Son of Serge Bastarde (6 page)

The town was coming to life. I arranged to meet up with Serge later as I had to get back and set up my stand before the first wave of
curistes
hit the market.

  As I unloaded my van and arranged the stock on my tables I couldn't help marvelling at Serge's sudden return. It was so unexpected and he hadn't told me the whole story of what had happened yet. It was no good. I couldn't put it off any longer. I rang Helen.

  'Guess what?' I said when she answered.

  'Serge is back,' she replied.

  'What? How did you know?' I was flabbergasted.

  'Well, he was bound to come back some time, remember – we predicted as much,' she said.

  'Yes, but how the hell did you know what I was going to say?'

  'I don't know, it just came to me out of the blue.'

  'Well, that's amazing,' I said. 'I never imagined he'd be here doing Dax market today. It was a total shock.'

  'What about Angelique? Is she with him?'

  'I'm not sure. I was too embarrassed to ask him.'

  'What?! I can't believe you didn't find out. Right, if you see him later invite him over for dinner. I must find out about her – I want to know exactly what happened to them in Martinique.'

  'OK, I will,' I said. 'One other thing...'

  'What?'

  'He's got a grown-up son in tow working with him.'

  'No!' There was a moment's silence as this sunk in.

  'And guess what?'

  'What?'

  'His name's Diddy.'

  There was a snort of stifled laughter at the other end of the phone. 'You mean his name's Diddy Bastarde?' Followed by a fit of the giggles.

At Helen's insistence I had brought Serge home with me and everything had been fine until halfway through the meal, when Helen raised the subject of Angelique.

  'I've been worried ever since I stopped hearing from her,' she told him. 'Is she all right?'

  Serge seemed pleased to see us both, and up until then everything was normal, but this question changed all that.

  'She's gone,' he said, pushing his plate away and leaning forward on the table, head in his hands. Helen reached across and when she put her arm round his shoulders all the buried emotions rushed to the surface and he began to sob uncontrollably.

  Helen held him as he shook in little spasms. I could feel myself welling up, too. She gave me a wide-eyed look. What could we do? How could we make it better? When I'd invited him over for dinner, I really hadn't expected him to be in such a state. It was a bit of a shock. But Helen was handling it all much better than I was.

  'What do you mean gone?' I blurted out.

  'She's left me,' he said softly.

  To give him his due, he was making a huge effort to control himself, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve and taking a swig of the Spanish brandy I had cracked open for the occasion.

  'I always knew this would happen,' he spluttered. 'Let's face it; Angelique was beautiful, way too good for me, completely out of my league.' He looked up and caught my eye. 'You see, everyone knew it. What was I thinking? I must have been mad.'

  'It's OK, Serge,' said Helen, 'it's not your fault.'

  'No, it was my fault – don't you see it was my fault? All my fault.'

  'Don't worry,' said Helen, 'you can always talk to us about it all, we're your friends.'

  'Yes, I've got to tell someone.' He pulled out a voluminous red spotted handkerchief and blew his nose. 'It's my little Adrien, I don't know how much longer I can bear being parted from him.' The thought of his little son set him off again. He slumped forward and fresh silent tears ran through his fingers and plopped onto the table.

  I poured another slug of Spanish brandy and pushed the glass towards him. He lifted it to his mouth with a shaking hand and swigged it back.

  'We've got some ice cream,' I said, trying to cheer him up. 'Would you like some?'

  Helen shook her head at me and frowned.

  'Well, I just thought,' I mouthed at her. 'You know...'

  'It really was my fault,' said Serge. 'That island, Martinique, is incredible, you've no idea.'

  'I've heard it's beautiful there,' said Helen.

  'I loved it, but what interested me was I'd never seen so many rich people. It was unbelievable. And I was envious. I wanted some of it and I saw my chance to get rich, too.'

  Helen gave me a look, as if she knew what was coming.

  'I had a grand scheme to start a whole new business shipping antiques over from France and selling them at extortionate prices. It couldn't fail.'

  He was excited now as he relived the moment.

  'And my beautiful Angelique was my pièc
e de résistance
. After she had our baby, our little Adrien, we put my plan into action. You know, she still had her beautiful slim figure even after the birth and she was blooming, even more stunning than before. I got her to schmooze all the potential clients. Men swarmed round her like flies and she gave them the works. It was designer this and designer that – they had so much money. I encouraged her to chat them up because they were dripping cash and I knew I could offload tons of expensive stuff on them to put in their mansions and on their shiny yachts.'

  He took another slurp of brandy and blew his nose noisily in his hankie. He sat staring into space for a moment, remembering.

  'There was one guy in particular.' His voice took on a hard edge. 'He had a massive yacht like a floating palace – even had a helipad on the deck. It was amazing. He had private bodyguards and a personal trainer. He would have had Nubian slaves fanning him with palm fronds if it had been acceptable.' He gave a mocking laugh at his own joke.

  'He just lured her away; I didn't stand a chance. She fell for his charms hook, line and sinker. He was rich and handsome and I sensed something was going on between them but I was greedy and ignored it. Then one day he took Adrien and Angelique out on his yacht and they never came back. I waited and waited and in the end I went to the police and they were totally unsympathetic. They just laughed. My darling Angelique had found someone younger who was more fun and who had more money than I could even dream of. He stole her away and took my son, my little Adrien – everything I cared for in the world – and sailed off into the sunset.'

  
That explains why the emails and phone calls from Angelique suddenly stopped,
I thought.

  'And who could blame her?' Serge went on. 'Look at me – what have I got to offer a woman like that?'

  We both sat impotently trying to think. He was right. Put like that, it was hard to come up with anything convincing.

  'Well, what about your Diddy?' I blurted out. 'He's your son as well, your long-lost son.'

  He stared blankly into the middle distance. 'It's not the same, Johnny,' he said flatly. 'He's from a previous life, and frankly, I can't seem to believe he's mine.'

  'You've not heard anything from Angelique since?' asked Helen. 'I mean, she can't have just disappeared.'

  'I've tried to find out where they went but there's just a big wall of silence. I was desperate; I phoned everyone and just sat and waited on the marina for days on end, scanning the horizon. That handsome Lothario had completely covered his tracks. In the end I just had to give up and come back home.'

  'What's he like, your Diddy?' asked Helen, trying to change the subject.

  'If you've got money like that, you can do whatever you please,' said Serge, ignoring the question.

  'Us miserable sods with no money or influence can go hang ourselves. We don't stand a chance. The big boys up there have got it all sewn up. They can do whatever they please, make us jump like a box full of puppets.'

  'But it must have been a nice surprise for you,' Helen persisted, 'when you came back and found out about Diddy?'

  It worked. Serge turned to her. 'It was amazing – he'd been searching for me all the time I was away. But you're right, it was a surprise, a big surprise. I used to live with his mother in a little village in the north of France when I was fresh out of the army. What with one thing and another it didn't work out and we split up after a couple of years. We weren't married. I was young and foolish. Her parents put a lot of pressure on us to marry. I didn't want to be tied down. I ran away down south. I didn't know she was pregnant. She brought Diddy up telling him his father was a handsome soldier and when he was older he could come and find me. And that's exactly what he's done.'

  'Life has a strange way of turning things round and balancing things up, doesn't it?' I said, surprising myself by unexpectedly waxing philosophical. It was an emotional situation and I was out of my depth, unsure how to handle it. Helen was better equipped than I was. She always knew what to say. I could have done with a swig of brandy myself. It would have taken the edge off things and allowed me to relax, tackling such an emotive subject. Pity I was on the wagon.

  'What about Robespierre?' I asked. And as soon as I had asked I wished I hadn't.

  Serge's shoulders began to shake and he collapsed in a fit of sobbing again, blubbing like a baby.

  Helen put her arms round him again and looked at me. I pulled a face and wished I'd kept my big mouth shut. But what had happened to Robespierre? I really wanted to know. He'd been a great little dog. He was given to Serge as a puppy by an old couple who were touched when we returned the body of their dog Hercules after we witnessed him being run down and killed by a hit-and-run driver. Robespierre was one of a litter of Hercules' puppies and Serge was moved to tears because Hercules was exactly like his beloved dog Danton, that had recently died. The old couple were so touched they insisted Serge take one of the puppies. Serge named him Robespierre after Maximilien Robespierre, the bloodthirsty instigator of the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution.

  Eventually Serge raised his head and looked up. His face was haunted but he was making a huge effort to pull himself together. Helen fetched a box of tissues, pulled one out, handed it to him and he blew his nose noisily.

  'It's all right, Serge,' she said. 'You don't have to tell us if you don't want to.'

  'No, you need to know,' he said. 'You're my friends, the only ones who'll really understand.' He made a little choking sound. 'They took him as well... they took my Robespierre with them.'

We were really upset for Serge. It was awful to see him brought so low. But although I felt sorry for him I was also pleased to have him back. I had missed him, and now I was looking forward to meeting up at the old markets, hanging out and having a laugh together. There was no getting away from it; there was never a dull moment when he was around. It would take my mind off other things, like the house move we were going to have to make.

  Helen had reservations about the pair of us getting together again. 'Just think before you go along with any of his harebrained schemes this time,' she said.

  'I'm not a novice
brocanteur
any more,' I assured her. 'Trust me – I know what I'm doing. I won't let him lead me astray again.'

  'I'll believe that when I see it,' she said.

  Helen was throwing herself into house-hunting with a vengeance. She was going out looking at houses on her own, while I always found something important to do so I was never available, hoping it might stop the whole process and we could stay put. She got in touch with banks and brokers who might give us a
prêt relais
(bridging loan) so we could buy a house if we found one we liked and have time to sell ours. She put our house up for sale with every estate agent she could. Everyone who came to view our house was enchanted by it, but as soon as they heard a
lotissement
was going to be built on the adjoining field they never came back for a second look. I was secretly pleased and worried sick at the same time. So when I saw Serge at Anglet market, just outside Bayonne, and he told me he had been tipped off about a special private auction of the contents of a
maison de retraite
(retirement home) outside Lourdes I thought it would be the perfect distraction for us both and give me and Helen a break from all the stress.