Read Online Monsieur Pamplemousse Hits the Headlines by Michael Bond - Free Book Online
Authors: Michael Bond
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?’
‘It was, and it needed very little persuading.’
‘The big one?’
‘The size is immaterial, Pamplemousse. Although I have to admit that by then whoever it belonged to must have realised it hadn’t had as far to travel as she might have anticipated, and the distance was getting less with every passing moment. I hesitate to say it had been met halfway, but it had, metaphorically speaking, hit the buffers.’
Monsieur Leclercq paused for a moment to mop his brow. There was the sound of lapping water as Pommes Frites, who had been hanging on the Director’s every word and gesture, made the most of the opportunity.
Monsieur Pamplemousse looked at his boss. It must be costing him dearly to bare his soul in this way.
‘I know what you are thinking, Aristide,’ said Monsieur Leclercq. ‘You are thinking if this ever gets out the reputation of Le Guide will plummet.’
It was, in fact, the last thing on Monsieur Pamplemousse’s mind, but he could see why the Director might be worried. A scandal could have severe repercussions in financial circles.
‘By then I had quite lost the thread of the conversation with the lady from the bank. I must have been sweating like a pig, for I remember her asking me if I was feeling unwell.
‘I looked around the table and by process of elimination decided that even though Madame Chavignol was engaged in animated conversation with her neighbours on either side, the foot could only belong to her. No one else at the table had legs that long and even she must have been stretching hers to their fullest extent.
‘Shortly afterwards, a second pied began to make its presence felt. Having established a foothold as it were, it set about manoeuvring my left leg into a complimentary position on her side of the table. And there it stayed, locked in a vicelike grip between her thighs for the rest of the meal.
‘When we eventually rose there was a thud and I realised my shoe had become detached. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to discard its companion, otherwise my limp might have given the game away.
‘Worse was to follow. My wife was taking a stroll in the garden with one of the other guests, and I had just asked Madame Chavignol if she had read any good books lately – one has to keep up the charade in these situations, when she took me by the arm and led me towards some kind of outbuilding clearly reserved for the laundering of garments – there was a distinct odour of disinfectant in the air; it quite negated the smell of the scented candles outside . As we entered I detected the sound of machinery. She appeared to be nervous. On the way there she kept looking at her watch.
‘When I complained that the smell was giving me a headache she produced a tablet from a gold locket she wore round her neck. She said it would do me the world of good.’
‘Do you know what it was?’ asked Monsieur Pamplemousse.
‘It had a strange name. Rather like that famous American waterfall – Niagara…’
Monsieur Pamplemousse stared at the Director. For all his worldliness, he had moments of quite breathtaking naivety.
‘And you took it, Monsieur ?’
‘Of course. I could hardly refuse. In fact, she gave me three. I must confess I sensed a certain amount of impatience on her part. They proved most efficacious. Almost immediately I began to feel better.
‘It was at that point that she suddenly began uttering cries of ‘ Vite! Vite !’ Seating herself on one of the machines, she kicked a box into place by my feet and drew me towards her. I felt her legs encircle my body. Strictly between ourselves, Aristide, I can hardly claim it was an unpleasant sensation. It was also considerably enhanced by the soft vibration of the machine itself. But that was as far as it went until suddenly, almost as though it had taken on a life of its own and had become imbued with the spirit of the occasion, the motor sprang into life. The speed increased some tenfold. It was like being in a ship
‘It was, and it needed very little persuading.’
‘The big one?’
‘The size is immaterial, Pamplemousse. Although I have to admit that by then whoever it belonged to must have realised it hadn’t had as far to travel as she might have anticipated, and the distance was getting less with every passing moment. I hesitate to say it had been met halfway, but it had, metaphorically speaking, hit the buffers.’
Monsieur Leclercq paused for a moment to mop his brow. There was the sound of lapping water as Pommes Frites, who had been hanging on the Director’s every word and gesture, made the most of the opportunity.
Monsieur Pamplemousse looked at his boss. It must be costing him dearly to bare his soul in this way.
‘I know what you are thinking, Aristide,’ said Monsieur Leclercq. ‘You are thinking if this ever gets out the reputation of Le Guide will plummet.’
It was, in fact, the last thing on Monsieur Pamplemousse’s mind, but he could see why the Director might be worried. A scandal could have severe repercussions in financial circles.
‘By then I had quite lost the thread of the conversation with the lady from the bank. I must have been sweating like a pig, for I remember her asking me if I was feeling unwell.
‘I looked around the table and by process of elimination decided that even though Madame Chavignol was engaged in animated conversation with her neighbours on either side, the foot could only belong to her. No one else at the table had legs that long and even she must have been stretching hers to their fullest extent.
‘Shortly afterwards, a second pied began to make its presence felt. Having established a foothold as it were, it set about manoeuvring my left leg into a complimentary position on her side of the table. And there it stayed, locked in a vicelike grip between her thighs for the rest of the meal.
‘When we eventually rose there was a thud and I realised my shoe had become detached. Fortunately I had the presence of mind to discard its companion, otherwise my limp might have given the game away.
‘Worse was to follow. My wife was taking a stroll in the garden with one of the other guests, and I had just asked Madame Chavignol if she had read any good books lately – one has to keep up the charade in these situations, when she took me by the arm and led me towards some kind of outbuilding clearly reserved for the laundering of garments – there was a distinct odour of disinfectant in the air; it quite negated the smell of the scented candles outside . As we entered I detected the sound of machinery. She appeared to be nervous. On the way there she kept looking at her watch.
‘When I complained that the smell was giving me a headache she produced a tablet from a gold locket she wore round her neck. She said it would do me the world of good.’
‘Do you know what it was?’ asked Monsieur Pamplemousse.
‘It had a strange name. Rather like that famous American waterfall – Niagara…’
Monsieur Pamplemousse stared at the Director. For all his worldliness, he had moments of quite breathtaking naivety.
‘And you took it, Monsieur ?’
‘Of course. I could hardly refuse. In fact, she gave me three. I must confess I sensed a certain amount of impatience on her part. They proved most efficacious. Almost immediately I began to feel better.
‘It was at that point that she suddenly began uttering cries of ‘ Vite! Vite !’ Seating herself on one of the machines, she kicked a box into place by my feet and drew me towards her. I felt her legs encircle my body. Strictly between ourselves, Aristide, I can hardly claim it was an unpleasant sensation. It was also considerably enhanced by the soft vibration of the machine itself. But that was as far as it went until suddenly, almost as though it had taken on a life of its own and had become imbued with the spirit of the occasion, the motor sprang into life. The speed increased some tenfold. It was like being in a ship
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