Sense and French Ability (14 page)

“Why not?” he asked

“You’re still married. You’re vain. We’re not all falling at your feet. I don’t need this involvement.” Her voice rose with emotion and she sounded cruel as her panic rose. She stepped back, swallowed hard and lowered her head.

“Oh Fliss!” he said somewhat breathless as his heart pounded. “Tell me you are feeling something of what I am. I’ve never in my life experienced this. Never before.”

He put out his hand to hold her arm but she pulled away, out of his reach.

“I have to go; I must go. Oh Jean Chri...I..I’m so .. . I’m not doing this,” she said and fled up the steps in a panic.

*

The next morning, somehow Fliss fed the guests and saw them on their way. When Madame Marie arrived in the kitchen she took one look at Fliss and saw something was wrong.

“Whatever is the matter, my child?”

“I can’t say, I can’t,” Fliss responded with her head down.

“Has someone said or done something wrong, because it can be sorted out, I’m sure?” Madame Marie asked with kindness. “Sometimes people say things when they have a drink inside them that they do not mean. This place is full of people who speak before they think.”

“No, no! It’s nothing like that,” Fliss reassured her and gave a wan smile. “It’s me. I’m getting into a situation I can’t handle. It’s getting too complicated.”

“There is never a situation that cannot be fixed given a little time for contemplation and conversation,” Madame said showing her wisdom. She paused and then continued, “If it’s to do with affairs of the heart, sometimes it can help to talk,” she added astutely. “You know, one of my favourite books, for many years, has been ‘The Little Prince’ by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. It is full of wise words. ‘
Voici
mon
secret
.
Il
est
très
simple
:
on
ne
voit
bien
qu'avec
le
cœur
.
L'essentiel
est
invisible
pour
les
yeux
.’”

Fliss understood and in her head, went on to translate. ‘Here is my secret. It is simple: one sees clearly only with the heart. The essential is invisible to the eye.’

Tears of worry, guilt and exhaustion came unbidden to the corners of hwe eyes. “Madame Marie, you are so kind,” Fliss said in a shaky voice and, without over--analysing, she reached out and gave the old lady a hug. She had believed her so fierce when she first came; Fliss saw such a different person now.

“Now, now, you run along and wash your face. Take courage. All will sort itself given a little time,” Madame nodded. “I am old enough to know this to be true.”

*

Two days later Fliss was still in a terrible quandary; ashamed and guilt-ridden. Had she led Jean Christophe on, when she would never commit to a man who was married? She’d had too much to drink and become reckless.

She had not been out because she did not want to bump into Jean Chri, although she wanted to see him too. From the window she had glimpsed him going about his farm work, but that was all. She wondered what the village was saying about her and couldn’t bear to be considered frivolous or shallow. These people who she liked and respected meant such a lot.

Fliss threw herself into cleaning and tidying, and was doing that when the house phone rang. Drying her hands on a cloth, she hurried to answer it. She knew that Madame Marie was outside pegging up washing.

“Hello,” came a feeble voice at the other end.

“Yes? Hello, this is the house of Madame Altier,” Fliss answered in her best French accent.

“Hello, is that you Marie?” came the voice again.

“No, it’s not Marie but I’ll fetch her for you.”

“Hello, Marie?”

“No, please wait,” Fliss said. She was polite but firm. She put the phone down and hurried outside to call the old lady to come.

When Madame Marie picked up the phone she asked who it was. “Oh Camille,” she said, “It was Fliss who answered the phone. How are you? Oh dear!”

At this point Fliss moved away. Not wishing to pry, she went back to her cleaning job. Madame’s voice in the background sounded concerned but Fliss couldn’t hear properly and so put her energies into the job she was undertaking.

Madame Marie hunted her out and said, “That was my sister. She’s on her own and not at all well.”

“Oh I’m sorry about that.” Fliss was concerned at the worry was etched on Madame Marie’s face. “Is it very serious?”

“It’s not life-threatening, but it sounds as though she’s very ill. She has a high temperature and is coughing badly. There is no-one else to take care of her. Good neighbours are around but it’s not the same is it? She’s a little frightened of being on her own at such a time. There’s only the two of us, she has no other family,” Madame said.

“What would you like to do?” Fliss said. “I can run this place if you need to go back there. I’ll be fine and I can take you to the station again.”

“If I go I could speak to the doctor but I could nurse her too. I should like to go,” Madame Marie said. “Are you sure you will be alright? You have a lot on at the moment.”

“Truly, I shall be fine,” Fliss reassured her friend. “I’m sure there are people I can call upon if I’m in a fix.”

“Yes, right,” Madame said vaguely. “I’ll go and pack a bag. I still have time to catch a train this afternoon.”

It’s so strange that unexpected, small events can affect lives in such a major way.

Chapter 14

Fliss, aware Madame Marie worried about her sister, took her to the station. She discovered more the following day when the old lady rang.

“Camille has a horrid touch of bronchitis; bad luck at this time of year.”

“I’m glad you went,” Fliss said.

“Yes, she’s two years older and it’s horrid to be on your own when you’re ill and getting on in years. It’s scary. I’ll look after her. I’ll administer medication and make sure she eats. How are you? We don’t have many reservations for guests at the moment so it’s quiet.”

“I’m OK. How long will you need to stay? It’s fine.” Fliss tried to sound reassuring.

“I’ll be back in a week to ten days.”

*

Amélie knocked on Jean Chri’s door which stood open to the evening air. With her basket over her arm, empty and ready for the eggs, he would have them ready for her.

As Jean Chri came through to the kitchen to answer she gasped, her mission forgotten.

He looked bleak and exhausted.

“What on earth is the matter? Are you unwell?”

“No, I’m not sleeping well,” he answered. “Come in.”

He put a pan of water on the stove to heat. The range was not lit. The evening was warm enough without it but Amélie understood that it provided hot water for the bathroom too.

“You’ll take a cup of coffee?”

“Mmm,” she responded. “Jean Chri, what
is
the matter?”

She looked at the surroundings. Pots in the sink waited to be washed. Letters and unattended forms lay on the table. There was an open newspaper left on the chair next to the wood burner. She smelled as much as saw a pan on the stove that looked as if caked on stew had been left uneaten and unwashed. The house was more unkempt than Amélie had ever seen before.

“Even after Maryl left things didn’t get on top of you. What else has happened?”

“I’ve made a fool of myself.” He shrugged and avoided her eyes.

“With Fliss?” She was perceptive enough to gather how things had been going.

Jean Chri nodded.

“She was hurt in a big way by someone who was married, and I over-stepped the limit and scared her.”

As Amélie surveyed the scene, she saw that Jean Chri was unwashed, unshaven with an air devastation about him.

“I put on an air of vanity when Maryl left. Fliss believes I am conceited. She looked at me with contempt.”

Compassion for his situation overtook Amélie and she opened her arms and hugged him. Her brother-in-law sagged into her embrace.

“Right, I will visit her. Tomorrow, while you are out at work and after Melodie has gone to
l’école maternelle
I shall come and tidy up here. Now get the range lit, heat the water, and run a good bath or shower.”

Amélie brooked no argument on any of these points. She forgot the eggs for which she had come. Kissing him on both cheeks, she hurried away.

*

As Fliss finished the call with Madame Marie and put the phone back, a knock at the door sounded and she had a moment of panic as she went to answer it. What if it was Jean Chri? She wouldn’t trust herself not to cry.

Fliss opened the door and peered around it. Amélie stood on the step. Fliss sighed relief but in the next breath worry returned. She was concerned that this new friend would be cross and may have lost all respect for her.

Amélie smiled.

“
Bonjour
, Fliss. Ça va?” Amélie asked.

“
Oui
, ça va,” Fliss responded. “I am well, but. . . I’ve been better.”

She held the door wide for Amélie to enter. She kissed Fliss on both cheeks as protocol demanded now they knew each other better, no matter what her opinion.

“Please, come through.” They went to the dining area.

Fliss hurried through to the kitchen where she put on the coffee machine, keen to show Amélie that she was welcome. Despite her relationship, or lack thereof, with Jean Chri this was important to her. She would be devastated to lose this friendship and for Amélie to think worse than Fliss did of herself.

“I am pleased to see you,” she attempted to say when she returned from the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, Fliss? If you don’t want to tell me I shall accept that but you are not happy and Jean Chri is far from content. In fact, I did not even see him like this when Maryl left. He worked hard and was quiet and down, but now he is more dejected and dispirited. I have never seen this before. Is there something I can say? Can I help in any way?”

“Oh Amélie,” Fliss said, and it all gushed out. Fliss told her of her previous relationships; about her lack of trust in friendships with men; her feelings for Jean Chri and her hunger for acceptance in this village. She divulged her closest emotions and, despite all resolve, Fliss cried.

Her tears were not subtle, but instead great gulping sobs with waterfalls of water coursing down her face. Fliss was beside herself with the release of pent up emotion. There was nothing discreet or ladylike about it. Uncontrollable grief, guilt and sadness enfolded her for the mess she had become. Fliss didn’t want this, but she was too exhausted to fight it.

Amélie came round the table and put her arms around Fliss’s shoulders. “Chérie,” she said. “Do not weep. Why don’t you tell this to Jean Chri? He thinks you do not want him.”

“I can’t see him.” She groaned as if in pain. “I can’t hurt Jean Chri further. I gave him the wrong impression. He is not as arrogant as he has led me to believe. I understand that now. But he is still married, and I cannot change that, and Maryl may change her mind yet. I cannot lose the respect of the people who live here.”

“I understand.” Amélie nodded. After some seconds she sighed and added, “Remember, you cannot recover the moment after it is missed or time after it is gone. Be careful, ma chérie Fliss.”

After she left, Fliss was alone in the quiet, empty house with her thoughts. In a tailspin and panicking, she paced in agitation. She couldn’t settle and felt a need for something, but was unsure what.

Fliss grabbed her jacket and keys and, slamming the heavy front door behind her, she took flight down the front steps. With her head dropping she passed the farm and ran for Harriet’s house. She couldn’t get there soon enough and left the gate swinging as she careened to Harriet’s front door. When she banged upon it, Harriet answered her insistence.

“Harriet, I’m so sorry but I must go. I have to leave. Is there any chance you might sort out the guests for me for the next week? It’s a case of letting them in and changing beds. Perhaps Jerome can feed them if they’re booked for an evening meal. I’m sorry to ask. It’s important. I’m so hoping you can fit it around your own work. It won’t take much of your time. I should be so very grateful,” Fliss gabbled at her.

“If you have an emergency, I’ll do what I can,” she said. She accepted without question in her calm way. “Shall I come up now and you show me what to do?”

“Thank you, Harriet. That’s marvellous. I’m so grateful,” Fliss said, again, humbled in the face of such generosity of spirit.

Fliss hesitated, unsure whether to wait while Harriet found her shoes and got a cardigan. Unable to stand still, she paced around the little living room. She wanted to be on the move again.

“OK let’s go,” Harriet said, arriving downstairs in a hurry, still refraining from asking about the crisis. They were half way up the lane before she asked.

“What’s the problem?” They trotted up the lane together.

“I can’t stay. I have to get back to England. I’ve made a gigantic mistake and Madame Marie is away,” Fliss stuttered, awkward with embarrassment. “Jerome might do the meals for you,” she repeated.

“I’m sure he will, but Madame Altier may not appreciate that,” Harriet stated.

“She won’t be happy with me about any of this but I just have to go!” she said to Harriet with increasing panic in my voice.

“OK, OK!” Her voice was calming. “We’ll manage fine and we’ll manage Madame. I won’t ask the detail, that’s not my business. If you must go that badly then go. I’ve been in some sticky spots in the past and you have to do it, I understand that,” she added.

Fliss was so grateful for her good sense and support. Further tears sprang to her eyes, stinging as she fought to control them.

“Are you sure you can fit this around your own work?”

“Yes. It won’t be a problem if there are not too many bookings. After this week there will be no new ones until you or Madame Altier returns.”

Fliss grabbed her arm and stopped her. “Thank you so much for not judging me,” she said.

As they passed Jerome’s restaurant Fliss knew he would love to hear the shabby details but she would not provide them, and knew Harriet wouldn’t either. Much as she liked him, Fliss was aware he adored a good gossip.

“Perhaps you could tell him something important has come up and I have to go back to England to sort it out,” Fliss said.

“What will Madame Altier say? Jerome needs to be sure he will not get into trouble; that it is not his idea.”

“I’ll explain to her and ensure she is alright about it with you and him,” Fliss reassured her, even though she did not have that authority.

Fliss sorted everything out with Harriet as best she could and packed her bag swiftly. She collected some possessions together.

“You are coming back, aren’t you?” Harriet asked.

“I have no idea what I’m doing, but Madame Marie said she’d be back next week.”

Standing at the door, with her car keys in her hand, Fliss assumed she’d get a train crossing. She had booked nothing.

Fliss looked into the impassive grey eyes of her friend and said “Harriet, I. . .”

“Don’t say anything,” she said. “What is meant to be will be. Jo is coming over in a few days so you will be able to stay in your house by yourself. That will help, I’m sure. She can work from here almost as easily, so she can stay for as long as she likes.”

“That’s good news. I am pleased for you,” Fliss said. “I’ll phone Madame Marie when I get back to England.” She gave Harriet a watery smile and turned to go.

*

Fliss didn’t need to wait long to get a crossing. Her journey was trouble-free except for the ominous and threatening sky, darker than a coal miner’s lunch kettle. It threw rain down as if from a bottomless bucket. She phoned Jo from the Channel Tunnel terminal to let her know she would have company. Jo was laid back about that but could not believe Fliss had fled in a panic.

“You’re always so self-disciplined. You never get this agitated,” she observed. “Have you spoken to Madame Marie about this yet?”

Fliss explained “She’s away because her sister is ill.” She told Jo of the arrangements she had made.

“I’ll telephone her tonight,” Fliss explained.

“Whoo-hoo,” she flourished. “Good luck with that one. Don’t worry, I’ll be here to collect the pieces after you’ve told her. Now, drive with great care. It’ll work out right, whatever’s ‘meant’ and all that,” she added, echoing Harriet’s interpretation.

Arriving back at her house, Fliss was exhausted. The rain had been thrashing down since she had left Fleurus-le-Comte. She dragged her bags indoors and greeted Jo, who was waiting for her with a cup of tea followed by wine.

They talked well into the night.

“You are slightly mad for taking this route to flight. I always said you should dump Edward for someone less tedious. Now the opportunity has arisen and you’ve run away.”

Morning came, grey and heavy as her mood. Fliss awoke with a cracking headache, and remembered that she hadn’t called Madame Marie. She must do it, that minute. No more prevaricating.

Fliss picked up the phone with trepidation and dialled the number Madame had left for her. Thank goodness she’d put it into her phone before she left. She discovered that when she fled she had left all manner of useful and necessary things, including her toothbrush.

Fliss explained what she had done and that Harriet had agreed to look after everything.

“Oh my child,
quelle
un
pétrin
. At least Harriet is trustworthy. She will manage and I shall be home again in a week or so.”

‘Yes, I’m in a right pickle. Madame is so right with that.’

“I’m so, so, sorry,” Fliss said as tears sprang to her tired eyes yet again. She couldn’t confess that she had suggested Jerome did the food for the guests, not over the phone. Madame need never find out that part anyway. By the time she returned it would be done and dusted.

“Sort it out and come back as soon as you can. I can wait. I expected to finish my days there. Camille and I will manage until you return. She can always return there with me.”

“Thank you so much. Au revoir” she managed between gulps.

“I cannot believe she is being so understanding,” she said, turning to Jo, who stood in the doorway as she finished the call.

“Well, she might be an old bag but she has a good heart buried in there somewhere. Mind you, she wants it all to be right so you can go back and she can escape,” Jo said as she came into the room and gathered Fliss up in a hug, ignoring her dampness.