Back Wild Dog
Chapters (64)
  1. Cover
  2. Part I
  3. July 1914
  4. Spring 2017
  5. August 1914
  6. Spring 2017
  7. August 1914
  8. August 2017
  9. August 1914
  10. August 2017
  11. August 1914
  12. August 2017
  13. August 1914
  14. August 2017
  15. August 1914
  16. August 2017
  17. September 1914
  18. August 2017
  19. Part II
  20. September 1914
  21. August 2017
  22. September 1914
  23. August 2017
  24. September 1914
  25. August 2017
  26. September 1914
  27. August 2017
  28. October 1914
  29. August 2017
  30. October 1914
  31. August 2017
  32. October 1914
  33. August 2017
  34. October 1914
  35. August 2017
  36. October 1914
  37. August 2017
  38. May 1915
  39. August 2017
  40. May 1915
  41. August 2017
  42. May 1915
  43. August 2017
  44. Part III
  45. August 2017
  46. May 1915
  47. August 2017
  48. May 1915
  49. August 2017
  50. June 1915
  51. August 2017
  52. July 1915
  53. August 2017
  54. July 1915
  55. August 2017
  56. July 1915
  57. August 2017
  58. July 1915
  59. August 2017
  60. July 1915
  61. August 2017
  62. July 1915
  63. August 2017
  64. Epilogue

Even if you listened carefully, you could hear nothing but birdsong and the hum of insects. There was not the faintest noise of any car or neighbour, not even a dog barking in the distance, or the sound of a far-off road or a plane, and not the slightest trace of human activity. It was complete happiness for Lise; for Franck, total anxiety. Once inside the house it was worse. He was oppressed by the silence of the thick walls, and felt literally cut off from the world, a feeling exaggerated by the damp coolness that is the fate of houses that have been shut up for a long time. He might as well have been in an underground cave, or even lost in space. The silence was even more complete inside than out: here, the quiet was troubling. Franck suddenly felt ill at ease, or at least out of his comfort zone, while Lise opened the doors and windows wide, cheerfully bringing life back to the dull interior.

On looking around they saw that the fridge was new. It was the only part of the furnishings on the ground floor that suggested the house was supposed to be rented. Everything else looked ancient, dating probably from the 1950s. Although perfectly clean, the gas cooker, wood-burning stove and bathroom looked as if they came from a second-hand shop or a film. Franck was immediately reminded of the palpable sense of unreality you get on a film set. It was something about the delicate round handle and old-fashioned bolt on the door and especially the section of sky-blue tiles surrounding the sink, a basin carved out of a single piece of stone of a sort that had not been made for centuries. As a producer, he instantly had the same feeling of anachronism that you experience when you visit a set recreating a bygone era, whether the nineteenth century or the 1950s. If the set designer has achieved their effect, you find yourself truly transported in time. As they explored the house, everything that unsettled Franck left Lise spellbound. It all delighted her. She seemed happy; for her it had all the elements of the dream package: quiet, nature, isolation. It was a good thing they were far away from everything.