Sense and French Ability (22 page)

*

“I’ll drive the tractor up there now.” Jean Chri responded to Fliss’ urgent call. “If they are in trouble others will be too. Take Melodie and get up to your house NOW,” Jean Chri demanded urgently. “If the tree that she told you about moves and all that water is freed it will rush down the village and the drains are already swamped.”

“Don’t worry about us, we’re fine but we will go,” Fliss reassured him. She did not say more since he was clearly so pre-occupied.

Jean Chri phoned the mobile of Pierre le Bec. Fortunately le Maire had climbed out of the river and was able to answer the call. Jean Chri quickly explained and told him to ask for help from another farmer to rescue any others who may be in danger.

“We’ve just cleared the weir and the water level suddenly dropped. I hope we haven’t caused the banks to collapse,” Pierre said is a worried voice. He said he would phone
les
pompiers
, the fire brigade, too.

Jean Chri drove as carefully as he could along what used to be the lane. It was very daunting because there were so few landmarks to judge where the lane was and where the river began. He felt himself sweating around his neck and his heart was thumping. His tractor wheels were massive but that would not help him if he steered too close to the bank.

He passed another tree, now prone across the river with its massive root ball half in and half out of the water. There was no sign of the bank and he guessed there was a large gouge out of it. This was particularly hair-raising. Eventually he arrived at what he judged was next to Harriet’s driveway. He could just see only one of the gate posts sticking up out of the water.

He debated whether or not to turn in. At first he thought it would be too risky but he had to turn around somewhere, anyway, so with his heart racing he decided to give it a go. Jo and Harriet were at the window and opened it as he arrived. Harriet was crying, he could see.

“Are you both alright?”

They nodded and Jo shouted back “What shall we do?”

“If I raise the bucket really close, can you climb out into it?”

“Bloody Nora,” he heard Harriet say. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Well it’s that or stay here on your own,” Jo said in a typically forthright tone of voice designed to shock Harriet into action.

“Can you come along to the window at this end and I’ll see you there.” Jean Chri called up. The water was deeper down in the garden but Jean Chri, though very nervous, could think of nothing else but to make this manoeuvre.

“Yes. It’s a date. Hang on and we’ll see you there. Make mine a large glass of red,” Jo joked.

By the time they reappeared at the nearest window, Jean Chri had lifted up the bucket as close to them as he possibly could. They opened the window and even Jo grimaced as they both saw what they needed to do.

“It really will be safe and steady,” he tried to reassure them.

“I’ll go first,” Jo turned and said to Harriet. “Then I’ll be able to help you.”

“OK,” Harriet replied in a wobbly voice as she dashed her sleeve across her face to soak up the tears.

“Shite, shite, shite,” Jo whispered to herself as she hoisted first one leg over the sill and then squatting astride the opening she just managed to swing the other long leg over and round so that she was sitting and facing the outside.

Then, conscious again that she had to show a brave face for Harriet, she launched herself carefully forwards into the bucket. It wavered a little but she had to admit that she felt safer than she thought she would.

Turning to the window and to Harriet, she stretched out her hand and gave an encouraging nod and a smile.

“Come on, it’s better than you think. I will keep you safe, you know I will. You are precious to me,” she added quietly for Harriet’s ears alone.

With that encouragement, Harriet followed Jo’s example and carefully swung her legs over and round, lowering herself gradually into the bucket next to Jo.

With them both safely rescued, Jean Chri turned his thoughts to the subsequent tricky move. He had been nowhere near as confident as he has sounded. Next he had to manoeuvre the tractor backwards and round into the lane until he was facing the right way for the return journey.

Finally reaching the road into the village, Jean Chri mentally heaved a sigh of relief. He was soaked with nervous anxiety, despite his brave demeanour. Reaching comparatively drier land he lowered the bucket scoop and the two women climbed out in an ungainly and wobbly fashion. The weirdness of the situation finally brought a smile to Harriet’s face.

“Go up to Fliss’ house. You will be quite safe there. She will find you food and anything else you need for the time being,” he shouted down from his cab.

As he prepared to turn around and head back to see if anyone else was in the same predicament he saw Fliss at the open door to her house. Standing in front of her and waving was Melodie. She blew him a kiss and Fliss knew he could see her smiling encouragement even from down there. Harriet and Jo were already heading that way, having voiced their true thanks. More could be said later.

Whilst Jean Chri was making another similar run to rescue a pair of middle-aged sisters who lived together, Alexandre and Nicolas hailed him from their tractor. They had turned out to see what could be done to help.

Jean Chri and the two boys together made three more similar trips. It was significantly more difficult to persuade M. Demille and especially his wife, Florence, to climb down into the tractor bucket. Admittedly she was much older, but Jean Chri began to wonder if he was ever going to get her to commit herself to the move. He had to promise to turn his head so that he would not see her big pink knickers. Her husband had to promise her all kinds of things that Jean Chri was pleased he could not hear. She has to be reassured that it was safer to do this than to stay.

Gradually, people were delivered to Fliss’s house because it was well above any flood level.

Chapter 22

With people arriving at her house in various states of uncertainty, undress and fear, Fliss was being kept remarkably busy. Some were chilly and shaking; others were very robust and over-compensating for how they were really feeling.

Initially, everyone was in a slight state of shock and thus far had not resumed the antagonisms of previous days, even when Jerome’s presence became obvious, so occupied were they in thoughts of their shared experiences. Fliss had thought he and Éric were headed for their own home but it was typical of him that he’d come up to help her, having become aware of all the activity in the village and the tractors passing his house with their strange cargo.

Blankets were found for those who were shivering. Florence Demille was busy telling everyone what a dangerous time she’d had; how she had nearly fallen head first into the water and bemoaning the fact that her lovely house was ruined. She seemed unaware that others were suffering the same fate. Fliss was fairly certain that no-one was really listening to her, so resolved that if it helped Florence Demille to get over it then that may help her and others in the long run. Not even her husband was really paying attention, so worried and upset had he been too.

Jo and Harriet were helping to pass hot drinks around and everyone expressed their gratitude to them as well.

Jerome seemed in his element, keeping a permanent flow of coffee on the go and washing up in between other housekeeping activities. He had detailed Éric to light a fire in the log burner so the older folk could gather round and keep warm.

They were sitting huddled together there now. Fliss had always thought Jerome was a person who desperately wanted to be needed and she felt confident she could leave the kitchen side of things to him. He was giving Éric other little tasks to keep him busy to stop him getting in a panic, too.

Fliss had enough to do in making up beds and ensuring towels were in place as well as keeping everyone warm enough. Even though it was not that chilly outside several now seemed to be suffering the after effects of shock. In a spare moment from rushing between bedrooms, she had a heart-sinking moment when she hoped Jean Chri was alright and not putting himself in too much danger.

Passing through the living room Fliss took a moment to look out of the window. There was a strange luminous glow as the sun above the tall clouds was probably shining in the blue somewhere on high but trying to find an edge to the grey density. The rain had definitely eased off quite a lot. She sighed as she thought the worst was past.

Little did she know. . .

*

Fliss was not looking at the weather as much as really scanning the roads to see if there was any glimpse of the familiar green tractor but she had no such sight.

‘Perhaps he has resumed his mud cleaning activities?’

There was a distant rumble. Was that more thunder? Fliss was not sure but desperately hoped not. She sighed. She could spend no longer gazing out of the window. Jo and Harriet got up from their seats and Jo gave Fliss a hug. She seemed to sense her disquiet.

“Can we do any more to help?”

“Ah, that would be marvellous. I’m really grateful. Let me show you where to find sheets and pillow cases. We’ll need to move a mattress from one of the family rooms to another room, as well, to make an extra sleeping space,” Fliss said.

Eventually Fliss heard the deep engine of the tractor and Jean Chri arrived at the door.

“I’m absolutely worn out from all this,” he told Fliss.

She could see that his exploits and nervous energy expended had left their toll.

“I’m grimy from head to toe, too.”

She placed her arm around him and guided him indoors, giving him a warm and welcoming kiss on his day-roughened cheek.

“You look exhausted.”

Alexandre and Nicolas came up the steps just then.

“Come on in,” Fliss said at the door. “Come and have a coffee.”

“We’ll just have a quick one,” Jean Chri said “but then we must go back out. There is still a couple stuck on the other side of the valley who need a lift across to their son’s house. They’re not in danger but they’re naturally upset and worried. There’s still no sign of les pompiers. Have you been in touch with Pascal or Amélie?”

“I’ve called several times but there is no reply. I’ve tried Pascal’s mobile number and the landline from the book,” Fliss responded whilst encouraging him to sit for five minutes while he drank his coffee. “Perhaps the cables are down,” she added, trying to allay the worry etched on Jean Chri’s face.

“He should be answering his mobile though.” He continued to look anxious. “Is Melodie alright?”

“She was asking when her mummy or daddy will come. She’s in one of the bedrooms at the moment with Jo. She’s polishing the furniture. There’s probably nothing left in the tin by now.” Fliss smiled at him.

“She loves doing that,” her uncle said.

They were so pre-occupied that they did not immediately notice the darkening sky, but then came another rumble. Shortly after, there was a flash of lightning and a louder crash of thunder that had Florence Demille squealing and sent her into fresh spasms of tears.

Jo returned with Melodie who ran to Jean Chri as soon as she saw him. He lifted her onto his knee.

“You are very grubby,” she said as she looked seriously into his eyes.

Then she turned to Fliss and said, “Madame Demille is very noisy.”

“Fliss grinned at her and nodded. She likes a little drama, I think,” she said quietly. “She’s fine really. She’s not like you though. You know it’s just the weather, don’t you.”

The little girl nodded solemnly.

Harriet looked worried at the sound outside but Jo placed her hand on her shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze. Harriet responded with a small smile.

“I know we are up a hill here,” Jo said, “but there are plenty of trees and the church too, not far away so we shan’t be struck by anything here. It’ll go somewhere else before coming at us.” She smiled confidently.

“I must go again,” Jean Chri stated and rose wearily. The two lads got up too but Jean Chri waved them down. “No, you two stay here. I shan’t be long and you have done more than enough. Stay for dinner. You can be of help here, I’m sure.”

“Please take care and don’t take any risks,” Fliss could not help saying, despite her resolve not to fuss.

Jean Chri kissed and hugged her warmly with disregard to anyone else present. He no longer cared for the gossip-mongers, and neither did she.

Hunched in his coat with the hood up and his boots clumping down the steps, Jean Chri headed back to his tractor and wondered what he should do first. He was aware of the old couple across the valley but he was increasingly worried about his brother and sister-in-law.

There was still no sign of les pompiers. They must have been having trouble getting up the valley, or else they were drenched with emergency calls. He decided to ring M. le Bec to find out if he’d had any information. As he climbed up into his high cab he pulled his phone from his pocket to ring le Maire.

“Is there any news of les pompiers arriving soon? We could do with their ladders and medical expertise,” he enquired when Pierre le Bec answered his phone.

“There is still no sign at all,” Pierre responded.

Jean Chri told of what had been accomplished so far.

“How is Fliss coping?” Pierre asked. “It is very good of her to care for so many people.”

“She has very competent help from Jerome. He arrived early this morning with tons of food in jars from his cellar that he has been preserving since last year. I don’t know how he knew it would be needed.”

“Well perhaps we need to review the village position with him. It has been a complicated situation with rumours flying. He hasn’t helped his own situation either. He can be quite volatile and it doesn’t take much to wind up some others. It seems like we owe him a few favours, though. Good for him,” Pierre admitted.

Finishing the call, and feeling no further forwards, Jean Chri rang Pascal again but there was still no answer. He made an instant decision. He would see if he could reach Pascal’s house. It was further along the lane from Harriet’s but the lack of response from phoning was distressing.

The old couple would just have to wait a short time. He knew they were not in immediate danger, just stranded and a little worried. Surely one of the other farmers could sort that out.

As Jean Chri turned his vehicle round there was a flash of forked lightning and an almighty crash of thunder which caused him to jump and unnerved him. Not more rain, surely. His fears were shortly realised, though, as he carefully drove along the road and through the water caused by the blocked drains. Turning into the lane to resume his mission, Jean Chri was all the time feeling deepening concern for his brother and Amélie. The rain began again in earnest, firing down large bullets from a nearly black sky, so dense were the clouds. The noise was deafening.

He had gone a couple of hundred meters along the lane, taking great care not to stray too close to where the river bank used to be. Suddenly, there was the most menacing sound. Even in his cab and above the resounding noise of the rain on its roof, Jean Chri was not sure if he had heard or rather felt a deep rumbling, rushing noise. For a few seconds he was mystified. The next moment he was horrified.

*

Fliss, in the warmth of her house halfway up the hill, heard the same sound, as did the others who were sharing her safe retreat. Those who were younger rushed to the windows and the more elderly struggled to their feet with unaccustomed speed and limped to look out too. There was little to see from there. The lie of the land and the thick canopy on the trees bordering the roads sheltered the view of the valley floor. They could really only see down the road a way. After a few moments the others resumed their huddle around the fire and those who were working continue with their tasks, thinking maybe another tree had come down or something similar.

The first idea Jean Chri had that something momentously dangerous was occurring was the sight of a huge tree, advancing horizontally at a treacherous speed through the water. The river was now very wide and was just a churning, boiling mass of muddied brown foam and froth. It was not recognisable. He knew it was not the old willow tree he had just seen. It had come from higher up the valley.

There was another tree, not far behind it, being tossed like a splinter although it must have been twelve or fourteen metres long. Was that the noise that Fliss thought she’d heard early that morning? Was that these trees being ripped from the earth? Perhaps they had been stuck somewhere and were now freed?

Impaled and disembowelled upon the side branches of the larger tree was a car that was being flung around in deep, rushing water. Jean Chri had no time to see if there was anyone in the car and anyway there was no way to tell anymore. It was a dark blue Citroën which was quite old. He knew this car. Were Pascal and Amélie inside? He’d heard the expressions of ‘blood running cold’ and ‘flesh creeping’, and now Jean Chri felt he knew the true meaning of these. His heart thumped, and took his breath with it.

He was appalled at what he saw.

‘Surely they would not have been stupid enough to try driving a little, old car in this weather,’ he thought angrily.

In the next moment he knew they would have been worried for Melodie.

‘Maybe they had set out before the river burst its banks. Clearly trees have been falling and blocked the river higher up. Mon Dieu! If dammed water had suddenly given way. . . If they were in the car they would have been in it for some time.’ He shuddered.

‘No! Probably they are safe upstairs in their house and my imagination is simply running away. Why are they not answering the phone? Perhaps it is submerged and they are safe upstairs. Where is all this water coming from?’

He was momentarily puzzled.

‘Did this tree sweep down earlier? Has it been wedged somewhere?’ Jean Chri had no idea.

He was horrified to see the contortion of mangled metal swept along like a toy on a stick. It was only after a second that he realised it was the advance warning of a colossal wall of water three metres high that was surging and tumbling towards him with express speed.

Jean Chri understood that the nature of the steep-sided, narrow valley meant that he could not avoid the massive amount of water pouring into his path. This multitude of panicking thoughts took seconds but felt to him like a slow motion event, full of detail. Jean Chri just had time to open the door of his cab, thinking that he did not want to drown trapped in that tiny space. Then the whole tractor slewed around with the powerful force of the deluge. He clung on.

He felt, rather than saw, rocks and debris, trees and mud being rolled along as well. His enormous tractor was tipped over like a toy.

“Fliss,” he called. “I’m so sorry.”

And he was hurled forwards in to the murk.

Fliss, in her safe haven, had no idea of the catastrophe that was occurring. She did not see the wall of water or the green tractor being flushed and tumbled along. She had no conception of the tumult into which Jean Chri had been flung or the danger which was ensuing.

*