In Secret

1

Heeyah!

Hyah!

Whoa.

Hey.

Her mother is dead.

You are her aunt.

I don't know what to do with her.

I'll send more each month.

Before you can even start to miss me,

I'm going to sail right up that river,

take you back to Africa.

Girls in Africa may not wear shoes...

but French girls do.

Quietly, Therese.

Your father isn't coming back,

Therese.

He'll come back.

My brother has never

done a single thing

he said he was going to do.

Therese, your cousin

needs his medicine.

God gives and he takes away.

He took away Camille's health,

but gave him you.

You're his guardian angel.

Boo!

Should you be out?

I escaped.

Kiss me, Camille.

All right.

No, not like that.

Like this?

No.

Well, how?

Never mind.

A letter came...

for you, from Africa.

Your father went down

off the coast of Algeria.

What's going

to happen to me now?

Well, there's the small pension

your father left you, perhaps.

Perhaps we could use that

to help find our way.

Oh, my son.

Oh, my God!

What was I thinking?

You should be inside.

It's damp out here.

I'm fine.

You're overreacting.

Camille has an announcement

to make.

We're moving to Paris.

Paris?

Such a filthy city.

Yes.

Through an old friend of mother's,

Inspector Michaud, I've found a job.

In an office.

A lowly clerk in a big company,

be with my own little desk.

It sounds wonderful.

Makes no sense to me

whatsoever.

I mean, how are Therese and I

supposed to look after you

if you're gone all day?

The doctor did say

I should exert myself more

and you do spoil me, mother.

He said so.

Oh, he's a country doctor

with one dead eye.

I hardly believe

that he knows what's--

I've let you coddle me all my life.

The least you can do is allow me

a will of my own, mother.

It's time I take control

of our little family.

Well...

I've often dreamed of having

a small shop again.

Ha, see? A silver lining.

You know, a few special lace pieces

in the window and...

Well, you let me take care

of everything, you naughty boy.

I wouldn't dream of having it

any other way, mother.

We can leave right after the wedding.

Whose wedding are we going to?

Well, yours, dear.

Well, but who am I going to marry?

Why, Camille, of course.

Therese...

We don't even know

who your mother was.

Illegitimates have been dealt

an unlucky hand.

We should consider ourselves lucky

that you have Camille.

And he is so excited.

Oh, and you will be Madame Raquin,

just like me.

In the name of

the Father and the Son

and the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

Clear the way, lad.

Children.

This way.

Set it there.

"I found the most wonderful shop,"

you said.

I saw it in the daylight.

"An enthralling arcade"?

Well, it was enthralling.

Therese, let the young man pass.

He has work to do.

It's smaller than you said, mother.

I adore this house.

It's our new home.

It's dark.

Oh, well, be fair. It's late.

When the sun streams in,

- it's lovely.

- It's mean.

Oh, don't be silly.

Well, I will be cooped up all day,

content in my new job at the office,

while you two girls will have each other

to thin the gloom.

Customers bustling in and out.

Oh, yes. Won't it be exciting?

And even I will admit, my dear,

that it needs a few touches.

Well, there were financial

limitations, of course.

I mean, but I think we can do wonders

with the place. Really.

Hmm.

Just get some flowers

on the windowsills,

and wallpaper.

Curtains, of course.

Let me show you the upstairs.

Yes.

- We have a generous storeroom.

- Right.

This one.

Thank you.

What do you do all day?

You know what I do.

I don't. Go to the office.

And then I come home.

Are you happy?

Not at the office.

Where?

At the zoo.

The zoo?

By the end of another meaningless

column of figures,

my mind is blank.

Feels nice.

I let my feet decide the destination

and the rest of me

just sort of follows along.

Your feet decide

to go to the zoo?

Oh, yes. I don't know why,

but four days out of five

I find myself outside a cage

and I watch the bears.

I see.

I get to feel the ground

shuddering under my feet

as they move about.

Where's my book?

Oh, I must have left it downstairs.

I'm too tired to read tonight.

Hey.

I might be a bear.

But you're not.

You're my little Therese.

- Candied grapefruit peel?

- No.

Camille is never this late.

Mother!

Finally.

I'll return in a moment.

And no cheating.

Therese.

Camille! Where have you been?

You've--

Ta-da! I brought you a present.

Imported from your

long-lost past in Vernon.

Oh.

You don't remember him.

- Do I?

- It's Laurent.

You must remember Laurent!

His father owned the dairy

beyond the church.

Oh, my! Yes!

Oh, my!

Little Laurent.

Yes!

Oh!

This is before you came

to live with us.

Oh, so long ago.

When I was a girl,

a summer day was just...

Now, mother, let's not get started

on summer days

or we'll die of hunger.

Can you feed this great ox?

Well, yes, of course I can.

Oh, little Laurent.

You can stay, can't you?

I would love to stay, thank you.

He works for the company, too,

and we never even knew.

Oh, my.

So I thought why not?

I'll bring him along to Dominoes Night.

Oh, well, that's perfect.

Thursday evenings here

are always so exciting.

- Yes.

- I mean, the banter,

especially Inspector Michaud.

And his son Olivier.

He's fantastic.

Come, come, come, come!

You must meet everyone.

Oh, I will.

Therese, put the lights out, dear.

Good evening.

Welcome, Laurent.

- Mr. Olivier.

- Good evening.

This is my wife Suzanne.

Here you go, my friend.

Ah, Inspector.

Very good to meet you.

Ah!

- Very nice.

- Well done.

Would you open a window, Therese?

I keep smelling an odor,

like gas.

It's probably me.

Oh, no, certainly not.

Yes. Owing to an investigation,

which I'm not at liberty to discuss,

I had to go to the morgue today.

It was, uh, rather warm.

The aroma clings.

I seem to be having

the slightest attack of the vapors.

Excuse me.

Therese.

Don't bother. She won't be long.

Grapefruit peel?

Oh, yes, thank you.

When I was a young police officer

like my son here,

I wouldn't go down

to the morgue at all.

I had to draw a line.

Send me into the nearest

den of thieves, unarmed.

I've been to the morgue myself,

a number of times.

What for? On a bet?

No, no, no, not at all.

With my artist friends.

You didn't paint, did you?

I'm afraid I did.

While my father paid my way

in the hugely mistaken assumption

that I was grooming myself

for the law.

Were you good?

No, not at all.

But I liked the life.

By "life" you must mean--

He said life, he meant the life.

Let's leave it at that.

But why the morgue?

Well, we'd stand at the public rail

with pad in hand and sketch the bodies.

Wasn't there a supply of,

uh, warmer models?

Obviously not.

So why did you

hang up your brush?

Well, my--my father came

to my garret one day

and my model opened the door

as she was and my father

was so shocked that

he took a step backwards

and fell down

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