Le Temps des Cerises (12 page)

‘What was your rank in the navy, Mathers?' the Conductor asked in a wondering voice.

‘Cook, sir. Head cook and bottle washer.'

‘Ah… what on earth made you want to volunteer for this then?'

‘It crossed my mind that on the long flights the men might get a bit peckish, sir.'

‘And what would you propose doing about it? Start a cooking fire up there with a couple of sticks?'

‘I hope I'd have the foresight to take matches, sir.'

‘D'you know what inflammable means, Mathers?' The Conductor asked, his face quite purple.

‘Yessir. It means it can float, sir!'

‘Oh, so the boats you sailed in were all inflammable, were they?'

‘I should hope so, sir. Else I wouldn't be here to tell the tale, would I sir?'

It was the final straw.
The Conductor gestured to the men on Platform Seven and the basket suddenly started spinning, revolving like a te-to-tum, a monster peg top. Even the onlookers went dizzy just looking at it; though Jacques' beaming face went round and round, riding his airborne merry-go-round.

‘Feeling peckish now, Mathers?' the Conductor shouted up a little unkindly.

‘No sir,' came a sheepish reply from up above though nothing could be seen of the sailor – he was presumably lying prone and green at the bottom of the basket. After a few more moments spinning, the Conductor took pity on them and had them brought back to earth. Jacques gave the sailor a helping hand out of the basket and he swayed off down the platform, harried on by a jeering crowd.

‘Get a good co-pilot,' advised the Conductor, patting Jacques on the back, ‘and you'll do just fine.' And he went off to train the other balloonists while Jacques pretended a nonchalance under the downpour of praise and hearty thumps, though his eyes gleamed bright with triumph.

The three of them left the Gare du Nord not knowing what to say. They were silent with awe and respect, a new found respect for the extra­ordinary balloons and the people who worked with them: the industrious women who stitched, the varnishers and sailors, pigeons and professors; for the pilots who braved the enemy and the elements and last but not least for Jacques who had changed before their eyes from a boy into a man. Eveline was especially thoughtful, and slightly abashed that even her brother was doing something interesting and exciting. It was she who still lived in a fairytale, not him.

‘You've done a wonderful job with Jacques, Evie,' Laurie said kindly as though he could read her thoughts; but it wasn't what she wanted to hear and she couldn't even bring herself to acknowledge what he said or smile back at him.

Chapter eleven

Monsieur Lafayette was first to arrive with a potted geranium, a crate of cherry brandy and a tin of ‘surprises'. He was dressed up in a blue waistcoat and an absurdly high, ruffled collar which made him look like an ancient schoolboy. Eveline exclaimed over the geranium and placed it
centre stage of the table – it gave the whole room a festive air. She was pleased with the results of her efforts. Everything sparkled. Everything shone. And the gold braid she'd stitched to the bottom of the tablecloth worked a treat.

‘You look beautiful, Eveline,' Monsieur Lafayette said admiringly.

‘Thank you,' she replied graciously. ‘Is father not with you?'

‘Er... no, he wanted to stop and take the wafer at St Etienne.'

‘Oh, tell the truth, Monsieur Lafayette. I won't hold it against you.'

‘Very well then. He went for a glass at the Cascades more than an hour ago... you really are a sight for sore eyes.'

‘Thank you,' replied Eveline, giggling to herself. The man was mad. She was red as a Bengal lantern what with cooking, cleaning and dashing back and forth to the window to see if the sun had come out. They didn't need any Christmas decorations with her on the scene, glowing from tip to toe: red hair, red dress, red brooch, red stockings… Still, it was kind of him. He was a good sort really. She took the tin of surprises, childishly wanting to look, and put it in the kitchen. Monsieur Lafayette stood awkward and formal by the table, waiting for the others and making polite remarks about the weather and the mournful state of the city while she kept an eye on the first course.

‘At least they can't stop us enjoying ourselves,' he remarked, meaning the Prussians. ‘If we let them do that, they really have beaten us. Dear me, yes, that's when they've won.'

Laughter and knocking heralded the arrival of Laurie and Alphonse and they came in with a bottle of wine between them and a miniature rose tree. The latter caused a stir of consternation on the part of Eveline for she couldn't fit it on the table next to the geranium and she didn't want to show any favours. In the end she placed it on the windowsill much to everyone's approval. It fairly lit up the room and the smell was delicious. She wanted to know where they'd found such an exotic but they wouldn't tell. They looked very handsome in their uniforms, one dark, one golden, and Monsieur Lafayette eyed them suspiciously, surprisingly awkward in his ruffled-up collar.

‘More rivals for the hand of dear Eveline,' he remarked upon introduction; and Laurie shot her an appalled look.

He joined her a few moments later in the kitchen. ‘Who's that character?' he demanded.

‘I've mentioned him several times,' she replied defensively. ‘He's an old friend of Papa's.'

‘Yes, but… I didn't think… he looks like a rogue, Evie.'

She felt suddenly hot and suffocating in the kitchen and she bade him go and open a window. Who was he to tell her who was a rogue and who wasn't? Who was he to tell her anything?

‘You shouldn't be so hasty to judge,' she advised him when he returned. They were off on the wrong foot already, of course, as they always seemed to be these days. She just couldn't help herself. Something about him recently made her want to punch the air
.

‘How pretty you look!' he observed then. ‘Is that your mother's ruby brooch?'

‘Mmm.' He knew very well it was. It was the only piece of jewellery she owned. The only thing of her mother's she owned. It came out on special occasions like a star at night though generally she kept it in the toe of a shoe lest her father find it and pawn it for drink. She heard the door slam and her father's voice.

‘Up with the good Lord! Down with the Bishop!'

He was obviously trying to convince everyone he'd had a fair sprinkling of religion that morning. Wiping her hands on her apron, she went out to seat everybody formally. Jacques was in tow behind her father, bedraggled and dirty in his sailor's suit though he'd promised to keep clean and out of mischief. But she didn't have the heart to be angry with him today.

‘Papa, next to Laurie please – you can tell him all about the sermon. Monsieur Lafayette next to Alphonse and Jacques beside
me
,' she said a little pointedly to show him that the dirty suit had gone without reprimand but not unnoticed.

‘You're the daughter of a Bishop, my girl!' Mistigris wagged his finger at her. ‘And he's a very bad man!'

Eveline sighed. ‘Yes, father, I know that. I'm only too well aware of it!'

It was best to get some food into him, she decided. She took off her apron and dished up the first course of bacon and peas. Everyone cheered up at the sight of it. Somebody said it smelled too good for horsemeat which led to a number of jokes.

‘What did the bouillon say to the casserole?' Alphonse teased Jacques.

‘I don't know,' giggled Jacques, his little wrists poking out of his dirty suit.

‘Try catch me, you're from a racecourse!'

Everyone had a joke to tell then and another thimbleful of wine did the rounds while Mistigris went off to sharpen his carving knife, declaring that the beast was too much for him. He ground away on a statue of Mary Magdalene until everybody's nerves became quite frayed.

‘Papa,' cried Eveline. ‘The food is going cold. Will you come and carve up now.'

He gave them a lesson then on carving. It was an art apparently, both meditative and daring. It was not unlike carving a statue. You had to let the knife do the work. Everyone was sick to death of it by the time he carved his last painstaking slice. Even Fifi had jumped up on Jacques' lap and was peering over the table with impatience. Monsieur Lafayette said that he wouldn't mind getting a feel of her embonpoint though all the time he was looking at Eveline in her tightly laced bodice. Laurie went quite white and took another thimbleful of wine while Alphonse sat back in his chair, watching the proceedings with amusement.

They were just settling down to their food when a shadow darted across the window. Laurie who sat opposite was first to notice.

‘What on earth was that?' he cried. ‘Over there behind the rose.'

Everyone looked. The figure darted by again, almost bird-like in motion.

‘It's Madame Larousse,' said Eveline putting down her napkin. ‘The coal dealer's wife.'

‘I thought she was dead!' muttered Mistigris.

‘Hush Papa. She quite obviously isn't.'

And she wasn't. She was large as life, twice as natural, her nose pressed to the pane, her eyes big as saucers.

Eveline got up and went over to the window. ‘Madame Larousse?'

‘Yes dear.'

‘Are you… alright?'

‘Yes dear. I just wanted to wish you all a Merry Christmas.'

‘Thank you. Merry Christmas to you.' Eveline was about to shut the window but something about the little woman's pinched-up cheeks stopped her. ‘Are you quite well, Madame Larousse?'

Oh yes, Madame Larousse said. She was quite well. She had just been wondering if Eveline might be so good as to lift the lid on that delicious – bacon stew was it – so that she might get a whiff of it through the open window. It would do her a power of good. It would quite rejuvenate her! Nothing would give her more pleasure (she went on) than to be able to stand by the window, sniff the air, and watch them eating that delicious bacon stew, bushel of peas and – was it onion gravy she could smell?

Of course nobody wanted her out there sniffing the air while they gorged themselves and it was agreed that she had better come in. If you couldn't do someone a good turn at Christmas when could you? Madame Larousse shuffled in saying she didn't want to impose, plonked herself down beside Monsieur Lafayette and unlaced her corset in preparation for the feast.

‘Whoa there, my good woman,' smiled the confectioner. ‘I may have fought at Solferino but my heart's not up to that kind of excitement!'

Everyone remarked on the bacon. It was done to a turn – crispy with just the right amount of crackling. Peas – tender and sweet and the gravy, well, it was like the unction that flowed down Aaron's beard, said Mistigris. He was playing hard in the religious stakes today. Madame Larousse was visibly impressed by the biblical allusion and she said a little grace herself before tucking into her plate. For a while nothing could be heard but the sound of jaws working. Another thimbleful did the rounds and the mood became quite merry. Everyone was determined to enjoy themselves.

‘Is it Larousse after the encyclopaedia?' Laurie asked with interest.

‘Yes, dear,' muttered Madame Laroussse, chewing hard on a bit of crackling. ‘I always said that if poor old Monsieur Larousse had had more of a brain he'd have set up a shop of encyclopaedias.'

‘Dear me, yes,' agreed Monsieur Lafayette. ‘There's nothing like an encyclopaedia for dipping into. Too heavy for general use but good for dipping into.'

‘My, my,' cried Madame Laroussse, wiping her fingers on her napkin. ‘You know where to come if you want an insult.'

Everyone stared at her in surprise.

‘I simply said a Larousse was good for dipping into!' Monsieur Lafayette explained in an aggrieved tone.

‘I know what you said!' replied Madame Larousse, throwing down her napkin. ‘And I know what you meant! Filthy beast!'

Eveline tried to pacify the old woman by offering her another plate of bacon and peas but she wasn't having any of it. She insisted on swapping places so that she didn't have to sit next to the ‘disgusting little man'.

Things got a little heated after that. Eveline was starting to regret her generosity and she brought the main course in with a flaming face. Mistigris gave another carving lesson for the benefit of Madame Larousse who simpered and sighed at his side.

Jacques remarked tactlessly that Fifi didn't like rabbit and nor did he – they preferred chicken; and Eveline, losing her temper, said if he wasn't careful she'd box his ears and he'd get what he was given.

They ate in a sullen greedy silence. Nobody commented on the rabbit except for Alphonse who said it was very good indeed and much better than the stuff they'd be getting at Brébant's. He chuckled to himself as though at a private joke and Monsieur Lafayette wagged a finger at him. ‘You're a fox, young man. You may have a magnificent brush but you're a fox all the same.'