Louise in Winter
What a hullabaloo.
The train only dropped them off last night...
and they've already invaded the beach.
If only they'd come back a few at a time.
I got it!
Not all at once...
...and not shout so much at their children.
Or not bring the children.
I didn't think they'd recognize me.
But this morning,
some of them waved to me with great delight...
...the way you'd wave to an athlete
who'd won a gold medal,
that everyone would forget the next day.
Others just smiled...
as if nothing had happened.
A misunderstanding?
Nothing of any consequence.
And yet...
I was in no hurry.
I was catching the last train of the season.
It left at seven in the evening,
just as it does every year
before the big tide at the equinox.
I had plenty of time.
The storm lasted for three days,
three whole days
when I didn't dare leave the house.
Then, the weather turned fine.
It was sunny and warm for September.
I wasn't frightened,
but I was annoyed.
They would soon notice I hadn't come home.
My janitor would get in touch with Josiane.
She and the children would come to fetch me,
and I'd be in for a good talking to.
I wonder if I could manage by myself.
I expected someone to show up on Sunday,
but in the end no one came.
I was surprised, but I didn't really mind.
They'll come sooner or later.
It's funny, people are afraid of everything nowadays.
It's not the first monster tide we've had.
No one made a fuss back in the day.
I spent most of my time on the beach.
The sand is warm.
The sea isn't as cold as it is in July.
And there's life everywhere I look...
...as if all the creatures
have been waiting for the vacationers to leave.
The birds pay no attention to me.
I must be insignificant to them.
All I can do is wait.
People will come at Christmas,
if only to make sure that their houses are still standing.
I've moved out of my house.
Much too quiet...
and damp.
I left a sign on the door.
"I missed my train. Help. I'm on the beach."
By Christmas, they'd have found nothing
but a sponge at the end of the hall,
eaten by worms, covered with moss.
"Oh, look, it's Louise!"
That's who it is."
November 15th.
Weather, fair.
Light fog.
Tidal coefficient, 90.
I used a tide table as a calendar.
The ocean gently turns the pages,
and every morning
I wake up to a new sky,
a new expanse of beach...
...all just for me.
I could do anything...
...or nothing.
I could lie around all day long.
But I've established a routine.
In the morning, cleaning.
The sand gets in everywhere.
Next, a cold shower on the beach
in front of the hotel.
Then, shore fishing till noon.
I manage very well.
Like when I built my little shack,
I surprised myself.,
I wasn't as clumsy as I expected.
My body remembers how to do things
that I myself have forgotten.
After lunch, a little nap.
Then I wander off to explore.
The best part of the day.
Oh, I never go very far,
just as far as my legs can carry me.
But I seem to be in better health
than I was in the city.
My aches and pains are gone,
and I haven't had a single cold.
All I have in my first aid kit is a roll of sticking plaster.
I always seem to be cutting my fingers
with my poor eyesight.
I'm usually tired come evening,
but once a week I go for a stroll along the promenade
for old times' sake.
I always enjoy that.
At night, I sleep like a baby.
I decided to celebrate Christmas today,
before the crowds arrive.
Oh, they should be here by late afternoon
so they'll have time to put up their decorations.
My last day on my own.
And the sun is still shining.
I remember Christmases in Biligen long ago,
so cold and gray
the street lights would stay on all day long.
We'd dash out to the shops for pastries and cheese
and hurry back to huddle by the fire
and listen to music on the radio.
Well, in a few days, I'll be home.
Back to my life, such as it is.
It seems so strange.
February 7th.
Still no answer.
It doesn't matter, I'm getting used to it.
And I have a lot to do.
I had to find some good soil, and that wasn't easy.
There's hardly anything but sand.
But I managed.
I'm growing lettuce and leeks.
Now what I need is a little rain.
Of course, every day the sky is clear.
If only I could say the same for my eyesight.
I'm having trouble seeing close up.
But my distance vision is another matter.
Last night, it was funny,
I went up on the promenade to look through the telescope.
You never know.
I was about to put my last coin in the slot
when I realized I didn't need to.
I could see a line of cliffs on the horizon
as clear as anything
for the first time.
Perhaps it was because the sun was shining on them.
I stood there looking at them for a long time,
as if they were somehow familiar...
...though there's no escaping that way.
There's someone else in Biligen.
I felt it for the last few days.
Another castaway?
I know he's here somewhere.
It's getting on my nerves.
Ah.
Here's the latest news.
"The Highest Tides of the Century."
Don't headline writers love to frighten people?
Hm, look at this.
"Panic in the Netherlands!"
Oh, I don't like that.
I don't need anyone now.
I could have called him Wednesday,
that's the day we met.
Or maybe Shore Fisher
because that's what he likes to do best.
I called him Pepper.
It suits him.
He's old,
his coat is rough and shaggy.
He's salt and pepper,
We haven't been out of each other's sight for a week.
We eat our meals together.
We're learning to get along.
If he gets ahead, he'll stop and wait,
...and he'll pretend there's something in the sand
that needs a good sniff.
I've been telling him about the daydreams I've been having recently.
Are they memories or what?
They just appear out of the blue...
...like...
...like little waves,
mysterious.
Hello, Tom.
How are you today?
Oh, mustn't grumble.
At least the birds aren't pestering me today.
Have you seen Pierre? I'm looking for him.
You know what he told me?
He says there are squirrels that can fly.
They spread out their paws up high.
I'd really like to try.
It wouldn't work, Louise.
It's dangerous.
What would you know?
You tried when you jumped out of your plane?
You don't even know the war is over.
My grandmama told me.
"The war is over," she said.
Hey, know what?
My mother showed up earlier.
She wants to take me away.
I'm not going with her.
I hate her guts!
Okay, I'm off.
- Louise! - See you tomorrow.
You see, Pepper,
I once had a friend like you.
I could babble away to him to my heart's content.
After that...
...nobody.
I was probably in a convent school.
Then they got me married, as I was a hell raiser.
The years flew by.
I had children...
...and many grandchildren too, I imagine.
Now they're fussing about us old folks.
The golden years.
That's the stage I'm at now.
I'm expecting a medal any day.
But you must be so bored listening to me.
It's not something you could understand.
Animals couldn't care less about growing old.
Lucky for you.
What would you know about that, Louise?
What?
Well, animals always know when they're going to die,
but they don't feel they have to make a fuss about it.
That's too much.
I can hardly believe it.
Good grief!
They've found a way to let animals talk.
Only dogs.
It was impossible with cats.
They had to abandon the research.
Now that we talk, we're more like an old couple than ever.
Oh, not that he's a chatterbox.
But he seems to feel he has to look after me.
It can get annoying.
Take yesterday.
I was out of sorts.
And he noticed.
What's wrong, Louise?
Ah, nothing.
No, there's something wrong. I can tell.
It's because it's getting close to Easter.
No one will come. No one.
You know that.
I don't particularly want to see them,
but I want to find out what I might have done to them,
that's all.
Last night...
...I had a strange dream.
State your name, address, and title.
I--I forget.
Hear that?
She admits it.
She forgot it all!
Her parents, her lovers,
her children, her husband!
No, I would love to be able to forget him.
He had the same ugly mug as you do, Your Honor.
Off with her head!
No, that would be too kind.
I demand the maximum punishment!
Solitude!
Objection!
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
Louise has opened her heart to us all here in the court.
She remembers her last husband
because he was ugly.
Do you not see, ladies and gentlemen of the jury,
in this touching admission, the secret of her forgetfulness?
She doesn't remember her life because her life was wonderful,
and that she was quite simply happy.
Happy?
Her children,
she can't even remember her children.
Surely that can't be normal, Your Honor.
But happy people have no need to tell the story of their lives.
Therefore, they do not need a memory.
But go ahead, find her guilty if you want. It's all the same to me.
Off with her head, off with her head!
No, hang on!
Solitude...
but in perpetuity!
Say, Pepper,
do you think a person can be punished
for having forgotten more than half of their life?
Sentenced in perpetuity.
Sounds like we might be here for a while.
Pepper, listen to this.
My shadow followed me step by step,
slipping over the sand.
But it was so pale, so pale and so light,
that I began to wonder...
...if it wasn't my memory.
Isn't that good?
What do you think?
The lightness of the shadow man.
You may not have forgotten everything, Louise.
You old dog!
You want to get the cobwebs out, huh?
Do you think I could get all the way to those cliffs?
No harm trying. Come on.
You're still here, Tom?
As you can see,
still hanging around.
I didn't think I'd see you again, Louise.
I missed you.
We were partners in crime, you and I.
You'd bring the boys here for a kiss,
and I'd give them the fright of their lives.
It's true.
I was a real little minx, wasn't I?
And Pierre?
Whatever happened to him?
Do you remember? He promised that he'd teach me how to fly.
Oh, you really have lost your memory, Louise.
Pierre got even with them all
in his own way.
Did he really jump off the cliff?
Oh, no, no. He was only pretending...
...and you thought you'd die of fright.
You were so frightened that you swore to forget him forever.
Don't you remember?
The next day, you ended up here together,
and you made love.
Why, yes.
That was the first time I ever made love.
It's funny, it was almost as if
nothing really mattered back then.
Oh, it did matter, Louise.
Everything always matters.
You see, in the end, things fall into place.
Now let it go.
You have all the time in the world.
Pepper?
I spent a few days thinking about that,
like with a book when you read the same page over and over.
Then spring came, and I closed the book.
At any rate, I had a lot to do.
Along with high tides just before Easter, came days of rain.
Our shack was leaking like a sieve.
It needed a lot of work.
When the sun came out again, the garden went wild.
I could hardly keep up.
I spent all day in the vegetable patch.
No time to write.
And that's when Pepper started to act up.
He'd go off by himself for an hour, maybe two, no more.
And then one evening,
I wasn't worried at first...
...but he didn't come home.
Pepper!
Pepper?
My hair's gone completely white.
Look at all these wrinkles.
Oh, bah, Louise.
You've become an old woman.
Wait, what?
Oh no!
I have red spots.
I wonder if that's why they all left me behind.
They must not have forgotten me.
They were afraid...
that getting old is contagious.
That's why they stepped out of my way at the shops.
Such fine folks.
Polite but prudent.
Can't be too careful.
Well, that explains it.
Everybody else knew.
And Pepper, that must be why he left me.
Huh, they can wait all they want.
I won't give them the satisfaction.
July 1st.
Full moon.
The tide is over ten meters.
We've decided to live, Pepper and I.
He's lost the power of speech.
I think that's why he left.
Poor old thing.
He may have been afraid to disappoint me. Who knows?
It doesn't matter.
We just have to look at each other
and we understand.
Hunger, cold.
Wanting to go for a walk.
And as for making the best of the high tides,
well, great minds think alike.
It's already summer,
and the days are growing shorter.
The train only dropped them off last night,
and they're already on the beach.
If only they'd come back a few at a time,
not all at once in a bunch,
and not yell at the children so much.
They haven't changed,
but somehow they seem tired.
Everyone is very kind to me.
I don't scare them the way I used to.
They asked me to be on the committee for the village féte,
but I declined.
Nowadays, they leave me to myself.
During the day...
...they get a bit rowdy.
But they're not much noisier than the seagulls.
When we need peace and quiet,
Pepper and I,
we head out for a walk along the dunes.
The weather continues fair.
I think we're in for a very pleasant autumn.