Colours of the South

by Leah Hope

  “So what did Nick, I mean Nicolas do then, after he read the letters, did he confront Marguerite?” asked Bridget.

  “No he didn’t, which I must admit I found very odd. No, he made plans to travel to France, telling his parents that he was going to pick grapes. He said he had never had a steady job and often just took off to go travelling, so they did not think it too unusual.”

  “And he was fluent in French of course!” said Bridget.

  “Yes, Marguerite made sure of that. He arrived in France, in the Languedoc, in September last year, just in time to help with the vendanges, the grape harvest. He saved most of his money and made his way to Saint-Rémy, where to his surprise, he found that his old boss from Australia, Pete McNally, owned a hotel. He took up Pete’s offer of a job and made plans to take out his revenge on the man who had ruined his family.

  “So he set out for Saint-Rémy with the sole intention of killing Bernard Sellier?” said Doug, suddenly taking more of an interest.

  “Nicolas said he hadn’t made up his mind what to do, but one thing was clear, he wanted Sellier to pay somehow, to suffer and his first thoughts were to tell his wife everything and ruin his family in the same way that he had ruined ours. But he soon learned from the gossip at the hotel that there were always other women in Sellier’s life and rumours of illegitimate children, but like many French wives, Madame Sellier turned a blind eye.”

  “So he knew that exposing him as his father wouldn’t work?” said Doug.

  “Yes, he knew he would have to think of some other way to hurt him. Then the idea of blackmail came to him. Sellier was still quite a wealthy man, despite his extravagant lifestyle.”

  “But you said that telling his wife about him wouldn’t work so what else could he use against him?” Gil asked.

  “He was very clever you know, my son, he had picked up a lot about his father and he heard stories of how he would take, what is the word, the back of the hand…”

  “I think you mean backhanders,” Gil said.

  “Yes, that’s it, thank you Gil. He heard that he would take money to get planning permissions through, so Nicolas threatened to go to the police or to the Deputy Mayor. He said he tried putting pressure on Sellier but he would not pay up, so Nicolas decided he would have to ‘get tough with him’. And then that poor man Jean-Paul Janot played right into his hands. Nicolas saw an opportunity to hurt his father and at the same time, put the blame on someone else. He decided to steal Janot’s rifle, he had been to his house many times to pick up produce for the Mirabeau, and he had seen the gun just left lying around, so it was not so very difficult to take it. Then all he had to do was to wait for the right moment. He decided that the noise and commotion of Bastille Day would give him the perfect cover so he sent Sellier a note telling him to meet him at the back of the Mairie as soon as the fireworks had started.”

  “But why would Sellier agree to meet him, wouldn’t he have suspected that he might be in danger?” asked Tony.

  “From what Nicolas told me, Sellier was a very self-assured man, I think the word he used was ‘cocky’, I think that is the right word. Maybe he thought he could handle Nicolas, maybe even hurt him himself, Nicolas said he was a big man, so I do not think he would have been too afraid. Anyway, Sellier turned up as arranged but still refused to give Nicolas any money. It was at this point that Nicolas told him that he was his son, but Sellier just laughed at him and knocked him to the ground. I think his fate was sealed in that moment. As he turned to walk away, Nicolas said that something just came over him. He stood up and pulled the rifle from where he had hidden it in the bushes the night before and shot him in the back of the head. He then returned the rifle to its former hiding place, where he knew the police would soon find it, and that Jean-Paul Janot would be incriminated. He took Sellier’s watch and wallet to make it look like a robbery then he made his way back to the Mirabeau as if nothing had happened. The rest, I think, you know.”

  “Good god,” said Doug, “to hear it described like that, from the mouth of the killer so to speak, it’s sent shivers down my spine. Who would have thought that such an amiable chap like Nick could do something like that, in cold blood, it makes you wonder doesn’t it?”

  “Makes you wonder what?” Helen asked, somewhat puzzled.

  “What we’re all capable of, any of us. Quite scary really.”

  “But what about Martha Clifford, why on earth did he kill a harmless old woman?” Doug asked. “Assuming he did kill her of course.”

  “Her only crime was to be in the wrong place at the wrong time,” Agnès continued. “She was in the little café in the square at Saint-Rémy one morning when Nicolas and Aurelie were talking, in French. Nicolas says he didn’t see the old woman, until it was too late. On her way out, she hesitated at their table and seemed as if she was about to say something but changed her mind and left. Nicolas says he couldn’t risk that she had overheard him speaking fluent French. He was afraid she might mention it to someone and that his cover would be blown. So she had to be stopped. Nicolas says it was very easy to walk into her little cottage and ‘squeeze the life out of her’, his words not mine. He told me that he regretted what he had done to the old woman, it was very wrong, but he showed no remorse for killing Bernard Sellier. After Nicolas confessed everything to me, I began to get a little worried, after all, he did not know me even though I was his mother and he could not be sure that I would not go to the police. Sensing his fear, and my own, I told him that I wanted to go back to the hotel. He suddenly grabbed hold of my arms and told me that he could not let me do that. I became very afraid and promised that I would not tell anyone, but he said he could not trust me not to speak, at least not before he had made his escape. He stood up and dragged me towards the little hut at the far side of the lake.”

  “But didn’t anyone see what was happening, couldn’t they have tried to stop him?” asked Tony.

  “It was getting late by now and people were too busy packing up to leave to notice, also Nicolas told me if I screamed he would kill me too. I was so afraid I just went along with what he said. When we got to the hut he opened the door…”

  “But I thought it was always kept padlocked,” Tony interrupted.

  “I do not know about that but Nicolas had a new padlock so maybe he cut through the old one.”

  “That would have meant he planned to lock you in the hut all along. He must have gone out and bought the padlock before setting out for the lake and cut through the old one so that he could lock you in with his. He thought of everything, didn’t he?” said Gil. “What happened next?”

  “He threw me inside and that is when I stumbled and I fell heavily and hit my head on a hook on the wall. I could feel blood trickle down my neck and I thought I was going to die. Nicolas pushed me down on to the floor and put a gag in my mouth and tied my hands and feet. He told me not to worry as someone would be sure to find me soon.”

  “A fat chance of that!” Doug interrupted. “How could you call for help with a gag in your mouth?” Helen nudged him again to keep quiet.

  “I know how it seems Doug but I believed him when he said he was sorry for what he was doing. I know also that he was truly sorry that he could not spend more time with me, as we had just met, but he said that Aurelie would be waiting for him just down the road and that she would be worried if he was late.”

  “So she was in on it too!” gasped Heather.

  “Nicolas did not say how much she was involved, but he said that they were going to Spain and they would start a new life there. I would never see him again. Then he went out of the hut and I heard him fasten the door with the padlock. I think I blacked out then, from shock or loss of blood, I do not know. I remember nothing more until I heard you call to me Bridget, I have never been so glad to hear another human voice in all of my life!”

  “You poor, poor thing, what a terrifying ordeal,” said Helen, “and at the hands of your own flesh and blood too.”

  Agnès winced at Helen
’s comment and visibly paled.

  “Gil, do you mind? I think I will have that drink now,” she asked weakly.

  “Yes of course,” said Gil jumping up to refill Agnès’ glass. “It can’t have been easy to speak about everything that’s happened.”

  “It may sound strange, but I think I feel a little better now that I have told you all everything. They say it’s good to get things off one’s chest. But now I have to live with not only Nicolas’ guilt, but also of my own for giving him away all those years ago, none of this would have happened if I had kept him. That will not be so easy.”

  “But you mustn’t blame yourself!” said Bridget insistently. “You were no more than a child yourself. No, the real blame here lies fairly and squarely with Bernard Sellier himself. Not that I’m condoning what Nick has done of course, far from it, but I suppose I can understand what drove him to it. And to think I kept myself awake at nights worrying how I could get justice for that man, that evil, wicked man, he deserved everything he got, I have no sympathy for him.”

  “But you did get justice Bridget, for Jean-Paul Janot. If it wasn’t for you an innocent man would still be behind bars. So you have nothing to reproach yourself about,” said Helen, taking hold of Bridget’s hand.

  Béatrice, who had kept her silence all the time that Agnès had been talking, suddenly leant forward in her seat and spoke to her. Agnès replied softly to her and then translated what they had said for the benefit of the other listeners.

  “Madame Blanchard asked me what happened to Marguerite’s boyfriend, she said she recalled that he had died tragically. I told her that we heard later that Laurent never got over Marguerite moving away suddenly without any explanation. He heard rumours about a baby and he died soon afterwards in a hunting accident, I am not convinced it was an accident, but I cannot be sure.”

  “So there was another victim!” said Bridget in disbelief. “Béatrice was so right when she said that ‘old sins cast long shadows’. I never really understood that expression, until now.” Bridget continued after a pause. “But one thing has been bothering me Agnès, why did you come back to Saint-Rémy?”

  “I had read in the newspapers about the murder of the Mairie of Saint-Rémy and I know it sounds stupid but I had to see for myself that it was the same Bernard Sellier that had ruined my family’s life all those years ago. I had to make sure he was really dead. I was hoping that it would give me ‘closure’, as I think psychologists call it, but instead I made it worse for myself.”

  “But if you hadn’t come to Saint-Rémy, Nick would have got away with two murders, that must mean something,” said Doug.

  “He is my son Monsieur, I gave him up at birth and now because of me, he will spend the rest of his life behind bars. I know he deserves to be punished for what he did, I only wish that it had not been necessary to betray him for a second time in his life.”

  The look of anguish and sorrow on Agnès’ face was almost unbearable to watch, so much so that none of the others knew where to look and even less what to say. It was Agnès herself who broke the silence.

  “Gil, Bridget, I would like to thank you both for inviting me to dine with you tonight, and for allowing me the opportunity to tell my story. I can never thank you enough for what you did, in saving my life. I hope that one day you will do me the honour of visiting me and my husband at our home in Perpignan.”

  “You have thanked us more than enough Agnès, and we would be delighted to visit you one day,” said Bridget. “Are you going to be in Saint-Rémy for much longer?”

  “I am going home the day after tomorrow, I want to visit some of my old school friends before I go. My husband had just set out on a business trip to China when all of this happened, he wanted to come home straight away of course but I insisted that he should stay on. He is due home the day after tomorrow too so I want to be there to welcome him home. Marguerite and Alan flew over last week to visit Nick, they have been staying in Chateau-Clermont as they couldn’t face the people of Saint-Rémy knowing who they were. They will be joining us in Perpignan. So at least some good will have come from all if this, I will meet my brother-in-law for the first time and so will Marguerite.”

  “How are they taking this, Alan and Marguerite I mean?” asked Bridget.

  “It is very difficult for them, as you can imagine. I have not seen my sister for nearly thirty years and it is so very sad that it has taken another tragedy to bring us together. If you will forgive me Bridget, I am very tired so I think I will go back to the hotel now, if you do not mind.”

  “Not at all, you must be exhausted,” said Bridget.

  “I think we’ll be off too” said Doug, “we’ll walk you back to the Mirabeau, Agnès.”

  “That is very kind of you,” said Agnès.

  “I’ve just had a thought,” said Helen, as she wrapped a silk shawl around her shoulders, “you have been incredibly frank and honest in telling us all about how Nick carried out the murders, but won’t that prejudice our minds, if any of us are called as witnesses that is, I mean Gil and Bridget at least are sure to be called to give evidence about how they found you up at the lake.”

  “There will be no trial Madame, Nicolas has pleaded guilty to both murders and to my kidnap. He will be sentenced shortly.”

  “Well that’s something I suppose,” said Doug, “at least Madame Sellier will be spared the ordeal of hearing all the grizzly details.” Seeing Agnès flinch, he added, “Sorry Agnès, forgive me, that was insensitive of me.”

  “Not at all Monsieur, my sympathy is very much with Marie-Claude Sellier, to have one’s husband taken away like that is a terrible thing, even if he was a wicked man, he was her husband of many years after all.”

  “Come on then,” said Doug, relieved that he hadn’t put his foot in it entirely, “let’s get you ladies home.”

  After they had left, Gil, Bridget, Tony and Heather sat in silence, staring at each other in disbelief. Gil’s offer of another cognac had been welcomed all round and as they slowly sipped the golden liquid, they tried to take in everything Agnès had said.

  “It’s like something out of a book or a film,” Heather said at last, “you couldn’t make up something like that if you tried. That poor, poor woman. I don’t know if I could live with something like that happening in my life.”

  “Me neither,” said Bridget with a shudder, “let’s hope none of us ever has to.” Anxious to lighten the mood a little, Bridget reminded Tony that he had said he had some news for them.

  “Oh yes, I’d completely forgotten about that,” said Tony. “Heather and I have had a heart to heart and we’ve decided that, come what may, our future is in France so we’re closing Best of British and we’re going to open a little bistro instead. I’ve always loved cooking and I think we can make a go of it. Well, I know it sound a bit callous, with poor old Bernard Sellier not yet in his grave, but I’ve been to see the Acting Mayor about a change of use for the shop. He said that we would have to submit a formal application, but on the face of it, he can’t see any reason why permission shouldn’t be granted!”

  “That’s marvellous news, I’m so pleased for you both,” said Bridget. “Don’t take this the wrong way Tony will you, but there is a world of difference from enjoying cooking at home to running a restaurant, I learned that much from my days at the Regency Hotel when I left school. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

  “That’s where the news gets even better. I was talking things over with Doug, I know he seems a bit of a buffoon at times but he’s got a first-class business head on his shoulders. He raised the same doubts as you have Bridget, more or less said I was a fool to think I could compete with the French at their own game, and then he said ‘leave it to me’. Two days later he rang up and asked Heather and I to pop over to pop over. It turns out that Genni’s father has got this brilliant young sous-chef who’s been itching to get his own place. So he’s offered him to us for three months to teach me the ropes and to train up a local chef. Can you be
lieve it, isn’t that amazing!”

  “That’s brilliant Tony,” said Gil, “but isn’t he going to be expensive, sorry to be blunt, but I guess good sous-chefs don’t come cheap?. How will you manage to pay his wages, I thought you were on your uppers?”

  “We were, we are, but Doug has offered to top up his salary while he’s here, in return for a free meal once a week of course!”

  “That’s incredibly generous of him, you’re very lucky to have such a good friend,” said Bridget.

  “We know that alright,” said Heather, “we’ve been given a lifeline and we’re going to make a real go of it this time.”

  “Then I wish you all the luck in the world,” sad Bridget, “I’d have given my eye -teeth to have had an opportunity like that when I was your age.”

  “Well, we might be in the market for a pastry chef one day, the job’s yours if you fancy it,” said Tony.

  “I might just hold you to that! Now, who’s going to give me a hand with the washing up?” Bridget replied.

  “I think I need all the practice in the kitchen I can get, so leave it to me, you just put your feet up,” said Tony.