by Heide Goody
“What have you done?” he croaked.
Francis’s points of comparisons were few but he had previously concluded that French public toilets were not the cleanest or most inviting in the world. It seemed that all the luxury and artistry the French had poured into food preparation and the ritual of what went into the body had resulted in a bizarre contempt for the manner in which matter left the body. However, the train toilets were decently presented and pleasant or at least this one had been before the wolf had been ensconced in it.
The Wolf of Gubbio sat in the centre of the large cubicle, at the epicentre of a reeking storm of destruction. He wore an expression of deep regret on his face. Not shame, because Francis was not so blind as to think the wolf had a conscience, but regret on a much more personal level.
Behind the wolf was a large chewed hole in the partition wall that hadn't been there before. Francis saw that it led directly into the café-bar carriage and the corner of the serving counter. There was a bin on the other side of the hole and from the detritus in the toilet cubicle, it was clear that the wolf had been plundering the contents. The most puzzling thing adrift on the floor was the shredded cardboard box that according to its labelling had once held an entire wheel of Camembert cheese.
Francis held it up and sniffed it. The savaged box held some distant relation of the fetid odour that permeated the carriage, but, Francis realised with horror, this was how the cheese smelled before it passed through the digestive tract of a wolf.
A great moan, like the burblings of a drowning hippopotamus emanated from the wolf’s innards.
“Oh, boy,” gasped Francis.
The Wolf of Gubbio gave him a pained look and let loose a long flatulent whine, the drowning hippopotamus having apparently taken up the clarinet in its death throes.
Francis gagged and clamped his hand over his mouth and nose.
“I was going to bwing you a snack, but I think we'll leave that for now,” he mumbled and backed out.
With the toilet door securely re-locked, Francis went back along to the café-bar to get drinks for everyone. The wolf’s nose poked through the surprisingly discreet hole by Francis’s feet.
“I really am sorry for the smell,” said the serving woman.
“Barely noticeable,” lied Francis. “Right, I'd like two waters, a diet coke, and er what was it? A coffee that's so strong it will take a layer off my eyeballs just looking at it.”
The young woman prepared the drinks and took his money.
“Now you should take care, sir. We've had some reports of minor theft this morning.
“Minor theft?” asked Francis.
“I'd hate to see someone take advantage of a man of the cloth, such as yourself,” she said. “People have had their bags taken. Small items pilfered.”
“That’s deplorable.”
“One lady lost three wheels of Camembert she'd bought for a gift, she was most upset.”
“Three? There were three?” squeaked Francis.
“Sorry?”
“Er, how very upsetting for her,” said Francis with a sympathetic smile, and retreated swiftly.
He walked back through the first class carriage with a tray of drinks, wondering how long the wolf could escape detection while his guts processed such vast amounts of stinky French cheese.
The train slowed into a station as Francis passed Heinz.
“One stop to go!” grinned the excited Finn. “Oh, and here come some delightful policemen too. Or ‘scum pigs’ as my charmingly rough Liam would say.”
Francis had crouched a little to get a better look. Four uniformed officers, badges and weapons clearly visible, got on at the rear of the train before it set off once more.
“I think I'd better get back to my fwiends,” said Francis.
“You tell them Uncle Heinz says hi.”
Francis hurried down the train to join the others.
“Did you see the policemen?” he hissed.
“Are they here for us?” said Christopher.
“But we’re not bad people,” protested Joan.
“I think they're doing a sweep of the train,” said Em. “They're sure to be looking for me.”
“A little arrogant assumption there.”
“I’m not taking any chances, Christopher. We need to move that way. Now.”
She nodded in the direction of the first class carriages and the café-bar.
“We're only a few minutes from the next stop,” she said over her shoulder, “we'd better get off the train there.”
“And then what?” said Joan. “I thought we were going to stay on this train until Toulon.”
“I have an idea,” said Francis.
“Oh?” said Em. Francis squeezed past and beckoned for them all to follow.
“Heinz,” said Francis.
“You’ve brought your friends to see me,” Heinz smiled. “Do you all want a pastry?”
Francis shook his head tersely.
“You said you had a car waiting at the next station.”
Heinz stared at them for a moment and then clasped a hand to his mouth.
“Oh, goodness. Are you in trouble with the scum pigs?”
“Sort of.”
“Of course I'll help. Liam will be thrilled!”
Francis led them on into the café-bar.
“Cheese and crackers!” gasped Joan. “What is that terrible smell?”
“I have to release my wolf,” said Francis.
“He’s so rude,” said Heinz happily, totally oblivious to the fact that St Christopher was retching almost uncontrollably at the stink.
Francis hurried them all forward, flung open the toilet cubicle and unleashed the Wolf of Gubbio and a fresh barrage of stench.
“Goodness!” said Heinz. “Your dog is huge. I bet people mistake him for a wolf all the time!”
“Jesus!” said Em. “What did he do? Shit out a brick of Roquefort?”
“It was Camembert,” said Francis. “And I don’t think it’s actually made it all the way through yet.”
“I love his crazy collar,” said Heinz. “What does it say? Be my bitch. Oh, he's a ladykiller all right!”
Heinz ruffled the wolf's ears playfully. Francis dragged the wolf forward as his teeth snapped together, just missing Heinz's outstretched hand.
“What fun!” shouted Heinz, dancing a little as he trotted after Francis. “Look, we're just pulling into Gare de Saint Germain now.”
“Hey, you! Stop!” came a shout from the end of the carriage.
“Go!” shouted Em. “Go now!”
The train had almost stopped. People were rising from their seats. Em stabbed repeatedly at the opening button at the nearest door.
“Stop in the name of the law!” shouted one of the three policemen battling their way down the carriage over bags and travellers.
Joan pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket, scanned through it briefly and nodded.
“It's on the list,” she said.
“What list?” said Em.
“Evelyn made us a list. If we hear someone say anything off this list, we're to run away really quickly.”
Em fixed her with a look that said they would be having words later and then the door opened and Em dragged her out onto the crowded platform.
“Heinz!” growled Em. “This car of yours, how quickly can we get to it?”
“Oh don't worry about that,” said Heinz. “It will be very easy to spot.”
“Which way?” she asked.
“Here we go,” said Heinz, heading for the exit. “We just need to get out to the short stay car park.”
Francis checked that Joan and Christopher were keeping up. Joan seemed to be looking behind her a lot, trying to see where the police were, and Christopher brought up the rear, looking conspicuous and queasy as he stood head and shoulders above the rest of the crowd that milled around them.
A deafening howl reminded Francis that Christopher was probably not the most conspicuous (or queasy) memb
er of their party. The wolf stood with his hackles raised and howled. He then crouched and snarled at the crowd, ears flattened against his head. The effect was instant. People pressed away from the terrifying spectacle, some of them stepping back onto the train, some of them shrinking against the nearest wall. A wide space appeared around the wolf, and all attention was diverted away from the retreating saints. The wolf turned full circle howled again and then, in a move that probably surprised them all, evacuated his ample bowels in a wide sloppy arc across the platform.
Francis lost sight of him as they crossed the main concourse of Gare de Saint Germain au Mont d’Or.
Out in the car park, Heinz pointed at an enormous purple limousine occupying several bays.
“I believe this is our ride,” he said. “Climb aboard, kids!”
Em rolled her eyes at the sight of the car, but she piled into the back, closely followed by the others. Francis turned around in his seat, looking out the rear window for the wolf.
Heinz slapped the driver on the shoulder.
“I’m Heinz! It’s me! It’s now time to go.”
“Drive!” shouted Em.
The limousine pulled smoothly and unhurriedly away from the kerb.
“Not again,” muttered Francis.
“The wolf can take care of himself,” said Joan.
“Your dog is not coming with us?” said Heinz.
“He’ll start to get a complex,” said Francis, “and think that no one loves him.”
Heinz spread out on his seat.
“I think we lost them, eh? You will come with me to see my big balloon of love, yes?”
“Um, pardon?” said Joan.
“Yes, yes,” said Francis. “Anywhere away from here is good.”
Heinz nodded.
“This is surely the way to travel, don't you think?”
“Extravagant,” said Em.
“For sure,” said Heinz. “There should be some fizz in that little fridge there, yes?”
Em opened the fridge and inspected the bottle of champagne within.
“What are you?” she asked, ripping out the cork with a savage grip and twist. “Some sort of tech billionaire?”
“Nothing of the sort,” said Heinz. “Please pour some for everyone.”
Francis began to hand round the flutes of champagne as their luxurious getaway vehicle eased through the traffic of Lyon’s suburbs.
“I was telling your friend earlier,” said Heinz to Em. “Remember what I was saying about the world being a magical place?”
“I do,” said Francis.
“Well, I had been partying hard across the Low Countries and, on that sweet day when I was dancing with my hands on your butt, I was completely down on my luck and down to my last euros and about to get down on my knees too.”
“And pray,” Francis nodded approvingly.
“If you like. Well, there I was, wrapped up in the remains a rubber dragon, the last of the good times slipping through my fingers and, suddenly, there, in my hand was a bag of coins. Not just any coins but big fat golden—”
“A small hessian sack?”
“Yes?”
Francis smiled.
“I wondered where that went,” he said. “Things got a bit complicated when we were attacked by some local bwigands.”
“Wait, the gold was yours?” said Heinz, his face dropping.
“I suppose,” said Francis. “I mean, do we ever really own anything? Isn’t everything just on loan from the Lord?”
“Oh my! Oh my, I'm so sorry,” said Heinz. “I've spent most of —”
“Oh please, don't fwet,” said Francis.
Heinz grasped the sleeve of Francis's robe, his eyes glistening with tears.
“If you knew how much this means to me... it's my chance to put everything right with Liam. I really believed it was pennies from Heaven. Or Krugerrands or whatever they are.”
“We've managed quite well without it, and we've nearly completed our twavels,” said Francis.
“Oh right,” said Em. “More than a hundred miles from our destination and only shrapnel in our pockets.”
“Fate,” said Francis, “chose to put our money in Heinz’s hands. It’s God’s will. God wants to be sure that Liam sees his cock.”
Joan, Christopher and Em all stared at Francis with questions on their faces.
“Cheers!” said Heinz, holding up his glass. “To Liam! Now shush everyone, I must call him to make sure he's looking out.”
Their expressions were no less confused as Heinz got through to Liam. He flapped his hand in an excited gesture to emphasise that they should stay quiet.
“Liam? Liam it's Heinz from Helsinki.”
Heinz glanced around with wide eyes as he listened to Liam's response.
“I know, pumpkin, I know! It certainly has been a while. It doesn't mean I haven't been thinking about you though. I wonder if you ever think about me?”
Heinz chewed a thumbnail.
“Now listen, I have some things that I need to say to you. There are so many things we never said to each other, I'm sure you'll agree.”
Francis found himself straining to catch the tone of Liam's response, but he heard nothing.
“This is important so I won't say them right now. I want you to stay in your apartment – you still have that place on… good, good – stay there for the next thirty minutes and watch out over the car park. Can you do that for me, Liam? I'll phone again soon. Now remember to watch out. Ciao baby!”
Heinz ended the call and clapped his hands together.
“We're nearly there, I can see the signs for the airfield, I am so excited!”
“Just a couple of minutes now,” said the driver.
“I don't want to worry you all, but the police seem to be following us,” said Joan.
Em pulled herself across Joan's lap to look out of the window. There was a flashing light visible several cars back.
“Not the scum pigs! I can't have them spoiling it for Liam!”
“Scum pigs?” said Joan. “We might have had a few run ins with them but the police frequently do a difficult job in trying circumstances. Last night, Matt was telling that they often — “
“Wait,” said Em turning on Joan. “Are you saying that this man you've been mooning over —”
“I’ve not been mooning over anyone.”
“— was Officer bloody Rose? Are you completely nuts? He was in Paris? And you told him where we were going, didn't you?”
“No, of course I didn't,” said Joan.
“Well he's tracking us somehow,” said Em. “Did he give you something?”
“Like beer?”
“Probably after the beer. Something you'd be carrying. What have you got that he can be tracking?”
Joan looked at Em.
“What?”
“Empty your pockets. There must be something that you have. It's beyond coincidence that they keep turning up. Come on! Let's have a look.”
“Maybe they're following the wolf,” said Francis.
“We left the wolf at the station,” said Em.
“Yes, but he's running along behind us,” said Francis, pointing and giving a delighted wave out of the rear window.
“It's a wolf?” said Heinz, shaking his head.
“Super,” said Em, flinging herself back into her seat. “Because a purple limo isn't quite eye-catching enough. What we really needed was a freakish mutt bounding down the carriageway after us, in case anyone hadn't noticed us.”
“He's not fweakish, he's just big-boned.”
“How about this phone?” asked Joan.
“What phone?” said Em.
“It's the one I got from that house in Belgium.”
Em held out her hand and took the phone.
“Why on earth would you hold onto this?” she asked.
“I wasn't sure what I should do with it,” said Joan.
“This.”
She wound down the window and tossed it out.
“La Valbonne Airfield,” read Christopher as they passed through a large chain-link gate.
Up ahead was a large metal shell of a building, a smaller hut to one side, a blue plastic closet and the strangest vehicle Christopher had laid eyes on in centuries. As the former patron saint of travel, he knew a lot about hot air balloons, had even received a couple of direct pleas from the Montgolfier brothers, but he had not seen one quite like this.
“Behold my enormous cock!” declared Heinz.
“Looking a mite flaccid at the moment,” said Christopher. “The temple strumpets would have just laughed at that.”
“What is it?” said Joan.
“A… member,” said Francis faintly, gazing up at the pink and purple balloon as it waggled erect.
“There are enough dicks in the world without you adding more,” sighed Em.
“The more dicks the better I say,” said Heinz as the limo pulled up.
“The police.” Christopher could see distant blue lights along the edge of the airfield as he climbed out.
“We’ve got to go,” said Joan.
“You might have noticed the eight foot security fence around the whole place,” said Em. “There's no way we're getting out of here unless we use the gate, and the police are coming through it at any moment.”
“Then we hide.”
“You people are too much,” grinned Heinz. “You hide. I will talk to the balloon people and then I will bamboozle the French police with my Scandinavian charm and wit.”
The middle-aged man practically skipped over to the overall-wearing engineers by the balloon basket.
“I've got an idea,” said Joan.
“Does it involve hiding in the chemical toilet?”
“The what?”
“The Portaloo. The little blue box there.”
“Exactly. We hide in there and, when Heinz's finished talking to the police, we'll sneak back over and steal the car.”
“The limo?” Em shrugged. “Not a terrible idea. Christopher, they won't see you anyway. You’re our eyes and ears out here. Keep an eye out for the bloody wolf.”
Joan soon discovered what a Portaloo was.
“Why does it smell so horrible?” she asked. She was pressed up against Francis’s armpit with Em wedged in behind her.