Summer school at labasti.., p.36
Summer School at Labastide, page 36
"I will fall into Jane's arms any time at all," Steven riposted cheerfully.
"So we notice," Cilla remarked acidly. "Even though the rest of us are worried sick about death and disaster. I call it paltry and insensitive."
"If it had been your arms I doubt if you'd have been quite so critical," Calli intervened and was called to order by a look from Greg. "Sorry, but I noticed, if no one else did, all those languishing looks and casual encounters. Anyway, congratulations. Do you mean to make it a permanent arrangement?"
"Speaking for myself," Steven told her, "yes."
"I have a feeling," Jane said, "that it's rather out of our hands. The village has married us off with their goodwill and approval. Le Viel gave us his blessing last night before....."
She hesitated, knowing that Steven did not want to have his relationship with Martel made public and blushed scarlet when the company roared with laughter.
"....and this morning M'sieu Huet, the Maire, met us at the door of the school and said he would see us in his office this afternoon and shook Steven by the hand and kissed me on both cheeks. He hadn't shaved either."
Steven held out his cup for a refill.
"Yesterday," he commented, "was quite a day. Lucie, you will almost certainly have heard already that.... "
She nodded enthusiastically.
"......M'selle Justine has sold me the Gate House. On conditions."
"What conditions?" Lucie asked.
"How would you describe them, Jane?"
Jane thought for a moment.
"On condition that you act as a sort of adopted nephew and look after their affairs, I suppose."
"True. She said she had considered adopting me as her son but thought it would be improper in view of the fact that she was a maiden lady and I had a mother already."
Lucie jumped up and came round to where he was sitting.
"You did agree?" she demanded anxiously.
"I did."
"And you will look after Marguérite and old Sara?"
"Well, that will probably be Jane's department, but yes, I will."
Lucie's eyes were bright with tears.
"I knew she was worried," she sniffed. "Claudine has been attending her. And there were only those horrible Toulouse cousins who've been waiting about like vultures.....ugh!"
She wiped her eyes on her napkin.
"You should see M'sieu Huet as soon as possible," she told Jane, "you need a civil ceremony as well as Le Viel's blessing."
"But we're not French citizens," protested Jane.
"I am," Steven said. "My stepfather adopted me. Your nationality doesn't matter, you," he added provocatively, " are only my wife."
Greg intervened hastily.
"I imagine the whole village will turn out. It'll be one hell of a party."
“And Graham is quite forgotten,” said Cilla contemptuously.
“No, he is not,” said Lucie. “And we think of Vernon as well though we did not like him. But we must recognise that life continues.”
“And gey guid thing tae,” said Jim.
The sight of the smoking, smelly gap in the wall where the Priest's House had been sobered them. Martel was standing by the remains of the portes-fenêtres. He greeted them with a nod and a 'bonjour' and pointed to where the staircase in the thickness of the wall was now clearly visible. On it lay strewn the twisted fragments of what might once have been a gas-bottle.
"The murderer used the passage and the staircase," he told them. "I imagine that he turned on the gas around seven, last night and allowed it to leak out slowly so that there would be a build-up. It would not ignite without a spark and this was probably supplied by a battery and a switch. Not a difficult matter. Once the Ellermanns came in to get ready for dinner the switch could be pressed and......voilà....."
He made a violent gesture over the ruins.
"They were late," Jim said. "They came over after the helicopter fetched Vernon away and Suzie visited Jean and the baby and Graham had a coupla beers wi' Wayne. They came back over aboot twenty past, coulda been nearer twenty five past, they'll tell you at the caff."
"You were here?" asked Martel.
"Aye, I'd a dram wi' Wayne and Graham efter the chopper took Vernon aff and then I came back an' did a wee drawing. Quite a sight yon. I needed tae get it on paper."
There was a murmur of agreement.
"M'sieu Wayne, you were in the Café? You saw when they left?"
"Aye. I followed them back here."
"Who else was in the café when they left?"
"Sam and Calli, the usual crowd from the village. Petitpain was there, the Oz pair, yon English couple frae the hoose doonbye, "
He nodded in the direction of the Brooke-Massingers.
".....and the Dutchies. They wis having a coffee ootside with yon painter wumman an' her husband."
"Bric and Leontine," Greg supplied.
"And yon Spanish couple, the young anes. They wis at the bar."
"So all of these could know when the Ellermanns left?"
"Aye."
Martel turned to Sam.
"What did you do after they left?"
"I didn't actually see them go. I went up to the room as soon as Suzie came down and had my dinner later with Jean and the baby."
"M'dame ?" he turned to Calli.
"Went back to the White House. Almost at once. It was late and we all know what Madame is if you're too late for dinner."
"Was anyone else there?"
"I could hear Cilla opening and shutting drawers in her room."
"Did you hear Madame return ?" Martel enquired of Cilla.
"No," she snapped, "I was busy."
"Doing what?" drawled Calli. "Painting?"
"If you must know, I was packing a bag," Cilla snapped back. “We must be able to get out of this dump soon.”
“M’sieu Greg, where were you?”
“After I got back from the cemetery I helped Lucie in the kitchen, fetched water for her and wood for the fire and then I went up to the attics and sat with Bax for a bit. He told me, various things. We talked for a bit and then he seemed to be drowsy and I was just getting up to go downstairs when the explosion happened. He woke up at once and insisted on coming down with me. All hell seemed to break loose after that, people shouting and running backwards and forwards, the alarm peal started....."
"The bells were rung backwards," Jane murmured.
"I went outside and someone called to me, I think it was Marie-Claire, that the Priest's House was on fire. I ran across and met Jim and Wayne and they had Graham between them......"
Martel nodded.
"I have the picture clear in my mind, I think. Now, Steven....."
He nodded contentedly at his son and if anyone there noticed the absence of an honorific they made no mention of it.
"I would be grateful if you and M'sieu Greg would assist me in a small matter. Your camera would be useful.....also a hand-light of some description."
Greg nodded.
"M'sieu Sam, I need your assistance also."
He beckoned him over and gave him instructions in a low voice and handed over a small envelop.
"Can you do this?"
"Nothing easier," Sam grinned and went loping off.
"If you two would meet me in five minutes at the house of my uncle," he requested of Greg and Steven who went back along the rampart walk to the steps.
He nodded at the rest.
“You will be pleased to hear," he flickered a glance at Cilla, "that it is possible that communications with the world outside may be re-established today. They tell me that a metal walkway is being set up to bridge the gap. Also, the Cour de Bastide will be at eleven today and it will be well if all attend it....."
"Bloody, mediaeval nonsense," grumbled Cilla."I shan't. Nothing to do with me."
"It is, nevertheless, a matter of some importance which it will consider...."
"....a matter of some importance....." Lad mimicked mincingly.
The Rhodes had come up to join the party on the ramparts some minutes before.
".....where'd you learn your English, mate, 'sif I need to ask ? Sound just like an effing pom, you do. Sneakin' stinkin' buncher stickies...."
"Aw, can it you drongo," Pattie said breathlessly, having just caught up with her husband. "Bloke can't help the way he speaks fer Crissake. Come on!"
She darted an apologetic look at the rest of them and dragged her charge away, glowering at them with his chin on his shoulder.
"Ask me," Jim observed sourly, " yon bloke was aye a foul-mouthed gnaff....."
His hearers stared in wonder at the word.
"Person of no account," Wayne explained, in finicking pedagogic style, "a wee ned, a piece o' shit."
"That'll dae," Jim interrupted. "I think this business has justaboot shoved him over the edge."
"True," Martel agreed, "but one must suppose that for something of that nature to occur, M'sieu Rhodes must have been near the edge in the first place."
His tone was dry and his delivery stimulated a certain sympathy with Lad's view of his English in some of those present.
"In the square, at eleven," he repeated and walked away.
"I bet it rains," Cilla remarked with a glance at the clouds building up to the south. "Where'll they hold it then?"
The others dispersed, muttering.
"Can I come and get some gear, hen ?" Jim asked Jane. "A' my painting stuff wis doonbye..."
H jerked his head at the reeking hole where it had been.
".....and it wis gey lucky ma canvas wis in the Studio."
"My drawin's is a' gone," mourned Wayne. "A year's work."
"Never you mind," Jim comforted, "you'll dae better, see if ye don't."
The group dawdled back along the ramparts wondering whether Greg and Lucie would rebuild the Priest's House and if they did would they put in another bathroom, whether the insurance covered them against arson and what Suzie would do when she was out of hospital.
"Sue probably," suggested Calli.
"Sue who?" objected Jim.
"Greg, the Mairie, whoever," shrugged Calli.
"Whit fur?" asked Wayne aggressively. "It wisnae their faut and it'll no bring Graham back"
"Some people find money a real comfort," Calli said cynically. "Some even prefer it to the dear departed. And her brother's a lawyer, never let it be forgotten."
Jane had dished out a pile of paper and paint and pencils and canvas boards. She was just closing the cupboard in the studio when a row started in the square outside. She and Wayne and Jim leaned out of the studio windows and saw a crowd gathered outside the boulangerie. Marie-Claire had her hand twisted in the dyed hair of a plump young woman in a tight-fitting sundress. She had forced this person to her knees and appeared to be making a determined attempt to remove the hair altogether, screaming as she did so and drowning out her victim's own screams. Her Louis had done nothing. Nothing! Did she hear ? And she, Louis’s wife would tear out the eyes of anyone who said otherwise! In the meantime, that same Louis was being restrained from attacking someone else by the combined efforts of Antonin, Girard and Boudariès. Bread from the plump woman's basket was scattered over the flags and an overturned bucket had flooded the area with hard-won well-water.
The customers in the Café had all come out to enjoy the entertainment and right in the front were the Rhodes, clutching beer-glasses, with an expression which cried, 'I told you so,' on their faces. Sam emerged behind them. Behind him was Jean, clutching a bundle of shawl. There had been a constant trickle of gifts coming to the Café since Friday night; contributions from village wives to the new arrival, shawls, vests, dresses and nappies.
Into this promising scene appeared Monsieur Bonhomme, staff in hand. He enquired in a voice which silenced the hub-bub effortlessly,
"And what is happening here?"
Boudariès assumed the role of spokesman.
"Viel, this one here, Marie-Michelle Gauterie....."
He indicated the dishevelled woman, now in tears of pain and anger, who having been reluctantly released by Marie-Claire was now heaving herself to her feet.
".....she was in the boulangerie to buy bread and she was heard to ask whether M'sieu Louis had removed any useful tackle recently and she made a comment which need not be repeated here...."
He glanced with a certain apprehension at Marie-Claire.
".....concerning organ replacement. She may have meant it as a mere pleasantry...."
There were sounds all around the gathering crowd indicating disbelief.
"....but knowing her tongue, as who here does not, it seems unlikely. Marie-Claire made no comment then. The bread was not paid for, you understand."
His listeners nodded their comprehension in unison.
"Then, it seems, as she handed over the money," Boudariès continued, "Marie-Michelle asked how it felt to sleep with a murderer."
The crowd murmured in dismay.
"Marie-Claire called for her husband and requested that they leave...."
"Requested !" squalled Marie-Michelle. "Not she! She kicked me! She kicked my arse and I will be black and blue and when Jean-Christophe came to aid me she kicked him also...."
And indeed her escort rescued from Petitpain by Antonin was looking very unhappy and it could be no secret just where she had kicked him."And when I was outside she came and she flung water over me and attacked me like a veritable tigress," shrieked Marie-Michelle, "and all my bread is spoiled...."
"And then Petitpain came out," complained Jean-Christophe rather nasally, "and he hit me upon the nose."
The same nose was bleeding and he dabbed at it with a wad of grimy tissue.
"I was watching," Monsieur Huet the Maire had emerged from Midiprix, "It is as they say. They were set upon....."
"Deservedly so!" roared Boudariès. "To torment those who have not swerved from their duty to provide us with bread in spite of suspicion and false witness and...."
"Friend, you go too far," Bonhomme reproved gently. "But all the same, this cannot be allowed to continue. The Cour de Bastide will enquire into this matter, here and now."
He made a sweeping gesture with his staff and went to the well-kerb where he sat down. The villagers, after some hesitation, formed a wide circle around the well. Jane noticed that they fell into the same groups as they had at the meeting in the old refectory.
"M'sieu Cambon, stand forth. Madame also."
The baker and his wife came forward and stood awkwardly in front of him.
"Bring seats for those of us who are old. We may be here some time."
Seats were brought, benches from the arcades, chairs from the houses, garden chairs, chairs from the Café. They appeared and were ranged in rows surrounding the well. Two men brought an ancient wooden chair from the Mairie and handed Monsieur Bonhomme into it. In five minutes all the elders were seated and the young had found places behind the chairs or on the flagstones at their feet. Bonhomme surveyed the scene, nodded and turned to wave his staff at the windows of the studio.
"Come down, my friends," he called, "this concerns you as much as any."
