Sense and French Ability (15 page)

She was a great laugh, Jo, but when something really became a problem she was so reliable. “It’s in her own interest to have you fit and committed to the venue,” she added with a chuckle, lightening the discussion. “Now, I’m supposed to be going to stay with Harriet again in a few days but I can stay if you like,” she said.

“No, you go. I shall be fine and I need to calm myself and decide what to do.”

“If you’re away from it all, and have time alone, it’ll help you to decide what you need to do.” Jo said wisely.

*

Fliss met Edward briefly, having called him to say that she was home. Otherwise, she thought, someone else would tell him or she’d bump into him. It seemed fair. He came to her house.

“I can’t stay long,” he said. “Maureen Dawlish asked me to go to a trustees meeting for the local village hall. I can’t miss it. She feels my skills in finance may be of use to them.”

At 7.30pm the next evening, the door-bell rang. Jo let Fliss answer it, but she gave her a sideways look and raised her eyebrows as Fliss left the sitting room. ‘Here we are, back in the old routine.’ Fliss thought.

“They are lovely,” Fliss said as she took the flowers and leaned towards Edward to kiss a welcome. Not two kisses, one on each side, just the one; the Judas kiss.

“Fliss, I can’t believe it’s you, home again.” He hugged her and patted her back in an avuncular, awkward way.

It wasn’t long before the aroma of coffee broke the chilly atmosphere between them.

“No thanks,” he said as she held up a wine glass, “I’m driving and I need a clear head for the meeting.”

Fliss poured herself a glass of sauvignon blanc and they went through to the sitting room.

“So what’s happening?” Edward asked.

“I wanted to come home for a bit,” she answered. There was no way she would ever tell him about Jean Chri and the fool she had made of herself, leading him on and leaving as she had.

“Well you should never isolate yourself like that from all that is familiar,” he said, proselytising. “I didn’t understand it in the first place. You’re home now though.”

‘No you never understood it, did you?’

She looked across at him sitting there with his feet and his knees tidily together. Dear Edward, always kind and safe, but Fliss wasn’t going back down that path. She glanced out of the window at the rain, which still pelted against the glass, and she gave a sigh.

Fliss was evasive about her time in France and Edward did not want to ask too much.

‘It scares him. I might have gone bohemian on him,’ Fliss thought.

“What will you do now? You gave up your job. That was reckless,” he said.

“Mmm probably. I’ll use more of my savings while I decide what to do, I suppose.”

“I might be able to pull a few strings to get you back in,” Edward said. “Let’s see what I can do. Look, I must leave. Still, you’ve got this thing out of your system now!”

Fliss did not contradict Edward’s view of her return. She had no energy. What she did do, though, was realise she had made the right decision to end it with him.

Fliss looked at the rain again and expelled her breath. “Mmm.” She mumbled her response, looking at her hands in her lap.

“Right, come here.” He rose and stretched out his arms. She went to him and fitted where she always had, with her head against his shoulder. He put his arms around her. It was comfortable but not exciting.

“I’ll see you soon,” Edward said as he prepared to go. “I’m not sure when because I told Jean I’d go and help clean out the village hall early next weekend.” He looked sheepish.

“Oh, OK. That’s fine. I’ve things to catch up with. We are each going our own way, aren’t we, but I’m glad we can still be friends,” Fliss said.

“Shall I ask about work for you back at the old place when I go in on Monday?”

“Um, er, yes, you could ask.” Fliss taken off guard, answered vaguely.

“Bye, Edward,” she said.

Fliss watched him dodge the rain ineffectually as he ran to his car.

‘I cannot believe this weather.’

Jo was still up when Fliss returned to the sitting room. “Well?” She asked how the evening went.

“He’s the same, Jo. He’s kind, reliable, he’s safe.”

“So what you’re saying is he’s dull, monotonous, boring!”

*

A week later, Jo had left for France and Fliss was back in an old routine of sorts. She wasn’t working and living as frugally as possible. She did not meet Edward for a while. He was ill one night so they had to cancel a planned evening, and the following weekend he ran in a 10K charity race and was shattered. Fliss was fine with that. She didn’t want to encourage him in any way. It seemed as if he might be finding himself a life without her.

Perversely, Fliss felt somewhat abandoned,. but when she analysed her feelings she knew it was the right thing for both of them. She couldn’t bring herself to dissect her feelings about Fleurus-le-Comte and the people there. She was procrastinating for all her worth.

During this period Edward phoned her.

“Mr. Hackett will see you on Thursday about some work. It’s a temporary contract but he thinks he might make it permanent in two or three months.”

Fliss was burning through her savings and was aware that her money for moving house was dwindling, if that’s what she decided she wanted to do. She was in turmoil and not thinking straight, being backed into a corner.

“Thanks Edward. I’ll call him.”

She pondered her situation. Perhaps it was that confounded rain, but Fliss felt restless. It didn’t commit her to anything to go and talk with Mr Hackett. After all she could always say no to any job offer. It would give her time to decide what she needed to do.

‘Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go and speak to him. It doesn’t bind me to anything.’ She prevaricated with herself yet again.

Chapter 15

When Jean Christophe was on the way to his vegetable plot, he bumped into Harriet and Jo. When he heard that Fliss had fled he was devastated.

“That’s all my fault,” he said, his brown eyes filled with worry and regret. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it more tousled than before.

“Surely not! How could that be?” Harriet asked.

“I must have intimidated her when I trespassed. It wasn’t my right. Madame Altier is away too, so what is happening to the business?
Merde
! I’ve caused so much trouble.”

“Fliss has gone to sort out some stuff and have space. Don’t despair, Jean Chri.” Harriet tried to sound consoling, but she had little idea of what was going on. “I am looking after the guests for Madame Altier so there’s no problem there. She is due back from visiting her sister next week. I can manage until she returns. Between you and me, Jerome is looking after the dinner side of things for one or two guests, too.” She smiled.

“That might set the cat among the pigeons but the village will get entertainment from the fallout.” Jo winked at Jean Chri, lightening his mood a little. He smiled faintly.

“
Merci
. Perhaps, if you are in touch with her, you might tell her I’m sorry?” he said to them both. “I would but I am sure she does not wish me to call anyway,” he observed.

That evening, he drove along the little lane beside the river to see his brother, Pascal, and his sister-in-law, Amélie. Melodie, his adored niece, in her night clothes, ran to him with her arms wide and her smile even wider.

“
Mon
Oncle
,
bonsoir
!” she squealed.

Jean Chri picked her up and swung her round. He held her in his strong, brown arms and kissed the top of her blonde head. She smelled of shampoo and soap and was tired enough to be cuddlesome and close. Whatever befell, he would always have time for Melodie. She lightened his heart, always, with her joyfulness.

“Bonsoir, little one,” he smiled at her and gently placed her down again.

“Come on Melodie, say goodnight. It’s time for bed,” Amélie said, taking her hand.

The rounds of kisses and good wishes were made and Jean Chri was left alone with his brother.

“Oh, little brother,” Pascal said, using the epithet he had adopted from the time of Jean Chri’s birth. He knew why Jean Chri had appeared at his door. Pascale had gathered from the rampant rumour running around the village that Fliss had left in a hurry, and he had put two and two together.

“Pascal, what have I done? I thought she liked me too but it turns out I was wrong. She was hurt by someone married and now I’ve frightened her and she’s left. Goodness knows what Madame Altier will say. I will be blamed for messing up all of her plans, and rightly so.” Jean Chri paced around and looked wretched.

“Why don’t you contact Fliss and tell her this? She is the one who you need to talk to,” was his brother’s advice.

Amélie returned, having tucked Melodie into bed. “Jean Chri,” she said, touching his arm. “I saw Fliss before she left and she was miserable with guilt about hurting you. She’s frightened because you are still married and worried, too, about what people here will say. She doesn’t want to upset local folk when she is trying to fit in and take over from Madame Altier so she’s gone to clear her head. I’m sure she will return. Why don’t you ring her?” Amélie echoed her husband’s advice, not having listened to what passed between the two brothers while she was along the hallway with her little daughter.

“She wouldn’t want me to contact her since she ran from here, from me! She has another life and I didn’t think it was so important to her but I was wrong,” Jean Chri said.

“Come, sit and take a coffee,” Amélie said, moving to put a pod into the machine. She wiped the plastic cloth as they sat around the kitchen table and Pascal turned off the television.

“It seems we shall never be together, but I know she is the one for me,” Jean Chri stated. “She has an inner beauty. You can see this. It is betrayed by her smile. She has resilience and mercy, at the same time. I have never felt like this about anyone.
Zut
! What a nightmare.” He anguished, putting his head in his hands.

*

“It will soon be
Quatorze
Julliet
, or
La
Fête
Nationale
,” Harriet said. “The English call it Bastille Day but the French never do. It is almost as if they wish to forget that. When the storming of the prison occurred on that day in 1789 only seven inmates were released and none of them with any serious political significance.”

“It was supposed to be an infamous place, though, wasn’t it?” Jo asked.

“So they say. Anyway, the following year the
Fête
de
la
Fédération
was celebrated when a short-lived constitutional monarchy formed. The date was adopted for a day of national celebration in 1879 in honour of the French Republic, so small surprise that the French don’t like the title the English give.”

“You’re a veritable walking history book,” Jo said. “I didn’t know half of that.”

“I didn’t before but Valentine corrected me once, before I made a public
faux
-
pas
,” Harriet explained.

“So the village has yet another excuse for drinking, feasting and having a day off work,” Jo observed.

“So long as it’s not on a Sunday. The actual day is always the day celebrated. None of this moving it to the nearest Monday as the English would.”

“Again, there’ll be drinks tent and a barbecue and there’ll be fireworks later. Before all that, to each school-aged child M. le Maire will present a book in recognition of all their hard work during the year. It’s a charming tradition and all the children look forward to it.”

Jo and Harriet decided to go and collect Jean Chri and insist that he accompany them for the afternoon and evening.

“I bet he won’t come otherwise,” Harriet guessed.

When Jean Chri answered the door he said, “Oh no, I don’t want to go,” to their request that he go with them for a drink at least.

“No excuses,” Jo argued.

“I’m not staying late,” Jean Chri stated.

“A drink and letting your hair down will do you good,” Harriet said.

“Alright, since all this rain has delayed, I’ll come and take one beer,” he said.

The heavy rain had postponed the harvest which frequently started in the middle of July. This year it’s likely to be another week, or even more, before the moisture in the grain reached the right level for cutting.

“I took a sample to the cereal silo and the people there tested it and told me the grain was far too damp still. Once the all clear is given it’s all hands on board and we’ll work well into the early hours of each morning to get the job done while fine weather lasts. There will be no time for feasting then,” he explained to Jo as they walked down the road.

Jo, colourful in her attire, and Harriet linked arms with Jean Chri as they strode forth. Harriet wore her own flowing clothes. They made a stunning trio as they entered the field by the Salle des Fêtes, and heads turned as they arrived.

Jo got the first round in and Harriet the second, which meant that Jean Chri was honour bound to buy another round before he left. The weather was cool but everyone kept jackets on and sat in continental
en
plein
air
manner at tables outside. At four o’clock the Maire started the presentation to children. By this time Jean Chri’s brother and family had joined them.

Melodie received a picture book with which she ran back to the group of adults and demanded, “Mon Oncle Jean Chri, will you read this?”

He had relaxed since having a couple of beers and seemed delighted to haul her up onto his knee and open the pages. He read the story for her with great exuberance and acting, much to the amusement of the others who were pleased to see him so much more animated.

Another round of drinks followed when Pascal took his turn to buy.

“I’m going to get a burger and chips,” Jo announced and the others followed. Melodie had a sausage with chips and smothered it all in mayonnaise, eating half before she wanted to run off and find her friend, Thibault. She kept returning throughout the next hour taking one or two cold chips before disappearing again. Pascal and Amélie did not stay late, preferring to get home and put Melodie to bed. However, Jean Chri stayed on with Harriet and Jo. The alcohol worked its way and he had forgotten that one beer was all he intended to have.

The evening turned lively with music and more eating and drinking. Jean Chri talked about recent events and got melancholic again, so Jo hauled him up on to his feet.

“Come on Jean Chri, I need to move. Let’s dance,” she said in a merry voice. Harriet joined them on the grass in front of the sound system and Jo began a conga with him between them. It wasn’t long before others joined them and the line of dancers got longer as it wove between tables and around the field. Beers and dancing progressed and the evening came to a close with the three of them doing a can-can, much to the horror of the ‘Disagreement of Old Ladies’. Jo was only half aware of glances and shocked comments directed at ‘the English’!

*

“Hi, Fliss,” Jo spoke into the phone.

“Oh, Jo, how are you and how are things there?” Fliss asked wistfully.

“You missed a great evening yesterday,” Jo said with enthusiasm. “Harriet and I went to the Quatorze Julliet celebration and guess who we got to come along with us?”

“I have no idea but I suspect you are about to tell me.” Fliss almost laughed at the earnestness of her good friend.

“Only the man himself,” Jo told her ecstatically.

Fliss took a sharp breath but feigned ignorance. “Who?”

“Fliss!” Jo exclaimed.

Jo told Fliss in great detail about their evening, about Jean Chri’s unhappiness and how they got him to forget his sorrows for the evening, at least. When she related their final dance session and the response of the group of older ladies Fliss was a little mortified.

“I hope you haven’t got all of us a bad name, Jo.”

“Mmm, I may have done. Sorry! They are too stuffy though,” she added. “Harriet will make it right, I’m sure. They like her. Anyway, how are you and ‘other lover’ getting on?”

“I’m
not
back in that old routine,” Fliss answered. “I am wondering if Edward has met someone though. He’s very cagey about things. Oh and I’ve got a sort of interview. It’s a temporary position but I’ll see how it goes.”

“You’re not coming back in a hurry then?” Jo asked with surprise in her voice.

“I don’t know, Jo. To be honest I’m not sure what to do. I’m so sorry to have let Madame Marie down. She rang me and told me she hoped I would be back soon. How can I do that and not keep bumping into Jean Chri?”

“OK so he’s married but this is modern times, Fliss,” Jo stated.

“It’s such a traditional place. That’s what I liked about it. People will turn against me and Maryl may come back. Then what would I do? I should lose everything. I wish I had been there yesterday though. It sounds such fun. I was stuck here feeling sorry for myself,” Fliss told her friend, trying to keep the wistfulness from her voice.

“Get this ‘thinking phase’ over with soon, Fliss,” Jo said. “Time wasted is never recovered.”

These were familiar words to Fliss. Wasn’t that what Amélie had said?

With these words echoing back and forth in her mind, Fliss finished the call. She was left feeling down and turbulent.

To cap it all, the rain started again after barely a day’s break from it.

When Jo related the essence of the call to Harriet they both wondered about the news that Edward may have met someone else. That would settle that, once and for all. However, the news that Fliss had a job interview was more disconcerting…

*

At the end of the week following the national celebration, Jean Chri had a phone call from Madame Marie asking if he might come and collect her from the station, since she understood Fliss was still away.

“This is not a problem for me at all,” he reassured her.

“I will bring my sister, Camille, with me,” she said. “She’s much better but still weakened, so with Fliss away and Harriet looking after things it would be best if I come back and bring Camille there.”

“That sounds like the best thing,” Jean Chri concurred. They agreed arrangements.

At the appointed time Jean Chri met the two old ladies and, after carrying their bags, he helped one and then the other into the back of the car. Madame Marie was chatty on the way home but after a few comments and bits of conversation Camille dozed for the rest of the journey. On arrival he helped them with their things, and at Madame Marie’s insistence he left them inside the front door and left.

“Who’s that someone in the kitchen?” Madame Marie spoke to herself as much as Camille. “Harriet must be here. I understood the last guests went early this morning and we weren’t expecting anyone else for a while. Maybe Harriet has accepted another booking.” She shrugged.