Beyond the Arch

by David Evered

  ‘I have something to tell you. I normally stay here until late September or early October. I then close the house up for the winter and go back to London. I had originally intended to stay a little later this year as my writing has fallen behind schedule but that plan has been thrown up into the air. I shall have to go away again and for some time. Quite out of the blue, I have been asked to write a series of articles about developments in the European Economic Community with a particular focus on Germany and France. These will be for a weekly journal called Europe Watch. The initiative appears to have been prompted by two factors: the first is that De Gaulle’s veto on Britain’s entry has been lifted by Pompidou and work on reactivating our application for membership has started. The other is that it’s probable that Willy Brandt, who has been Vice-Chancellor in the coalition, will be elected as German Chancellor in a few weeks’ time. It’s inevitable that his policy of rapprochement with the east will become a major element of policy. This worries the French who fear a resurgent Germany. The focus will be on attitudes to British membership and the impact that improved West-East relations might have on these. I shall need to travel widely in both countries and speak to as many people as possible. This will put my other projects onto the back burner for a while as they don’t have the same immediacy.’

  ‘But why ever did they select you?’

  She laughed. ‘You might have phrased that a bit more delicately! You know that, amongst other things, I write on travel and produce features on aspects of European life. What you probably don’t know is that I speak German as well as French. I’ve told you that my father was a diplomat. We lived in Bonn for three years when I was just entering my teens and I went to an international school there. The principal language of tuition was English but there was also a strong emphasis on speaking German. This was enhanced through playing with local school friends. The advantage for the journal is that I’m fluent in both languages. The intention is that I shall start this project early in September and be on the road continuously for about two months. It has been largely left to me to plan my own schedule. I shall have to fly back to London for a weekend to consult the commissioning editor just before and it’s unlikely that I shall have time to come back to Sarlat after that before I get on the road. I also need to be in Germany at the time of the elections at the end of September.’

  ‘I’m sorry. I can see that you were an obvious choice – congratulations. It sounds like a fascinating project.’

  ‘It will also be interesting to build on my childhood memories. I lived there from 1949 until 1952, but I know childhood memories can be fragile and unreliable. I shall also try and interview non-Germans who have been living in the country over the last few years. You told me your brother lived in Frankfurt, didn’t you? Perhaps you could ask him if he would be prepared to talk to me on an attributable or non-attributable basis. Peter, I’m very excited by the prospect. It’s a fascinating challenge and much more substantial than any I’ve faced previously. I’ve been given a very free hand to develop the themes as I see fit, although I shall have to cross-check with my editor from time to time.’

  ‘I can easily ask Matt. He works in the financial sector for a German bank and I’m sure he would be happy to talk.’

  ‘Thank you. That brings me on to the practicalities. I shall be here through most of August and then I shall leave for Germany by way of London. That’s why I’m in something of a dilemma about the house here. There seem to be two options: either we can close the house up in a month’s time and you can return to England while I head for Germany or I should be happy if you wanted to stay here for a further couple of months. Then I would come back at the end of October and close the house in November. That would give you the chance to experience another fête nationale, All Saints Day, which is on a Saturday this year. I know this second option would limit your freedom so you are under no obligation to do so. The choice is yours.’

  ‘My immediate reaction is that I should very much like to stay if you are really happy for me to do so – I think my month’s probation is just about up! Thank you for the stamp of approval, even though you’ve been away for half of the last month. I’ll need to go back briefly to England just to make sure I’ve set in place arrangements for settling domestic bills and to ask Sue to forward my post. I should probably do that during August.’

  ‘There’s no rush. If you have second thoughts, the plan can always be modified.’

  Peter decided to open his mail. The letter from his mother updated him on minor family matters and hoped that he would be home at Christmas. He then opened the other letter addressed in the handwriting that had puzzled him. It was from Jenny, asking how he was getting on but also saying that she, together with Cass and Stefan, would be hiring a motor caravan and were planning to holiday in France in September. She suggested that they might stay at a campsite nearby for a day or two, in which case it would be good to meet up if he would still be in France. He turned back to Sally to say that this letter had given him a further reason to stay in the Dordogne until the end of October. He added that the Carnot family had offered to put him in touch with a French lawyer in Lyon and that he might travel there for a few days after the summer holiday period was over.

  19

  Peter was surprised at how speedily they established a modus vivendi as July turned to August. Sally’s schedule remained as disciplined as ever and he was approaching his writing in a more methodical manner. The days acquired a comfortable routine. They would meet for breakfast and share a light lunch before swimming or walking in the afternoon. Much of Sally’s time in the first week after her return was occupied with planning a schedule for the Franco-German project. She spent long hours on the telephone to her editor. She suggested that her person-to-person pieces should be set against the background of a formal poll, soliciting opinion from people in both countries. This was agreed and she then set out a possible schedule for her time and listed the contacts she would like to make. She planned to divide her time between pre-arranged interviews with politicians, academics, journalists and businessmen while building in some time for opportunistic additional discussions with others to whom she might be signposted by her primary contacts. The magazine group would take responsibility for setting up the interviews with relevant senior people. The remainder of her time would be allocated to random interviews on the hoof in the streets, cafés, bistros and bierstubes.

  As they were sitting on the terrace one evening later in the week, comfortable and mellow after dinner, Sally showed Peter the outline schedule for her two months in Germany and France. He looked at the draft itinerary and gasped, ‘God, I feel exhausted simply reading that! It’s a pity that you can’t do some of the interviewing here but I guess that “la France profonde” would not be regarded as being representative of the country as a whole!’

  ‘This is going to require some organisation but the magazine staff will take responsibility for the detailed arrangements – appointments, travel and accommodation. It’s an international magazine group so I’ll be able to call on local offices in the two countries for some support. I’ve been thinking about timing. The first of September is a Monday so what I’d like to do is to travel to Bonn as my first port of call over the last weekend in August, having spent the previous week in London with the editorial team. I thought I’d probably travel back to London at the end of the previous week giving me a full week to finalise my schedule. What are your plans?’

  ‘I also thought that I’d go back late next month. I should try and see my family and sort out the arrangements for the care of my flat. I also feel the need to bring back a better dictionary and a thesaurus. I would then return to Sarlat on the Thursday or Friday of the last week of the month. Perhaps we could travel back to London together?’

  ‘Sounds like a good idea. The addition of a dictionary and a thesaurus gives the impression that you’re becoming a serious writer.’

  ‘Serious, yes
, but how good remains to be seen!’

  She smiled, ‘I suspect you’re being too self-effacing. I’m hoping, now I’ve agreed a framework for my time, that much of the administration will be carried out by the team back in London and I can spend some time on my longer-term projects. August can be an interesting time in this part of France. The French holidaymakers will leave in droves from the middle of the month, after the Feast of the Assumption, in preparation for “la rentrée” – the start of the new school year. The English holiday-makers will leave in large numbers a little later but they won’t be replaced by any significant new arrivals as the English holiday period winds down. After that we see more of the expatriate residents who regard themselves as superior to the holidaymakers. They emerge with their questionable French and cluster in exclusive groups in the cafés and restaurants!’

  ‘Surely they can’t all be like that?’

  ‘No, some speak excellent French and a small number do involve themselves in local activities.’

  ‘Do you have local friends?’

  ‘One or two – I’ll introduce you to them before I go. They may be useful if you have any practical problems.’

  ‘That would be helpful, but I was thinking that if I’m to be here on my own for two months I should take steps to improve my French.’

  ‘I know a French teacher here in Sarlat. Would you like me to put you in touch with her?’

  ‘Yes, that would be good.’

  It was getting late. Sally leaned across and whispered in his ear, ‘I have a quite outrageous question to put to you. Do you think that we could be loving friends indoors as well as al fresco?’

  Peter laughed. ‘Sally, that would be wonderful. I would be your loving friend anywhere.’

  She laughed. ‘I’m not sure that I’d be prepared to go quite that far – but anywhere within the bounds of public decency!’

  * * *

  They agreed that they would return to England on the Thursday of the penultimate week in August, leaving Peter’s car at the airport. They spent one evening during the week before leaving in the company of Sally’s local friends. Jonathan and Tilly Browning lived in a small château in the valley of the Vézère near Les Eyzies. He was an architect and they had simply fallen in love with the area. They had bought the château on impulse and restored it, creating a small hotel with eight bedrooms. They could not have been more different from the other couple. Dermot and Jean Joyce were both potters based in Domme where they worked and also sold their wares from a small shop, in addition to fulfilling the demands of a limited number of upmarket retail outlets in England. This was a mixed marriage in Ulster terms and, although neither were believers, they had emigrated to escape from the religiously and politically divided community of Northern Ireland. Peter was amused to have the opportunity to meet a potter, having decided that the male protagonist in his book would be an English potter living in France. All were entertaining conversationalists and after a convivial evening both couples insisted that Peter should visit them while Sally was away.

  They flew back to a gloomy London and parted at the airport, agreeing to meet for dinner the evening before Peter’s return to France the following Thursday. He called his parents and arranged to go to Wimbledon the following day and stay overnight. He then telephoned Jenny to arrange to meet her over the weekend. She was apologetic but said she had already arranged to go to Newcastle on the Saturday to see her mother and would not be back until the Tuesday. Peter was about to say that it might be difficult to find another time before his return when she suddenly said, ‘Why don’t you come too? Mum would love to see you and so would I.’ They arranged to meet just before midday at King’s Cross and travel together.

  He spent the next morning setting up arrangements to pay for the utilities for the flat and then visited Sue. She was still very quiet and subdued nearly a year after Andrew’s death. She had returned to working full-time but was continuing to help in the local hospice shop at weekends. ‘I simply don’t seem to have the energy or initiative to do things other than those which I am expected to do,’ she said sadly. ‘I have no family close by and although friends have uttered stock phrases about time being a great healer, it still doesn’t seem to get much better. The other popular nostrums I’ve been offered also do little to help.’

  ‘Don’t you have friends amongst your colleagues at the school or at the hospice shop?’

  ‘I get on well enough with them but most have families and are preoccupied with their own commitments. I doubt that they would want a single misery like me around the place.’

  He leant forward and held her hands. ‘I understand that people juggling work and family life are heavily committed or even over-committed but perhaps you’re being a bit too hard on yourself. I shall be away again for September and October but will be home over the winter. We should have a meal together from time to time then or perhaps go to the cinema or theatre.’

  She smiled wanly. ‘Yes, I should like that. Perhaps we could go with your girlfriend as well. She’s lovely.’

  He dodged the implied question of the nature of his relationship with Sally and simply said, ‘Yes, she is lovely. Why don’t we implement my suggestion straightaway and go round the corner to the pub for a sandwich lunch?’

  Sue agreed to keep an eye on the flat and forward any mail for the next two months. They parted after lunch and he made his way to Wimbledon.

  * * *

  Peter was greeted effusively by his mother and with a restrained shake of the hand by his father. ‘There’s so much we want to hear. You simply must tell us everything that you’ve been doing over the last two months. We thought you were only going to France for ten days!’ An extensive array of sandwiches and cakes had been prepared for afternoon tea. ‘We knew you’d want a full tea. It’s a meal that they don’t do properly in France.’

  Peter smiled. ‘Perhaps, but they do the other meals extremely well.’

  ‘No, that simply isn’t true,’ said Molly. ‘They only provide a very skimpy breakfast. It’s often served without plates and you see people dipping croissants in their coffee. It’s a disgusting habit! It ruins both the coffee and the croissant. As for the other meals, the dishes are either saturated in garlic or covered with very rich sauces or both and they eat horsemeat!’

  Peter laughed. ‘You seem to have damned French cuisine pretty comprehensively.’

  ‘Give the guy a chance to relax before you air the remainder of your prejudices about the French and start on the relentless interrogation,’ said Geoffrey. Peter looked at his father. He had aged visibly over the previous year.

  ‘Very well – where do you want me to start?’

  ‘First of all, tell us where you are living. Who is this friend whose house you’re staying in and have we met him? Are you there on your own or is he living there as well?’

  He laughed at the assumption that the friend was male. ‘That’s at least three questions but I’ll take them in sequence. The house is in the Dordogne in south-west France, very close to a beautiful small mediaeval town called Sarlat. The friend is not a he, the friend is a she and, no, you haven’t met her. I only met her by chance a year ago. She’s a journalist and she’s living there as well. She spends the summer months there writing feature articles and the winter months in London. Her name is Sally Dunham.’

  ‘But why have we never heard of her? Were you involved with her before you and Ann parted?’

  ‘No, I was not involved with her as you put it and to forestall your next question we have separate bedrooms in her house.’ He knew that this satisfied the criteria of being the truth and nothing but the truth whilst being not quite the whole truth.

  ‘But how old is she?’

  ‘I’ve never asked her that question, but I would guess very similar in age to me.’

  ‘Have you met her parents?’

  ‘What a very middle-cl
ass question but no, her parents are both dead.’

  ‘So what are you going to do now?’

  ‘I’m going back to France next week and will be there until early November. I shall be house-sitting. Sally will be travelling round France and Germany for the next two months, preparing a series of articles on attitudes to the possible accession of Britain to the European Community. She will then return to Sarlat and I will help her shut the house up for the winter before we both come back to England.’

  ‘Is she a political journalist then? Anyhow, I’m not sure that we should join Europe, particularly as we were snubbed by de Gaulle and after all we did for him and France during the war. And don’t start me off about the Germans!’

  ‘No, she’s not a political journalist but she writes general features, some travel pieces and some items of a more academic nature. She has a number of longer-term projects in hand, for example, writing about the impact of British expatriates living in France. She speaks both French and German fluently.’

  ‘But what will happen to your flat while you’re away?’

  ‘Sue, Andrew’s wife – now widow – has agreed to look in and forward post. But if I could give her your number if there were a major crisis, that would be helpful. But I’m sure there won’t be.’

  ‘Yes, of course, but how is that poor woman? What happened was so terrible. I know he was difficult but even so.’

  ‘She is still very down – I spent some time talking to her this morning and took her out for lunch in the pub.’

  Geoffrey broke in, ‘I did warn you that you were going to be grilled!’

  ‘We just want to know how he’s getting on. Now tell us how the writing is going.’

  ‘I can’t say much at present. It’s going but I can’t judge how good or bad it is. I’ve written between eight and ten thousand words.’

  ‘What does that mean in terms of the length of a novel – how many pages would that be?’