Sense and French Ability (7 page)

Her last thoughts as she relaxed into sleep were of the conversation she’d had with Madame Altier but she was too dozy to follow it.

*

Fliss awoke early and, glancing at her phone to find the time, she bounced out of bed. The sun was shining again and shadows from the trees outside danced on her wall. As her last full day, she wanted to make the most of it. Before she went out, though, there was something she had to do... if only she could work out what it was! Fliss was ill at ease and jumpy.

She stood under the shower which gave her time to rationalise her thoughts. So much had happened to Fliss during the last couple of months but not even she had realised the full extent yet. Even to any careful observer there had been nothing much,just a visitor to the region discovering what was on offer in and around this place in a lazy and relaxed fashion.

As the water, cascaded over her with force, the conversation with Madame Altier from the previous night suddenly crashed around inside her head and her stomach did flips. Fliss was all nerve endings and excitement at the possibilities before her. In a rush, she could picture what she might do. She needed to find Madame, and quickly, too.

“
Bonjour
, Madame,” Fliss said. So much was riding upon this conversation.

“Well, Fliss, this is your last full day. Have you plans? I shall miss your company. We have had a good time together,
n’est
-
ce
pas
?”

“Madame Altier, may I speak with you?”

“Why, what is it, my dear? You look so anxious!” the old lady asked.

Fliss took a huge breath and made the plunge. “Last night we joked; you said you had too much work, and I said we could be a team for a while. Would you consider that – seriously? I need work if I am to sell my house and live in France. Perhaps I could live here and do the work that you do and you could live here and rest more.”

She stopped. A silence grew and become more constrained.

‘I’ve blown it,’ thought Fliss as the stillness endured for what seemed an age.

“Fliss!” Madame said, pronouncing the ‘i’ like a double ‘e’ in such a French way. It was the first time she had used her first name. “You must call me Marie if we are to be partners.”

“Really?” Fliss almost shouted. “I appeared so cheeky, so
audacieux
.”

“But no!” Madame said. “It has been in my mind for a while to find help. We get on well enough, you can live and work here and we shall work out how we share the profits. Two can live almost as cheaply as one. When I am ready perhaps you will have sold your house in England and you can buy me out? I shall live with my sister in Rouen and all will be well.
J’ai
le
cul
bordé
de
nouilles
.”

Fliss did not understand this local phrase at all and asked for Madame Marie, to repeat it which she did. ‘Something to do with the noodles!’ she puzzled to herself. She would look it up later.

“Madame – Marie,” Fliss added self-consciously, “Would you prefer to think about this for a while to be sure? I do not want to push you too hard.”

“I feel sure all will be well but shall we say one week from now I shall telephone you? If we both still want this, then that is good.” Marie asked.

“That is a good suggestion,” Fliss agreed.

Marie Altier stuck out her hand. Fliss took her small, bony fingers into her own and they shook.

After breakfast Fliss escaped to her room and fell onto the bed. She curled up and squeezed herself hard. Had she done this? Was she mad? Would it work? She had so many questions and uncertainties. She stayed like this for a time until curiosity got the better of her and she accessed the internet to read what the phrase Madame Marie had used meant. Literally it meant ‘I have the arse full of noodles!’

‘What?’ Fliss puzzled. With further research on the internet via her phone she discovered what Madame Marie had said; ‘I am a lucky bastard!’

Chapter 7

As the first week back in England drew to a close, Fliss found herself awaiting Madame Marie’s call with impatience. As the end of the agreed time neared, she worried that the old lady would change her mind in the cold light of day. The closer the time came the more desperate Fliss was to take this next step in her life. While the potential challenge was nerve-wracking it was also exhilarating.

At last, one week after her return, the telephone buzzed that evening and Fliss snatched it up, looking at the display to see if it was local or foreign. Fliss took a deep breath and answered the international call.

“Fliss?” asked the disembodied voice with that now familiar ‘ee’ sound to her name.

“
Oui
,
c’est
moi
,” she answered. Her hands and knees were shaking. Was Madame Marie going to douse her rampaging flame of enthusiasm?

“How are you?”

‘Cut the crap, let’s get to it.’ Fliss was strung out. If Madame swore so could she!

‘Something else we can have in common,’ she reflected.

Fliss responded in the same courteous and appropriate manner.

“Have you changed your mind? I would understand if you have.”

“No I haven’t,” Madame Marie answered. “Have you? We could have an agreeable partnership. It would be a good idea to give it a time to see if we work well together. Shall we say three months? It is a trial, so to speak.”

‘There are no flies on her. She is astute, even though she is elderly, but that’s good. It is a protection for each of us. Things need to be done properly.’

“That would suit me well,” she said.

“I shall have it put in writing for you,” Madame Marie said. “When would you be able you start?”

Fliss realised she hadn’t considered this in enough detail. She had to give notice at work and organise things for the house. She hesitated. Marie picked up on this.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, no, absolutely not,” Fliss respond. “I must tell my work, that’s all. It will take one month for me to complete all that here.”

She walked through to the kitchen and glancing up at the calendar on the wall Fliss gave Madame a date for when she could return to France. Changing her whole life seemed such a weirdly casual act, accomplished with ease.

Fliss told Madame that she would await her letter with eagerness. Then she would hand in her notice at work, they finished their call with one or two pleasantries.

On returning to the sitting room, Fliss collapsed onto the sofa with exhaustion. The tension in her had been growing for days and now the adrenalin rush she had experienced during the phone call was subsiding.

*

The next hurdle Fliss had to face was to tell her work. She had been there for such a long time that she was sure no-one would believe her at first. She was on a good salary with excellent bonuses but sometimes there was more to life and, as Goethe said, ‘Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.’

There can be disaster in boldness too, but Fliss didn’t want to consider that.

She made an appointment with her boss, having received the letter from Madame Altier. It was testament to her elevated position that she had her own office rather than sharing the open plan area that everyone else used, including Fliss. As she sat on the black leather sofa and waited, as instructed by the PA, she rehearsed her little prepared speech. Her line manager eventually called her in to the office.

“You are joking aren’t you?” she said when Fliss broke the news of her departure.

“I need a change. Things provoked it. You heard that my mum died. I’ve had time to re-evaluate.”

Fliss explained her plans. Her resignation was accepted in the end.

‘Hmm she thinks I’m mad. Possibly she is right,’ Fliss closed the door upon leaving the interview. She felt giddy and light, and was bubbling with the passion of adventure. This was something she had relinquished years ago, but it was heady and good. She was pleased to be this way again.

The only sad thing was finishing with Edward.

*

During next two or three weeks Fliss had mad flurries of packing. On other days she wanted to be busy doing stuff but had to wait for certain things to happen. This she found frustrating.

At one point her thoughts flashed back to yet another conversation with Edward. It has been a difficult time between them. It was not surprising. Fliss wished that she could just go. She’d made it clear that they were no longer an item. He seemed happy to stay friends, but he was morose and she was over cheerful to compensate, and everything just seemed false.

He refrained from asking “Why are you doing this?” even though Fliss knew that he was thinking it. Poor Edward.

Fliss had to speak to Dora too.

“I’ll come in once each week to dust around and check on things like the post, if you like,” the home help said.

“I’m sorry, Dora. You will have to find work elsewhere,” Fliss said. “It won’t be difficult will it? I’ll write you a first class reference. You’ve been with us for such a long time.”

“Don’t worry love. I’ve already got me other ladies I do for, ‘aven’t I? I’ll be fine.” Dora had replied.

As she made yet another list, Fliss wrote down the telephone and the internet company. Her notice would need to be given. She added European insurance for the car; her company needed to be contacted for that. She could have it for 90 days each year, but then she would need to decide what to do in the longer term. That could well be the first adventure area with French bureaucracy that she would need to tackle.

A sudden notion sprang into her mind. ‘Perhaps that won’t be necessary. What if Madame Marie doesn’t like me and I have to leave? What if my adventure finishes before it has started? How will I come home and face everyone in mortified humiliation? No... I will not go down that route. It will be fine!’

As these ideas buzzed in her mind a single magpie landed in her apple tree. She grimaced to herself as she remembered the archaic saying. ‘One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl and four for a boy, five for silver, six for gold, seven for a secret never to be told.’

‘Noooo! I don’t want just one magpie.’ In uncharacteristic agitation, Fliss shivered.

*

Fliss rang Madame Altier a couple of times during the next week or two, just to check up on a few minor details about things she might need to bring. Then, a week before she was due to travel and live in France, Madame rang Fliss quite late one evening. Fliss picked up her phone wondering who it could be at this late hour. When she saw the call display she wondered if Madame Marie had not realised, or else had forgotten that there was a one hour difference in the time between the two countries. Why would she be ringing this late? She answered the call wondering if there was a problem, and hoping above all else that things were going according to plan

“Bonsoir,” said the disembodied voice at the other end.

“Hello, Madame Marie.” Fliss found it difficult to call her just by her first name. Since they had first met she had used the appellation ‘Madame’, at first with her surname. Later it was easier to tag on her first name rather than just use that on its own. It seemed more respectful somehow, given the differences in their ages. Madame Marie suited its owner; she seemed to like and appreciate it too.

“How are you getting on with your preparations?” Madame Marie asked, using her native language.

“I’m ready,” Fliss answered. “I’m just waiting to finish with my work.”

‘Please let there be no problems. Please tell me why you have called.’

“Is there a problem?” She could not resist asking and bringing Madame to the point.

“No, no not at all,” she responded with a little laugh. “I just phoned for a chat. It is a while since we saw each other. Your room here is ready. I am looking forward to having the company and the help.”

“It’s exciting for me too,” Fliss added.

“One of the first jobs we may do is re-paper the second bedroom. It is overdue and would freshen it. I should welcome your young opinion on a colour and style that will match the furniture but may look a little more modern.”

“I would enjoy doing that.” Fliss replied. It was right up her street and would give her something to do until she was there. Her thoughts hurtled around with possibilities. She made a mental note to look at images on the internet.

Then she realised she had missed the beginning of the next part of the conversation and it was too difficult in a foreign language to pick it up half way. She had to concentrate to follow all that Madame said.

She interrupted the flow to say “Madame Marie, I am so sorry would you say that again. I didn’t quite understand.”

“Many things have been happening here in a short space of time,” she repeated. “You will never guess the shock we all had when we discovered that Maryl has left poor Jean Christophe. She has gone to her sister’s house all the way over in Béthune. That’s a long way away! She says she is fed up with living in a ‘nowhere’ place. Pfff! Well, I ask you!”

Fliss pictured Madame shrugging her shoulders in that oh so French way. “Some people are never satisfied. She has a good home, a fine, hard-working husband, I don’t know how she can leave all that. She is never satisfied,” she reiterated.

Fliss felt her tummy do a flip, but she was sorry to hear all this too. While she did not know these people well, they had befriended her during her short stay and been congenial. Well, Maryl had been a little frosty but not overly so. Jean Christophe had been kind and funny, albeit conceited and egotistic. She didn’t wish him bad fortune though. His brother’s family had been helpful, too. She imagined, in a small community like this, it was a major talking point. She couldn’t conceive how hard that must be for Jean Christophe and his family.

“I imagine she will return won’t she? Maybe she just needs a break and space to consider her future,” she added, with the familiarity of her own circumstances.

“No, no! She is making it clear to everyone that she will not return.”

“Is Jean Christophe that difficult to live with then?” asked Fliss. “He seemed pleasant enough.”

“He is perfectly
agréable
. A lovely, gentle and helpful man who has a great sense of right and wrong and a good sense of humour. Maryl does not deserve such a lovely man,” Madame Marie said.

‘She makes him sound an absolute catch but he didn’t come across like that,’ Fliss thought.

She made sympathetic noises since Madame did not need an answer.

“I hope you can bring some cooking skills with you too,” said Madame Marie changing the subject. “I would like to offer a more varied menu for visitors who are staying for several days. We have to cost it carefully but sometimes we have Dutch or French visitors who might like to experience English cooking, especially those Yorkshire puddings I have heard about. On the television just yesterday there was an article saying the top chefs in the best restaurants are having lessons in making those things. They are becoming, how you say it, ‘a hit’ over here.”

“Well, I can manage that,” said Fliss. “I can do those quite well,” she added, with a surge of relief. For a moment she wondered what would be expected of her.

“Yes, we need to do one better than that dreadful Jerome and his so-called restaurant. You went to eat there so you know what it is like.”

‘Whoops, that sounds like a black mark for me!’

“Yes, I just went to check out the competition, as I said.” She ducked her head and raised her shoulders waiting for a negative comment from Madame Marie.

“Oh, I suppose that’s alright. It was a good idea.”

‘Phew!’ thought Fliss.

“You know his restaurant is not so good and he has that cousin living there, and those young men calling all the time. His wife left too. I told you that? Now, she couldn’t stand it and I don’t blame her one bit. That was quite a different matter to poor Jean Christophe. I don’t consider Jerome likes women. He is always quite rude to me.”

Fliss felt a smile spread across her face. ‘This is not surprising, since he is always being criticised by the old lady.’

“Well, we all have to live side by side,” said Fliss, in what she hoped was a conciliatory way. “I’m sure we can offer something complementary to his restaurant so that we are not catering for the same
clientèle
.”

Having got all the local gossip off her mind, Madame Marie seemed more content. Not long after, she made her goodbyes and finished the call, leaving Fliss with plenty to meditate upon...

*

A few days later, Fliss met up with her friend Jo again at a café in the town.

“Good to see you,” she said, giving Fliss a warm and expansive hug. This time she wore an orange scarf in her red hair and an orange and royal blue top to match. Her full red lips were always laughing, or so it seemed, and she was a tonic to be near. Fliss so hoped that Jo would come out to visit and said as much.

“I will,” Jo said. “Wild horses won’t stop me. Now tell me about Edward. How is he coping with all this excitement and change? I bet he’s not,” she added.