Page 30 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure
“Not forever, Yvette,” Dora said. “If you swim far enough, you will arrive at the coast of Africa.”
“Unless you bump into Corsica on the way,” Ellie said with a smile. “And then Sardinia and perhaps Sicily. I’m not sure if they are all in a line.”
Yvette looked puzzled. Then she said, “I am sorry. It seems I am too late for breakfast. I have never slept so late in my life.”
“You must have needed the sleep,” Ellie said, leading her over to the table. “Worry and fear can be exhausting. But sit down, and I will have Monsieur Adams bring you food and coffee.” She pushed the newspapers towards Yvette. “And in the meantime, you can read these.”
“Alas, madame, I do not know how to read well,” Yvette said, pushing the newspapers away. “Only the most basic of words that we were taught in school.”
“Then this would be a good time for you to improve your education,” Ellie said. “You and Mavis shall have a lesson every day.”
“What’s that about me?” Mavis had not understood the conversation.
“I told Yvette that you and she will have a lesson in reading and writing French every day.”
“Blimey. If I’d known it was going to be like school, I wouldn’t have come,” Mavis muttered.
Chapter 12
They left Yvette eating her breakfast and went out to see about the Bentley. There was a fresh breeze off the sea, reminding Ellie that even here in the South of France winter was approaching. But she breathed in deeply, savouring the saltiness and that hint of seaweed. It felt good to be alive, and she thought that she had not felt this way for ages. For years, maybe. When did she last feel such excitement and energy that she was ready to tackle anything? She couldn’t even remember. Her life had been so regimented—boiled eggs, starched shirts, dinner parties where Lionel told the same jokes over and over. And now life was a mystery. She had no idea what tomorrow might bring, but she didn’t care. She almost felt like skipping, but the austere presence of Dora, walking straight backed and stiff beside her, made her reel in her joie de vivre.
Ellie paused for a moment, taking in the layout of the town. The harbour was lined on three sides with narrow, pastel-painted houses, with red tiled roofs and contrasting shutters at their windows—a yellow house with green shutters, a pink one with brown. Some had tiny balconies with pots of flowers spilling over them, some of them with shops beneath living quarters. On the far side of the harbour there was one bigger building, separate from the row, a white villa, and beyond that a small park with palm trees and benches surrounding a sandy square of open ground that was presumably for the bowls game Ellie had witnessed all that time ago when she had travelled with her aunt.Was it called pétanque? Behind the harbour a couple of rows of houses rose up the steep hillside. There was the one street leading out of town the way they had entered. But that was about it. A tiny hamlet of a place—certainly no glamour or luxury.
The boats had been unloaded, and the lorry had departed, leaving the quayside empty. The seagulls had cleaned up the last scraps of fish, but the odour still lingered.
“The first thing is to find this Louis, the mechanic,” Dora said. “We should have asked Mrs Adams.”
The bar where they had eaten last night was not yet open. The outside chairs were stacked upon the tables, and there was no sign of life. But several buildings down the quay, there was a shop with a sign outside advertising Gauloises cigarettes. They walked to it and found it to be a tabac—a newsagent and smoke shop. Inside Ellie saw that it was much more than just newspapers and cigarettes—it was a tiny general store with everything from toothpaste to knitting wool to tins of condensed milk. There was also a display of beach toys, buckets, spades, inflatable balls.Rather hopeful at this time of year,Ellie thought. She hadn’t yet seen a beach but was happy to know there had to be one nearby and that children played here.
“Bonjour, mesdames,” the elderly man behind the counter said.
Ellie bought a French women’s magazine and some peppermints, then asked about Louis.
“He has a place of business next to the gendarmerie,” the owner said. “You may find him there.” The shrug and waving of the hands as he said this indicated that they may not. “The gendarmerie. Last house as you leave Saint-Benet,” he continued. “Alphonse will no doubt be sitting outside on a sunny day.” He smiled. “You are here on holiday? From England?”
They told him that they were. “Our little town is rather quiet,” he said. “Not many winter visitors. We have no casino, no fancy hotels and nightclubs.”
“We are not intending to stay long,” Dora said. “Our car sustained a ...” She did not know the word for breakdown. “Did not go any more,” she added.
“Ah. I see. That is why you require Louis. He is a good man. He will help you if he can.”
They bade him good day and set off again, heading out of the village the way they had come the night before. There were no more shops on their side of the street, but they passed two side alleys rising steeply in a series of steps up the cliffside. Lines of washing stretched between houses. Small children were playing, a woman was scrubbing her front step and two old men were standing together smoking. As they passed, each person looked up and bade them bonjour. A cat lay sunning itself in the middle of the street, confident that no traffic was likely. On the other side were several more shops, the bakery and one selling charcuterie, cheeses, and pâté, as well as trays of vegetables and fruit, a barber and one that seemed to have boating supplies. They came at last to a simple stone church, and behind it what had to be a school, as they heard children’s voices chanting a times table. And facing it, a bigger building, rather more ornate than most of the houses, with a carved wooden balcony and a Victorian feel to it.
A lone policeman, who was presumably Alphonse, was indeed sitting outside, smoking and reading the newspaper as if he hadn’t a care in the world. He greeted them without curiosity and pointed to a big shed, set back from the road.
“You’ll find Louis there,” he said.
They crossed a yard littered with bits and pieces of equipment, wood pallets and other kinds of junk. The sound of hammering came from inside the big shed. The door was open, and they went in. Ellie recognized the man with grizzled hair and a stubbled chin from the table last night. He raised a hand, still holding the hammer, in salute. “One moment, if you please, ladies,” he said.
He gave a couple more taps, nodded in satisfaction, then turned back to them. “You come about your automobile, madame,” he said.“I will get to it today, I promise you, but first I have a chicken coop to attend to.”
“Is not a motor car more important than chickens?” Dora asked in her stilted French.
“Not if you are a fox or a hawk,” he said with a smile. “Besides, what is the hurry? The sun is shining. It is a perfect day. Enjoy it. If you were back in England, it would be rain and more rain.” He put down the hammer and wiped off his hands on a blue cotton apron. “I was there once, after the Great War. In England, I mean. I did not enjoy it. Rain and more rain, and the people always looking so gloomy. Nobody laughed. Nobody sat and took time to enjoy a glass of wine with friends. Everybody in a hurry, shut away with their own little lives and their own little problems.”
He’s right,Ellie thought.That’s how it is in England.
“If you leave the keys to your vehicle with me, I will take a look and see if it is something I can fix.”
