Chapter 2 - The fall from Grace of Gabrielle Meilleux

  Well let’s now meet the mother of the other party, might we say our matriarchal heroine in this affair Gabrielle or Gabby as she likes to be known used to run a cafe in the middle of nowhere. Many years before she had enjoyed the joys of the liberation only too keenly and some would say for far too long! Her two daughters bear testament to this, such was her liberation fervour providing comfort for the troops, that she can not quite recollect the father of each, but, there appearance differs enough to know that a mistake was obviously made, I believe Algeria had liberated the town at some point. And she had, a child as a result of rare beauty, a mad wonderful girl who had left this small village and headed straight for Paris. A chip off the old block! Then there was her second daughter Marie-Chantelle, who was of an age now where she should no longer be a burden to her mother’s charity. But some children take longer to leave the nest. And indeed Gabby had wondered with Marie-Chantelle if the cuckoo had brought her such was the marked difference in nature.

  Indeed for Marie-Chantelle to burden someone else would be ideal, but in this village there would be no chance of that, all the young men moved away as soon as they were able, and so Gabby's days were ones of boredom, stuck in a cafe which had been willed to her by an older gentleman who she had shown kindness too in his final years, he had not had a problem with the parentage of her offspring and in turn she helped him when he couldn’t manage the stairs anymore…

  But now with the new road built after the War no one passed and the cafe hardly turned a sous most days. Her only breath of fresh air being when sometimes a passing salesman would pass, she knew a few of these, and if there had been awards for the type of cafe she kept, in her younger days she might have qualified for one or two Michelin stars, but now with her looks and middle age creeping on she would probably creep into Les Routiers, yes she was quickly becoming a large helping that was easily forgotten. But she was generous and they special travellers always brought her presents, perfume from Paris always made her feel like a lady. But these visits were becoming less frequent. She picked up one of the glasses from the counter and polished it, it was just an instinctive thing to do, she gazed round the bar there were two regulars usually here at this time of day Bernard and Francois, Francois had been in hospital for two weeks. They weren't quite sure if there was anything wrong with him, but nethertheless than were trying to find something. But, you should be charitable, at least he had a couple of weeks away from his wife. If ever a woman would drive a man to drink, she was the one. Her face bore the resemblance to a smacked fish, such was the unsavoury look she carried around with her. The sort that always looked as if she had a bad smell under her nose.

  That only left her sole customer Bernard, he must have been in his late sixties, he had retired from his farm a year ago when his wife died to allow his son to run it and now spent most of his days in the same routine. He would walk the mile or so to the shop to pick up a paper, then on his return he would stop at the cafe, a cafe he had not been allowed to frequent when his wife was alive. Indeed his visits had become more frequent, and for the last two weeks nearly constant. now she found herself alone with him. This as a rule did not worry her in any shape or form. She had eaten bigger men than him, in her life, he was a minnow. But today he was alone and she new instinctively that he was going to speak in deep bass tones.

  'Madame, may I make so bold as to ask you a question? Gabby stopped her task, it was at times like this, as host, she had to respond but be firm.

  'Certainly Monsieur Bernard.' she liked using this combination of formal and informal address, she felt it always helped in her business.

  'My wife has been dead for over a year now, and I wondered, if perhaps, you would like to have some of her clothes?' He paused for a second before confirming.

  'They are all very good, strong, and many hardly worn, my wife always went for quality, she was not a frivolous woman.' It was indeed an offer, she remembered his wife delivering the milk over the years in several hard wearing grey dresses, each might have been a duplicate of the other, and then her Sunday apparel, the other women in the village shop used to laugh. She and a husband have a pew to themselves in the church, “it's for the incense she wears”. This was in reference to the smell of moth balls which was overpowering from her Sunday dress and his Sunday best suit. My God, it looked like his grandfather's.

  The thought of placing this dead woman's clothes on made her flesh creep. Did he want her to dress up for him in her clothes? She had heard that even  when the village women were laying her out he remarked as soon as he saw her on the bed, with the incense candle burning, he said.

  'Not in her Sunday best, It's too good for the worms.' He then approached the candle and snuffed it out stating.

  'She will be a tormented soul if she could see you wasting money like this.' The ladies of the village hastily withdrew, before the body became ripe. This indeed was a terrible thought as she had smelled that way for the last twenty years already. With these thoughts rushing through her head like a spectre, she touched her eye with her handkerchief, in the pretence of wiping a tear away which did not exist.

  'Oh Monsieur Bernard, you are generosity itself, but I could not accept your kind thought.' she thought to herself, and next he would want me dressing up in the for him. 'No, I could not, you see your dear wife, came to me every day for many years with the milk and eggs.' She looked away  from him to avoid showing him how little she cared for his offer.

He had not realised that his wife had hid her true opinion of Gabby from him all these years, they had evidently been on good terms,, women you could never understand them. 'Of course Madame, I had no idea you were so close.' She nodded still with her back turned to him.

  'Madame, I am so sorry for my insensitivity’, and with that the conversation dropped, Gabby thoughts were one of relief, next he would be asking her to make love to him in his wife's Sunday best, perhaps the way she did it, she stifled back the laughter. No she thought, I couldn't remain that still, but he would take the enjoyment out of it. She shivered at the thought, and now turned back with her usual smile.

  'Bernard, we've both thought of a loved one, we need a cognac.' she reached for the dust covered bottle on the top shelf, she really did need a drink and it wasn't for the shock of Bernard's wife passing. It had been a close run thing, but she had survived for another day. And the bottle on the top-shelf was a clear sign to the randy old bugger that no offence had been taken. After all customers didn’t grow on trees round here! She would have to keep an eye on that one though, she knew only too well the glint he had in his eye, he had found his second wind so to speak.