by Sam Sparks
awkwardness of him as a kind of brother put paid to anything more than a schoolgirl crush. She had of course no idea they shared the same father. Madame in an effort to move things along, invited a boy round for tea one day. That didn't work; Margaux was not amused to find him at their kitchen table. Her mother tried twice more. Margaux was getting the message but the more her mother tried, the more Margaux made it obvious these gauche attempts were not appreciated.
One night when Madame and her husband were away on Mayoral business Margaux fuelled with some absinthe she had found, went to Arnaud's bedroom door. She knew he also had been drinking. She knocked; he opened the door as she slipped her nightdress over her head. They both had been long keen to lose their virginity. But their intoxication had side-lined taking any sort of precautions. Life was about to change for both of them. Some weeks later Arnaud was told he was to become a father. A shock for all, not least the Mayor when his wife broke the news. He had never considered the possibility that Arnaud and Margaux would sleep together.
He immediately summoned his distraught adopted son to the Mayoral office to explain himself. The Mayor raged at Arnaud. The shock that he had sired both the daughter and the adopted son. And now he was to be a grandfather on both sides. He felt sickened. A situation arisen from hell itself.
His wife wanted a quick wedding; Monsieur Le Mayor would hear nothing of it, but Madame Morin prevailed. She insisted there was no solution other than a wedding, spelling out to Arnaud that since they took pity on his situation he was somewhat in their debt.He had to do the right thing. The Mayor was fast losing his hold of familial problems. Madame Arment had upped the ante and his presence was required all year round. Amongst the turmoil and with a strange irony, he found some solace with her.
He had long since stopped going to the confessional. The Priest would have had a hard time absolving him of some of his sins. A few Hail Mary's were not going to cover the Mayor's transgressions.
Arnaud, with his impending marriage and the maelstrom of recent events, became withdrawn for the second time in his life.
The wedding was a civil ceremony; a church wedding was out of the question. Mimi did briefly attend, which drew some curious looks from the small amount of invited guests. But then she was widely regarded as a little odd, so nobody took it further. The Mayor only just made it through the day. His mental state deteriorating by the hour. His ability to be rational under pressure worried him. Also of concern was what the townspeople, his electorate, would think of him. Whilst they thought it unusual, they truly adored Arnaud. So the nuptials passed without adverse local comment.
Directly after the birth of the child, a boy they named Jacques. A sedated Margaux was taken to a unit where the possibility of conceiving again was removed. A Mayoral favour being called in with a doctor friend at the Hospital. The birth of the little boy soured relations between them. An unconventional start to a marriage, no courtship and then a shotgun wedding. The news that Gregoire was back in the area and had opened up a jeweller's in Cognac one month later was more than Margaux could bear. She gave up going to Church on the strength of what she took to be a cruel blow.
The little boy was largely ignored by his grandparents and little better by his mother. History repeating itself. Father and son shared a kind of common bond. Arnaud doted on his son. His only source of happiness.
Arnaud's expertise and loyal following of customers were not lining his pockets, all in all he was unhappy. His only pastime was walking the dog with his son and the odd fishing trip with Giles.
Margaux did no work and frittered her time away with trivialities, running errands for her father doing charity work, no more than an occasional afternoon in the Pharmacie.
Arnaud and Margaux's marriage was moribund. The relationship was never based on anything other than a mutual drunken one-night stand.
With marital relations at an all time low and no conjugal activity for some years Arnaud was desolate. The lack of physical contact had affected him more than he realised. The regular rejection of his advances made him harbour a deep resentment that had built to breaking point. And this part of a marriage he pointed out to her one day, went against the Catholic Church's teaching of a mutuality of expression. Not only had she offended him, but God as well. Not that he was any more than a token Catholic, but Margaux never missed a Sunday.
Arnaud could not see how things could be worse, he needed to unburden himself. He met Giles where he could be sure of a sympathetic audience. They went fishing.
'Three years? You have not had sex with Margaux for that long?'
Arnaud nodded.
'She's put on weight eh? Shame, she had a good figure as well. But, you have a mistress right?'
The blank stare on Arnaud's face told him that there was no mistress.
'Arnaud, Arnaud, Arnaud my dear friend what am I to do with you?'
He shrugged the shrug of a beaten man and cast out a line.
I don't get treated like you Giles. Lauren is different; there is warmth between you both. I can see it whenever I see you two together. You talk to her like she is your friend. I have a wife in name only, she is not my friend. I am trapped. I have no money. I am like a slave. If it were not for Jacques,' he paused,' and the dog, I would go, it's not worth it.' They have all the aces! I own nothing.
Giles had a fish on the line, a big one, they both had the rod and landed a huge carp, they fell back on the ground. Giles finished the fish off, bagged it and gathered up his things. They got into the car; Giles looked across at Arnaud tapped the side of his nose and said
'But your good friend Giles has the answer.'
'You do?'
He told Arnaud the solution to his immediate problem lay at a Salon de Th? in a town twenty kilometres away.
It does?
'Bien sur mon ami.'
He explained himself. A customer of his garage, once a month joined a group of enlightened individuals that had open marriage relationships. Would he like him to make enquiries?
'The little place on the way to Cognac?'
Giles nodded.
Since Arnaud's frustration had troubled him for a long time, he was past the point of propriety. To hell with it.
'Get me an invitation.'
Giles explained it wasn't quite as simple as just rolling up unannounced. He would need to be vetted. Arrangements were made the following day. Arnaud left the Pharmacy just after lunch on the Saturday afternoon and drove the twenty kilometres to the Cafe. As instructed, Arnaud carried a copy of a local publication "La Vie". He placed his car keys on top with the ignition key pointing away from the others on the ring and ordered something that was not on the menu. If he was asked to pay for his food he was not welcome.
A little overly clandestine Arnaud had thought. He was served by a woman in her early fifties who took the order to her husband who appeared to be the cook. He looked over at Arnaud.
After consuming his off the menu request, he asked for the bill.
'There is no bill, we will see you soon then.' came the response from the waitress.
The next meeting at the Salon was the following week.
Arnaud arrived early and waited in the small walled garden at the back of the Cafe. The familiar faces of the owners of the Cafe, Arthur and Catherine Leconte appeared from the kitchen. She beckoned him inside. Her husband left them on their own. Three hours later Arnaud was on his way back; elated.
Giles was keen to know how he had got on and was on the point of ringing him when Arnaud walked into his workshop.
'Ca va?' Giles asked.
'Bien, Bien et Bien.'
Over the next few months he proved a popular addition to Le Salon.
His mood was improved, noticed by his wife. When he took courage in both hands and tried to re-establish a physical relationship one night, it was the usual response. The rejection however did not bite like before. Only a few more days until he was back at Le Salon de Th?.
In conversation with one of the other par
ticipants he was asked what he did for a living. He said he was Un Pharmacien.
'Is that so?'
'It is' Arnaud assured her.
'Are you happy where you are?'
A blunt 'Non.' Came back the reply.
The woman explained that every year her brother's pharmaceutical company reviewed their requirements for chemists and said he should keep in touch as that time was nearing again.
He enquired the name of the company; it happened that one of the firm's reps called on Arnaud twice a year. It interested him. Maybe just maybe this could be a way out, but what of Jacques ? What would happen to him, he couldn't leave him to uncaring relatives and he included his wife in that collective.
He reflected on the fact that he owned no property and had no money in the bank. The pittance he was paid in comparison to other pharmaciens was eaten up in family expenses. He decided to call the personnel department at the Pharmaceutical Company. Why had he not thought of this before he asked himself.
Again he consulted with Giles. Who had one piece of advice.
'Be true to yourself, you owe them nothing, the whole town likes you Arnaud. It is because you genuinely care for them. Do what you have to Mon vieux.'
A few days had gone by and no response from his enquiry for employment. He thought about contacting the hosts at Le Salon to get a contact for the sister of the owner. Maybe use a little leverage.
At breakfast the next morning Arnaud pushed back his chair from the table and said he wanted to leave