2
You know how it goes in the Hollywood version of life – Main Character embarks on a journey of self-discovery, but there are challenges, obstacles she must learn to navigate before the happy ending we all know is coming her way. Cue the classic movie montage, where seemingly insurmountable tasks are tackled in no time to a peppy, you-got-this soundtrack. A month or two passes and our protagonist has not only achieved The Big Thing, she’s learnt something fundamental and game-changing about the world and her place in it.
I’ll tell you what I’ve learnt these past four weeks – pigeon shit is a nightmare to get rid of. Man, those birds can defecate. I spent days extracting hardened lumps of the stuff from windowsills and outdoor furniture. The process became easier once I discovered that a tablespoon of dishwashing detergent mixed with warm water softens avian faecal matter, making it easier to remove. Not exactly life-changing information, but useful nonetheless.
I fixed the broken water valve on the dishwasher and set about exterminating an infestation of Indian meal moths that had taken over the pantry. I made several runs to the déchetterie to dispose of various defunct household items: a faulty toaster, a one-legged dining chair, a Johnny Hallyday apron. (Are you even French if you don’t own a piece of memorabilia paying homage to the Elvis Presley of France?)
On the third day, I was kneeling on the worktop in the kitchen, attempting to right a wonky shelf when I heard a rap on the French doors leading to the garden. I glanced over my shoulder and saw a man with his face pressed up against the glass. Startled, I lost my balance, falling onto the floor and landing unceremoniously on my coccyx. The man opened the door and hurried into the room, placing the small cardboard box he was carrying on the table.
‘Are you okay? Sorry – I didn’t mean to scare ya,’ he said, guiding me up off the floor by the elbow and ushering me to a chair.
‘Can I get you anything? A glass of water?’
He walked over to the sink purposefully, like he knew his way around the place, and turned on the tap. Lifting a glass from the drying rack, he filled it and returned to my side, hunching on his knees beside me. I accepted the water from the strange man in my kitchen, because I was actually thirsty, and physiological requirements take precedence over personal security in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.
‘Thanks,’ I said, squinting at the man over my glass for a better look.
He appeared to be in his sixties, his skin loose with age and leathery from the sun. He was wearing orange harem pants, a Grateful Dead t-shirt and a charcoal-grey trilby.
‘Are you hurt?’ he said, seeming concerned. ‘I can get Doctor Bourdariat to pop by, take a look at you? He doesn’t normally do house calls – who does these days? Remember the time you could get a medical professional to visit you at home? Ah, you wouldn’t, though. You’re too young. But the good doc owes me a favour. I look after his plants when he’s out of town.’
Who was this guy?
‘Umm, have we met?’ I said.
The man stood up and removed his trilby.
‘Sorry, where are my manners?’ he laughed. ‘The name’s Leonard. I know Nicolas and Sophie, the owners? Used to do odd jobs around the place for them. I wanted to come introduce myself and give you this. Welcome to Cordes!’
He lifted the box off the table and handed it to me. Inside was a bunch of asparagus, some radishes, new potatoes and a punnet of strawberries.
‘Freshly picked from my own garden,’ he said proudly. ‘I have a stall at the Saturday market on the main square. You should come along. I’ll introduce you to some great folks.’
I was touched by the gesture, albeit wary. In my experience, most relationships are transactional and I wasn’t sure what it was Leonard wanted from me.
‘Thank you. That’s really kind and this all looks delicious. We’ll pop by tomorrow if we get a chance.’
‘We?’ said Leonard.
‘My son Ari is here with me. He’s five. I’m Fiadh.’
‘Well, it’s sure nice to meet you, Fiadh. Do I detect an Irish accent?’
‘You do indeed,’ I said. ‘I’m from Dublin. Have you been?’
‘Nope, never had the pleasure of visiting the Emerald Isle,’ he said, pulling out a chair and making himself comfortable. ‘But I’m one sixteenth Irish, so practically a native.’
If the accent didn’t already do it, this tenuous claim to Irish identity confirmed Leonard was American. I hadn’t invited him to stay, but now that he was seated, I felt obliged to offer him a cup of tea.
‘Where are you from – besides Ireland?’ I asked, filling the kettle and placing it on the gas stove.
‘Wichita, Kansas, originally, but I’m a bit of a gypsy. Lived all over. Been in Cordes coming on seven years now. What brings you and Ari here?’
‘Ah, you know,’ I said. ‘Sunshine, crème br?lée , the quintessential good life.’
I wasn’t about to unburden myself to Leonard, though there was something oddly soothing about his company, a kindness to his face. At that moment, Ari ran into the kitchen holding Margaret.
‘Hey, this must the man himself! Nice to meet you, little guy!’
Ari scrutinised Leonard before sitting down opposite him.
‘This is Margaret,’ he said.
‘Well, it’s nice to meet you too, Margaret,’ replied Leonard. ‘Now, what exactly is Margaret? A goldfish?’
‘A California golden trout,’ Ari corrected him.
‘Of course she is,’ said Leonard, accepting a mug of tea from me with a smile. ‘And tell me, Ari, do you and Margaret like your new home?’
Ari pursed his lips, considering the question.
‘There’s a garden here, which is really fun. We didn’t have a garden in our flat. We had a playground around the corner, but one time, Mummy got cross when we saw a needle like the one the nurse used to give me the Coronavirus medicine, so we stopped going after that.’
Leonard glanced at me knowingly.
‘I have a best friend at home,’ Ari continued. ‘Her name is Agata. She’s from Poland. I don’t have any friends here.’
‘Not yet, but just you wait til you start school,’ said Leonard. He turned to me. ‘You enrolled him in Ecole Saint-Georges?’
I nodded. ‘He starts next week.’
‘It’s a great little place. The principal has some interesting views … Ari will be fine, though, won’t you, buddy? And you know what? You don’t need to wait for school to make friends.’
Leonard untied a blue and orange woven wrist band from his right arm, and handed it to Ari.
‘Now I’ll keep this one right here,’ he said, tugging at the remaining purple and green band. ‘And that means we’re buddies, okay? Anyone gives you a hard time, you come to me.’
Leonard prodded at his chest with his thumb and winked at Ari. Ari beamed, passing me the bracelet to fasten around his tiny wrist.
Before Leonard left, he told me that if I needed a hand around the house or getting the garden in shape before tourist season kicked off, I was to give him a shout. I thanked him, but assured him his services wouldn’t be necessary. One of the few useful pieces of fatherly advice my dad passed on to me was self-reliance. ‘ Cowboys, Fiadh,’ he used to say of his fellow tradesmen. ‘ They ’ ll shaft ye in a heartbeat if you ’ re not careful.’ He showed me how to replace a radiator and reseal the bath, and I ’ ve never had to ask for help. I’m not about to start relying on other people now.