Sunday (2010)
Sunday
“The season was at its height, all the bedrooms, all the tables on the terrace were occupied, and often the last to arrive had to wait at the bar for others to finish eating before they could get a place.
Apart from the waiter Berthe had sent for from Lyons, called Jean-Claude, who was too blond and rolled his hips like a woman, they had had to hire a local youth, with thick hair and black finger-nails, and Maubi came in to lend a hand as well.
In the kitchen Emile would from time to time pick up a cloth to wipe his brow, so covered with sweat that after a while he couldn't see properly, and the pauses between getting each meal became shorter and shorter. There was no question of going out in his boat, or of playing bowls, and it was through all this activity that he used to think, when he found time, about his personal affairs.
As one of his colleagues in the basement kitchen of the grand Vichy hotel used to say, the machine must be fed. There, one might have thought one was in a factory.
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