The Disappearance of Adèle Bedeau Read Online Free Page A

grandmother and pitied her being left alone with his grandfather. He thanked her and promised to visit regularly.
    When Manfred arrived at the bank on Monday morning, M. Jeantet immediately ushered him into his office. He was a round man with a red face and mutton chop whiskers. He wore an old-fashioned herringbone suit over a moth-eaten green cardigan. M. Jeantet cultivated an air of genial bonhomie. He greeted his clients with a vigorous handshake and much backslapping and fussed over them like long-lost friends. He habitually patted the female members of staff on the behind and enjoyed making saucy insinuations about their appearance or how they spent their weekends. This he did without discrimination of age or beauty, no doubt to avoid offending anyone he left out. At first Manfred was surprised at the good humour with which his new colleagues tolerated this behaviour, but he soon realised that behind his back they had any number of unflattering nicknames for the boss. It was difficult to believe that Manfred’s grandfather regarded this man as an ‘associate’.
    Jeantet guided Manfred into his office by the elbow and towards two leather armchairs, uttering a series of proclamations about how delighted he was to have such a bright young man on board.
    â€˜Sit down, my boy, sit down,’ he exhorted. ‘That’s a fine suit you’re wearing. A little loose if I may say, but that’s the way you young chaps are wearing them these days. I’m old-fashioned myself, or so my wife tells me. But I say quality never goes out of style, eh? What do you say? Ha ha.’
    â€˜Certainly,’ said Manfred.
    â€˜Now, this occasion calls for a drink, don’t you think?’ And despite the fact that it was not yet nine o’clock the bank manager reached for a decanter on the table between them. He poured out two generous measures and toasted to a long and fruitful relationship. Manfred sipped his drink, feeling that he was being initiated into an archaic society of sherry drinkers.
    â€˜It’s important to cement relationships,’ Jeantet went on. ‘That’s something you’ll learn. I’ve got much to teach you – running a bank isn’t about money, no, not at all. It’s about people.’ He paused and gave Manfred a meaningful look to underline the point.
    Then quite suddenly, as if a cloud had crossed his face, Jeantet put down his glass and sat back in his armchair, clasping his hands across his belly. Manfred too put down his glass.
    â€˜Now,’ he said in an altogether more sombre tone, ‘your grandfather – a fine man – has told me that you have failed your
baccalauréat
. That is not something to be applauded and normally I would not consider taking on a member of staff whom I did not consider to be up to scratch in the old brain department.’ Here he tapped the side of his forehead. ‘However, your grandfather has assured me that you are a bright young man and I am prepared to take him at his word. I trust you will repay the faith I am showing in you.’
    He nodded seriously and then, to indicate that he had said his piece, once again took up his glass.
    â€˜Academic qualifications are all very well, but what matters in life are hard work and a keen eye for human behaviour. I myself am an avid observer of the human animal. I’m not going to lie, you’ve landed on your feet with me. Observe and learn, and you’ll go far.’
    He leaned in over the table and indicated that Manfred should do the same, before continuing in a stage whisper. ‘Between you and me, I plan to retire in a few years. Those mangy old bags out there,’ he jabbed his thumb towards the door, ‘haven’t got two brain cells between them. That’s monkey work out there. All they’re interested in is gossiping and picking up their pay cheque at the end of the month. But a bright young man in a good suit like yourself,