| General Fiction posted May 4, 2019 | Chapters: |
...56 57 -58- 59... 
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Chapter 58: A woman's wiles
A chapter in the book The French Letter
Oysters and Champagne
by tfawcus
| Background At a meeting in the Paris Embassy, Charles, who is working for MI6, is asked to renew his liaison with Helen Culverson, which he does. He also decides to catch up with her sister, Kayla... |
The last paragraphs of Chapter 57...
I could see that Kayla was coming down off her high, and I wasn't so concerned about her as I had been. I drained my glass and got up. "I'm really going to have to leave now. I've promised to take Helen out to dinner, and she'll be wondering what has happened to me."
"Does she know where you are?"
"No."
"Well, don't you think it might be a good idea to call her? She's probably worried sick."
Chapter 58
As I rode down the funicular, I thought Kayla might be right, so I texted Helen:
"Sorry. Held up. C U soon. XXX"
"What kept you?"
"Will explain when I C U"
"Better be good or it's I C U 4 U"
"???"
"Intensive Care Unit, darling."
This was obviously going to be trickier than I had expected. Perhaps I should take flowers. Or chocolate? Maybe wine. Certainly not absinthe... There was a wine shop nearby in Rue des Trois Frères. I knew the place would still be open since was only just around the corner from my lodgings in Rue Gabrielle and I was a regular customer.
Rue des Trois Frères, the Street of the Three Brothers. Was it perhaps named from the Brothers Grimm tale? One of the brothers in that story had been a fencing master. He was so skilful with his sword that, when it rained, he could intercept every drop and remain dry. I hoped that I could be equally adroit in deflecting the trouble looming ahead.
I chose a particularly good champagne and a soft washed-rind cheese to go with it. If that didn't do the trick, nothing would. Twenty minutes later I was knocking at the door of Helen's apartment with renewed confidence. I was sure that I had the perfect gift. There was no answer. I knocked again. Louder.
The door to Madame Bisset's apartment opened. "Who is it, making that infernal racket?"
As soon as she peered out, I saw that I had interrupted a delicate operation. The dear lady now had strawberry blonde hair, curled tightly around pink plastic rollers. Possibly the emphasis should be more on the straw than on the berry. The effect was startling.
"It's me - Charles. Sorry if I disturbed you, madame." I swallowed a smile, "... nice hair, by the way."
"Oh, Monsieur Brandon, how kind." She pirouetted so I could admire the back view, at the same time calling out, "The runner has returned!" Then she caught sight of the bottle of champagne. "A peace offering! How wise! But you're at the wrong door, lover boy. She's with me. Come in. I'm sure I can find three glasses."
This was not at all what I had in mind. Nonetheless, a gatekeeper might have some advantages. "Thank you, madame! I have cheese, as well. Perhaps we should have a party."
Helen chose that moment to squeeze past her landlady, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Maybe some other time, Madeleine. I need Monsieur Charles all to myself this evening. Sorry!"
"Just my luck, dear. Still, I don't blame you. He really is a gorgeous hunk." She winked at me and blew a kiss as she closed the door.
Helen grabbed my free hand and yanked me towards her apartment. "Where on earth have you been all this time? I was frantic with worry. Madeleine said you were running around the streets of Paris half-naked. What happened? Did the police arrest you for indecent exposure?"
"It wasn't that half that was naked. You had my shirt. Remember? Where did you go, for that matter?"
"I went out to buy provisions for a romantic dinner with a special man. Come and see."
She opened the door and led me in. A cloth of white lace was draped over the table by the window. My eye took in the pink orchids, the silver candlesticks, crystal glasses and linen napkins, each one neatly folded into a bishop's mitre.
"I thought I would surprise you, darling. Why don't you pour the champagne while I go and freshen up? I shan't be a minute." She gave my hand a quick squeeze and disappeared into the bedroom.
With my heart beating a little faster than normal, I took a napkin from the table and wrapped it around the neck of the bottle before removing the metal cage. Holding the cork firmly in place with my left hand, I twisted the bottle until the first signs of movement, then eased it out, releasing the pressure with a gentle fizz before pouring a little of the foaming liquid into each glass. After the first bubbles had subsided, I topped them up, two thirds full.
I then spent a few moments sorting through Helen's collection of music before selecting Claude Debussy's 'Nocturnes'. As the first haunting notes filled the room like clouds drifting across a sombre sky, Helen reappeared, a dish of oysters in hand, and dressed only in a seductive smile and my white shirt, the tail of which hung negligently around the bare skin of her thigh.
"Oysters to begin with, I thought ... in memory of The Dog Who Smokes," she said as she placed the dish on the table and handed me one of the glasses. "To us," she said, clinking hers against mine.
She took a small sip, then held her glass up to look at me through the beads of straw-coloured wine. "Now come and tell me all about your visit to my dear sister, Kayla." She slipped her arm around my waist and drew me in close, nibbling at my earlobe as she whispered, "You were going to tell me, weren't you?"
I could see that Kayla was coming down off her high, and I wasn't so concerned about her as I had been. I drained my glass and got up. "I'm really going to have to leave now. I've promised to take Helen out to dinner, and she'll be wondering what has happened to me."
"Does she know where you are?"
"No."
"Well, don't you think it might be a good idea to call her? She's probably worried sick."
Chapter 58
As I rode down the funicular, I thought Kayla might be right, so I texted Helen:
"Sorry. Held up. C U soon. XXX"
"What kept you?"
"Will explain when I C U"
"Better be good or it's I C U 4 U"
"???"
"Intensive Care Unit, darling."
This was obviously going to be trickier than I had expected. Perhaps I should take flowers. Or chocolate? Maybe wine. Certainly not absinthe... There was a wine shop nearby in Rue des Trois Frères. I knew the place would still be open since was only just around the corner from my lodgings in Rue Gabrielle and I was a regular customer.
Rue des Trois Frères, the Street of the Three Brothers. Was it perhaps named from the Brothers Grimm tale? One of the brothers in that story had been a fencing master. He was so skilful with his sword that, when it rained, he could intercept every drop and remain dry. I hoped that I could be equally adroit in deflecting the trouble looming ahead.
I chose a particularly good champagne and a soft washed-rind cheese to go with it. If that didn't do the trick, nothing would. Twenty minutes later I was knocking at the door of Helen's apartment with renewed confidence. I was sure that I had the perfect gift. There was no answer. I knocked again. Louder.
The door to Madame Bisset's apartment opened. "Who is it, making that infernal racket?"
As soon as she peered out, I saw that I had interrupted a delicate operation. The dear lady now had strawberry blonde hair, curled tightly around pink plastic rollers. Possibly the emphasis should be more on the straw than on the berry. The effect was startling.
"It's me - Charles. Sorry if I disturbed you, madame." I swallowed a smile, "... nice hair, by the way."
"Oh, Monsieur Brandon, how kind." She pirouetted so I could admire the back view, at the same time calling out, "The runner has returned!" Then she caught sight of the bottle of champagne. "A peace offering! How wise! But you're at the wrong door, lover boy. She's with me. Come in. I'm sure I can find three glasses."
This was not at all what I had in mind. Nonetheless, a gatekeeper might have some advantages. "Thank you, madame! I have cheese, as well. Perhaps we should have a party."
Helen chose that moment to squeeze past her landlady, giving her a quick peck on the cheek. "Maybe some other time, Madeleine. I need Monsieur Charles all to myself this evening. Sorry!"
"Just my luck, dear. Still, I don't blame you. He really is a gorgeous hunk." She winked at me and blew a kiss as she closed the door.
Helen grabbed my free hand and yanked me towards her apartment. "Where on earth have you been all this time? I was frantic with worry. Madeleine said you were running around the streets of Paris half-naked. What happened? Did the police arrest you for indecent exposure?"
"It wasn't that half that was naked. You had my shirt. Remember? Where did you go, for that matter?"
"I went out to buy provisions for a romantic dinner with a special man. Come and see."
She opened the door and led me in. A cloth of white lace was draped over the table by the window. My eye took in the pink orchids, the silver candlesticks, crystal glasses and linen napkins, each one neatly folded into a bishop's mitre.
"I thought I would surprise you, darling. Why don't you pour the champagne while I go and freshen up? I shan't be a minute." She gave my hand a quick squeeze and disappeared into the bedroom.
With my heart beating a little faster than normal, I took a napkin from the table and wrapped it around the neck of the bottle before removing the metal cage. Holding the cork firmly in place with my left hand, I twisted the bottle until the first signs of movement, then eased it out, releasing the pressure with a gentle fizz before pouring a little of the foaming liquid into each glass. After the first bubbles had subsided, I topped them up, two thirds full.
I then spent a few moments sorting through Helen's collection of music before selecting Claude Debussy's 'Nocturnes'. As the first haunting notes filled the room like clouds drifting across a sombre sky, Helen reappeared, a dish of oysters in hand, and dressed only in a seductive smile and my white shirt, the tail of which hung negligently around the bare skin of her thigh.
"Oysters to begin with, I thought ... in memory of The Dog Who Smokes," she said as she placed the dish on the table and handed me one of the glasses. "To us," she said, clinking hers against mine.
She took a small sip, then held her glass up to look at me through the beads of straw-coloured wine. "Now come and tell me all about your visit to my dear sister, Kayla." She slipped her arm around my waist and drew me in close, nibbling at my earlobe as she whispered, "You were going to tell me, weren't you?"
 Recognized |
#72 2019 |
List of Characters
Charles Brandon - the narrator, a well-known travel writer.
Group Captain Bamforth (alias Sir David Brockenhurst) - an intelligence officer with MI6 and Air Attache in Paris
Helen Culverson - Also a travel writer, whose relationship with Charles is complicated by her relationship with Jeanne Durand.
Kayla Culverson - her older sister, who disappeared somewhere in Bangkok and has surfaced again in Paris.
Madame Jeanne Durand - a French magazine editor and undercover agent with the French Drug Squad.
Madame Madeleine Bisset - Helen's landlady in Paris
Mr Bukhari - a Pakistani businessman (now deceased)
Ian 'Bisto' Kidman - an ex-RAF friend of Charles's.
Monsieur Bellini - a denizen of the French Underworld.
Andre (aka Scaramouche) - an actor in Montmartre and friend of Kayla's
Dr. Laurent - a veterinary surgeon in Versailles.
Father Pierre Lacroix - vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church.
Madame Lefauvre - an old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip.
Francoise Gaudin - an intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles.
Alain Gaudin - brother of Francoise, a gardener at Monet's house in Giverney
Estelle Gaudin [deceased] - mother of Francoise and Alain, a prostitute
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased] - Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
Jack and Nancy Wilkins - a Wiltshire dairy farmer and his wife.
Colonel Neville Arnoux [deceased] - of whom we may hear more later.
Gaston Arnoux - Owner of an art gallery in Paris, recently assassinated by Charles Asserted to be leader of an ISIS network
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Charles Brandon - the narrator, a well-known travel writer.
Group Captain Bamforth (alias Sir David Brockenhurst) - an intelligence officer with MI6 and Air Attache in Paris
Helen Culverson - Also a travel writer, whose relationship with Charles is complicated by her relationship with Jeanne Durand.
Kayla Culverson - her older sister, who disappeared somewhere in Bangkok and has surfaced again in Paris.
Madame Jeanne Durand - a French magazine editor and undercover agent with the French Drug Squad.
Madame Madeleine Bisset - Helen's landlady in Paris
Mr Bukhari - a Pakistani businessman (now deceased)
Ian 'Bisto' Kidman - an ex-RAF friend of Charles's.
Monsieur Bellini - a denizen of the French Underworld.
Andre (aka Scaramouche) - an actor in Montmartre and friend of Kayla's
Dr. Laurent - a veterinary surgeon in Versailles.
Father Pierre Lacroix - vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church.
Madame Lefauvre - an old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip.
Francoise Gaudin - an intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles.
Alain Gaudin - brother of Francoise, a gardener at Monet's house in Giverney
Estelle Gaudin [deceased] - mother of Francoise and Alain, a prostitute
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased] - Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
Jack and Nancy Wilkins - a Wiltshire dairy farmer and his wife.
Colonel Neville Arnoux [deceased] - of whom we may hear more later.
Gaston Arnoux - Owner of an art gallery in Paris, recently assassinated by Charles Asserted to be leader of an ISIS network
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