The Elder Man by Katherine Wyvern

Author:Katherine Wyvern [Wyvern, Katherine]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780369501585
Publisher: Evernight Publishing
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

The night’s storm had left the air clean, cool, and fresh, and the trees, which had been dusty and dull the day before, gleamed and shimmered in the morning sun like enameled jewels. Outside the sheltered valley, the storm had wreaked disasters all over the region. Paul and Allie, who had driven in from two different directions, reported a number of fallen trees and wrecked power and telephone lines. Some trees had come down on the roads, but local farmers had gone out with tractors and chainsaws and cleared the mess without any need to involve the public services, something that impressed all the foreigners at the table. EDF trucks were already on the way to fix power lines.

In the garden, many of the softer plants had a soggy and flattened look, and the ground was littered all over with twigs and torn leaves. But nothing heavier had fallen, as if the valley was under an invisible protective spell.

The only trouble the storm had caused at Le Sureau Noir, it turned out, was that it had ripped out the tarp that covered the straw bale at the building site. The bale, which had been opened and somewhat scattered, had been reduced to a sodden, sticky mess.

“My fault,” said Allie miserably. “I thought I had fixed it, but clearly it was not enough.”

“Don’t beat yourself up,” said Van. “I should have double checked everything and weighed it down. I was, ahem, distracted.”

“I’ll call Alain. He’ll bring another,” said Allie.

“He’ll be busy as hell with all the mess the storm has made. It’s no big deal. Start with what we have, anything that can be salvaged. You might find some dry stuff at the bottom. I’ll go get a few square bales to get us through the day, and he can bring a new big bale in the evening.”

“I will call. Maybe he can find a minute to drop in...”

“Nah, don’t bother. I’ll take the Vanva. It’ll be quicker. Armin, come with me. You can give me a hand to load them and bring them down.”

“What on earth is a Vanva?” asked Armin as they walked up the path to the house.

“It’s Michel Speech for Van’s van.” Van dipped quickly into the entrance and fetched a car key out of a box on a shelf then put on a pair of old combat boots that stood rather forlorn in the porch, collecting dust.

“Oh dear,” said Armin, blanching and then blushing, as he wore his immaculate Pumas. He had meant to jump Van’s bones the moment they were well out of sight of the garden, but the thought of being in a car hit him like a bucket of freezing water.

“What?”

“Nothing, I hate being in a car is all. Is it far? Perhaps I can follow you on foot? I’m a fairly good jogger.”

Van grinned. “Motion sick?”

“Always.”

“You drive, then. You’ll be all right.”

“Wh-what? I don’t even have my license with me!”

“Look around, child, how many gendarmes do you think are lurking in the trees? You can drive, can’t you?”

“Er, we-ell.

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