To Provence, with Love. T Williams A

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СКАЧАТЬ produced and attached to Marlon’s collar, inducing considerable excitement on his part. Faye took a pocketful of poo bags, the remote control for the gates, and then off they went. Claudette was right. Marlon didn’t pull at the lead and he definitely knew where he was going. Together they walked the few hundred yards down the deserted country road towards the sign announcing the village, or the town as Claudette had called it.

      Clearly there was more to St-Jean than Faye had imagined. As they passed the sign, they came to a farm entrance on their left. As she did so, a dog barked, only once, and seconds later she and Marlon discovered they had company. Another identical black Labrador emerged from the shade of an old building and charged across to say hello. Faye glanced down apprehensively, but immediately saw that he and Marlon were old friends.

      She stood and looked on as the two dogs, tails wagging furiously, became reacquainted. As she did so, she suddenly felt herself being watched. She raised her eyes and spotted a figure standing in the shadowy interior of the barn. She gave a little wave and received a hint of a wave in return, but the man didn’t venture out of the barn. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and Faye had a suspicion he might well be the same man who had given her directions on her first visit to the area. After all, she told herself, there surely couldn’t be too many identical black Labradors round here.

      She returned her attention to Marlon and clicked her tongue, deciding to set off down the hill towards the village once more. As she did so, there was the same double whistle and the other dog turned and charged off back to his master.

      Before they reached the Coq d’Or, Marlon led her off to the left along a narrow path and Faye was happy to unclip the lead from his collar and let him make the decisions as to where they should go. He was very well behaved and didn’t attempt to run too far ahead as they followed the path alongside a dry gulley running down towards the river in the valley below. From the collection of bone-dry branches and weeds caught in the bushes lining the gully, it was clear that this would turn into a raging torrent after heavy rainfall, but for the moment, there was no sign of water at all. Everything around them was terribly dry, the grass burnt brown by the sun.

      She picked up a stick and threw it for the dog. He ran for it, picked it up, but then steadfastly refused to bring it to her. Clearly somewhere along the line, his brain hadn’t quite got the hang of the retriever part of his ancestry.

      As they walked along, a succession of startled lizards ran frantically for cover and Faye found herself hoping there were no snakes about, and this reminded her of her father. She had texted him as soon as she had reached the chateau to let him know she was safe and well, and she resolved to call him later to tell him all about her first day. All around there was virtual silence, and for somebody used to the never-ending background hubbub of London, it was almost disconcerting.

      After a short distance, threading their way between dry stone walls, covered with wild vines, and among ramshackle old buildings, Marlon, still carrying his stick, turned left once more and led her over a bridge composed of a single irregular slab of limestone, well over six feet long. Faye wondered how many centuries it had been lying there and how on earth the people who had laid it had been able to do so in an era surely long before motorized cranes and mechanical diggers.

      On the other side of the bridge, she saw her first human being.

      ‘Hello, Marlon. Who’s this you’re taking for a walk, then?’ The voice came from the owner of a very large shaggy mongrel that looked like a cross between a sheep and a grizzly bear. From the wagging of tails that was going on, clearly Marlon and he were already on good terms, which was just as well because Faye had no illusions as to her chances if it came to having to step in to stop a dogfight with this monster. The dog’s owner, on the other hand, looked big and strong enough to separate a pair of fighting wolves, if he had to. He looked down at her, fortunately with a smile. ‘You’ll be the young lady who’s going to be staying at the chateau, I dare say?’

      Faye nodded and took a good look at the owner of the Beast of St-Jean. They say that dogs and owners often come to look alike and this pairing certainly added weight to that hypothesis. The man, maybe in his late thirties or early forties, was the size and shape of a wardrobe, with a hairstyle, if, indeed it could be called a style, not dissimilar to that of his dog. Fortunately, he was still smiling benignly at Faye and she summoned a nervous smile in return.

      ‘Yes, that’s right. I’ve just arrived. My name’s Faye. How did you know I was coming?’ She wondered for a moment whether this man mountain might in some way be related to Miss Beech, and it turned out she wasn’t far off the mark.

      ‘Name’s Albert. I’m the man who’s just spent a week redecorating the flat above the stables for you. My mum’s Miss Beech’s housekeeper and I do the garden and stuff.’ He extended a huge paw towards her in greeting. Gritting her teeth, Faye reached out and let him envelop her hand and shake it, mercifully remarkably delicately.

      ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Albert. I’ve just been chatting to your mum now. I was telling her she should start selling her biscuits. They’re amazing.’

      ‘You’re telling me. My dad reckons that’s why I grew so much. By the way, most people call me Obelix. Can’t think why.’ He was smiling. ‘And I’m pleased to meet you, Faye. So are you going to be staying long?’

      This was Faye’s first experience of a little village for a long time, but she knew the way the bush telegraph worked in a school and rightly assumed it would be roughly the same out here. If Claudette hadn’t told Obelix why Faye was here and how long she was staying, it wasn’t her place to enlighten him either. She took refuge in a little white lie.

      ‘I’m not sure. I’ve been teaching in London and I wanted a bit of time away from all the noise and bustle.’

      ‘Well, you certainly won’t have to worry about the noise out here. About the only thing to disturb you will be Marlon when he hears the postman. He barks the place down every time anybody he doesn’t know really well comes to the house. I dare say he barks at you too.’

      Faye glanced down at Marlon who, after a bit of reciprocal sniffing with the Beast, had returned to take up position at her feet. His stick was now in the jaws of the Beast, and Faye didn’t blame him for surrendering it in the face of such a daunting adversary. For some reason Marlon appeared to have accepted her straightaway as a member of the household, if not a substitute pack leader, and it felt rather good. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was past six, so she knew she had better get back home in time to shower and change before dinner. ‘Tell me, is there a way back to the chateau without having to go back the way we came along the road?’

      Obelix nodded and indicated a narrow footpath snaking off between two dilapidated stone walls. ‘Just follow that path up the hill until just before the lavender fields. You’ll smell them long before you see them and when you do, you’ll find there’s another path off to the left, just above the farm, that’ll take you home. Marlon knows it well enough. He’ll show you the way.’

      ‘Thank you … Obelix. Are you sure it’s all right to call you that?’

      He grinned at her. ‘Everybody else does. My mum’s just about the only person who still calls me Albert.’

      Faye smiled back at him. ‘By the way, the lavender farm – is that the farm I’ve just come past on the way down here?’

      Obelix nodded. ‘That’s right.’

      ‘And there’s another black Labrador there, just like Marlon?’

      ‘That’s right. They’re from the same litter. He used to СКАЧАТЬ