Serge Bastarde Ate My Baguette (28 page)

  His sisters were more interested in the teddy bears and dolls, cuddling them, asking if they could take them home. As I chatted to them I was conscious of how Gypsy families like this were regarded by the locals: thieving
gitans
, not to be trusted. But they were charming and I had no intention of being so prejudiced. I realised I was subconsciously making a special effort to empathise with them.

  They shouted across to their dad, who was so overweight he was having to use walking sticks to get about. Despite his disability (he was so fat I couldn't imagine him squeezing through a caravan door) he still carried himself with a proud, macho air.

  Their mother, a voluptuous blonde, was immediately drawn to Serge's cabinet of jewellery. She was accompanied by a vivacious dark-haired young woman who might have been her sister. They were keen to try on the rings and I was happy to oblige as they flirted outrageously, knowingly flattering my male ego.

  They picked out a large diamond ring. The mother slipped it on and commented on the quality of the gold and how the diamond sparkled in the sunlight.

  She loved it. She was hooked.

  She made me a ridiculously low offer (less than half the ticket price) and I had to explain that I was selling it for a friend and would ask him if he was willing to let it go so cheaply. She gave me a secret smile and said she would be back later with the cash. They all went off noisily together laughing and joking. That was the last I'd see of them, I thought.

  It was well and truly past
midi
now, so I covered the tables, locked Serge's jewellery cabinet in the back of the van and headed for where our caravan was parked in the shade under the trees.

  A delicious smoky smell of barbecued burgers greeted me. Reg was cooking them over a portable charcoal grill, dressed in shorts and sandals and wearing a stripy apron.

  'Fancy a burger, mate? I've got plenty.'

  'Ta, mate, but I'm vegetarian,' I said, feeling slightly embarrassed to be so finicky.

  'Oh right, veggie is it?' he said, like he expected as much.

  Rita was lying back on a plastic lounger in a bikini outside the caravan swigging from a bottle with a fag in her hand. When she saw me she waved and took a deep drag.

  'How's it going, lovey? Making a lot of money?'

  I told Reg about the
gitan
family and their interest in the rings.

  'Bloody 'ell, mate! Don't let bloody gypos try on jewellery. Are you soft or what?'

  'They seemed friendly enough,' I said. 'They wanted to buy a diamond ring but I don't think they could afford it.'

  'Afford it? Course they can afford it! But pikeys like that don't buy valuables, they nick 'em. If they come sniffing round my stuff I tell 'em "
Dégagez!
", which is like sod off in froggy. That gets rid of 'em.'

  'I don't think they were that bad,' I said.

  'Look, John, I live with gypos. I buy off 'em, stay on their caravan sites. Take my word for it. Don't trust 'em. They're outside our society. They live off their wits. If you give 'em an inch they take a mile. Once they suss you as a mug you've 'ad it.'

  I couldn't help feeling he was being predictably prejudiced. I believed if you treated people with respect then they would appreciate it and act accordingly and return the favour.

  Helen had been chatting to Angelique and had invited her and Serge to join us for lunch. When they arrived we all sat down together.

  Rita fussed over Serge, despite Angelique being there.

  ''Ere you are darling, want a burger?' She appeared to have developed a permanent soft spot for him.

  When I told him how the jewellery was going he was pleased. 'That's it, Johnny, let's get rid of it, eh? I'm selling off a lot of my other baubles.'

  'Tell him about the gypos,' said Reg. 'He loves gypos after all that violin business.' He gave Serge a nudge. 'That's right, ain't it, Sergie? You love the old
gitans,
don't you?' He went through his violin mime again.

  Serge looked at me, questioningly. When I explained about the Gypsy family, I was surprised by his reaction. 'If they want to buy, go ahead, Johnny… But be careful. I don't need to tell you that.'

The afternoon was baking hot and the square had emptied. The air was shimmering in the heat and I dozed off sitting in a camping chair in the shade. I woke up later feeling groggy, like I might have got a touch of the sun. But despite the heat the afternoon buyers were beginning to drift back. I had to get out there. Helen stayed in the caravan. She could take less heat than me, and she, Rita and Angelique were having a chat and a laugh, no doubt at the expense of us men.

  I uncovered our tables and was replacing Serge's jewellery cabinet when the blonde woman reappeared with her raven-haired friend. Could she have another look at that ring? And had I asked my friend about lowering the price?

  I unlocked the cabinet and passed her the ring. She tried it on again and her friend went through the others, trying to find one that took her fancy.

  As I served them I felt a hand on my arm and turned to be confronted by a diminutive Indian couple – a neat little man in a dark suit, white shirt and tie, and a woman wearing a colourful silk sari. I was taken aback, as I had never seen an Indian couple like this in this country region of France. He was charming and well spoken. I was completely disarmed.

  They decided on an inexpensive ring almost immediately and he passed over a five-hundred-euro note to pay for it. I have heard these purple euro notes referred to colloquially as Bin Ladens – 'everyone's always looking for them but they are hardly ever seen'. It was normally only the Spanish who carried such large denomination notes. They liked to pay in cash and someone had told me it was because they had a huge 'black' economy and mistrusted banks.

  I was trying to keep an eye on all my customers at once but it wasn't so easy on my own without Helen to help me.

  I had opened my bumbag, searching through for change, when the charming Indian woman reached over and started flicking her fingers through the notes in my bag, pointing out how much I should give her husband.

  My instinctive reaction was to pull away.

  
'Excusez-moi, madame!' I
exclaimed, alarmed, jumping back.

  'I've changed my mind,' said the little man, seemingly offended.

  He passed back the ring.

  I was thrown by this sudden change of behaviour. But the customer is always right, I thought grudgingly to myself, the customer is always right.

  
'Bien sûr, m'sieu, sans problème.'

  I handed him back his bloody 'Bin Laden'. They were a flipping nuisance anyway, as no French shopkeepers would take them.

  I looked around, feeling put out and befuddled by what had happened.

  The blonde Gypsy woman and her friend had vanished. And when I turned back, the Indian couple had also disappeared, melting into the crowd.

  But then I spotted them on the far side of the square. They appeared to be talking to the big fat Gypsy I had seen earlier.

  Instinctively I checked Serge's jewellery cabinet. The diamond ring had gone and several others seemed to be missing as well. A feeling of panic and disbelief overtook me. I left my stand and ran over to where I had seen the Indian couple and the fat Gypsy. But there was no sign of them.

  It dawned on me that I'd been taken for a mug in a professionally executed 'sting'.

  I felt so stupid. How could I tell Serge what a total twat I'd been… robbed in broad daylight right under my nose? The Gypsies and the Indian couple had been working as a team. I'd been set up.

  What an idiot!

  When I told Helen she was shocked and blamed herself for not coming to help. 'What the hell's Serge going to say?'

  I left her on the stand and went over sheepishly to tell him.

  He listened as I told him what had happened. His eyes widened in disbelief. When I had finished he looked at me sternly.

  'Well, that's my retirement ruined. He put his head in his hands. I watched him and felt like a shit. He suddenly spluttered and burst out laughing, slapping me on the back.

  'Heh, Johnny, I'd like to say I'm upset, but it's really quite a funny story, I'm sorry. Look it's my own fault, I should have warned you that gold attracts
gitans
like flies and never ever let them touch the goods. It's asking for trouble. And don't feel too bad, none of the stones in those rings were actually diamonds. Most of them are semi-precious or worthless cut glass.'

  The relief I felt when he told me this was spectacular. But when I realised he'd had us unwittingly offering fake diamond rings as genuine to the public I felt totally used.

  'You mean to tell me most of those rings are virtually worthless?'

  'Not worthless exactly, Johnny. Let's just say they've got a high mark up.'

  'Oh great! So I had once again been acting as an innocent accomplice in another of Serge's little rip-off schemes. Helen was right. Nothing Serge did was legit.

  On the other hand the blonde Gypsy woman and the Indian couple had been to a lot of trouble for very little. That was some consolation, but despite it all I couldn't help feeling a grudging respect for the way they'd pulled it off. I was impressed how these diverse members of two marginalised sections of society had worked successfully together. There were lessons there for us all. If we could work together in harmony as these Gypsies and Asians had then the world might be a better place. Maybe not if our joint efforts were used for swindling people, though.

The heat was blistering as the afternoon wore on and we huddled under our parasols, unable to move. It was so hot that the market square was virtually deserted. I was fetching Helen a cold drink from the caravan when I passed Reg and Rita laid out under their caravan awning. They appeared to have given up.

  'Blimey, it must be forty degrees,' said Reg. 'Might as well pack up. Punters don't come out in heat like this.'

  I reluctantly told him what had happened, how I'd been conned by the blonde Gypsy woman and an Indian couple.

  'Didn't I warn you about the gypos?' he said. 'I don't like to say this, but dear oh dear, what a sucker!' Good job it was only Serge's tat that got nicked.' He laughed.

  'But an Indian couple, that's unusual round here,' he said.

  I didn't like to tell him I harboured a grudging admiration for the way they'd carried out the 'sting'. And I certainly couldn't accept his blanket condemnation of a whole race of people, despite what had happened.

  'They must have come from that big gypo encampment on the edge of town,' he said. 'We could go up there later and look for the perpetrators. That fat bloke'd be easy to spot for a start. I could swipe him round the back of the head with a length of four-by-two, knock the fat bugger out. Teach him a lesson, that would.'

  'What about the gendarmes?' said Rita.

  'I think it might be best to leave well alone,' I said. 'It would be hard to prove and I haven't got any witnesses. And anyway I don't think Serge would want me to draw police attention to his jewellery sales.'

  'It's rotten though,' said Rita, 'having his stuff nicked. That poor little Bastarde bloke.'

  'Serge,' I said.

  'Yeah, that poor little Serge Bastarde bloke… he doesn't seem to be having much luck lately, does he?'

  'I wouldn't waste too much sympathy on him,' I said. 'He wasn't that worried. He said the rings weren't worth much anyway. I don't think they were even gold and they certainly weren't real diamonds.'

  'Yeah, anything bright and glittery sends the gypos mad,' said Reg. 'They pretend they know all about it, like they do with violins, but mostly they're just bluffing.'

  I was going to point out that they knew exactly what they were doing when they lifted Serge's Stradivarius, but decided to let it pass.

By early evening most of the
brocanteurs
had packed up and covered their stands. The weather forecast was good for the second day of the fair so the majority of dealers had left their parasols up, confident there would be no unexpected storm during the night.

  I went over to see Serge who was hammering guy ropes into the ground just in case. Angelique was helping him, holding the pegs, leaning back, closing her eyes as Serge wielded the mallet.

  I waited till they'd finished, then passed over the takings from the jewellery sales. It came to a considerable sum and after my experience during the day I wasn't keen to have it in the caravan overnight.

  'I'd rather you kept it in the van, Serge. It'll be safer,' I said.

  'OK, Johnny. But I'm not sleeping in the van tonight. I've booked into a hotel in the town. Can't have Angelique all humped up in the van can we? I'm taking her out for a meal. She deserves it.'

  Angelique gave me a shy smile.

  She had changed yet again. She was now dressed in a slinky red number and wearing her trademark black lacy stockings with white high heels. She looked stunning. And Serge had a look on his face like the cat that got the cream.

  'Well, have a nice evening,' I said, giving him a knowing smile.

  'Thanks, Johnny. We will.' Angelique took hold of his arm and he half-turned, gave me a secret wink and they walked off into the sunset.