Page 76 of Sisters Making Mischief
‘You’ll never guess what just happened in the barn,’ Isabel said excitedly, ‘I would have come straight over to tell you but then a couple called in and they bought all the little milk bottles, for something they are organising. I think it was a play. But the big thing is I sold one of those old enamel signs for a hundred and ten euros. And Felix took that cameo over to Gaston’s wife. Mathilde knows a lot about jewellery, not just how to turn brake blocks into earrings. She might have an opinion.’
‘That’s excellent,’ I said, pulling myself to my feet and checking to see how uncomfortable I was. No, everything felt fine.
‘I’d like to go out somewhere,’ I said, ‘I’ve been stuck in here for days. Do you need any help with thegîtes?Or the barn?’
‘No, I don’t! I’m under strict instructions to make you rest.’
‘Who from?’
‘Luc. He rang me up a few minutes ago asking how you were, and he asked if you would be up for going out for dinner on Saturday.’
‘Why didn’t he just ring me, he has my number?’
Isabel shrugged. ‘I dunno, ask him. Perhaps he thought you might be asleep.’
18. Ring people up. Don’t just text or send emails.
‘I’ll ring him,’ I said.
And I did.
And he answered and he sounded genuinely happy to hear from me. We talked to each other and made arrangements and exchanged ideas. And when I ended the call, I felt unreasonably pleased. And independent.
The following day the weather had improved and although it was still quite chilly, at least the rain had stopped.
Against all advice, I spent the day helping Isabel clean up thegîtesready for the next people, and I also sold the auricular theatre to a new local ex-pat who also took one of Felix’s leaflets about his language classes.
‘I never thought I’d sell that,’ Isabel said, ‘and she took some tea towels too. I wish we could get more people in though. Perhaps we should do that video you mentioned. By the way, what are you going to wear on Saturday?’
I looked down at my smart trousers and fairly new Breton sweater, which I had bought in a shop back home, not realising I could have bought an authentic one for less in France.
‘Something like this?’ I said.
‘Absolutely not!’ Isabel said, ‘you need something new. My guess is you’ll be going toLe Poulet Argenté,which means the Silver Chicken. I’ve been there once, it was lovely, but very posh. You need a smart outfit and some proper shoes. Or they won’t let you in.’
‘Won’t let who in where?’ Eugénie said from the doorway.
‘Joy has a date on Saturday with Luc, and she needs something chic.’
Eugénie’s eyes lit up.
‘I don’t own a chic dress,’ I said, ‘I don’t own chic anything.’
‘But I know someone who does,’ Eugénie said, ‘she has cupboards full of clothes, a lot of them never worn. Most of them will be too small for you, everyone is so much bigger these days, but perhaps some of them might fit. If you suck your stomach in and don’t eat too much. You must come with me, and we will find something.’
Perhaps unfairly, the possibility of this did not inspire me. Eugénie was always well turned out, and she never seemed to wear the same outfit twice, but I didn’t want to wear the clothes of an eighty-four-year-old woman.
‘I really don’t think that’s a good idea,’ I said.
Eugénie’s nostrils flared. ‘You think because I am an old woman now that I might not know about anything other than my aches and pains? The many disappointments and setbacks? The years of struggle and suffering? The problems with ungrateful family and friends? How my life has been beset with danger and difficulty? And ill health that no one will take seriously. And Paulette the same. To you she is a woman who makes food, the best onion soup in Brittany, possibly in France. But she had a life before that. Oh yes, don’t look so surprised.’
‘Isabel said she was a model when she was younger.’
‘That is not the half of it. Where do you think I get all my things from? Certainly not the shop in the town. I spent much of my life in rags, pitiful clothes. No longer. I will show you.’
‘Mamie, you were never in rags,’ Isabel protested.
‘No, but I might have been,’ Eugénie said, ‘alors, we are wasting time. Isabel can drive us to the town. Seeing as you still do not have your car. Perhaps Luc has sold it and pocketed the money.’
