Page 33 of Sisters Making Mischief
‘We are going to look in the barn later,’ Isabel said, ‘start to get thebrocanteready for the spring.’
‘C’est ridicule,’ Eugénie sniffed, ‘ridiculous that people want all that stuff. I cannot believe they give you money. Linen sheets no one wants to launder. Old milk bottles, metal watering cans that no one can lift when they are full andles torchons– nobody needs tea towels these days, everyone has dishwashers. Everyone except you. It is like living in the Middle Ages in this house. A washing machine that doesn’t wash properly, a vacuum cleaner that doesn’t clean?—’
‘Yes it does!’ Isabel said outraged.
Eugénie gave a very French pout and apouf.
‘Well, it doesn’t look like it. I swear there is tumbleweed under this table that has been there since Halloween.’
‘I didn’t know your eyesight was so good. Anyway, people value old things these days,’ Isabel said completely unbothered by her mother-in-law’s words. That, in itself, was an eye opener for me.
How marvellous to be able to say what one thought, to be honest about opinions and preferences. Isabel had evidently found the right way to handle her mother-in-law, instead of Eugénie being in command, they spoke to each other as equals, and underneath it all I could sense the mutual respect and affection as a result.
‘No one values me, and I am an old thing,’ Eugénie grumbled. ‘I feel very old today, I think there may be something wrong with my liver. I may not be around much longer and then you will regret not appreciating me.’
‘And how is Charles?’ Isabel asked sweetly. She turned to me. ‘Mamiehas an admirer, Charles Verdun. He’s a retired bank manager and he used to be a very fine tenor.’
‘He still thinks he is,’ Eugénie muttered, her fingers drumming on the table while she resisted the chocolates, ‘he never got over being inThe Lisbon Storyat the town hall in 1977. He was outside my window the other night singing “Pedro the Fisherman”, and let’s be honest, he’s no Richard Tauber. I had to close the curtains and pretend to be asleep before he launched into “Donkey Serenade”.’
‘I would like to have heard that,’ Isabel said.
‘Non!Not at three in the morning you wouldn’t!.’ Eugénie replied with feeling. ‘He thinks it is so clever, but the shock could have killed me. And sleep evades me at the best of times.’
I bit back a laugh and went to the sink to start washing the leeks.
Eugénie drank another cup of coffee and then, when Isabel asked if she would like to help us out in the barn, decided she had some urgent letters to write and left.
‘She’s quite a character,’ I said, slicing off the thick, green leaves from the leeks.
‘She’s a guinea a minute when she’s had a couple of Dubonnets,’ Isabel agreed. ‘Come on, leave that, let’s go and have a look at my latest treasures. I bet you don’t think they are a load of junk, and the American visitors lovebrocante. They are some of my best customers. They will spend fifty euros on some things and then spend three times that shipping them back to Boise, Idaho. I have one customer with a chain of stores, whocomes back to France twice a year for her winterCozy Momentzcollection and then her summer one,Sunny Delight.’
‘Isn’t that orange juice?’ I asked.
Isabel looked blank. ‘No idea. I just know she likes decorated egg racks and bread bins. She bought six with “Merci mes Poules”written on the side and twelve bread bins with“M Gustav – Boulanger au Roi”stencilled on the top. She sold them all in a week, apparently. So everyone was happy. That’s what I need, more customers like her. The trouble is, we are a bit out of the way here, I wonder if there is a way to get more noticeable.’
Instead of wittering on about making the soup, I dropped the half-chopped leeks, dried my hands and followed her outside. And I didn’t feel in the slightest bit concerned about leaving a job unfinished, instead I was enjoying being spontaneous, being with my sister, being a part of her life.
12
The metal storage shed was huge, with an old tractor and some bales of straw taking up a lot of space at one end, and wooden crates and metal trunks at the other. Plus there was a number of carboard boxes, several terracotta pots and garden ornaments, and some bulging black bin liners hung from the rafters.
Marcel and Antoine, far from being worn out by their morning walk, came too and as soon as Isabel opened the doors they shot into one corner of the barn and started barking.
‘Mice I expect, although there are a couple of semi-feral cats somewhere. Minou and Chou are pretty good hunters, or of course, it might be rats,’ Isabel said, ‘which is why some of the things are hanging from the ceiling. I think both those dogs have lurcher or terrier in their ancestry. They love coming in here.’
Glad to not be the focus of the dogs’ attention for once, and ignoring the sounds of scuffling and excited yipping, I went with Isabel to start investigating the contents of her new boxes.
‘How will you fit all this into the barn?’ I asked, amazed at the amount of things she had collected over the winter.
‘Oh, I won’t do that. I like to put out a really good display to start with, of course, but if a customer says they are looking forbed linen or lace, I tell them I shouldn’t be telling them this, but I am expecting a new delivery, and they should come back in an hour. And then I find what they are looking for and put it out.’
‘And do they come back?’
‘Nearly always.’
‘My sister the entrepreneur,’ I said, full of admiration.
‘The one thing I’m not very good at is display, you know, making things look enticing? Some people can make a pile of crockery look good, but I’m not one of those people. And you are. You only have to compare our dressers. Yours is a beautiful display of Spode blue and white china with a couple of quirky touches, mine looks like a Saturday night drunk has thrown stuff at it.’
