." She turned the page, and groaned at the pictures she found there. These were smaller prints, and there were two to a page. The four photos showed the children of the town turned out for a celebration of some sort. Judging by the fruits and vegetables they all held, it had something to do with the harvest. Two of the pictures showed the children in rows before the hotel du ville, all holding baskets of produce. The two dark skinned girls stood out, almost in the middle of the front row.

  "Who'd have thought. Maxine does wear dresses." Tony said, with a little laugh.

  Maxine cast a scowl at her brother in law, but quickly went on to running a finger along the rows of faces. "There. That's you, isn't it?" She looked up at Georges and tapped the picture.

  "That's me." He was a skinny, grinning kid with unruly hair, who had obviously just gone through a growth spurt and stood half a head taller than anyone else in his row.

  The next two pages showed the harvest celebrations after the formal picture. In one, Maxine was throwing a ball at a pyramid of wooden blocks, her swinging arm a blur of motion and her expression pure concentration. In the other, Veronique was building a complicated shape from thin branches.

  Over the page were two photos with Veronique and Maxine's mother in them. In one, she and Remy were standing on one side of the image, smiling down as Maxine held something up to them. The main part of the image was of the children dancing in front of a table piled high with fruit and vegetables. Amongst the children, Veronique was, uncomfortably, dancing with a boy. They both had the stiffness of kids only doing this because they'd been told to. In the other photo, Georges was the main focus, walking toward the dancing area, dragged along by an eager Maxine. In the background her mother and father couldn't hide their laughter. Their mother had been an attractive woman, tall, with strong features, skin darker again than theirs, and a bowl of tight, black hair. Maxine and Veronique both studied her, trying to fill in their memories with these images of her.