Chapter 17
17
Just as Zoe had promised, help arrived quickly. Staff were not rushing but acting with speed and focus as they brought a trolley stretcher, then helped Pete and Deva to move Fikru out of the car and get him lifted onto it.
Lucie saw him trying to keep a hold of Pete’s hand, but he didn’t have the strength, and Pete wanted him to go, was smiling at him and talking in a reassuring voice.
Then there was nothing for the rest of them to do but re-park the car in the appropriate area, then come back to the starkly lit A it clung gracefully to his narrow waist and swished at his ankles. It looked surprisingly good with chunky white trainers. And they’d all stopped noticing that he was a boy in a dress. Maybe quite soon a boy in a dress would be just as unremarkable as a girl in trousers. Hadn’t he told them Coco Chanel in trousers one hundred years ago was a scandal?
‘Do you think someone will come and tell us something about Fikru soon?’ Lucie asked her daughter.
Zoe shrugged her shoulders and said, ‘Depends how long it takes to stabilise him, establish treatment, assess how it’s working. They’ll come and talk to us when they’re sure about what to tell us. As sure as they can be at this stage…’
‘He’s still got a long way to go, hasn’t he?’ Lucie asked her quietly.
‘It’s still fingers crossed time, definitely.’
It was almost an hour later when someone finally appeared and told them in a combination of English, French and Google translate that Fikru was on IV antibiotics and seemed to be responding as well as could be expected. It was harder to convey this to Pete, who mainly wanted to know when Fikru could leave.
‘We should try and get some sleep,’ Lucie said, because her eyeballs felt scratchy and it honestly seemed like days and days since she’d had a proper sleep. ‘Why don’t I see if there’s a hotel or B&B nearby?’ She took her phone out of her bag again.
‘Sleep?’ Deva asked, sounding astonished. ‘How can anyone be thinking about sleep? We need to wait for more news about Fikru. And we’re in Brive! There’s so much to see and do!’
‘Deva, it’s now… 2a.m. in the morning,’ Lucie told him after a quick check. ‘Not usually the ideal time for sightseeing. When we take the car to the garage in the morning, maybe you could have a look around the town then.’
‘Great idea! But only if everything is OK with our new friends.’ He nodded at Pete.
Zoe gave a huge and heartfelt yawn. ‘I’m shattered,’ she admitted. ‘Mum, maybe you and I should try to find a place for at least a few hours’ sleep. But Pete won’t want to leave, so Deva, do you want to stay with him?’
Deva nodded enthusiastically.
‘Are you sure?’ Lucie asked. Yes, she would just about kill for a bed, but was leaving Deva and Pete here the right thing to do?
‘Look, we’ll keep our phones right beside us, volume up high,’ Zoe added. ‘And if there’s any news or any kind of… I don’t know… any sign of the authorities, trouble about papers, the things Pete’s worried about, you’ll phone us straightaway, won’t you?’
‘Of course,’ Deva replied.
‘Fikru is in good hands, Deva and Pete will be fine here – I think we should sleep,’ Zoe told her mother.
‘Is that nurse’s orders?’ Lucie asked with a smile.
‘Yes!’ Zoe smiled back.
‘Oh, well then…’
First came sleep.
Lucie and her daughter slept for six hours straight in twin beds in a faded but comfortable room in a small hotel. Then in the morning came much-needed cups of coffee and a consultation with the hotel owner in basic French and Google translate about garages and paying for another two nights in advance so that Pete could have somewhere to retreat to if needed.
A similar kind of basic French/Google translate conversation with a mechanic followed. Once he’d looked under the hood and heard about the wedding in Perpignan at 4p.m. later that day, he’d assured them that it wouldn’t be difficult and if they waited for about an hour, he would replace the part and have the car back on the road.
In the daylight, Lucie was upset to see the prang she’d made on the front left of the car with the fencepost. It had spoiled the Jag’s classy good looks and would no doubt be pricey to fix. But she could worry about that when she was back in England.
She worked out how to buy a card with some credit for Pete’s phone and when she and Zoe went back to the hospital, they listened to the encouraging update on Fikru, then Lucie insisted on giving Pete some money as well as the phone card and the details of the pre-paid hotel room.
He tried to refuse everything but finally relented when Deva got down on his knees and pretended to beg.
‘I will come back to Brive on Monday,’ Lucie told Pete, making sure that he understood. ‘I will see you in two days and check that you and Fikru are OK.’
Pete looked so young and exhausted that it still felt bad to leave him alone at the hospital.
‘Go to the hotel room and have some sleep,’ Zoe encouraged him. ‘And you will call us, if there is any problem?’ she asked him several times, and although he nodded and seemed to have understood, none of them could be sure that he would.
Finally, it was approaching 11a.m. by the time they were back in the repaired Jag and at last setting off for the wedding.
‘It’s supposed to be a four-hour-and-fifteen-minute drive,’ Lucie informed her passengers, looking at the satnav with some concern. ‘If there’s any traffic, it’s going to be tight – the ceremony starts at 4 p.m.’
In the back seat, Deva had an expression of utter gloom on his face.
‘What’s the matter?’ Lucie asked.
‘I haven’t seen anything in Brive,’ he complained. ‘Not one single thing apart from the hospital.’
‘You can come back with me and Zoe on Monday,’ Lucie told him.
‘But I’m supposed to be flying back with Mum and the sisters,’ he told her moodily.
‘Well, maybe you need to tell your mum that you’re coming with us because it’s really important to you. We can see how much singing and the spirit of Chanel matters to you. You seem like a different person when you’re singing or talking about your friend, Coco. It’s inspiring, Deva! This is who you would be if you weren’t afraid of what your mum or anyone else thinks. So, you need to tell her.’
For a moment, Deva seemed to smile quietly to himself as he let his auntie’s words sink in, then, face brightening further at the prospect, he asked: ‘Will you take me to the convent in Aubazine?’
‘Is that where Chanel—’ Lucie began.
‘Grew up, basically. She was there from age eight to eighteen, I think. It was a major formative influence.’
‘And it’s not too far from here?’
‘No, just a short drive.’
‘Then yes, we’ll do that on Monday too,’ she told him.
And with those words, Deva leaned back into his seat and pulled his headphones on, a totally thoughtful and absorbed look on his face.
Listening to some of his favourite music as the Jag moved back onto the main road towards Perpignan, Deva slowly and carefully revisited his cherished daydream. The one where he was walking up the steps of the convent, in a trail-blazing outfit that paid perfect homage to his muse.
He couldn’t possibly describe to anyone how important this was to him… or why. Why did Coco Chanel matter so much in his life? Why did he admire what she had done, what she had thought, so much? Why had a female fashion designer with a black bob in cream trousers, who died over fifty years ago, cast such a spell on him?
He smoothed over the lace fabric of the Chanel dress that he had put on last night and was still wearing. She mattered so much to him that it was almost as if he knew her.
No matter how crazy it sounded, Coco Chanel was like an auntie to him, or a fairy godmother. And he was determined to somehow live up to her influence.