Читать книгу Hector Finds Time - Francois Lelord - Страница 19

THE last leg of Hector’s journey was on the smallest plane he’d ever been on. You couldn’t stand upright to go to the toilet and, besides, there were no toilets. Sitting in his seat, he could also see the pilot, or rather the back of a big anorak and a big furry hat. It almost looked as if a bear was flying the plane! What’s more, Hector was dressed the same way: he’d bought all his clothes from a list that Édouard had sent him with some rather odd things on it, like silk liner socks and an anorak made out of the same material as the spacesuits of the astronauts who had gone to the moon, and black goggles that looked like the ones you put on when you go to the swimming pool.

Outside, you couldn’t see anything, except the pitch-black night and the snowflakes as they landed on the windowpane. Hector was sitting beside the only other passenger: a big American man with huge hands who was coming back to this bitterly cold country to drill little holes very deep down into the ice to find out what the air was like a long, long time ago. Someone else in search of time! thought Hector.

‘There are little bubbles of air in the ice,’ explained the big American, ‘air from hundreds of thousands of years ago.’

He was talking very loudly to make himself heard over the noise of the engine, and Hector was getting earache from listening to him. Also, he hadn’t caught the big American man’s name the first time round and he didn’t dare ask him again.

‘So, what do all these little bubbles tell you?’ said Hector.

‘That the air was cleaner before!’ said the big American, and burst out laughing.

Then he leant over to pull something out of his bag.

‘Talking of bubbles …’ he said.

Hector couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw what the big American had pulled out of his bag: a bottle of champagne!

‘I brought it for a special occasion,’ he explained. ‘But, up there, no one knows how to drink it. They like stronger stuff. Better to drink it with you – at least you’ll appreciate it!’

Hector had a feeling that he and the big American were going to become very good friends, as soon as he caught his name, that is. The pilot heard the pop of the cork and turned round. This was no bear, but a very pretty woman with ice-blue eyes who looked as if she wouldn’t take any nonsense. What’s more, she shouted, ‘No drinking on my plane!’ But the big American showed her the bottle of champagne and held out a plastic cup for her, and then she smiled. She had a very beautiful smile, pure like snow. Hector thought very hard about Clara. Luckily, the pretty pilot only let them pour her half a cup, perhaps just to be polite, and then she turned round to concentrate on flying the plane for the rest of the journey.

Anyway, Hector was glad to have drunk all that champagne before landing, since it wasn’t exactly a normal landing: the plane touched down on the ice on runners a bit like skis, and it really was quite bumpy and made a sliding noise, which was a little disconcerting.

‘Phew!’ said the big American. ‘I’ll never get used to that.’

Hector had finally learnt the American’s name: Hilton. Like the name of a hotel. After a few cups of champagne, he had even jokingly asked Hilton, ‘But, Hilton, what happened to your friends Hyatt and Marriott?’

Hilton had only laughed half-heartedly, and afterwards Hector had told himself he was an idiot, because Hilton must have had to listen to a lot of jokes like that from his schooldays onwards.

The door of the plane opened and he remembered that, once, he’d gone to a very hot country. When the door of the plane had opened, it had been a little like opening the oven door to check if the roast is done. Well, here, it was like opening the freezer door or even falling right into the freezer.

Also, it was still dark outside, and all you could see were the lights laid out on the ice, no doubt to guide the plane.

‘Hector!’ someone called.

Then Hector caught sight of his great friend Édouard, also dressed like a bear, arriving on a snowmobile and waving to him.

Later, sitting behind Édouard as they skimmed along, Hector thought to himself that this was a nice image for time going by: a snowmobile zooming through the Arctic night.