Serge Bastarde Ate My Baguette (29 page)

I headed back to our caravan, chuckling to myself. I couldn't wait to tell Helen the news about Serge and Angelique, how they now appeared to be an item. How had Serge managed it? How had he managed to pull a woman like her? It was astonishing. What a turn up!

  When I told Helen she was gleeful. 'I've been bursting to tell you. Angelique told us all about it at lunch. We three women had long chats in the caravan after you men had gone.'

  'You mean you knew and didn't say anything?'

  'I kept meaning to tell you but we were so busy and with all that business with the rings, I never got a chance.'

  There was me, a bloke, thinking he'd managed to glean a juicy bit of gossip to pass on, only to discover his wife already knew all about it and in every detail.

  'What did she say then?'

  'Well, she kept on about how funny and handsome Serge was and how she loved being with him and asking us if we thought he was too. I couldn't believe it. I think he's pretty much physically repulsive but Rita seems to have a soft spot for him.'

  'Blimey! So what's his secret then? It's not to do with size or anything like that?' I said, trying not to express a prurient interest.

  'Well…'

  'It is to do with size?' I spluttered. 'It's got to be.'

  Helen laughed out loud. She was winding me up.

  'No, we didn't talk about that… strangely enough.'

  'Well, what about Bernard, does he know about it?'

  'Not yet. But she's going to dump him.'

  'She said that?'

  'Yes, and that's not all.'

  'There's more?'

  'Listen to this… Serge has decided to give up
brocante,
she's pregnant and they're going to get married and move to Martinique.'

  'No!'

  'Yes, apparently it's been going on for a while. She says she loves him, they were made for each other and she wishes she'd met him years ago. She says Serge told her he's got a small fortune tucked away and with his retirement money he need never work again.'

  I was speechless. There was no fathoming the ways of women. And I wasn't sure about Serge's secret fortune. It sounded like he was shooting her a line.

  The evening gradually cooled as we sat outside our caravan under the stars, watching the reflected lights shimmering on the River Tarn. I could smell the river snaking its way through the town. It carried the scent of maize fields, the open countryside and hot balmy summer nights. At least I imagined it did.

  We could see the tip of Rita's fag glowing in the gloom across the way and the dying embers of Reg's barbecue grill as a bright full moon rose in the sky. There was a crunch on the gravel and Reg appeared.

  ''Ere, Rita told me all about Serge and that Angelique sort.' He was jubilant. 'Who'd 'ave thought it, eh? A cracking bird like that falling for a funny little geezer like 'im. Talk about Beauty and the Beast… or Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs in his case.'

  'I know,' I said. 'Brilliant, isn't it?'

  'Well good luck to the little blokey,' said Reg. 'I know I wouldn't turn her down…' He glanced over at Rita's fag glow. '… if I was 'im.'

  'They must see something in him,' I said. 'Women, you know.'

  'I suppose,' said Reg. 'I wonder what it is.'

  'Well, she thinks he's funny and handsome so that's all that matters,' said Helen.

  'He's knocked her up though hasn't he?' said Reg. 'Oo-er! The dirty little rascal.' He let out a delighted cackle. 'Let's hope the kiddie looks more like her than him.'

  'Oh, he's not that bad,' said Helen. She's changed her tune, I thought to myself, after saying he was physically repulsive.

  'Anyway, we're turning in,' said Reg. 'Tomorrow's another day and all that. Night, all.' He crunched off back to his caravan and we heard Rita scream and give a little giggle.

Helen and I were in bed together in the caravan.

  'It's funny,' I said, 'I was just thinking about Serge and how everyone advised me to steer clear of him because he's a load of trouble. And now he's getting married and swanning off to live in another country I'm going to miss him.'

  'Are you mad?' said Helen, 'He's completely incorrigible – passing all that fake jewellery on us, getting you into scrapes and trouble. I thought it was all going to end in tears. He's got the luck of the devil and so have you. You two are a right pair. Tweedledum and Tweedledee!'

  There was no answer to that.

  'Still, at least Angelique loves him,' said Helen.

  I felt myself nodding off to the sounds of the night – an owl hooting and another responding in the distance; a dog barking, setting off an answering chorus across town.

I was awake in a flash. Someone was screaming.

  'What the hell's that?'

  'I heard that too,' whispered Helen. 'Is that Rita?'

  There was a loud crash… footsteps running on the gravel.

  'Stay there. I'm going to have a look.' I opened the caravan door, grabbing the lump hammer I kept handy just in case.

  Helen was right behind me.

  There was a blood-curdling howl.

  We looked out onto the square. Someone was heading for the trees… followed closely by a stark-naked white body luminescent in the moonlight, long hair flying, yelling a war cry, brandishing a length of two-by-four – Reg!

  Rita was at the caravan door, ashen faced.

  We went over to her.

  'A hand…' said Rita. She was on the edge, holding back hysteria.

  'A hand… reached in through the window… nicked me handbag.

  We could hear Reg's voice in the distance yelling, the squeal of tyres – a car accelerating away.

  'Oh Christ!' shrieked Rita. 'My Reggie!'

  Everything went quiet.

  'Hang on. I'm going after them,' I said, tightening my grip on my lump hammer.

  'No wait,' said Helen. 'Someone's coming.'

  We stood peering into the darkness, nerves on edge.

  A figure materialised out of the shadows: a naked Stone Age warrior. It was Reg, length of two-by-four in one hand, handbag in the other.

  'Oi-oi,' he said. 'Nearly got the bastard!'

  Rita ran to him and put her arms round him.

  'Are you OK? Did you see who it was?' asked Helen, averting her eyes.

  'Dunno,' said Reg. 'But I don't think they'll be back tonight.'

  'You got the handbag back then?' I said. Like Helen I was concentrating on his face, trying not to let my eyes slip.

  'Yeah, the bloke took one look at me behind him and chucked it. He was lucky; if I'd 'ave caught him, I'd 'ave killed 'im. There was a getaway car waiting to pick him up and he got away… worse luck.'

  He slung down his piece of two-by-four.

  'Maybe now we can get some kip.'

  Helen and I said our goodnights and hurried back to our caravan. The moment we got inside we both collapsed with laughter.

  'I know that was awful but the sight of Reg!' said Helen.

  'They picked on the wrong bloke there,' I said. 'He's a maniac.'

  We tried to get back to sleep but it was hard. One of us would snigger and set the other one off. Eventually I drifted off with the image of the naked Reg burned on my memory.

'Martinique is a beautiful island. Did you know it's part of the European Union and its currency is the euro? Imagine that, Johnny – nowhere near Europe, in the Caribbean, and you don't need to change your money. Marvellous! And they speak French there – another bonus.'

  We were waiting at Bordeaux airport and Serge was waxing lyrical about his prospective new home.

  'So you'll be off on one of your little
expéditions
then, soon after you get there?'

  'Heh, no, Johnny. I'm finished with all that. I'm retiring and looking after my new family.' He gazed fondly at Angelique, who despite being six months pregnant was dressed immaculately in a stylish designer number. 'Besides, it wouldn't be the same without my
rosbif
sidekick, would it?'

  Helen raised her eyes to heaven. 'Yes, well, he's had enough of being led astray by you Mr Bastarde, thanks very much.'

  I grinned sheepishly at Serge. I was feeling a mixture of relief that I wouldn't be mixed up in his future schemes and regret for the fact that life might be less interesting without him. It was true he had led me astray but I had learned a lot along the way.

  'She calls us Tweedledum and Tweedledee,' I said.

  'What is this Tweedledum and Tweedledee?' asked Angelique.

  'They were a pair of twins in
Alice in Wonderland
,' I said. 'You know the book by Lewis Carroll? A couple of bozos.'

  She looked blank.

  'I'm not sure he's an author who's very well known in France,' I said.

  Serge looked anxious. 'I hope Robespierre will be all right. I hate to think of him freighted up in that plastic cage.'

  'He'll be fine,' I said reassuringly. 'They're used to transporting pets.' I'd have felt the same and tried not to think about Robespierre lonely in his box.

  Now the moment had come for them to leave I had a lump in my throat. It had all happened so quickly. I was going to miss him. Helen and Angelique had become friends. They both shared an interest in antiques and had taken to having long chats on the phone, no doubt discussing their relationships, too. Serge and Angelique were off making a new start but we were going to have to carry on earning a living on the markets in France. I had no pension or nest egg to fall back on like Serge. Maybe I would one day come across that legendary antique find that would earn me a fortune and set me up for the rest of my life. But I wasn't holding my breath.

  'You'll come and stay with us though, won't you?' said Angelique.

  'Of course we will,' said Helen. 'Try and stop us. Martinique sounds fantastic. We'll keep in touch anyway… don't forget to email and phone.'

  The indicator board was flashing that their flight was boarding.

  Serge took me aside. He slipped something into my hand. It was a key with an address on a label. 'Listen, Johnny, don't say anything but I want you to go and collect some stuff from this address and put it in my garage.'

  I couldn't believe he was asking me this. 'No, I'm not doing any of that any more. You're supposed to be starting a new life, what's the matter with you?'

  'Oh, all right. You're probably right, Johnny. Have this anyway.'

  'What is it?'

  'It's a present… for you.'

  I recognised it. It was a leather-bound book – Marcel's
L'Art de Péter
.

  'I couldn't,' I said.

  'No, I want you to have it, Johnny. You helped me. I was going to sell it but somehow it didn't feel right.'

  'Thanks,' I said. 'I'll treasure it always.'

  'You can sell it,' he said, 'if you need the money.'

  'I'll try not to,' I said, thinking how it was purportedly worth a three-month holiday lying on soft sandy beaches sipping exotic cocktails surrounded by beautiful women.

  Helen waved to us to hurry up. 'Come on, they'll miss their flight.'

  We watched them through security. They turned, waved and disappeared through customs.

  I was holding Serge's present with a tear in my eye.

  Helen took my arm. 'Come on, dear,' she gave me a big hug. 'Now, be honest, how long do you think they'll stay out there?'

  I thought for a bit. 'About five weeks.'

  'Oh, that long?' she said.

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