Читать книгу The Crooked Olive Branch - Frederick Munn - Страница 29

Chapter 21

Travelling by car suited all three. Hal and Mim travelled in the back seat where they slept for the greater part of the journey. Peter rode in front with Andre.

He was intrigued by this charming Frenchman and wished to know more about him and his connection with Peggy Firth.

“How long have you known Miss Firth?” was Peter’s first question.

“Since I was a boy, she was teaching English at a Moulin Academy.”

“A schoolteacher, there’s a surprise.”

“Not with children with older people, mostly at nights in the academy. Also, in their houses, some days.”

“You were only a boy.”

“Yes. I did try and go to the night classes.”

Andre, a taxi driver liked to talk, especially about himself.

“With the older pupils?” Peter’s admiration for Andre was not in doubt.

“No, before that big class.”

“Peg, Miss Firth, agreed to take you before the main class began?”

The opportunity to learn more about Peggy Firth was seized upon by Peter. Andre seemed not to mind Peter’s constant questioning in fact he appeared to encourage him.

“I wanted to go with the others in the class, but they asked thirteen weeks’ money in the first. This was too much money at one time.” “How did Miss Firth know of this? About your problems I mean?”

“I waited outside the academy until after the lessons and asked to be taught at my home. To pay only for one lesson at one time.”

“And she agreed?”

Peter already knew enough about Margaret Firth not to be surprised.

“Yes, but in her home not mine. She charged only ten centimes an hour. I thought that it was right and ran errands to earn it, not knowing that it was stupid money. I was only seven.”

“Why did you wish to learn a foreign language at such a young age?”

“My uncle was a taxi driver and he earned much money, more than the others, because he spoke English. Rich American and English tourists would hire him for the day to show them Paris.

I wanted to be like him.” Andre delivered his usual logical answer.

Peter was quiet for a little while. Andre had told him enough of his and Peggy Firth’s story for the time being. He just sat and thought over the last week. He watched the countryside dressed in its autumn best slide by. Andre eventually interrupted his thoughts.

“The little girl, you speak to her in her language, yes?” he suddenly asked.

“Of course.” Peter was a little surprised by the question.

“Don’t, please don’t. If she asks a question in German answer in English. Speak English to her always. She is three, an age where she will learn quickly. She understands more than you think.”

Peter didn’t answer, already aware of Mim’s knack of picking up the language.

Andre continued. “She comes to England then she will learn quickly and good.”

“Did Miss Firth ask you to say this?”

“No, it’s how she taught me. I ask a question in French and she answers in English. I say what does this mean? She say, ‘find out’, in English. I say what is this? What is that? She say, ‘find out’.

These are the first words I learned, find out. Miss Firth cooked me suppers all the time speaking in English. I say how can I find out? She sold me a little book, ‘French/English-English/ French’ for two centimes.’ Stupid price two centimes. I owe much to Miss Firth. I look for her always.”

“You look for her?” Why, how do you do this?”

“She smokes and drinks too much. When she is not working, she drinks the wine.”

Peter was surprised, Andre seemed to be saying she is an alcoholic.

“I didn’t realise that. Is the drinking bad?”

“It’s why Miss Price finds things for her to do, I think.”

“Miss Price does this often?”

Peter was wondering how many times they had rescued children together.

“She is too far away. Miss Price gives me money, says look for her. So, I do.”

“Usually in a wine bar?”

“Yes. I take her home many nights.” Andre gave a little sigh as he answered.

This didn’t fit quite with Peter’s impression of Peg.

“She seems to be all right now.”

“When you are gone, I will look for her.”

Andre’s answer suggested that left alone, she did indeed drink. There had to be an explanation or so Peter thought. His impression of Peg was of a capable, reliable, caring woman.

That she was intelligent and dedicated was without question. He needed an answer.

“Do you know why she drinks?”

“I think one day she kill a child.” Andre answered without hesitation.

Peter was too shocked to speak. Andre dropped into a higher gear and slowed down pulling slowly into the side of the road. Clearly, he was also shocked by his own words.

Thoughts which he had subjugated for years had been teased out by Peter.

Andre sat for a short while looking into the distance before continuing to whisper each word keeping time with Peter’s beating heart.

“She said one night when I found her in a wine bar, very ill. ‘You’ve saved me again Andre, you are always saving me.’ I said to her, ‘you saved me when I was a child.’ She say to me, ‘if I saved every child in creation it will not espound the memory of the one I killed’.”

Neither spoke for a while as if nothing had happened. Andre started the engine. He put his hand into the glove compartment and took out a battered English/ French dictionary, which he handed to Peter. “I can’t find espound.” Then he pulled away as if the last minutes had not occurred.

None of this disturbed the two in the back seats.

Peter didn’t try to answer Andre but thumbed aimlessly through the little book. All his questions had done was to give him a greater desire to find out more answers, which he doubted Andre would have.

“Expunge,” Peter exclaimed.

Andre nodded. “Expungere. Was my thinking.”

Whether Peg’s drunken confessional was blurred by alcohol, was not further questioned. Neither spoke for the rest of the journey.