Het Diner Page #6

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Oh, it's the great leader himself.

It's about tomorrow.

Darling Michel

home alone all night.

He's almost 16 and acts so tough.

But he's still a child.

- A child?

- Yes.

They always say he's so big

and broad-shouldered.

But he's still very young.

Well...

He's not too young for some things, Claire.

I think we sometimes forget

how young they really are.

To the outside world,

they've all of a sudden come of age...

because they did something...

that's judged at as a crime

by us adults, but...

I think they rather

went about it like children.

If I'm honest I've always known

that Claire lacks empathy.

Just like certain North American tribes

lack the enzyme that breaks down alcohol.

That's what I tried to explain to Serge.

That we don't have the right to steal

their childhood from them.

Solely because,

by our adult standards...

they committed a crime.

I'll be right back.

Go inside.

Go inside.

Go inside.

- D*ckhead, go stand beside her.

- Why?

Stand beside her!

What do you want from me?

Say Lady Bum.

Say Lady Bang.

- Lady Bang.

- No, Lady Bum!

Lady Bum is better.

- Lady Bum.

- Louder.

- Lady Bum!

- I can't hear you.

Lady Bum!

The thought I had been trying to hold off

suddenly overwhelmed me.

That homeless person... That lady...

had been someone's Michel once.

She'd come home with her report card,

her heart pounding.

Who also loved to have spaghetti

around the kitchen table.

Had been part of a family of three,

or four, or whatever.

And there she was.

What was she thinking about?

Her husband? Who'd left her

for the company secretary?

A son or daughter who'd died screaming

of cancer in a hospital?

Because she hadn't been born

in that ATM, of course.

She'd ended up there.

No doubt she thought she wouldn't

be sleeping there tomorrow.

That after her chat

with that nice therapist...

she'd find her way again.

Bastards.

Jesus!

Babette.

What are you doing here?

Just seeing how you are.

- You're crying.

- I'm not.

There's something in my eye.

A speck of dirt or something.

There's no one here.

Where's Claire?

Where's Claire?

She's on the phone with Michel again.

She's not at all concerned with

what we're getting up to.

Are we up to something?

Serge has himself

and Claire has Michel.

It's just us girls.

Don't you think it's odd

that Claire looks at her phone...

- and asks us what time it is?

- There's lots of odd things about Claire.

Where's Rick tonight?

- At home with Beau.

- You're sure?

As sure as one can be of anything

in this era of the mobile.

How I loathe that word.

Something's gone.

What's gone?

- His innocence.

- Rick's innocence?

Gosh, that's a shame.

- He's fretting, Paul.

- Is that right?

Well, perhaps there's reason to fret.

Does Michel worry?

I don't know.

I'm not really sure

how well I actually know Michel.

And Claire?

No, not Claire. Claire is...

fret-proof.

So to speak.

I think Claire is supplying Michel

with an alibi.

Do you and Claire still do it sometimes?

- Jesus.

- Is it still fun?

Or more like a piece

of Saturday night duty?

What are you doing?

Why don't we get together?

Once a week.

In a hotel.

No strings attached.

Stop it, Babette.

I know. The fabulous Claire

told me everything.

- What?

- Rick and Michel will talk to Beau.

- They'll talk to Beau?

- Talk, yes.

I mean, after everything

we did for him...

Just talk?

They might slap him around a little.

But you're known to use similar methods.

And you think that's all it will be a slap.

Have you seen that film?

Your son is standing beside

that lady's body!

Who put him there?

He wanted to leave, OK?

Why did he go back

to stand next to that sleeping bag?

- Because...

- Be honest.

Because Michel bullied him. Yes...

I know.

It's not just your fault. Honest.

But you have to stop

protecting your wife.

We're all going to hell.

So next week we might as well...

Next week we'll be at

the police station.

I settled the bill.

Thank you.

- Who was that on the phone?

- The Prime Minister.

- Did you tell him?

- Not yet.

Well...

love of my life.

Since when did you know?

Since that evening.

So you did recognize him

on Most Wanted?

You mean the evening itself?

Yes.

He asked me what he should do.

So Michel called you...

So what did you advise him to do?

I'd like to know.

That he had to stay calm

and wait for us at home.

That things would be fine.

They went back to film it.

Do you realize that?

All boys do that now

I didn't concern myself with the details.

Just one small detail, though:

Cooking up a fake alibi

for Michel for this evening...

so the boys can get away

with teaching Faso a lesson.

What are you talking about, honey?

Is your mind running away

with you again?

Easy.

I called Michel.

Serge and Babette saw that

I talked to him at exactly 11:15.

That can be checked on my cellphone.

What kind of bullshit is this?

This isn't a TV series. This isn't LA Law.

- Where are the boys now?

- They're going to change Beau's mind.

I told Michel they have to

take care of it among themselves.

And if they can't...

that he should do what seems best.

- Michel and I spoke about telling you...

- 'Michel and I spoke about it.'

You're good at other things.

No one's good at everything.

Fine...

You call Michel right now,

while I am here...

and tell him

to drop this insane plan.

Or I'll call the police.

That would be a mistake.

Let's not talk about mistakes

or we'll be here a while.

Call him now.

Is this what you want?

Call him, Claire. Call him!

Sweetheart, listen.

I'm here with dad.

And he's nervous again.

Sweetie, he wants to call the police.

Yes, sweetheart... the police.

Because he's afraid.

He's afraid that the talk with Beau

will get out of...

Bye, angel.

Yes, of course.

See you soon.

He says you don't need to worry.

That thing with Beau is cool.

But he finds calling

the police weak. Very...

weak.

Claire!

Serge?

Jesus, Serge. Hold on. I'll...

- I'll go get someone.

- Never mind.

Your wife drank too much.

I don't want to turn it into a thing.

- Did Claire do this?

- Yes.

- You're bleeding like a pig.

- I called a cab to take me to the ER.

Shall I tell them I went

through a window?

It doesn't look like that.

- It was as if a lunatic attacked me.

- You can say that again.

Maybe I shouldn't go to the hospital.

- I'll go to Job Hamel.

- Yes, good idea.

He won't call the papers, at any rate.

God, you were right.

This has spun totally out of control.

- Shouldn't we just go to the police?

- Let's discuss this tomorrow.

- What did dad always say?

- Dad said a lot of things.

- Haste makes waste.

- Exactly. So?

- Let's talk to a lawyer first.

- No. I need to borrow your car.

- What?

- Your car. Now.

Why?

Come on, quickly.

I've got the keys somewhere. Here.

- Oh, my God.

- We're going to Job Hamel.

- So where's he going?

- Don't know.

- Paul!

- Goddammit.

You'll be all right.

I went looking for them.

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