The French Promise

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The French Promise Page 21

by Fiona McIntosh


  ‘So long as I don’t have to do any fishing. Hobart, hooray!’ Her eyes sparkled at the news of travel to the state capital.

  ‘I’ll camp with Tom and his friends around the bay for the first night and bring you back a haul of king flathead. You and the kids and Nel can enjoy the beach until we get in. You lucky people can stay in a shack I’ve just found out about. I’ve already booked it, so we’re set for this weekend. We’ll leave Friday. Is that all right with you, Madame Ravens?’

  ‘Oui, monsieur,’ Lisette replied, making a small curtsy. ‘I’m so glad we’ll be together.’

  Luc gave her a brief kiss. ‘I knew you would be. I don’t ever want you to leave me, Mrs Ravens.’

  ‘That depends. Did you remember bread on your way through?’

  He slapped his hand against his forehead. ‘Sorry. And I’ve also forgotten that Mr Barnes is outside. What’s he here for?’

  Lisette looked at him half amused, her expression showing she was not in the slightest surprised. ‘Take a shilling from my purse, Harry. You can keep the change.’

  ‘Hey!’ Jenny said.

  ‘Have you forgotten the magazine subscription we renewed for you only a fortnight ago to that ridiculous fashion magazine?’

  ‘It’s not ridiculous, and yes, I had. You can keep all the change, Harry.’

  ‘You can come if you want – I’m just meeting Billy and Matt, probably.’

  ‘No, I think I’ll practise my roller skating. I want to at least win a place in the autumn competition. Besides, I have to work out my outfits and pack for the beach.’

  Harry took his shilling and was out the door in a flash, his mother’s voice calling behind as the fly screen smashed closed. In moments he and Barnes were rumbling down the gravel road over the hills that would take them into Lilydale.

  Harry grinned. Matt and Billy were going to be so jealous of his trip south. Last week the three of them had headed into the bush, not far away from Billy’s farm, and camped, hoping to trap some rabbits or get some practice in with their Diana air-guns. Starting a fire safely in a properly cleared area was harder than it sounded but they managed to cook a meal of sausages and eggs in a large fry pan. They saw only one brown snake the whole weekend but Matt chased it off with some pops of his airgun.

  He was the only one of the three who would have to leave the region and head into the city; his friends went to the local school in Lilydale but Luc had insisted Harry do his senior years in town at a private school. He didn’t really want to go but the truth was he loved the science labs. He didn’t care much for the itchy school uniform he’d have to get used to, or living in a dorm, and most of all not waking up to the sounds of the Bonet cockerel, or a big slurpy lick from their border collie, Dash. He’d also miss his opportunity with Sally, whom he had just plucked up enough courage to ask out for a milkshake in Scottsdale. But most of all he’d miss his father. Luc was his world; Harry loved working alongside him now that he was bigger, stronger, and capable of tackling more responsible tasks. The teenager was bursting with ideas, and if they got the tick from London, then they really could start implementing some of their bigger plans, one of which – his dream, actually – included perfume production.

  It was the only reason he was tolerating boarding school. He knew Bonet’s could never become a perfumery unless he possessed the scientific skills of chemistry and how to combine all the elements to produce a beautiful fragrance that women would want to wear and men would pay handsomely for. His education was a must if he was going to become the chemist he needed to be.

  He was lost in his thoughts as Barnes chatted on about everything from the price of pork on the mainland to the local footy team. Harry tuned out, watching the gum trees pass in a haze of dry green, grey trunks shedding their bark, kookaburras cackling distantly on the rim of his thoughts and a rope of liquorice on his mind. As they crested the final rise that would swoop them down into Lilydale proper, he could make out Billy and Matt in the distance kicking a footy to each other. His grin widened. He would miss them when he had to leave next week but he wasn’t going to think about that now. He was going to have the best holiday week of his life.

  The smell from the town blacksmith of hot shoes being fitted on the trimmed hooves of horses enveloped him as Barnes pulled up. Harry then picked out the irresistible aroma of freshly baked bread, and knew it would be a challenge not to pull off a knuckle of it before he could get it home. He leapt out of the old ute and deliberately kicked dust up over his mates. It was an ongoing joke between them.

  ‘Bet you won’t be doing that at your fancy school in your poncy uniform,’ Billy said, handballing the footy to Harry, who deftly caught it.

  Harry grinned. ‘Can’t help that you’re a slob, Billy. Who’s for a Choo-Choo bar?’

  The three boys piled into the grocery store and while his friends strolled over to the confectionery, Harry headed directly to the main counter.

  ‘Hello, young Harry,’ one of the ladies said. ‘Your mother’s already phoned through her order, dear.’

  ‘Dad forgot to pick up some bread.’ Harry placed a shilling on the counter. ‘I get to keep the change, though.’

  ‘Ready, Harry?’ It was Barnes standing in the doorway.

  ‘Can Billy and Matt come back with us too?’

  ‘Hop in, then.’

  Later, sitting in the back of the ute, sucking on Choo-Choo bars as black as pitch, as well as liquorice straps stuffed into pockets, Harry and his companions rumbled out of Lilydale for the eighteen-mile journey home.

  ‘Our family’s going to one of the southern beaches for a few days,’ he said.

  ‘You lucky sod,’ Matt replied.

  ‘Are you going to surf?’ Billy asked, equally impressed.

  ‘Of course. Do you think your brother would lend me a board?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, I’ll ask him. Come over tonight.’

  Harry didn’t think he could be happier in this moment … unless, of course, his father said he didn’t have to go back to school and could go to London with them instead.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Morning hadn’t yet broken and Lisette yawned as she poured steaming coffee into the flask and screwed the lid on tightly.

  ‘There, that should keep you going today,’ she said, putting it down alongside the tea towel in which she’d wrapped some of the Scotch eggs she’d made yesterday, a slice of her fruit cake and a hunk of Luc’s favourite cheese. ‘I’m presuming you’ll cook fish and live on beer,’ she added.

  Luc nodded. ‘More than enough for a day and a night. Thank you,’ he said, stretching.

  ‘Morning, all,’ Tom said, rapping lightly and entering the back door. He’d had a haircut and his normal wavy helmet of hair had been trimmed to a shorter cloud of blond. It was odd to see him looking so neat but it suited him. So did the new lines etched over another year and accentuated by a summer of outdoor work that dimpled either side of his wide smile.

  ‘Hello, handsome,’ Lisette teased.

  ‘Nel did it last night with the clippers,’ he said, smoothing his hair back self-consciously. ‘She refused to let me go to Hobart without neatening myself up, she said.’

  ‘Looks good,’ she assured.

  ‘Hope you’ve packed him some zinc cream, Lissie. It’s going to be a hot one.’

  ‘Every day’s a hot one.’ Luc grinned. ‘I’ll just say goodbye to Harry. I promised I wouldn’t leave without waking him.’

  Lisette nodded and Luc could hear her offering Tom a cup of tea. ‘The pot’s fresh,’ she was saying as he walked down the hallway, after pausing to grab a small parcel he’d left in the broom cupboard. He stepped into Harry’s room, always amused at the splay of limbs that his son seemed to consider a comfortable sleeping position. Luc ruffled Harry’s golden hair and the boy stirred.

  ‘Dad?’ he said drowsily.

  ‘Bonjour, ma puce,’ Luc whispered and kissed him.

  Harry smiled, even though his eyes were closed.
>
  ‘Why do you smile like that?’

  ‘Because while I know your father called you that and it makes sense in French, Good morning, my flea is funny.’

  ‘I suppose it is,’ Luc agreed.

  ‘Are you going?’

  ‘Yes. Tom’s here.’

  ‘I wish I could come.’

  ‘I know, but I’ll be with you by tomorrow night.’

  Harry sighed. ‘Don’t I qualify for the blokes’ weekend too?’

  ‘It’s one night, that’s all. Aren’t you going to open your eyes?’

  ‘Can I come with you if I do?’

  ‘Don’t you want my gift?’ He rustled the bag.

  Harry’s eyes shot open. ‘What is it?’

  ‘See for yourself.’

  Harry sat up, rubbing his eyes and yawning. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  Luc grinned. ‘You don’t even know what it is yet.’

  ‘I’ll love it, whatever it is.’

  Luc and Lisette had often remarked that Harry was like some sort of angel in their midst: good to everyone and impossible not to like. It’s not that they got it wrong with Jenny, but they just got it so right with their son. Luc couldn’t remember Harry answering back or getting into a dark mood. Come to think of it, he couldn’t recall his son speaking badly of anyone. Harry promoted peace and harmony. Even now, clearly unhappy at Luc going without him, he resisted the urge to create any sort of scene.

  Luc hugged him. ‘You’re a good boy, Harry. I’m proud of you … and you deserve this. Take a look.’

  Harry opened the bag and stared inside.

  ‘Aren’t you going to take it out?’

  His son looked up and his gaze was misted. ‘A camera? It’s mine?’ he whispered.

  ‘All yours. It’s the new Brownie 127. The man from the shop said it’s very easy to use. Now you can start to take pictures of the fields in different seasons. I’m sorry I didn’t think to give it to you when we were in full bloom.’

  Harry threw himself at Luc and hugged him hard. ‘Oh, Dad, do you know how much I’ve wanted one?’

  ‘Yes, I do. And your birthday’s too far away so you get this for being a good son and for all your help with the farm and especially for your idea about the white lavender.’ Luc pulled back so he could look into his son’s face. ‘I’m proud of you. It’s our best-ever distillation, thanks to you.’ He pointed at the box. ‘It’s all ready to go. The man in the shop loaded the film. Open it.’

  Harry lifted the black bakelite Kodak camera from its box and sighed. ‘It’s beautiful.’ He traced a finger down its ridged sides.

  ‘It’s got a lovely large viewfinder, so you should be able to fit all of your mother’s bottom in the picture.’

  Harry convulsed with laughter. ‘I’m going to tell her you said that.’

  They shared a grin and then an odd moment of awkward silence as they both realised that the time was drawing painfully close for Harry to leave for his new boarding school.

  ‘I also thought,’ Luc said, shrugging a shoulder, ‘that if you took photos of us with you to Launceston, you won’t feel lonely … you know … at school. And you can take plenty of snapshots of your life there to share with us when you come home for holidays and exeats.’

  ‘I’ll do that, Dad. What about Jenny?’

  ‘Oh, don’t worry, I’ve left something for her to wake up to.’

  ‘Another magazine?’

  ‘How did you guess?’ Luc said in a pained voice and they chuckled together as he kissed the top of his son’s head. ‘I love you and I’ve got to go or Tom will kill me. Take some photos of our beautiful girls for me.’

  ‘I’ll be waiting for you at the beach, Dad.’

  Luc smiled and left his son’s bedroom. He strolled back towards the kitchen, picking up the small rucksack on the way.

  ‘Did he like it?’ Lisette asked.

  ‘He nearly cried,’ Luc admitted.

  ‘I’ll let you say your goodbyes, mate,’ Tom said, standing and pecking Lisette on the cheek.

  She sighed as she turned her gaze on Luc. ‘This is the first time we’ll be apart since we left Eastbourne,’ she said with surprise.

  ‘I was just thinking the same,’ he admitted. ‘No other men while my back’s turned, eh?’

  She kissed him, lingering on his lips. ‘Only Harry.’

  ‘I love you, Mrs Ravens.’

  ‘Je t’aime plus,’ she replied.

  ‘Impossible. I have always loved you more,’ he said, hugging her close. ‘Drive south safely. We’ll see you tomorrow before sunset.’

  ‘Be safe, Luc,’ she said, holding his hand as he stepped away. ‘You too.’ Their fingertips still touched and he grinned. ‘You first.’

  She let go. He blew her a kiss and was gone.

  Nel arrived by 11 a.m. with her hair hanging loose and lovely at her shoulders. She looked ready to holiday, having cast off her slouchy trousers for a frock.

  ‘Oh, Nel – your legs go on forever in that gorgeous dress! And pink makes your hair colour even prettier.’

  ‘Go on with you,’ Nel said, waving a dismissive hand, but Lisette could see her friend was delighted by the compliment. ‘Harry, look at that beauty,’ Nel continued, picking up his new camera. ‘What did you do to deserve that?’

  ‘Because Harry’s perfect,’ Jenny said, grabbing his nose and tweaking it. ‘I got the Paris and London Vogue magazines. Paper bliss,’ she said, sighing dramatically.

  ‘It’s cool, isn’t it?’ Harry said to Nel, wiping a fleck of dust no one else could see from the camera’s shiny red-and-grey-striped label.

  She nodded. ‘Okay, let’s get your gear into the boot.’ Nel looked at her watch. ‘I say we leave in half an hour.’

  ‘What about lunch?’ Lisette wondered.

  Nel gave a dismissive sound. ‘Oh, who cares! We’re on holiday, aren’t we? Let’s buy some fish and chips on the way.’

  The children cheered as they picked up their bags and headed out the door to the DeSoto.

  ‘You spoil them, Nel,’ Lisette said, shaking her head.

  ‘No, I just I love them.’

  Clifton Beach was roughly 15 miles from Hobart, and despite Jenny’s protests, Nel had refused to pause in the Tasmanian capital.

  ‘Jenny, I’ll bring you back up to the city over the weekend. I just have to make sure we reach the beach in time to pick up the keys and get ourselves settled before it turns dark.’

  ‘Promise?’

  She’d nodded and pushed on, heading towards the South Arm Peninsula, where their beach was flanked by rocky outcrops with a shallow rise of coastal vegetation at its head.

  ‘I can’t wait to have a surf,’ Harry admitted.

  ‘This is not a sea for beginners,’ Nel began as she peered at some road signs.

  ‘I’m a strong swimmer,’ Harry countered.

  ‘Ah, it’s down here, I seem to recall,’ Nel continued, distracted.

  The shack was more salubrious than Lisette had expected with beds enough for everyone and a small but adequate kitchen with a bathroom, inside toilet and a shower. She was quietly impressed. They’d been used to tank water for years now so everyone was familiar with short showers and conserving water. The road they’d followed was flanked to their right by a long coastal reserve, giving the impression that the area was deserted.

  ‘That’s Storm Bay,’ Nel explained as they all emerged onto the deck in their bathers. She pointed to their right. ‘That’s Cape Deslacs in the east, and over there,’ Nel continued, pointing to the opposite end where a high array of cliffs rose out of the beach’s end for as far as she could see, ‘is Cape Contrariety.’

  ‘We’re hugged by rocks,’ Jenny remarked, her head to one side in contemplation. ‘We’re in their embrace,’ she said in a dreamy voice, knowing it would earn a sarcastic pinch from her brother. She got one.

  ‘Look at that swell, though,’ he admired.

  Lisette squinted and saw young men on surfboards expertly ri
ding in to the beach on impressive waves. It was the perfect and popular image of an Australian summer.

  ‘It’s certainly a dramatic setting,’ she said, turning to Nel and nodding her appreciation.

  Nel nodded. ‘Respect those rocks, kids, when you’re out in the water.’

  ‘I’m going nowhere near them,’ Jenny assured her.

  ‘Well, have fun,’ her mother said, shooshing the children off the deck. ‘Stay in the middle!’

  She smiled to see Harry and even Jenny rush down to the water’s edge, deliriously happy to escape the car and the long journey. The south-easterly beach had to be over a mile long, and it already felt like paradise to have the warm breeze ruffle her hair and to taste the salt on the wind. It was like an emotional release to see the sea again, reminding her of Eastbourne but the setting too different and exciting to make her pine for the pebbly beach of southern England.

  ‘Heavens, I feel different already,’ she admitted, taking a deep breath and stretching contentedly.

  Nel gave her a wry look. ‘Be warned. This healthy sea weather tends to make babies, I’m told! And that set of bathers is far too cheeky not to risk your husband’s attention … or any other fellow’s, for that matter!’

  Lisette’s playful glare made her friend burst into laughter. ‘We’ll be very careful,’ she assured Nel. ‘I’ve been dying for an excuse to wear it. Jenny made me buy it.’

  ‘I might have guessed,’ Nel said, raising one eyebrow.

  They were leaning against the railing and watched the children playing in the foaming surf, where glassy blue water crashed and rolled over them. Nel sat down in one of the comfy deck chairs and patted the other one in invitation. ‘There’s something about the beach, isn’t there, though? Look at those two,’ she said, shading her eyes. ‘They are so happy. Most brothers and sisters hate each other through their teenage years.’

  Lisette sat down with her friend. ‘Harry’s not like other teenagers. I hope he’ll always be as sunny as he is now.’

  ‘Life isn’t always a smooth path.’

  ‘I know. I wish I could take all the pain for them that might come their way.’

  ‘You and every mother around the world.’

 

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