Sense and French Ability (23 page)

“Melodie,” Fliss called, aware that the little girl was worried and lacking attention. “Melodie, will you help me?” She hugged her, wanting to keep the little one busy.

“Would you ask the ladies who are sitting by the fire to play Happy Families with you? I really think it would cheer them up and they would really enjoy your company.”

“Will my mummy and daddy be here soon?” Melodie asked with a frown marking her small face.

“I’m sure they will arrive as soon as they can,
ma
minette
,” Fliss reassured her, adding in English, “my pussycat.”

Looking over her shoulder to be sure the child was alright, she disappeared to find Jerome in the kitchen. Fliss was reassured as she saw Melodie skip across, her blonde hair swinging and carrying her pack of cards. The older ladies greeted her with smiles and hugs.

“Jerome, we will need to give all these people dinner soon,” Fliss said with a frown of concern as she entered the room. “I’m really not sure what to do at such short notice.”

“What I thought was...,” Jerome moved across to the preparation table and showed her what he had prepared so far.

“We don’t have much meat for this number of people but if I use this and add those, I think we should be fine. I can make it seem more if I add these.”

He held up a jar of preserved root vegetables. “We have plenty of eggs and milk so for dessert I wondered about a simple crème Anglaise. I could make some little biscuits to go with it. It will be plain and tasty but satisfying and people will feel better for having food inside them,” he added

“You are so knowledgeable.” Fliss smiled at him. “I am amazed, and so grateful.”

She impetuously gave him a hug, and said a heartfelt thank you.

“I would be very hard-pressed to manage this without you. We all owe you thanks,” she said, welling up a little.

‘How could people have been so small-minded and unkind to this man who is kindness itself? OK, he is a little strange; yes he is unkempt and disorganised.’

She had to admit this to herself, looking around.

‘However, he has given all this food and his time to ensure the very people who have called him any number of things are safe and well-looked after.’

*

It was not many minutes more when they all heard a medical helicopter. It sounded as if it was circling around quite close. Then they heard it noisily approaching, very low and again they all moved to the windows to see what was occurring next. The helicopter was indeed near ground level; hanging in the sky very low indeed. The distinctive red and yellow colour informed them all that help was at hand.

It was so close to the ground that the identification number on its tail fin was clearly visible.

“Is it landing?”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s really close.”

“
Que Dieu nous aide
,” Mme Demille whispered, crossing herself and raising her eyes heavenward.

Instead of landing the medicopter hung just above the trees causing them to writhe about even more riotously than before.

“He must be an incredibly skilful pilot. Look at the wind driving the rain almost horizontal,” one of the men said.

Between the leaves now, the watchers saw just a mass of churning water that was not evident previously. They were shocked and horrified but still could not see the full enormity of what had happened.

“Mon Dieu, so much water,” one of the ladies whispered.

“Look, look,” someone in the room cried. “He’s moving off.”

Fliss looked around for Melodie.

“What is happening?” The child asked plaintively of someone close by. Fliss called the little one, lifted her into her arms and spoke to her calmly although her own heart was racing and she felt herself beginning to shake.

“Look it’s flying forwards now.”

“It’s at no great height at all, though.”

“Oh, it’s disappeared.”

It had indeed gone behind the wall of trees. Before many minutes it returned to its starting place and appeared to repeat the scan of the valley floor.

Gently, Fliss handed Melodie to M. Demille, giving him no time to decline, saying she would be back in a minute.

“I am just popping into the bedroom for something.”

As soon as she closed the door, Fliss was on her phone with an indescribable urgency. She needed to reassure herself.

Chapter 23

M. Demille had no children and therefore, of course, no grandchildren. At first, holding Melodie, he felt awkward and unsure of what to do. He started to jig her up and down but quickly realised this was not the way to be with a four year old. He was an intelligent man beneath his habitual pernickety belligerence and soon understood that she was feeling a little frightened and insecure by the unusual circumstances of the morning. He tried to explain to her where all the water had come from and why everything had flooded.

“Will my mummy and daddy be here soon?” she asked, again.

He was unsure what to say but reassured her that they would. He seemed to have the knack of telling her in a way she understood, unemotionally but without using baby language. She nodded and smiled at him, the little dimple in her left cheek showing. Putting her down on the floor, he took her hand and led her back to the group who were gathering their blankets around them and reassembling around the fire. Just then, Jerome came in and began to collect yet more coffee cups for washing.

“Dinner will be ready soon,” he announced. “I wonder if someone would help Éric set the table?”

With that, M. Demille glanced at his wife and realised she would be of no practical help at all. She was sitting huddled in her own thoughts and not responding to anyone else’s conversation. He sighed.

‘I do love her,’ he thought, ‘although we’ve been together for so many years I am no longer sure what ‘love’ means.’

He was attracted to her vivacity as well, as her slim figure and sparkling eyes, when they were young. Those attributes were long gone. He didn’t know when or why. Perhaps it was his fault? Perhaps she comforted herself with food?

He turned to Melodie and asked “Will you help me young lady? I might get in a muddle without you.”

She smiled up at him. They headed to the kitchen to start collecting the necessary cutlery and condiments. On entering the room, M. Demille glanced around and heaved a noisy sigh at the dishevelment that greeted him. Some habits died hard.

“So where’s all this stuff for the table?” he demanded of Jerome, a little gruffly.

Defensively, Jerome flicked his head in the direction of the old dresser along the far wall, refusing to speak to his old adversary. M. Demille found a tray, tucked down beside the large piece of furniture, and together with Melodie counted out knives, forks and spoons. He automatically used it as a learning task and they matched the pieces to people and made a game of it. He wondered if his own life would have been different if he’d had his own children. Still, there was no longer a use in wondering ‘what if’, really, was there?

Just then, Fliss arrived and showed them where the cloth was. She bent down to kiss the top of Melodie’s blonde head, knowing she must look very distracted.

“I’m very proud of you for being so sensible and helpful,” she said, trying to sound normal. “I don’t think M. Demille could manage without you,” she added, glancing up at the old man and giving a watery smile. “Thank you both.”

Fliss looked in at the table and returned to her room.

‘Now that it’s ready it all looks quite festive; normal, anyway,’ she thought as she headed along the corridor.

Everyone gathered around. Only Jerome and Fliss were missing. As she opened her bedroom door, Fliss imagined him arriving with a white cloth over his shoulder and starting to carry in large bowls and serving plates.

Everyone assumed Jerome would do the serving on his own as if they were in his restaurant and time had not changed perspectives. He was in his element, happy to play that role. He placed the steaming pots down the centre of the table. The aromas that emanated from the large dishes were aromatic and powerful, causing all to realise that they were very hungry. It had been a long morning.

“Mmm,” was the only noise to be heard circling the table, like a mini Mexican wave of sound.

Eventually Harriet said “Jerome, your place is here, between Jo and me.”

“That’s alright. I’ll have mine in a bit,” he returned.

With that, M. Demille harrumphed and waggled his arm in the general direction of the empty chair. It was as close as he could come, at that point, to asking Jerome to join the gathering.

The dishes began to circulate and soon Fliss heard more chatter than there had been all morning, as people were forced to communicate when passing and receiving things. They were compelled to think of something other than the recent catastrophic events. There were two bottles of wine on the table as well as a carafe of water and some beer. Whether it was the wine, the food or the general air of co-operation, anyone who might have seen the gathering could have mistaken it for a family reunion, or even a party, so animated were the townsfolk becoming.

Jo caught Harriet’s eye and mouthed that she was going to find Fliss, realising that she had still not reappeared.

*

Jo hurried along the hallway in the direction of Fliss’s bedroom, and tapped gently on the door. There was no reply, so she eased it open. Fliss was sitting on the bed with her phone pressed to her ear.

“He’s not answering,” she blurted out. “He’s not answering his phone. Why not? I don’t know what to do. Who should I ring now? I don’t know anyone’s number. What if he’s injured or –” She couldn’t finish the thought, so terrifying it was to her.

Jo rushed to Fliss and embraced her.

“Shh, shh,” she said, almost-rocking Fliss as if she was a frightened child. “There could be any number of reasons,” she added, although at that moment she couldn’t think of any reasons at all.

“He could have dropped it,” she said hopefully.

Fliss looked at her and frowned, then her head tilted and her eyebrows rose in a silent question, willing this to be possible.

“I’ll get Harriet. She will know what to do. Wait here,” Jo said as she thrust a box of tissues at Fliss and hurried from the room.

On returning to the living room Jo discovered that the diners were much more relaxed, and was able to get Harriet’s attention. Harriet could see immediately that she was needed so she rose from her chair and discreetly followed Jo, listening to her concerns as they went along the hallway.

“We’ll phone Pierre le Bec first,” Harriet said authoritatively, delving into her pocket for her phone.

“Mmm, I don’t have much battery left,” she said looking at the display. “I think I’ve got enough for this, and then I’ll copy down any other numbers that might be of use just in case it runs out. Fliss can you fetch a paper and pencil, please?”

“At least that’ll keep her occupied while I speak with M. le Maire,” Harriet said.

“Pierre, it’s Harriet.” There was a pause. “Yes, we’re all fine. Jerome has cooked a wonderful dinner and everyone is feeling better.” She was anxious to continue and gave le Maire no opportunity for further chit-chat. “Pierre, we’re really concerned because Fliss cannot contact Jean Chri. He’s not answering his phone. Have you seen him recently?”

There was a much longer pause, and Fliss returned more quickly than Harriet intended. Harriet turned away, realising that her expression would give away her reaction to the news she was hearing.

Fliss was watching like an eagle, so desperate was she, feeling and thinking the worst.

“Thanks, Pierre. Let us know the latest, won’t you? Bye. OK, Fliss. There has been a bit of an accident.”

“What? What happened? Is he alright?”

“I’m sure he will be, but just now no-one is sure where he is. They are out looking for him. That is what the medicopter is doing now. That’s why we saw it going back and forth,” she said. “Apparently there is a lot more water than we thought, and his tractor got caught up in it.”

Harriet deliberately kept her tone calm and mild. She omitted that Jean Chri’s tractor has been seen over-turned and tumbling in the torrent. She gave no detail of the full extent of the damage and the problem. There would be time enough for that when Jean Chri was found; if Jean Chri was found.

“I need to go and help. We need to find him!” Fliss’s voice escalated in her panic.

“Fliss, that’s not possible at the moment. Let the people who know what they’re doing do it. You’re needed here. Melodie needs you. Pierre will let us know as soon as he has news. You need to be here when Jean Chri returns.”

“Yes. OK. I’m panicking.” Fliss gasped in some air. “Calm, I must be calm…” she muttered to herself. Harriet and Jo glanced at each other, and Jo’s heart thumped faster as she instantly realised her partner had only told half the story.

Fliss had been Jo’s friend for so long. She knew what sacrifices she had made in the past, in looking after her mother and not fulfilling her potential when relationships came along, and how difficult her life had been at times. Here, Fliss seemed so contented and to have found, at long last, a place to feel completely fulfilled with a man she had quickly come to adore. Jo knew all this. Surely this was not going to end, as her last relationship had, in another tragedy?

“Fliss come into the other room. As soon as there is news you will know,” Jo urged.

Wearily, Fliss rose from the edge of the bed and the three of them returned slowly to the living room. As they entered, Jo saw Fliss consciously square her shoulders and paste on a calm expression. She smiled in reassurance at her long time friend.

Fliss could not help crossing straight to the window, however. She had only been standing there for a moment when she felt a small hand creep into hers and looking down, Melodie was simply standing there. Then she leaned in against Fliss.

All the guests were finishing their dinner. By un-voiced agreement neither Jo nor Harriet said anything about the latest developments. They knew the last thing Fliss needed or wanted was to be fussed around by a lot of the elderly women who were there. She could certainly do without the doom and gloom attitude of Madame Demille, as well.

Jerome was resuming his role of waiter, chef and ‘bottle washer’, bringing in coffee.

Suddenly, M. Demille did a very surprising thing. He stood, cleared his throat and looked awkward. There was silence for several expectant moments. Then, rather grandly, he started to make a little speech of gratitude. Many in the room gaped at the unusual sight and sound.

“Jerome, I know we’ve had our differences but I think we should all acknowledge that you have given us a lot today. Er, um, thank you,” he finished.

*

With the beginnings of reconciliation, Jo leaped into action and her bubbly personality began to encourage the room full of people. Fliss knew Jo was hoping that her initiative would help Fliss to concentrate on something else rather than brooding upon the worst possibilities.

“Charades!” she announced.

There was a groan from some. Others declined firmly and mumbled about being too old, or not in the mood. One or two laughed gently but waved her away as if she was a little deranged. Jo, however, refused to take no for an answer, perfectly aware that her name may well be taken in vain later, but convinced that people needed an activity at this moment.

She went first and managed to mime the name of the well-known French book by Jules Verne, ‘Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea’. It was a hit and miss activity, with Jo holding her nose and pretending to sink under water. Eventually Alexandre guessed the answer, although he had never read the book. He chose a television programme to mime and one of the elderly ladies, who had declined to play, guessed the answer quite quickly. Despite her reservations she had involved herself and eventually, whilst not everyone was fully participating, the majority were amused and entertained.

The two lads were a great help to Jo, cajoling, mildly flirting with the elderly and generally keeping the atmosphere light-hearted. Finally, Jo had all the room laughing when she tried to mime the name ‘Trotsky’. Even Madame Demille was giggling, and shouting out suggestions. The more Jo trotted around the room, the more bizarre became the responses and it was quite noisy.

“Oh, Jo, the English are funny,” said Madame Demille. She turned to Alexandre. “
Tu
es
un
personnage
aussi
.”

“You are a character, too,” Harriet translated for Jo.

“You have made me laugh so much I must go to the toilet,” Madame Demille added.

She shed her blanket and struggled to stand up before waddling out and along the hallway towards the bathroom. The company chuckled and nodded with understanding but Fliss could not help drifting back to the window.

Fliss watched the red and yellow medicopter, again sweeping the valley. She imagined the personnel on board scrutinising the river banks and edges of the water. Maybe Jean Chri had managed to crawl to land and was at this moment heading back to her? From what her visitors had said there were trees down. It must be hard for the people aboard the craft to see a person with all the debris in the water, even from their low altitude.

“Jo, look!” Fliss shouted overly loud across to her friend.

It caught the attention of all the people who were chattering animatedly about the activity. Yet again they all made their way to the window to witness the drama, unaware that it affected Fliss so profoundly.

As they scanned the scene a man emerged from the side door of the medicopter and descended on a line. He was swinging slightly and it all looked very insubstantial and fragile.