Black Diamond

ask her?”
    “I don’t know how you do it,” Bernard murmured as Margot strode off.
    “Do you think anybody would dare
not
to make a donation with Margot looming over them?” Bruno replied. “She’s just what this project needs.”
    “Since when was it the mayor’s fund?” asked Fat Jeanne. “The last I heard it was your idea.”
    “Ever since the mayor thought it was his idea,” said Bruno, grinning. “He’ll be along in an hour or so, rattling a collection box. And I’ve got to get dressed up as Father Christmas.”
    But first he had to make his usual tour of the market, shaking the hands of the men and embracing the women and hearing snippets of gossip along the way. Léopold the Senegalese, who sold leather belts and wallets and sunglasses in summer, wanted to sign up his son for Bruno’s rugby lessons. Raoul, who kept a summer stall selling wine to tourists and did odd jobs in the winter, had gotten a job at the new winery that he’d feared would put him out of business. Vinh, who sold hot fried Vietnamese
nems
and assorted Asian foods throughout the year, showed off his new Paris St. Germain shirt for the soccer club, whose fortunes he followed with devotion. His tiny wife offered Bruno a beignet, so hot he had to toss it from hand to hand while trying to reach for some coins.
    At Alphonse’s stall, the usual display of the tiny round
crottins
of goat cheese, divided into neat columns of dry, semidry and fresh, were almost obscured by a large placard that announced GIVE THE CHILDREN A GREEN CHRISTMAS. THE GREEN PARTY ANNOUNCES A FREE CHRISTMAS PARTY FOR ALL CHILDREN OF THE UNEMPLOYED AND THOSE ON MINIMUM WAGE. L’AUBERGE DES VERTS, DECEMBER 21. ALL DONATIONS WELCOME . A small basket containing a couple of five-euro notes and some coins stood before it.
    “How long have you been planning this?” Bruno asked Alphonse, shaking hands.
    “Since last night when I saw Bill at the restaurant. We were talking before you arrived about the kids of guys who worked at the sawmill. At first I thought of hosting it myself up at the commune, but Bill had the facilities and he offered to do it.”
    “The mayor’s organizing one too,” Bruno said, brandishing his collection box.
    “The more the merrier,” Alphonse said. “Not a bad thing if the kids get two parties, or maybe we could combine them.”
    “Makes sense to me. I’ll talk to the mayor, if you see what the others say. But I suspect everything will be political from now until the elections. By the way, it’s amazing how fast young Pons seems to have taken over the leadership of you Greens,” Bruno said. “You’ve been fighting the good fight for twenty years and more, so why aren’t you leading the list?”
    “They all know me as that old hippie, the
soixante-huitard
, and I wasn’t born here, so that means lots of people won’t vote for me on principle,” Alphonse replied. “Bill was born and raised here, however long he’s been away. He’s a better speaker, more dynamic. I’ve never wanted to be mayor anyway.”
    He turned away to serve a customer, and Bruno headed forthe bustle of Fauquet’s café, the tables of old men taking their first
petit blanc
of the day at the zinc bar as they scanned the sports pages of
Sud Ouest
. Tante Sandrine, as everybody called Fauquet’s wife, came from behind the counter to embrace him and accept a collection box for the bar. Bruno greeted the rest of the company, and as soon as the hissing of the espresso machine died away Fauquet began to tease him about the competing parties.
    “I’ve put the Green collection box over there on the pâtisserie counter and yours goes on the bar,” he said. “An interesting experiment, to see whether the cake lovers are more generous than the drinkers.”
    “Depends how much you give them to drink,” Bruno replied.
    He paid for his coffee and went across the alley and up the stairs to the storage room of the
mairie
to look for the Father Christmas costume. He found it in one of the boxes that contained the decorations for the town’s Christmas tree, which reminded him that he’d have to check when the tree would be delivered and get Michel from the public works office to test the town’s Christmas lights. The suit smelled musty and needed dry cleaning, and the beard was straggly, but it would do for today. He took off his thick blue uniform jacket but kept his trousers on, donned the tunic, beard and hat, picked up his handbell and headed out