Page 60 of Sisters Making Mischief
He nodded. ‘That would be good. Thank you. Have you had much damage?’
‘A lot of rubbish blown over the garden, I’m going out in a moment to pick it up. And Isabel says some glass in the greenhouse has been smashed. Were you okay? Any damage?’
‘No, I am fine,’ he said, ‘just a couple of old tarpaulins blown down the garden. I have a small greenhouse, too, but it was sheltered behind an old wall, and didn’t come to any harm.’
‘Felix has gone into town, apparently there is some problem at the bookshop, and Isabel has gone to check on Eugénie. There doesn’t seem to be any phone reception.’
‘It must be the storm. I’m sure it will be fixed soon.’
We stood sipping at our coffee for a few minutes.
‘Perhaps I could help clear things up?’ he said at last.
‘I’m sure Isabel would appreciate it,’ I said.
‘And I wanted to apologise,’ he said, ‘I was thinking about you.’
I felt a bit wobbly at that point; he’d been thinking about me?
‘Whatever for?’ I said trying to sound slightly amused and unflustered.
‘The other day when you called in, I think I was rather rude.’
Well, no, not rude exactly, I thought. A bit crushing, perhaps.
‘I could have handled it better,’ he added.
‘I don’t actually need muchhandling, as you put it,’ I said stiffly, ‘and I certainly don’t need my brother-in-law trying to organise my love life – no, I mean mysociallife. Or you for that matter.’
He looked worried. ‘No, I am sure you don’t. But possibly?—’
He was interrupted by the back door crashing open and Isabel came in. Eugénie followed, crouched down in a position she kept up as she walked across to an armchair. It was like a Marcel Marceau mime, walking against the wind.
‘Goodness me, it’s still rather wild out there,’ Isabel said, panting slightly, ‘Mamiehas a couple of tiles off her porch roof, and she said she would feel safer here.’
Eugénie reached the armchair in the corner of the kitchen, with a lot of fuss and groaning, as though she had just run a marathon, not just been driven up the road.
Marcel and Antoine followed and with one look from Eugénie, slunk under the table and got into their basket. That woman had quite the authority, there was no doubt about it.
‘I think she saw that Luc’s truck was here, and she was very keen to come,’ Isabel murmured in my ear.
‘I have not slept a single moment,’ Eugénie said in a wavering voice, ‘everything banging about, the wind howling. I’m not sure I shouldn’t have a cognac, to get overle traumatisme– the trauma. I have a tile loose.’
‘Can’t argue with that,’ Isabel muttered.
‘It was quite a storm,’ Luc agreed.
‘Perhaps you could suggest something to help me recover,’ Eugénie said, ‘something for mycrise de nerfs. Nervous breakdown.’ She held out one hand, and the diamond ring sparkled. ‘Look,mes mains tremblent.My hands are shaking.’
Isabel opened her mouth to remind Eugénie yet again that Luc was not a doctor.
‘Thé à la camomille,’ Luc said kindly, ‘camomile tea.’
Eugénie’s face brightened. ‘And do I need a prescription for that? Or do I need to seeun spécialiste?’
She removed her plastic pixie hood and started to unbutton her raincoat.
Meanwhile Isabel went into her pantry and brought out a box of camomile tea bags which, with quite some dexterity, she passed to Luc behind his back without Eugénie noticing.
