by Leah Hope
“Pete’s chef’s very accomplished,” said Bridget licking her fingers, “these must have taken an age to make.”
A platter of refreshing crudités served with a mayonnaise dip soon followed but Gil was getting worried.
“I admit it’s all very nice but I could do with something a bit more substantial,” he said, looking at the surrounding tables to see if he could spot signs of the main course.
“You’ve three more courses to go so you need to pace yourself old man!” said Doug. “You’re not at one of those ‘eat all you can for a fiver’ places now you know, this is gourmet stuff, needs to be savoured.”
Feeling suitably chastised, Gil poured himself more champagne, oblivious to the look of disapproval his sister was giving him.
Diners who had arrived early and who had already finished their meal were now starting to take their place on the dance floor in the middle of the square as the band struck up a medley of traditional French music. Bridget’s feet tapped to the sound of the accordion and she watched in delight as couples swung each other around the floor. The mini-carousel was doing a roaring trade amongst the under- fives who waved excitedly at their watching parents as they whizzed by. The trestle tables were now packed full of people eating pique-niques, washed down with copious amounts of the local red wine. The night truly was in full swing.
“We must get up and dance soon!” Bridget said excitedly to Gil. “It’s ages since I’ve been to a dance.”
“Well you might have to wait a bit longer, you know I’ve got two left feet,” said Gil, still smarting somewhat after Doug’s remarks.
“Well if my beautiful fiancée doesn’t get too jealous, I would be honoured to accompany you onto the floor later Bridget,” said Max who had stood up and was now bowing theatrically. “And if she dumps me, we can run away together and you can cook for me until I die a very fat but a very happy man!”
“It’s a date!” said Bridget, blushing.
The third course, a delicious gratin of Coquille St Jacques, had just been served when a commotion broke out at a nearby table. A party of French diners were arguing profusely with Nick, whose woeful lack of ability to speak to them in their own language seemed only to be making things worse.
“What’s going on Genni?” asked Max. “Can you make out what they’re saying?”
“I think he’s made a mistake with the bill and they’re not at all happy, probably Parisians, they like to throw their weight around.”
“Anyone can make a mistake,” said Helen, “do you think you should go and help him out Doug? They’re giving the poor boy quite a hard time.”
At that moment, Pete appeared as if by magic with a complementary bottle of champagne and calm was restored.
“Nick really does need to get to grips with the language,” said Helen. “French people like to ask questions about dishes on the menu, what’s in the sauce, how is the fish cooked, that sort of thing and if he’s not up to doing that, Pete needs to have a word or he’ll start to lose him custom.”
Having successfully brokered the deal at the Parisians’ table, Pete stopped off at Doug’s table.
“Sorry I haven’t had chance to speak to you guys this evening but you can see how things are, I’ve left Nick and Francoise out here so I can give my undivided attention to the VIPs inside. The Mayor is entertaining a dozen or so of the local bigwigs, chief of police, fire chief, that sort of thing and they’re giving me the run around, I don’t mind telling you. Still, they’re a thirsty bunch so I shouldn’t complain. Can’t stop now, catch up with you later!”
Gil looked on with anticipation as plates of coq au vin arrived at the table, along with side dishes of haricots verts, baby carrots and tiny new potatoes. “This is more like it,” he exclaimed, attacking his food with relish.
“I don’t know about everyone else, but I’m feeling quite full, what say we take a break before cheese and dessert?” said Doug as the plates were cleared away some twenty minutes later.
There were no dissenting voices. Remembering his promise, Max seized the moment and made his way around to the opposite side of the table to where Bridget was sitting.
“Madame, I would be honoured if you would partner me for the next dance,” he said, offering his right arm to a clearly delighted Bridget.
They made their way to the centre of the square and took their places among the dozens of couples who had got to their feet for the waltz, followed soon after by Doug and Genevieve.
“You’re a very good dancer,” Bridget said to Max, “but you must have the next dance with Genevieve, you make such a handsome couple.”
If Bridget had been entirely honest she would have told Max that her feet, tightly encased in the new white sandals she had bought especially for the evening, were now starting to swell, but she didn’t want to seem ungracious.
“Then allow me to escort you back to your table,” Max replied to a now very relieved Bridget.
Cheese was waiting when the foursome returned, followed shortly afterwards by dessert. Cups made of dark chocolate filled with milk chocolate mousse, topped off with summer berries had everyone drooling with pleasure.
“This is absolutely delicious,” said Genevieve, scraping the last morsel of chocolate from her plate. “We have this on at the restaurant and it’s quite tricky to get just right.”
“I think Pete, or rather Pete’s chef, has done us proud this evening, don’t know how he does it for the money,” said Doug.
“I’ll second that,” said Tony.
The group had been so busy enjoying the food that they hadn’t noticed the time.
“What’s happened to the fireworks, it’s almost eleven?” said Heather, clearly tired as she held her watch near the flame of a newly lit candle on the table.
“These things never run to time,” replied Doug, “but I think I just spotted Sellier and his party leave for the sports ground so it shouldn’t be too much longer, I hear he’s going to make a short speech, with the emphasis on the short hopefully!” he added with a chuckle.
“Should we make our way over then?” asked Bridget. “I don’t want to miss anything.”
“We should get a good view from here so we can watch while we have our coffees, I’ll try to grab Nick’s attention,” said Doug.
But at that moment it was Nick who caught their attention by dropping a tray of glasses he had just cleared from a nearby table, splashing himself with red wine from a still half full glass.
“I’m fine, I’m fine, no need to fuss, I just need to get changed,” he said, clearly embarrassed as he disappeared hastily inside.
“Oh dear, he’s not having a good night is he,” said Heather.
The firework display got underway half an hour later and everyone agreed it was worth waiting for. Bridget had her fingers in her ears for most of the time as rockets whizzed skywards, firecrackers cracked and banged and fountains showered the night sky with every colour imaginable for a few magical seconds until their cascades of dazzling fire finally fell to earth. The crowd, suitably enthralled, ooh-ed and aah-ed.
“Well that was certainly a memorable night,” Bridget gasped. “I can’t remember when I last enjoyed myself so much!”
“Does anyone fancy a nightcap at ours?” asked Tony as the group got up to leave.
“I think we’re just about all in, but thanks anyway,” said Doug, his family nodding in agreement.
“I don’t mind a quick one, what about you Bridge?” Gil asked.
“Ok then,” said Bridget, “as long as it is just a quick one, my head is starting to pound from all that champagne.”
“That’s the spirit,” said Tony, “you’ve only got to stagger next door afterwards don’t forget!”
“I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m looking forward to a nice quiet Sunday tomorrow,” said Gil as the they bid the Faulkners goodnight before heading for home.
Chapter Nine
“Whose idea was it to have that nightcap?” groaned Bridget as
she made her way gingerly downstairs the next morning. “Put the coffee on Gil would you, I’ve got a splitting headache.”
Gil was already up and dressed and apparently none the worse for wear, much to Bridget’s annoyance.
“It’s already on, I was just about to bring you up a cup. Do you want anything to eat?”
Bridget shook her head, “Couldn’t eat a thing, well not yet anyway, have you had your breakfast?”
“We’re out of bread so I’ll need to go to the boulangerie but I was waiting to see if you wanted anything first,” replied Gil, pulling on a pair of trainers.
“No thanks, just get something for yourself, I think I’ll take this coffee back to bed,” said his sister weakly.
“Won’t be long, maybe you should try a hair of the dog later on.”
“Oh, don’t, I think I’m going to be sick!” said Bridget as she hurried back upstairs to the bathroom.
“That’ll teach you!” said Gil, smiling to himself as he closed the door behind him and set off for the village.
It was almost an hour before Gil arrived back with the bread. Bridget was by now sitting at the little table on the terrace, breathing in gulps of morning air.
“You look a bit better,” he said, “fancy some breakfast?”
“Yes, I do feel a bit better but I don’t want to risk eating anything just yet. You took your time though, just as well I’m not hungry.”
“Sorry about that but there seems to be something going on in the village. The area at the back of the Town Hall is all cordoned off and there are Gendarmes everywhere. I tried to find out what was going on but there was none of the gang around to ask. They’re all sleeping it off probably. Maybe we can have a look in later, find out what it’s all about, if you feel up to it.”
“And you accuse me of being a nosey parker! It’s probably just a bit of vandalism after last night, there was a lot of wine flowing you know. But yes, we could have a wander in later, might do me some good.”
Gil went inside to fill up a tray with coffee, butter and jam to go with the bread and croissants he had brought back from the village when there was a loud knock at the front door. Opening it, Gil was surprised to find Tony and Heather on the doorstep.
“Come on in, I was just about to take some breakfast through to the garden, Bridget’s outside,” said Gil, and then, lowering his voice added, “she’s feeling a bit fragile.”
“Oh, me too,” said Heather, “we haven’t even opened the shop up yet, I was quite ill in the night and Tony didn’t want to leave me this morning. I told him it’s just a hangover but you know how he fusses.”
“I wasn’t fussing, just wanted to make sure you were all right. But if you want me to be one of those callous, uncaring sort of husbands, just say the word!” said Tony, clearly a little hurt.
“You know I don’t, I wouldn’t change you for the world!” said Heather, clutching her husband’s hand.
Tony and Heather followed Gil out on to the terrace and both gave Bridget a hug and kiss.
“Oh dear, you look a bit like I feel!” said Heather sympathetically.
“Never again” said Bridget weakly. “It’s just tea and coffee for me from now on! But that’s enough about me, come and sit down you two and have some coffee.”
Turning to Gil she said, “Haven’t you brought our guests any cups? Really Gil, do I have to think of everything?!”
“Sorry!” said Gil, leaping up and hurrying back into the kitchen.
Tony was clearly bursting with some news and just about managed to contain himself until Gil came back with the cups.
“The reason we came round is to tell you there’s a bit of excitement in the village. Heather and I were just about to have a spot of breakfast when Doug rang. Apparently, they’ve found a body behind the Town Hall! He was on his way to the boulangerie and bumped into Monique, she does a bit of cleaning for them, and her friend’s husband is a Gendarme and she told him what she had heard. She didn’t know much more but she said it sounded suspicious.”
“A body, do they know who it is?” said Bridget, her eyes suddenly gleaming. “Ooh, I wonder if there’s been a murder!”
“Murder!” said Gil, knowing his sister’s tendency to get carried away. “Who said anything about a murder? Besides, how reliable is this news? It’s a bit second-hand isn’t it, friend of a friend etc. ln a quiet little place like this it’s more likely to be someone who had one too many last night and fell over on the way home.”
“But this is exactly the sort of place murders do happen, you’re the one who’s always watching detective stories on TV and it’s usually in a sleepy little village where you least expect it!” insisted Bridget, who was now visibly excited.
“But that’s fiction, this is real life, it doesn’t happen like that,” said Gil, getting rather exasperated.
“Look, we don’t know any more at the moment so there’s no point in speculating. Knowing this place, it’ll be a five-minute wonder and then everything will be back to normal tomorrow,” said Tony, trying to act as peacemaker. “But if we hear any more, we’ll let you know.”
“Come on darling,” he said, turning to Heather, “we’d better open up the shop, we can’t afford to stay closed all day.”
“I think I fancy that walk into the village now,” said Bridget, after they had gone. “I’m feeling a little better.”
“So who’s the nosey parker now?” Gil replied indignantly.
*
When Gil and Bridget walked into the bar of the Mirabeau no more than twenty minutes later, the place was abuzz. Even though they couldn’t understand what was being said, there was no mistaking the topic of conversation. As they approached the bar, Nick, who was serving a couple of local men, waved to them and mouthed, “With you in a sec.” Bridget perched herself somewhat precariously on a bar stool and surveyed the room. She had never seen the place so full at this time of day and she was dying to know exactly what had happened. She didn’t have long to wait.
“You’ve heard the news I expect?” said Nick excitedly as he finished serving the locals and approached Gil and Bridget.
“Well only that they’ve found a body behind the Town Hall,” said Gil. “Tony and Heather Lloyd-Jones came and told us this morning, have you heard any more?”
“Sure have,” replied Nick, leaning towards Gil and whispering as if he was passing on a state secret, “the Mayor’s only been murdered, shot by the looks of it, sometime last night.”
“What, Bernard Sellier? But we all saw him eating just through there last night!” Gil exclaimed, jerking his head in the direction of the restaurant. “It must have happened shortly after we saw him, blimey, poor bloke.”
“See, I told you!” said Bridget to her brother, her eyes widening. “Do they know for certain it’s murder?”
“Well it hasn’t been confirmed yet but Sellier’s deputy was in here about half an hour ago, he’d just been told the news by the Gendarmes and he came in to get a drink to steady his nerves, white as a sheet he was. He said Sellier had been found shot in the head near some bushes at the back of the Mairie, you know the Town Hall. He can’t believe it. He was with him until he made his speech just before the fireworks display. After the first rocket went up, he set off for home saying he had some business to attend to. That’s the last he saw of him. He was in quite a state.”
“Yeah, I bet, do they have a suspect?” asked Gil.
“Not that I’ve heard, mind you, Sellier had as many enemies as he had friends so you can take your pick,” Nick replied.
“Yes, but to go and kill him, that’s going to extremes, how awful,” said Bridget. Suddenly, the colour she had just regained drained from her cheeks. “I’ve just had a terrible thought,” she exclaimed, “what if there’s a madman with a gun running around the place? If it was a random killing, anyone could be next, oh dear Gil, I don’t like the sound of this.”
“Well you’ve changed your tune, you were the one hoping it was a murder a few
minutes ago!” said Gil.
“Yes I know,” said Bridget, “but now I know the victim is someone we know, or at least did, by sight, it sort of changes things.”
“I don’t think we need worry, I’m sure the police will find the killer soon, there’s enough of them out there. I bet they’ll give themselves up soon, there’s nowhere to hide,” said Nick, trying to reassure Bridget.
“All the same, we must lock our doors tonight,” said Bridget, looking at her brother solemnly. “I think I’m ready for that drink now.”
*
The rest of Sunday passed uneventfully. As Bridget dozed in the hot afternoon sunshine on the terrace at Les Cerisiers, the events of the morning seemed a world away and she began to relax a little. She and Gil dined quietly and simply that evening on poached salmon and new potatoes followed by a fruit salad.
“I’m going to have an early night, you will remember to lock up properly won’t you?” Bridget said to Gil shortly after supper, as she looked around for her book.
“There’s really no need you know, we’re not going to be murdered in our beds!” he replied, but seeing the anxious look on his sister’s face he added a reassuring “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we’re quite safe.”
As Bridget climbed the stairs she suddenly thought of Bernard Sellier and his family, whatever he’s done, the poor man didn’t deserve that, she said to herself.
Chapter Ten
Gil was still half asleep the following morning when his mobile rang at 8.30am.
“Hello,” he said gruffly, sitting up in bed, squinting at the bedside clock in disgust.
“Hello Gil, it’s me Doug,” said the disarmingly cheerful voice at the other end. “Helen and I were wondering if you and that lovely sister of yours fancied coming round for a spot of lunch today? Twelve ok? That’s great, see you then, bye!”
As he switched off the phone, Gil realised that Doug hadn’t even waited for an answer. He also realised too late that he should have spoken to Bridget before accepting. As he showered and shaved, he prepared himself for a ticking off.