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The Valentine Victuals

valentines-card“Mon Cher”

“It’s a mystery, a complete and utter mystery!” said Sir John, looking perplexed.

“What is?” said Phlebotomous.

“I can’t find a dinner table in all of London. What’s so special about a mid-week in February?” said Sir John.

“I have one booked,” said Phlebotomous. “A lady friend who said she’d like to see me. A Miss Isabella Swan. I’m quite excited about it as I believe Miss Swan is interested in a new gearing mechanism I’ve invented.”

The vampire leaned forward.

“I intend to show her the plans,” he said conspiratorially. “In fact I’d better go and prepare. I want to make sure I have the final draft for this evening.”

Phlebotomous left the room and Miss Henderson walked in the room with a pot of tea. Her eyes were rather red.

“Miss Henderson, I know you wanted this evening off, but we’re having trouble getting a table, would tomorrow be acceptable instead?” asked Sir John.

“I don’t care if I never have an evening off again,” said Miss Henderson. “I shall die an old maid either way.”

“I see,” said Sir John. “Yes … well … just tonight, really. Oh, by the way, this was in the mail for you.”

Sir John passed Miss Henderson a letter and left the room, glancing quickly back at Miss Henderson as he did. Miss Henderson opened the letter to find a card. Her face suddenly lit up. She fell into the seat and absently reached for a biscuit. She barely noticed Marie come in the room and shot up out of the seat when she did.

“I’m sorry Mrs Jennings,” she said, “only I just had some good news.”

“It’s fine Miss Henderson,” said Marie. “Are you alright? You look like you have been crying.”

“I was … expecting something,” said Miss Henderson, “and … that something didn’t happen and then it did happen.”

Marie looked puzzled, so Miss Henderson showed her the card and Marie smiled.

“So you shall be dining with the young detective,” she said.

“Sush, Mrs Jennings,” said Miss Henderson, turning red, “or the world will… Oh no!”

“What is it?” said Marie as she saw the maid’s face fall.

“I told Sir John I would stay in this evening,” said Miss Henderson mournfully, “when I thought I was abandoned.”

“Well, we are going out ourselves,” said Marie, “so I don’t imagine that’s an inconvenience.”

“No, Mrs Jennings,” said Miss Henderson, “Sir Jennings said he couldn’t get a table. That’s why he asked me to stay.”

“Ah,” said Marie, “maybe I had better assist.”

Marie went to the telephone and picked it up. She looked in the directory then dialed a number.

“‘’Ello, is that the Ritz” she said, “I would like to book a table for two this evening.”

There was a pause and a quiet voice could be heard on the other end.

“I see, no tables at all,” said Marie. “Perhaps if you look again you could … trouver! Yes, seven pm is perfect. The name is Jennings.”

“Thank you Mrs Jennings!” said Miss Henderson. Sir John came in the room at that point and Miss Henderson bounded out.

The Jennings sat down for tea and biscuits.

“I found us a table for tonight,” said Marie, “at the Ritz.”

“Oh good, good,” said Sir John, a little distracted. There was a short pause while he slurped some tea.

“Do you think,” said Sir John, “that there’s anything amiss with Miss Henderson?”

Marie smiled a little.

“No mon cher,” she said, “not now. But it’s good of you to notice.”

Sir John munched on a biscuit.

“I really think,” said Sir John, “that I’m developing an intuition for these things.”

There was a sound from near the fireplace from Morag. It must have been a noise she was making in her sleep and sounded strangely like a chuckle.

*Thanks to The Graphics Fairy for the lovely vintage Valentine’s card.

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The Cornish Curse: Chapter 4

“So did you find anything, Sir John?” said Mr Mallum, hopefully.

The Mallum family and the Jennings were all sitting together in the front room in the darkness of late evening. Sir John looked up from the book of maps he was studying.

“Hmm, no, sadly not,” he said. “We could see nothing obvious from the direction Old Jim described. I’m looking now in the maps to see if there might be anything.”

“We did meet someone interesting,” said Marie. “Lord du Bois.”

“Oh yes, he’s a very fine fellow,” said Mr Mallum. “He visits here quite regularly. I believe he has taken a shine to our girls, and I believe they like him in return.”

Patience rolled her eyes and continued to stare out of the windows. The other girls continued with their reading or card playing in a stoic manner.

“Now then, Father,” said Mrs Mallum, “don’t vex the girls so.”

“But he’s such a wonderful gentleman,” said Mr Mallum, “with such a large estate.”

“Someone’s coming,” said Patience, who was still looking out of the window.

“That will be him now.” said Mr Mallum.

“No, it’s not his carriage, it’s … how odd, it has no horse,” said Prudence.

At this the family all looked out of the window.

cc-chapter-4“Someone’s Coming”

“Who is it?” said Joy, “I can’t see. You’re all in the way!”

“He’s coming to the door,” said Prudence, “I don’t recognise him at all.”

Sir John and Marie exchanged a quizzical glance. There was some conversation at the front door and then the butler came in.

“Sir Jennings, I believe it’s an associate of yours,” said the butler.

“Thank you, Marsh,” said Sir Jennings and a short, pale man in a baggy suit and cloak came into the room.

“I got your note and came here as soon as I could,” said the man to Sir John and Marie.

“Phlebotomous?” said Sir John.

“Mr Bosch,” said Marie, “what do you mean?”

“When I went to visit you, Miss Henderson gave me this,” said Phlebotomous, holding a card, which he began to read. “Dear Visitor, we are away on urgent business in Cornwall. We may be a few weeks.”

Sir John looked blank.

“I don’t follow?” he said. Phlebotomous took off his cloak and put it on a chair.

“Well, I understood you had an investigation so urgent that you didn’t have time to contact me,” said Phlebotomous. “But I managed to find the coach that brought you here and so found your destination. Pretty clever eh! So here I am.”

“But we didn’t…” started Sir John then looked at Phlebotomous’ proud and eager expression.

“We didn’t ‘ave time to let you know,” said Marie. “Mrs Mallum, would you have room for another guest?”

“Yes, that would be very helpful if you did,” said Sir John. “Mr Mallum, Mrs Mallum, girls, may I present Mr Phlebotomous Bosch, investigator … extraordinaire. In every sense.”

Phlebotomous looked round the room at the family as though he had only just seen them. They all looked puzzled at Phlebotomous.

“Don’t worry,” he said, “I’m a vegetarian.”

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 5

 

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The Cornish Curse: Chapter 3

Sir John and Marie stood shivering on the moor a quarter of a mile south of Devil’s Peak and fifty feet north east of the Old Well and looked due south.

“Nothing,” said Sir John. “There’s nothing for miles.”

“Well, that’s the countryside, mon cher,” said Marie with a wry smile. “It’s not so easy to find things here.”

“We should have asked him how loud it was, or if it moved,” said Sir John. “Then maybe we could have estimated the distance.”

“I think we asked him enough,” said Marie. “He was quite cross-eyed at the end.”

“I’m not sure that was the questions,” said Sir John. “Well, let’s look at the map. I’ve marked the killings. This thing must sleep somewhere. Maybe we can draw a line south from here and see if there’s a pattern.”

He took the map out and tried to lay it on the ground, but the wind kept catching it. After a minute of fighting with the map he crumpled it up and put it back in his pocket.

“Perhaps we can do that later,” he said. “I hate to ask, Marie, is there some magical thing we, well you, can do? If we believe this is a magical creature, of course.”

“Which you don’t?” said Marie.

“Not entirely,” said Sir John. “The only spirits I’ve seen so far are the one’s in Old Jim’s glass.”

“Maybe I can try and look for a big dog,” said Marie. “I can use a pendulum.”

Sir John shrugged and Marie took off her necklace. She held it in her fingers and let it dangle.

“Trouver,” said Maire and instantly the pendulum shot horizontal north toward the summit.

“My word!” said Sir John. “Good show!”

Just then a large dog appeared over the summit. It was nearly as tall as Marie and at the sight of them it bounded forward barking.

“Run!” shouted Sir John.

Marie just waved her hand and said, “calmer.” Instantly the dog sat down and Sir John stayed where he was.

“Was that for me or the dog,” asked Sir John.

“The dog,” said Marie, “mostly.”

du-bois-dog“Good Show”

A tall well-built and immaculately dressed man mounted the crest of the hill.

“Hoy, Arthur,” called the man. “Here, boy.”

The dog ran back to the man wagging his tail and the pair walked down to Sir John and Marie.

“Good morrow, good sir, good lady” said the man as he approached. “Please let me introduce myself, I am Lord Vulpine du Bois and this is my, rather enthusiastic Irish Wolfhound, Arthur. I hope he didn’t startle you.”

“Not at all,” said Sir John. “I’m Sir John Jennings, and this is my wife, Marie.”

“Oh, I’ve heard all about you two,” said Lord du Bois, “I get all the gossip. You’re staying with the Mallums, yes? Looking for the mystery beast.”

“For a moment we rather thought we found him,” said Sir John, looking at the dog. Lord du Bois roared with laughter.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” he said. “Old Arthur here is daft as a brush. The only danger is he’d lick you to death.”

As they talked the dog nudged his nose into Marie’s hand and made a whining noise. She stroked his head and he fell onto his back, sticking his legs into the air.

“Why don’t you come for tea one day?” said Lord du Bois. “I’ve not been long here myself, and I could use some news from the outside word. This little village is very pleasant but a little isolated.”

“We’d be delighted to,” said Marie. “Where do you live.”

“See that frightful old pile,” said du Bois, pointing to a mansion on the eastern edge of the village. “That’s Bennet House. Come see me anytime.”

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 4

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The Cornish Curse: Chapter 2

“I were coming over the moor under the moonlight when I heard this unearthly sound…” started Old Jim, looking dramatically into middle distance.  He was a gentleman of advancing years with wild grey hair and bushy eyebrows. The wrinkled thick skin on his face came from a lifetime of work outdoors and the glassy look in his eyes from an afternoon spent drinking whisky.

“I see,” said Sir John. “Perhaps we can get a bit more specific.”

He produced a map of the area and laid it on the table of the public house, between Old Jim and himself and Marie.

“Could you indicate where you were exactly?” asked Sir John.

“I couldn’t be right sure,” said Jim. “It were dark and I had been … visiting friends.”

“Maybe you recall passing some landmark, or seeing one ahead?” asked Sir John.

Old Jim though for a minute.

“Reckon I’d just passed Devil’s Peak,” said Old Jim

“On the right? Left?” asked Sir John.

“On … the right I imagine,” said Old Jim. “I were heading back to the village.”

“So you were around here,” said Sir John, looking at the map. “There looks to be a well here, was that in front or behind of you.”

“That would be the Old Well, it were … in front,” said Jim, eyes screwed tight in remembrance.

“Was it far?” asked Sir John.

“Mebbe … fifty feet?” said Old Jim.

“So, that puts you quarter of a mile south of Devil’s Peak and fifty feet north-east of the Dry Well.”

“Yes,” said Old Jim, “I were walking over the moor a quart’ of a mile south of Devil’s Peak and fifty feet nor’east of the Dry Well, under the moonlight.”

“Where was the moon?” asked Marie.

“In the sky?” said Old Jim, confused.

“Where in the sky I mean?” asked Marie.

“It were … over the village, I suppose,” said Old Jim.

“So south-west?” said Sir John. He got out an almanac. “And this was a week ago, yes, so it must have been pretty full?”

“Yes,” said Old Jim, “I were walking over the moor a quart’ of a mile south of Devil’s Peak and fifty feet nor’east of the Old Well, lit by the nearly full moon from the south-west when…”

cc-ch-2“Unearthly Sound”

“You heard a sound, yes, could you describe it?” said SIr John.

“It were unlike nothing I heard before. It went ‘oow-ooo’,” said Old Jim, with some theatre.

Sir John produced a small set of panpipes from his bag.

“Could you do that again please?” he asked. Old Jim repeated the sound and Sir John blew in the pipes.

“A little higher, mon cher,” said Marie, and SIr John blew again. Marie nodded at the note produced.

“F sharp,” said Sir John. “Sorry Jim, would you mind doing that again?”

Looking sheepish, Old Jim made the sound again. Sir John tried a couple of notes until Marie nodded and wrote them down.

“So thats two notes, a quaver of F sharp and a dotted minim of A sharp,” said Sir John. He played them again.

“Which direction did it come from?” asked Marie.

Old Jim looked exasperated. He pointed to the left of him.

“Due south.” said Sir John, making notes. He showed Old Jim the paper. “Is this correct?”

Old Jim pulled himself up and looked into middle distance again.

“Yes,” he said, “I were walking over the moor a quart’ of a mile south of Devil’s Peak and fifty feet nor’east of the Old Well, lit by the nearly full moon from the south west when I heard a quaver of F sharp with a dotted minim of A sharp coming from the due south.”

“Thank you” said Marie, smiling. “‘Ave we missed anything?”

Old Jim leaned in at the pair, looking a little crestfallen.

“It were … unearthly,” he said.

“How interesting,” said Sir John.

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 3

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The Cornish Curse: Chapter 1

The room was bright and decorated pleasantly, if a little old fashioned. Four girls and an older couple sat in the room, evidently the parents by virtue of appearance. The eldest was staring out of the window in a listless manner. Next to her, the second eldest girl was reading a book on the Temperance movement. Her sister sat next to her playing solitaire, and the final, youngest sat at a piano playing a light air. The father read a newspaper and the mother knitted. Apart from the fidgeting of the elder girl, the room seemed in calm repose.

card-game“Sisters, Please!”

Suddenly the eldest gasped, “They’re coming!” There was a sound of horse and cart and the man stood up and went to the door.

“Do you have to make such a fuss, Patience?” said the girl with the book.

“Just because you’d rather die of boredom, Joy,” pouted the eldest, “doesn’t mean we all should.”

“Sisters, please,” said the girl at the piano, “let’s not fight when we have guests.”

“Well said, Prudence,” said the girl with the cards as the other two sisters glared at each other.

The father came back in the room and everyone stood up.

“May I present, Sir John and, er, Mrs Jennings,” he said beaming. “Sir Jennings, Mrs Jennings, may I present Mrs Mallum.”

“Delighted,” said Sir John and Mrs Mallum made a small curtsey.

“My eldest, Patience,” continued Mr Mallum. Patience made a dramatic curtsey and then giggled.

“My daughter, Joy,” said Mr Mallum, and Joy nodded briefly.

“And the youngest two, Constance and Prudence,” finished Mr Mallum. The two girls smiled warmly.

“Delighted to meet you all,” said Sir John.

“So you’re going to save us from the dreaded ghost hound?” said Patience.

“Are you really French?” said Prudence to Marie.

“Girls, please!” said Mrs Mallum, “show some decorum. I am sorry Sir Jennings, Mrs Jennings, we get so few visitors, Especially … these days.”

“Please, think nothing of it,” said Sir John.

“And yes, I am French,” said Marie smiling, drawing gasps from three of the girls.

“Well, girls, perhaps you could entertain yourselves elsewhere, so I may talk with our guests,” said Mr Mallum. After some complaining from Patience, the quartet left.

“So, to business then,” said Sir John. “First, perhaps you can tell why you are so certain this is a supernatural phenomenon?”

“I’ve lived here all my life,” said Mr Mallum, graver now that the children had left, “and I have seen every form of wildlife that lives here. I’ve seen foxes and even the odd rabid dog in the countryside. But I’ve never seen anything make paw prints like that or cause such damage to livestock. I’m not alone in that assessment either, Sir John. I hear the gossip in the local village and the verdict is the same. Something ungodly is abroad.”

“You say ungodly,” started Sir John. “What makes you say that?”

“When a fox takes a chicken, he does so for food,” said Mr Mallum. “What this beast has done, it has done for sport. No creature leaves his prey behind, or leaves it rent apart, unconsumed.”

He looked at Marie then.

“I’m sorry, madam, if…” he started.

“Please don’t apologise,” said Marie. “We need the facts and we have seen … unpleasant things too.”

“Is there a witness we could perhaps talk to?” said Sir John. “Someone that has seen the beast?”

“Seen it, no,” said Mr Mallum. “But I can introduce to one that has heard it.”

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 2

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The Cornish Curse: Prologue

Dear Sir John,

I apologise for this unsolicited communication, but I am at my wit’s end. I hope you can forgive me and indeed find it in your heart to assist me in my most dire hour of need. I feel that only a gentlemen of your stature and talents can rescue me and my family from the pit of horror we find ourselves entangled in.

But I get ahead of myself; please, let me explain. My family is solvent with a modest sum in the bank and land sufficient to sustain us. My wife and I live on our estate with our four daughters, who are of, or are approaching, majority. Our land is in the fair county of Cornwall, so I daresay our way of life would seem old fashioned and rustic to you, but we are happy in our ways. Or at least, we have been until recently.

pawprint-copy“Giant Dogs”

You see, Sir John, a most terrible curse has descended upon my family. A fact so terrible I barely dare admit it, but I suspect I must to coax you to our aid. For it seems some manner of creature, some foul animal, some hound of hell, has taken residence on our farmlands. There are tales and rumours in the local village, such that none will venture to our house anymore. Tales of giant dogs, unearthly howls and the appalling scent of fantastic creatures. There have been killings, too; chickens at first, then sheep, now cattle. The farmhands have abandoned us for fear they are next. And I can do little to reassure them they are not.

All of this has had a devastating affect on our harvest, and our income this year has plummeted. But this is not my greatest fear. My four daughters are of marrying age. I want nothing more for them than to find suitable husbands, that they may wed and enjoy the many joys of matrimony, including the comfort and security that such a situation would supply for them. But, alas, with things as they are I feel they may be left unmatched. As our income plummets, the very land is seen as worthless and the family itself is seen as tainted and jinxed. For my own life, I care not one jot. I am an old man who has had his time. But the happiness of my daughters, and the contentment of my wife, is all that concerns me. I cannot sleep with fear for the future, for how they will live.

Sir John, I implore you to come to my estate and investigate this mysterious beast. I know you are an expert in the uncanny, and I can assure you, sir, from the reports I have seen and the animals slain, that the uncanny has come to rest in our house. I would be pleased to offer you a princely sum to come and send it back to its home.

I have enclosed our address and a photograph I had taken of a cast of the creature’s paw print. It will surprise you, sir, to learn that this was the size of man’s hand. Please send your response by telegram, and if, God willing, it is in the affirmative I will make space in our house for you to stay whilst you investigate this most disturbing and ungodly beast.

Yours faithfully,

Edward Mallum, Esq.

The Cornish Curse: Chapter 1

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La racine des malapropismes de Miss Henderson

menu“Unfair of what?”

Dear Reader

Well we have all hopefully enjoyed the prologue of the Paris Awakening and our appetites are suitably whetted for the forthcoming novel. All being well it should be “available from all good bookshops” in Summertime as soon as Mr Michael has completed writing the words and Miss Pichette has put the commas in the rightful places. Mr Michael does so enjoy spreading them wily-nily across the page like salt on a under-seasoned soup.

As we have now completed the prologue, we shall return to our usual program of serialised stories. We are excited to reveal, as if on a silver salver, that our latest story, featuring canine capers, catastrophic coincidences and a cadence of caterwauling, will  be called The Cornish Cur*.

The observant of you will have noticed that this is a Tuesday and yet we are not publishing the first episode. And now, I’m afraid, we have to add a soupçon of disappointment to the melange of joy. For we have decided that to allow Mr Michael and Miss Pichette the full time to create great art and accurate punctuation, we shall return to our “one episode a week” regimen, starting this Saturday hence. We only hope that the crushing emotions this evokes will be tempered by the knowledge that the aforementioned novel will be all the sooner on your electronic reading device of choice.

We would also like to reaffirm our previous wishes, in that we hope this to be the very best of years for you.

Yours

Mr Michael and Miss Pichette

(*Since writing this post Mr Michael has changed the name to The Cornish Curse. He has also grown a beard. It’s the time of year for changes.)

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The Paris Awakening: Prologue Part 5

Their eyes locked over the gorgonzola piccante.

“Yes, it was an exciting time,” smiled Sir John. “As you say, the Societe were largely buffoons, and I was all but giving up on them when we met. Then we started all those experiments, trying to build devices that could detect paranormal activity.”

“And all that time, I wanted to tell you about me,” said Marie. “About the powers I had. But, it seemed a strange thing to say at first, and then it got harder and harder to speak. I hoped at first that you would be able to help me find out more about myself, but then I found myself wishing for something different.”

Sir John held out his hand next to the Camembert de Normandie, and Marie reached and held it.

“Me too,” he said. “I was so pleased when we became partners, not just in paranormal investigation, but in romance.”

“And by then, it was impossible to tell you,” said Marie.

There was a pause.

“I have one question, Marie,” said Sir John. “The early investigations, before I knew, how much was the devices and how much was … you.”

“I … helped a little,” said Marie, “at the haunting. But you found the body after all, and even the villain of the piece.”

“And in Manchester?” said Sir John. “It was me that stopped Clackprattle, wasn’t it.”

“Well, yes,” said Marie, “but there is more you must know. This is important. Clackprattle isn’t the mastermind, Pook is.”

“That little twerp?” said Sir John.

“Yes, that little twerp is a magical creature, a pookah,” said Marie. “A kind of trickster that plays with people’s lives. He manipulated Clackprattle in Manchester and I imagine again in London. He is wrapped up with these Draco Viridis cult people, and I’m worried about what he will do. You remember at the end, when Clackprattle seized the Summum Malorum? Something happened to him. Something that can only be bad.”

Sir John nodded gravely.

“Yes, I thought there was something strange happening there,” he said. “I noticed Pook shouting, but I didn’t make the connection. Not for the first time, obviously…”

Marie’s head dropped.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” said Sir John. “I meant that, that I should have seen these things. I’m an investigator, and, and your husband, and you were in danger because I didn’t see what you were. Who you are.”

“Mon cher, I hid this from you,” said Marie. “The fault is with me.”

“No, it’s not,” said Sir John. “Not at all.”

Both the couple looked at their plates. There was another pause which was interrupted by Miss Henderson struggling to bring in a large plate filled with chocolate covered balls.

“Prophet-a-Holes,” she said. She looked at the couple who both smiled distantly at her, sadness in their eyes.

“Tomorrow I shall cook us a nice turkey roast,” she said, by way of compensation and left with the half-eaten cheese board.

paprol5“Prophet-a-Holes”

“You know what we need to do,” said Sir John. “What you wanted me to do from the start.”

“What is that, mon cher,” said Marie.

“In the New Year, straightaway we shall leave for Paris. We shall go back to where this all started and we shall find out where you came from, how you got these powers, and what they are for once and for all!”

“Oui, mon cher!” said Marie beaming at him. In triumph Sir John speared a chocolate ball with a fork, and cream spurted out onto his face.

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The Paris Awakening: Prologue Part 4

Miss Henderson arrived with the next course of food and noted with approval the smile on Marie’s face. She put the used plates onto a trolley she had brought and then laid two plates of meat in front of the Jennings.

“This is a gnu,” she said and promptly left. Sir John looked at the meat with suspicion and took a bite.

“Ah!” he said. “It’s lamb. So … you met a gargoyle?”

“I didn’t know at first,” explained Marie, “I was sitting crying, and this old man’s voice said ‘What is the matter mademoiselle?’ It was a rough voice, but you could hear the kindness underneath. I was distraught, hands over my face and said the first thing that came to mind: ‘I’m a monster.’

“‘Hmm,’ said the voice, ‘there are worse things to be.’

“I looked up in confusion and saw that I was talking to a gargoyle. I could see it moving clearly, in fact all of the gargoyles on the building were moving. No one else seemed to notice. ‘Who are you?’ I said.

gargoyle_edited-1“A Monster?”

“‘My name is Albrecht,’ said the gargoyle.

“‘Isn’t that a strange name for a gargoyle?’ I said.

“‘Do you know many gargoyles?’ he said.

“‘No,’ I admitted, ‘I think you are my first.’

“We talked for some time then. I’m sure the people around me thought I was crazy, talking to myself. But many people were crazy then. Albrecht said that he knew I was a witch, that he could tell straight away. Just like the man, the faun, by the river. I asked him what he knew about witches. He told me that of the few he had met, they were nice, friendly, well dressed, and very powerful. I asked him what he meant, and he said they could do powerful magic. When I asked him for more details he shrugged and said, ‘I’m just a gargoyle, Marie. I don’t get around too much.’

“After what he said, that there were more of my kind, that they were good people, I tried to find out all I could. Oh, I went to all sorts of strange things mon cher, to seances and magic shows, trying to find out more. I always went back to Albrecht to tell him what I had learned. It was such a mess of information, some false, some mad, and it was hard to make sense of. I thought I needed some order to this search, so I joined the Société d’Evénements Mystérieux looking for the truth. I heard they had a program of scientific investigation of mysterious events. I hoped they would help me make sense of the patchwork of information I had. Of course, I got little from them. They were charlatans and fools whose theories were fancies made grand by scientific language. The whole thing was a waste but for one thing of course…”

Sir John looked puzzled.

“I met you,” said Marie.

The couple looked warmly at each other as Miss Henderson entered.

“Chef has prepared an ass he et from Marge,” she said and placed some cheese on the table.

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The Paris Awakening: Prologue Part 3

Miss Henderson came into the dining room with two covered plates. Sir John and Marie were both looking thoughtful.

“Was the soup satisfactory?” asked the maid warily as she put down the plates and gathered up the dishes.

“Yes, thank you,” said Sir John and managed a weak smile.

“Chef said this is poison,” said the maid and uncovered the plates to show two fish. She noticed that Marie’s eyes were a little red and pushed Sir John’s plate toward him with a glare then left.

“We don’t have to…” started Sir John.

“No, it’s fine, I want to tell you,” said Marie, “On the way to Paris my aunt told me sternly that I must never speak of the events in the village. I didn’t need telling. When we arrived in Paris  it was … encroyable. Never in my life had I dreamed of such a place. The buildings, even then, and the people, hordes and hordes of them. And best of all, none of them knew me or knew about me. I decided to forget about talking to animals, the strange man, and the frozen children, and I think I convinced myself it was a childhood dream.

“So I grew up in Paris, learning the fashions and tastes of the city. My aunt and uncle were … they were not unkind, but they were not warm like my mother had been. I tried so hard to forget that I forgot about her too. Even today I can barely recall her face. When I was sixteen they told me she had died some years before, that they had waited until I was old enough to tell me. That whole other life died on that day, too.

“I went from a being a village child to a Parisian young lady and thought myself very sophisticated at that. It was a nice time, really. And then the Prussians came and the siege. It was terrible. There was no food and we ate … we ate whatever could be found.”

Marie looked at her half-eaten fish. Suddenly she set upon it, tearing the meat from the bones and devouring it.

“I learnt it is good to eat well and to be alive,” she said.

Paris_1871_Prisma
“Paris, 1871”

“This is when your aunt and uncle…” started Sir John. Marie nodded.

“In the shelling, at the end, they perished,” she said. “Then we had the commune and more fighting. It was chaos, my beloved Paris was in ruins, riven by conflict. It seemed like humanity had gone crazy.

“And in the midst of this, I remembered who I was. When the government came back into Paris, they rounded up the Communards. Some of my friends were with them. We heard stories … that people were being killed. I shouted at the soldiers who took my friends and they chased after me. They thought I was a Communard too, I think. I ran through the streets with these men after me, terrified. Eventually, I ran into a dead end, with the soldiers at the other. Once again, like years before I shouted ARRETER. And these men stopped too.”

“I stood paused, thinking it was a trick, but they didn’t move. I ran past the stationary men and away from the street. I ran and ran, frightened of the soldiers but more frightened of what I had done. Everything I had tried to forget was coming back into my mind. After just running wild I found myself at the Notre Dame. I thought I should go inside and ask for forgiveness. But I was frightened that I wouldn’t be able to, that I was somehow tainted. I sat down and cried. Then I heard a voice, from above, and he spoke to me.”

Sir John looked puzzled.

“Do you mean God?” he said.

“No, mon cher,” said Marie smiling, “a gargoyle.”