was just musing on the little dog’s fastidious table manners compared to the chumping chops of Bouncer, when I heard a rather flat English voice at the bar asking for a gin and tonic. I turned my head … Mullion stood there. Or Climp.
Clearly Primrose had been right about their arrival in the car park. I felt an ill-defined irritation, which increased when I saw the man’s companion enter the room and join him at the bar. I could not explain the irritation but somehow their presence annoyed me. Certainly they had been perfectly civil when Primrose had introduced us on the boat – but that did not necessarily mean that I wanted my journey through France punctuated by their appearances. It was, I suppose, simply xenophobia in reverse: enjoying the novelty of France I did not wish to be dogged by my compatriots, least of all by the same ones.
I averted my head, hoping not to catch their attention; but too late, they had already seen us and were moving across the room. Inwardly grumbling, I composed my features into a smile of surprised welcome.
‘Well, see who it is, fancy meeting you again,’ began the taller (Mullion, I subsequently learned). ‘Thought we had left you at Dieppe! Your sister did mention you were making for this area but it’s funny meeting up here, all the same.’ He laughed loudly, and nodding towards Nicholas added, ‘I must say, your friend looks rather the better for wear than when we last saw him. Thought he wasn’t long for this world!’ And he laughed again, raising his glass to Nicholas who returned the gesture with a wintry stare.
‘Are you staying long?’ asked Primrose brightly. ‘It’s such a comfortable hotel, it almost seems a pity to leave.’
‘No, we’re pushing on in the morning,’ said Climp. ‘We’ve only got a fortnight’s leave and I want to get some fishing in, and Ted’s keen on revisiting his old wartime haunts – somewhere in the Massif Central, wherever that is. My geography’s none too good so I leave the map reading and such to him. Dominoes is more my line and I like a good opponent.’ He grinned familiarly at Primrose and looked around – clearly hoping to draw up a chair. Fortunately none was to hand. They hovered vaguely for a few moments, and then Nicholas stood up, waved imperiously to the waiter and announced in impeccable French (which I think he must have been silently practising) that we were ready for our table. Nodding curtly to Climp and Mullion, and with Primrose and myself dutifully following, he moved briskly towards the dining room.
The pink lady was already ensconced and busy with a bowl of mussels which she was attacking with dedicated relish. I noticed the poodle was still on her lap, but now largely obscured by the folds of the enormous napkin cascading from its mistress’s throat. A twitching nose would occasionally poke out rather like a hedgehog emerging from hibernation. The sight of the creature being so casually accommodated lessened my anxiety about Maurice and Bouncer and I felt easier about having them up in the bedroom. That at least was a relief. And like the pink lady, and following the French custom, I tucked my napkin into my collar and fell to my steak.
For a short while there was silence as we attacked our food and savoured the burgundy. And then turning to Primrose, Nicholas said, ‘Those two – what was it you said they were talking about on the boat?’
She frowned, trying to recall. ‘Oh, I don’t know – I told you in the car – this and that, nothing in particular … anything to pass the time really.’ Then she smiled complacently: ‘But I held my own during the dominoes all right, swept the board with them!’ I also smiled for I remembered from old my sister’s skill in that particular sphere, and our father’s fury when yet again he found himself trounced by her sharper skill.
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas patiently, ‘but what were they saying ? I mean, did they ask you any questions
Clearly Primrose had been right about their arrival in the car park. I felt an ill-defined irritation, which increased when I saw the man’s companion enter the room and join him at the bar. I could not explain the irritation but somehow their presence annoyed me. Certainly they had been perfectly civil when Primrose had introduced us on the boat – but that did not necessarily mean that I wanted my journey through France punctuated by their appearances. It was, I suppose, simply xenophobia in reverse: enjoying the novelty of France I did not wish to be dogged by my compatriots, least of all by the same ones.
I averted my head, hoping not to catch their attention; but too late, they had already seen us and were moving across the room. Inwardly grumbling, I composed my features into a smile of surprised welcome.
‘Well, see who it is, fancy meeting you again,’ began the taller (Mullion, I subsequently learned). ‘Thought we had left you at Dieppe! Your sister did mention you were making for this area but it’s funny meeting up here, all the same.’ He laughed loudly, and nodding towards Nicholas added, ‘I must say, your friend looks rather the better for wear than when we last saw him. Thought he wasn’t long for this world!’ And he laughed again, raising his glass to Nicholas who returned the gesture with a wintry stare.
‘Are you staying long?’ asked Primrose brightly. ‘It’s such a comfortable hotel, it almost seems a pity to leave.’
‘No, we’re pushing on in the morning,’ said Climp. ‘We’ve only got a fortnight’s leave and I want to get some fishing in, and Ted’s keen on revisiting his old wartime haunts – somewhere in the Massif Central, wherever that is. My geography’s none too good so I leave the map reading and such to him. Dominoes is more my line and I like a good opponent.’ He grinned familiarly at Primrose and looked around – clearly hoping to draw up a chair. Fortunately none was to hand. They hovered vaguely for a few moments, and then Nicholas stood up, waved imperiously to the waiter and announced in impeccable French (which I think he must have been silently practising) that we were ready for our table. Nodding curtly to Climp and Mullion, and with Primrose and myself dutifully following, he moved briskly towards the dining room.
The pink lady was already ensconced and busy with a bowl of mussels which she was attacking with dedicated relish. I noticed the poodle was still on her lap, but now largely obscured by the folds of the enormous napkin cascading from its mistress’s throat. A twitching nose would occasionally poke out rather like a hedgehog emerging from hibernation. The sight of the creature being so casually accommodated lessened my anxiety about Maurice and Bouncer and I felt easier about having them up in the bedroom. That at least was a relief. And like the pink lady, and following the French custom, I tucked my napkin into my collar and fell to my steak.
For a short while there was silence as we attacked our food and savoured the burgundy. And then turning to Primrose, Nicholas said, ‘Those two – what was it you said they were talking about on the boat?’
She frowned, trying to recall. ‘Oh, I don’t know – I told you in the car – this and that, nothing in particular … anything to pass the time really.’ Then she smiled complacently: ‘But I held my own during the dominoes all right, swept the board with them!’ I also smiled for I remembered from old my sister’s skill in that particular sphere, and our father’s fury when yet again he found himself trounced by her sharper skill.
‘Yes,’ said Nicholas patiently, ‘but what were they saying ? I mean, did they ask you any questions
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