Page 22 of Whispers At Dawn
‘What?’ Lizzie asked, staring at two cars parked next to each other. One was black with a dirty roof, whilst the other shone bright red like an exhibit that had never left the museum.
‘That’s a Bugatti. What a beauty. I remember Luc driving us around in it when I was a young boy.’
‘Gosh, that must be an old classic.’
‘Thank you,’ Jack said, a twinkle in his eye as he turned to her.
‘Oh, you know what I mean. It’s been years since you visited.’
‘Your point is made! I’m as old, or possibly even older than the Bugatti, but you were still toddling about at the time. Need, I point out, that’s why it’s called a classic?’
‘Fair enough. You’re definitely a classic.’ She loved teasing Jack about their age gap, and he took it with good grace.
‘You’re my wife now, Madame Dubois, so it’s too late to regret marrying an old timer.’
‘I would never regret it,’ Lizzie said, and her heart fluttered as she said the words and thought about the future when they would really get married. Her mind drifted. Would they marry in London or Jersey?
‘I’m sorry to break the news, but after all that talk, we must go in this old thing,’ Jack said, pointing to the inferior car. ‘No point attracting attention in a flash motor. It’s old, but Luc clearly keeps it in impeccable condition, and it will turn heads. We may as well broadcast our arrival if we drive into town in that.’
‘You have a good point.’ Lizzie said.
Jack opened the door of the rusty black Peugeot and signalled with a flourish for Lizzie to be seated. He raced around to the other door and poked about inside the dusty car for aminute before turning the ignition. It spluttered and died several times, and they looked at each other.
‘Did Luc say it runs well?’
‘He said it’s a bit of an old tractor and isn’t used much because the housekeeper prefers to do errands on her bike, but it’s in working order.’
Jack tried the ignition again, and the small, clanky engine sprung to life and the smell of fumes assailed them both. ‘Heck, so this is the result when you make fuel from grapes.’
‘Oh, that’s what that overpowering smell was. We’ll be drunk soon at this rate,’ Lizzie said. ‘We might be better off riding bicycles.’
‘Shame we can’t take the Bugatti and drive with the roof down.’
The car lurched forward into the yard and the car took a wheezy gasp and soon they were on their way.
Jack continued, ‘It would be fun on the way down, but remember the steep hill on the trek up here? I don’t fancy that on a bicycle, do you?’
‘No,’ Lizzie said. ‘Although, it feels a bit like cheating, having our own car on a mission.’
The drove on the narrow road by the château, and the view of the valleystretched before them like a scene in an oil painting.
‘Isn’t it exquisite?’
Jack agreed it was. ‘Henry and I loved staying here in the school holidays. We’d stay for weeks with my mother, and my father would come and go as business permitted. They were wonderful times.’
Lizzie heard the hint of melancholy in Jack’s voice. ‘I’m glad you brought me with you,’ she said, softly.
Jack glanced at Lizzie before gripping the steering wheel with both hands to take a sharp bend down the steep hill. ‘Me too,darling. I have lots of happy memories of this place. I’d forgotten my father visited when we were little.’
Jack’s father had died of a sudden heart attack years earlier, and he had told Lizzie his mother had never regained her spark.
Lizzie caressed Jack’s neck, and he smiled at her, and she was relieved to see the sadness had passed.
‘We’ll be entering the city in a few minutes,’ he said.
The car rumbled along the bumpy road and Lizzie shielded her eyes from the sun reflecting off the windshield. Then she spotted a beautifully crafted bridge. ‘That must be thePont Neuf,’ she said.
‘Yes, the New Bridge that was completed in 1632!’ Jack replied.
