Monsieur Pamplemousse and the Militant Midwives by Michael Bond

Author:Michael Bond [Michael Bond]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780749011963
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2012-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

Emerging from the depths of the Da Vinci car park some half an hour or so later, he heard the familiar clink of metal balls making contact with one another to the right of the tarmac area. It was a satisfactory sound; the accompanying music to a game that was undoubtedly being played all over France at that very moment, and which needed no lyrics other than the occasional grunt.

The sound would have been slightly different in Roman times of course. In those days the boules had been fashioned out of stone. In between, artillerymen had played it with cannonballs, doubtless producing an even deeper tone.

Having arrived at the Esplanade rather later in the day than was customary, there were more games than usual in progress. The coat hooks attached to one of the trees were full to overflowing.

The sun was still high in the sky and the various pitches were laid out higgledy-piggledy in all directions as those whose turn it was to throw the tiny wooden cochonnet opted as far as possible to make it land in one of the few shady areas still available.

Standing at the top of the steps, taking in the scene, Monsieur Pamplemousse became aware of a distant shape hurtling towards him from the direction of the Shanghai Chinese restaurant on the far side of the rue Fabert. A moment later Pommes Frites skidded to a halt at his feet, nearly knocking him over in the process.

For a moment or two it was all licks and ruffling of fur as master and hound were reunited; a case of absence making the heart grow fonder, if indeed that were possible. A casual bystander could well have been forgiven for thinking they had been apart for months rather than hours.

Talking of which … regaining his balance, he spotted a flash of colour not far away. It took him a moment or two to recognise the Director’s secretary. He wasn’t used to seeing Véronique in a flowery summer dress. It made a change from her usual black trouser suit. She must have gone straight into the office following his call. She waved as she drew near.

‘Welcome back,’ he said, holding out his hand.

‘Thanks to you and Pommes Frites,’ said Véronique simply. ‘I was determined not to give in, and Monsieur Leclercq wasn’t going to lose face.’

‘No more handbag searches?’

‘Not a word,’ said Véronique. ‘He did have the grace to explain to me what was going on. As if I didn’t know! He tends to forget that a good secretary knows more about her boss than she is often given credit for.’

Monsieur Pamplemousse glanced down at Pommes Frites. Despite having had a good night’s sleep, he was still looking slightly hung-over. Gazing round with his tongue hanging out, he was eyeing all the activity with interest. Joining in a game would do him the world of good.

‘Would you mind waiting here while I fetch my boules from the car?’ he enquired.

‘At least one of us thought you would never ask,’ said Véronique.

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