by Karen Abbott
Continue reading to discover how Lys and Xavier and their projects develop in the accompanying story entitle ‘Her Reluctant Heart’
Her Reluctant Heart
Dani’s story
Chapter 1
Danielle Cachart smiled in delight as she stepped down from the long Charente Maritime bus on the outskirts of the small town of Le Chateau on Ile D’Oleron. She knew she’d been right to come!
The idea had formed whilst reading the long chatty letter from her friend, Lys Dupont, who had had to pull out of their shared plans to have a ‘working’ summer holiday somewhere in the vicinity of the Mediterranean and had come instead to look after her elderly grandfather who lived in an old windmill on Ile D’Oleron.
After a few lonely weeks spent with her uncle, Dani had impulsively decided to join her friend and, if the heat and glare of the afternoon sun that was bearing down upon her was anything to go by, this wasn’t the poorer option!
The bus pulled away. Dani glanced around. Across the road she could see the back of the Syndicat d’Initiative, the local Tourist Information Office. Beyond that was the spacious Town Square, bordered by Les Halles du Marché and numerous shops, cafés and a couple of hotels. Her eyes alight with interest and her straight sun-bleached hair swinging below shoulder level, she took in the scene before her.
Gaily coloured bunting stretched from the branch to branch of the trees around the Square and the air was filled with the sound of music, laughter and the constant buzz of human voices—all of which proclaimed to Dani that the usually quiet town that Lys had described in her letter, was enjoying its annual influx of holiday makers and all that that entailed!
She grinned in delight. With all these visitors on the island, there’d be no shortage of summer jobs! If Lys couldn’t suggest any employment near to where she was now living with her grandfather, Dani would lose no time in finding a suitable job around here … ‘suitable’ meaning a job that involved meeting hordes of gorgeous young men, all bent on enjoying their summer vacation on this idyllic island, with sea, sun and sand thrown in for good measure!
First things first though—seek out a bus timetable, to enable her to continue her journey to Le Deu, a small village further up the island near Vertbois, a small coastal village where, according to Lys, the Atlantic surf surged onto the beach with relentless force.
Her enquiries in the tourist office gave her the news that there was only one more bus that day and it would leave the stand at eighteen hundred hours. Undaunted, Dani asked for permission to leave her large rucksack in a safe corner and then re-emerged into the brilliant sunshine to join the masses. She could already feel the holiday spirit invading her. She had four hours to fill. This was going to be fun!
After buying a delightfully ‘wicked’ ice-cream from a pavement vendor, Dani strolled around the Square among the other holidaymakers, absorbing the atmosphere and enjoying the live music being provided by individual musicians … a violinist rendering a lively tune standing in the shade of a leafy tree; a flautist fingering a haunting melody over by the fountain; and an accordion player surrounded by a group of dancers in colourful dress on the grass by the Tourist Office.
The gaiety was infectious and Dani paused to watch jugglers; pavement artists and artisans working with a variety of mediums—metal, hand-painting pottery and other crafts; as well as vendors of helium-filled balloons; furry toys on sticks that wriggled realistically along the ground; and intriguing household gadgets that seemed to enable the user to perform miraculous cuisinary techniques.
A temporary stage had been set up at one end of the Square. A lively sketch was just finishing and a voice over a loudspeaker announced that the Carnival Parade was approaching the Square from the direction of the citadel.
Dani found herself caught up in the surge of movement of the crowd and was in time to see the start of the procession emerge from the road opposite the Square. It was led by a number of musicians and local dignitaries ensconced in a motorised tourist train that proclaimed itself to be Le Petit Train, followed by a variety of beautifully decorated motorised and horse-drawn vehicles depicting exotic scenes and tableaux, adorned with people of all ages dressed in all manner of costumes.
Twenty or so garishly dressed clowns accompanied the procession, some carrying buckets to collect donations from the crowd and others cavorting and tumbling alongside, occasionally diving amongst the crowded spectators to temporarily involve them in their activity.
Dani’s hands were seized by a clown wearing a curly orange wig and dressed in a baggy white all-in-one suit with multi-coloured pom-pom balls sewn down the front. His face was suitably painted in the traditional clown guise and only his eyes remained his own. They were as dark as ebony and dancing with laughter and Dani responded immediately, surrendering to the unspoken invitation to join in the spontaneous lively caper along the street.
Only when she was eventually completely out of breath did she laughingly plead for release and regretfully let him go on his way, which he did with a seeming regretful glance of his own as he waved a hand in farewell.
Dani watched until he had gone from her sight, swallowed up by the colourful procession and its spectators. She felt a little bit dispirited after excitement of the whirling dance with her unknown partner. For those few thrilling minutes, she had experienced a frisson of delight that she couldn’t remember experiencing before. Had it been that elusive ‘love at first sight’ that seemed to abound in romantic novels?
She grinned at the thought… but, nevertheless, she wished she knew what her partner looked like in his usual guise. However, there was little point in dwelling on it, she ruefully reflected. She had no way of seeking him out and no guarantee of compatibility even if she could. It was a moment of happiness to be simply filed in her memory and then move on.
With a self-deprecating laugh and a shrug of her shoulders, that is exactly what she did. Many of the crowd were moving on with the procession and Dani followed suit, laughing and waving in response to participants in the procession.
Out beyond the confines of the town wall, she realised that they were on the road to the port, which then led to the viaduct that linked the island to the mainland. It was out of her way, away from the bus departure point and when she spotted a small café on the corner of the road, she decided instead that it was time for a cool drink. Thankful for the chance to sit down, she headed for the shade of the colourful parasols.
A tall glass of raspberry milk-shake was very refreshing and a Viennese pastry took the edge off her appetite. A glance at her watch revealed that it was still only half-past four, leaving an hour and a half until the time of her bus departure … and she wondered for the first time if turning up unannounced, as a surprise for her friend, had been such a good idea. Maybe she should telephone Lys and warn her of her arrival?
She reached into her shoulder bag for her mobile phone, frowning at the information on its small screen. The lack of ascending red lines at its right-hand edge showed that she had forgotten to recharge the battery before starting on her journey.
“Bother!”
That meant a public call box and the necessary phone-card. She remembered seeing a phone box outside the post office on the corner of the Square and was about to retrace her steps along the road, when the sight of a young boy standing alone caught her attention. She guessed he was about four years old and she could see that he was close to tears—however much he struggled to stop them falling.
Dani quickly glanced around, hoping to see an adult who might be anxiously searching for him—but no such person was in sight. The need for a phone-card forgotten, Dani hesitantly approached him and crouched down in front of him.
“Hello! Have you lost your mummy?”
“No,” he hiccupped. “I’ve lost Brigitte.”
His lower lip wobbled and he woefully looked all around, searching for the familiar figure. Dani squatted beside him, aware as she did so that a child’s view was limited by lack of height. A
ll he could see was a medley of bodies passing by.
“Who is Brigitte? Your sister?” Dani asked, glancing around, hoping to see an older girl searching for her little brother.
“No! Silly!” the boy said scathingly. “Brigitte’s my childminder! She told me to stay on the swing … but she was busy talking on her phone to her friend Rodrigue and I wanted to find my daddy. So I ran away! Only, now …”
His dark eyes looked around anxiously.
“… I can’t find my way back.”
“Oh, dear! And I’m new here! I don’t know where the swings are!”
“We could look for them,” the boy suggested, looking hopefully at her.
“You’re quite right!” Dani agreed, thankful to see him looking more cheerful. “What’s your name? I’m called Dani.”
“My name is Christian Alexandré Gallepe,” the boy recited seriously. “But I can’t tell you where we live because we haven’t lived here long and I haven’t had time to learn my address yet.”
“Right, Christian. I think we had better find out where the swings are and see if Brigitte is there looking for you … and, if we have no luck there, I will have to take you to the gendarmerie because ...”
A sharp report, followed by a series of shouts, came from an area across the road about fifty metres away, interrupting her words and she instinctively drew Christian closer to her as she rose to her feet and stretched her neck to see what was happening.
“It was probably a firework,” she murmured, hoping to reassure the young boy, seeing his eyes stretch wide with apprehension.
She could see a melee of confusion outside the building. According to the large sign on the wall of the building, it was a bank. Two figures dressed in clown outfits like those that had been in the procession were running out of the door and seemed to be the cause of the incident. Dani wondered why the few pedestrians who were nearer to them than she was didn’t try to stop them. It was only when one of the clowns paused to look over his shoulder and raised his arm, followed by another sharp report, that Dani realised that the clowns were armed with guns ... and using them!
“Oh, my goodness!” she exclaimed, pulling Christian once more into the shelter of her body. She thought of the clown who had drawn her into his mad caper along the street … and thrust from her mind the thought that one of the clowns in the incident might be him. No. Surely he had been too carefree to have been biding his time before robbing a bank! Or was he a hardened criminal and it was all part of a well-practised plan? She didn’t know. How could she?
“There’s my daddy!” Christian called, struggling to free himself.
“What? Where?”
Distracted by Christian’s voice, Dani looked around but her attention was seized by two motorbikes roaring out of the car park behind the bank. They pulled up by the clowns, lingering only until they had clambered aboard and then roared towards the corner of the road when Dani stood immobile, her arms gripping hold of Christian. Her feet felt rooted to the ground and, for a frightening moment, she thought the leading motorbike was going to run straight into them. A surge of adrenalin enabled her to swoop the boy into her arms and swing her body round, away from its path and, to her immense relief, the two bikes roared down the road towards the viaduct.
Her legs were shaking and she lowered the boy to the ground, oblivious to the people now rushing past her to get to the scene of the crime across the road. She subconsciously heard the sound of police sirens and saw uniformed figures running into the bank and was vaguely aware that at least two police vehicles had gone in pursuit of the motorbikes … but her main attention was on the boy at her side.
“I saw my daddy!” he said again.
Dani dropped down to his height.
“Where did you see him?” she asked, looking around to see if she could see a man who might possibly be Christian’s father … but no-one seemed to fit the picture. “Can you see him now?”
“No, he’s gone now,” Christian replied. “I expect he didn’t see me. Did you see the clown with orange hair?” he added eagerly.
Dani shook her head. A lot of the clowns had had orange hair. The one she had danced with being one of them. She realised why the bank robbers had chosen that particular disguise on this particular day. That was all most people would see and remember … two clowns, dressed practically identically to two dozen other clowns who had frolicked around the town that afternoon.
“There were lots of clowns in town today,” she mused quietly. “The bank robbers must have known that. Oh, look!”
A cavalcade of police vehicles arrived at the scene, their sirens blaring. Moves were made to cordon off the bank and keep the steady influx of goggle-eyed spectators at bay and Dani retreated with the rest.
She heard a request that any witnesses with any relevant first-hand information should make themselves known in order to make a statement but it seemed more pressing to find Christian’s childminder than to register her less than reliable eye-witness account. Heavens! Christian would make a better witness than she would … and, from the number of volunteers making their way over to the uniformed officer, they had plenty of others ready to testify.
“I think we’d better try to find Brigitte,” she suggested. “She’ll be out of her mind with worry!” She took hold of his hand. “Come on, let’s ask someone where the swings are.”
The second person she asked suggested she try a small playground that was just a few hundred metres down the next road by the post office so they set off up the slight rise that led back into the old walled town. Just through two tall stone pillars that had stood beside the ancient town gates Dani paused momentarily. She could see the Gendarmerie across the road. A harassed-looking gendarme was rushing down the steps and Dani could imagine the scene inside. No-one would welcome the added problem of a lost child, especially if he could be reunited without any fuss with Brigitte at the playground.
Christian tugged at her hand.
“I came down that road,” he said pointing ahead. “I remember it now.”
He walked with Dani to where the post office stood just beyond a set of traffic lights. A signpost on the corner indicated that the road led to the ancient fortified citadel and the small playground was partway down the road. At the entrance was a small monument commemorating the activities of the Resistance during the Second World War and, just beyond, a number of small children were playing, watched over by an assortment of people … parents, grandparents and such … but no-one who seemed as if she were frantically looking for her charge.
“Is Brigitte here?” Dani asked Christian.
“No.”
Dani sighed. If the girl was anxiously searching the surrounding area, there was no knowing where her search might have led her.
“Oh, well, it looks like it will have to be the Gendarmerie … if they have anyone to spare.” She squeezed Christian’s hand reassuringly. “Come on! Back we go. We passed it on our way here.”
“Has Brigitte got lost, too?” Christian asked, as they crossed over the road.
“It seems so,” Dani replied, “but I wouldn’t worry too much about her. I’m sure she’ll be able to find her way home … or even to the Gendarmerie, which is where we’re going now. Uh-Oh!”
The added exclamation was caused by the sight of a police car swerving recklessly through the traffic lights by the post office, its lights blazing and heading straight for her and Christian. For the second time that she day, she clutched hold of Christian and pulled him close, though it was only a reflex action. Her worry, this time, wasn’t that they were about to be mown down by reckless driving—but why was it heading straight towards her?
Barely had the car drawn level when a man tumbled out of the passenger seat, causing her to step back a pace. Even so, he almost knocked her over as he swooped upon Christian and swept him up into his arms.
Only then did he turn towards Dani with ice-cold eyes.
“How dare you try to abduct my son?”
C
hapter 2
“Abduct your son!” Dani echoed in disbelief. “How dare you! I think you rather ought to reconsider your choice of childminder who finds herself too busy talking to keep a watchful eye on her charge!”
Furiously, she looked him straight in the eyes. The coldness there pierced her heart … but, as their eyes held, a momentary glimmer of ‘something’, she wasn’t sure what, lightened the freezing depths—but it vanished as swiftly as it had appeared and she wondered later if she had imagined it.
She tried to step away but an iron-fist clamped itself around her wrist and held her fast.
“Leave my choice of childminder out of this!” the man said fiercely. “It is your actions that we are concerned about. You were seen, with my son, walking up the hill past the Gendarmerie not ten minutes ago. If you had no evil intent, you would have taken Christian straight there!”
“Evil intent?”
Her mind froze in horror at the word. Dumbfounded, she blurted out, “I had no ‘evil intent’. Everyone was busy with the aftermath of the bank raid! It seemed simpler to bring Christian back to the playground to see if Brigitte were still here.”
“Ha! You admit removing him from the playground, then!”
“No!”
She was aware that the scene was attracting the beginnings of an audience and she sighed in defeat, her fury at his accusation slipping away. He had been frightened by Christian’s absence. Any father would be. He had lashed out in anger.
“Look, there’s no need for this!” she pleaded. “I can explain what happened. Christian was lost! I didn’t see him until I got up to leave the café opposite the bank. I was helping him—not abducting him!”
Her hand had instinctively gestured towards the child, whose face was buried in his father’s shoulder but m. Gallepe twisted his body away as if her contact with his son would inflict a plague upon him.
“Do not touch my son!”