Monsieur Pamplemousse and the French Solution (4 page)

‘At the same moment as I reached down to retrieve her napkin, which had become detached from her bosom and fallen to the floor, I couldn’t help but notice the top buttons of her habit were undone, revealing what I assumed at the time to be virgin territory. Her
mandarines
, Aristide, were in full view, each
pointe de sein
erect and protruding as though, despite the ambient temperature in the cabin, she had just stepped out of a cold shower.’

‘It is extraordinary the amount of information one can glean in a split second,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse.

The Director eyed his subordinate suspiciously. ‘It is all part of our training, Pamplemousse,’ he said stiffly. ‘No doubt when you sit down in a restaurant
and your gaze alights on the table, you automatically experience much the same reaction: the arrangement of the cutlery; the juxtaposition of the knives, the forks and the spoons; the angle at which the wineglasses are set; the positioning of the condiments.’

Monsieur Pamplemousse couldn’t help thinking the analogy was stretching his imagination more than somewhat, but he tried to look suitably rebuffed.

‘I averted my gaze, of course,’ continued Monsieur Leclercq, ‘and as I did so she reached for her carry-on bag; a Louis Vuitton Antigua Cabas Shopper. I know, because my wife, Chantal, wants one, and despite the price there is a long waiting list. At the same moment I caught a waft of perfume, which momentarily threw me off guard …’

‘Don’t tell me,’ essayed Monsieur Pamplemousse. ‘Your heads collided again.’

‘Worse that that,’ said Monsieur Leclercq, gripping the edge of his desk as he relived the memory.

‘By sheer chance our lips met and she held her own against mine. I cannot tell you what a heady moment it was as her tongue set out on a voyage of discovery.

‘Believe me, Aristide, such explorations take on another dimension at 10,000 metres. It felt as though I was suddenly soaring heavenwards at the speed of light.’

I
bet it did
, thought Monsieur Pamplemousse, wondering where the conversation was heading.

‘She turned out to be a charming girl,’ continued the Director. ‘She told me her name was Maria.
Apparently, she was called that because at the time she was conceived her mother was watching a film called
The Sound of Music
.’

‘On a home video, I trust,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse, ‘and not in a cinema.’

Monsieur Leclercq chose to ignore the interruption. ‘I assumed from her manner she was a novice, and I wondered if perhaps she had only recently taken the vow, possibly as the result of an unrequited love affair in her native land, and was now in need of some fatherly advice.

‘However, she forestalled me by asking if by any chance I belonged to “The Mile High Club”, and if not, would I care to join?

‘It appears to be an exclusive organization; membership is restricted to people such as myself who are frequent travellers, coming and going like ships that pass in the night.’

“Coming and going” struck Monsieur Pamplemousse as a singularly felicitous way of putting it.

‘And did you?’ he asked. ‘Join, I mean.’

‘Yes, and no,’ said the Director. ‘Possibly it had to do with her calling – the Vatican has a reputation for bureaucracy, but just as I was working out what the equivalent might be in kilometres, she revealed that it was necessary to undergo some kind of initiation ceremony. Apparently, it involved the use of water, much like a christening, so she suggested we repair to the toilet.

‘Afterwards, she explained, I would be issued
with a card. She happened to have one in an inner pocket of her habit. It had already been signed by the President …’

‘Monsieur Sarkozy?’

‘No, Pamplemousse,’ said the Director testily. ‘A lady also bearing the name Maria. Maria Monk, president of the club. It would simply require my signature, plus my companion’s counter approval once the ceremony was over. My understanding was that membership entitled one to certain benefits at a chain of Parisian health clubs run by a graduate of the Corporeal Relaxation and Physical Stress Relief Department of the University of Bangkok.

‘By then her outer garment required urgent attention – mopping up operations with the vodka and caviar was indicated, and since the cabin staff were still otherwise engaged, she suggested there was no time like the present and we could perhaps kill two birds with one stone by repairing to the toilet.

‘She suggested I count up to ten and then follow on behind.’

‘And?’ Monsieur Pamplemousse felt himself on the edge of his seat. Even Pommes Frites was pricking up his ears.

‘As things turned out,’ said Monsieur Leclercq, ‘I wish I had made it
soixante
. Things might have taken a different course had I given the cabin staff time to intervene.

‘Once I was inside the toilet, she locked the door in order that we might remain undisturbed. I, of course,
averted my gaze while she set about removing her outer garment, which I must admit did seem to be somewhat brief in view of the inclement weather we have been experiencing of late.’

‘Perhaps,’ ventured Monsieur Pamplemousse, ‘the Vatican are also in the throes of an economy drive.’ But he was wasting his breath.

‘By chance,’ continued the Director, ‘I happened to catch sight of her reflection in a nearby mirror. Our eyes met and, turning her back, she edged towards me …

‘I didn’t know that nun’s habits have a zip fastener that runs the entire length from top to bottom, did you, Aristide?’

Monsieur Pamplemousse had to admit he had never had occasion to investigate the matter.

‘Well, hers did,’ said the Director. ‘And I tell you something else. When, at her invitation, I gave the catch a tug, it was like pulling the ripcord on a parachute. The garment billowed open, and as it floated to the ground she turned to face me, revealing yet another facet of her calling.

‘Before that moment I could hardly have claimed familiarity with a nun’s more intimate garments. Had I been asked for my views on the subject, I would have hazarded a guess at something sensible in calico with a double gusset, but a quick glance proved me wrong.

‘I was appalled, Aristide; absolutely appalled. I had no idea they led quite such Spartan lives. The poor girl was singularly ill equipped for the rigours
of winter. Apart from a token piece of gauzelike material,
culottes
were conspicuous by their absence. In short, to all intents and purposes she was as naked as the day she was born! I hardly knew where to rest my eyes.

‘The only thing I couldn’t help noticing was that she had a canal boat tattooed on her right
amortisseur
.’

Monsieur Pamplemousse stared at the Director. It was a long time since he had heard the word. He wondered where Monsieur Leclercq had been all these years.

‘Perhaps it was a stick-on,’ he suggested. ‘The tattoo, not the
nibard
.’

The Director stared at him. ‘What will they think of next?’ he exclaimed.

‘By then the poor girl was distraught. I comforted her as best I could, but she kept emitting moaning noises as though in the throes of some ghastly visitation. I even lent her my handkerchief. That was a mistake, of course. When I eventually retrieved it, there was lipstick everywhere.

‘I offered to lend her my jacket, but that only seemed to make matters worse.

She gave me another kiss and said she had never met anyone quite like me before.

‘This time, when our lips met it had quite the opposite effect to the first occasion. It felt as though we were plunging earthwards.

‘Can you guess why, Pamplemousse?’

‘You had slipped on some soap, monsieur?’

‘Nothing that simple,’ said the Director.

‘By then we were both on the floor. She was lying on top me and as I tried to disentangle myself, it happened again.

‘I became dimly aware of the Captain issuing an urgent warning over the loudspeaker system to the effect that the plane had entered an area of high turbulence. He was advising everyone to return to their seats.’

‘Saved by the bell, monsieur.’

‘No, Pamplemousse,’ said Monsieur Leclercq. ‘As things turned out, quite the opposite. In truth, I would have liked nothing better than to obey his instructions.

‘Almost immediately, someone began knocking on the door, calling out to the girl, asking her if she was all right.

‘I have to say, Pamplemousse, comparisons are odious, but for all their relative size and luxury, the toilets in Première Classe are as devoid of anywhere to hide as I imagine they must be in at the rear of the plane.’

‘I would think even more so,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse, trying to picture the scene. ‘I have often noticed that those who have the misfortune to be “girth stricken” have to back out the same way as they went in.’

‘A moment later,’ continued the Director, ‘the door flew open and I saw the Chief Steward gazing down at us. I had no idea until then that they have a special key for emergencies. I could tell by the look on his face
that he had jumped to entirely the wrong conclusion.

‘As he helped me to my feet I protested my innocence. Taking a leaf out of your book, Pamplemousse, I sought refuge in that age-old ploy you once apprised me of. I explained that my daughter was backpacking around the world, and I intimated that if any suggestions to the contrary were made I would refer the whole matter to my lawyers. I then lent Maria my mobile and suggested she telephone her mama, telling her there was nothing to worry about and that she was on her way home.

‘The poor girl seemed confused at first. Possibly it had something to do with her eye problem, or the inclement conditions, but she kept pressing the wrong button and operating the camera flash by mistake. It was most embarrassing.

‘Eventually, having managed to calm her down, I stood back and left her to dial a number at random, while I tried to think of what to do next.’

Monsieur Pamplemousse nodded approvingly. ‘As Pasteur was fond of saying, monsieur, chance favours the prepared mind.’

‘That may have been true in Pasteur’s case,’ said the Director grimly, ‘but it certainly did
me
no favours.

‘I have to say Maria played her part as to the manner born. As soon as contact was established she assumed a child-like voice, full of girlish squeals. She went through the whole gamut about how she had never had such a lovely time in her life, and how happy she was. “Now I will hand you over to Papa.”
she trilled at last, handing me the mobile.’

‘And?’

‘What is the worst thing you can say to a woman on the other end of a telephone, Aristide?’

‘There is nothing whatsoever to worry about, cherie?’ suggested Monsieur Pamplemousse.

‘
Exactement
!’ said the Director. ‘You have hit the nail on the head, Aristide. In my experience there is no surer way of arousing a woman’s suspicions than by ringing her up out of the blue and saying there is no need to worry. Although in the event I didn’t even get that far.

‘You cannot possibly imagine the stream of vituperation that greeted me when I put the receiver to my ear.’

‘But surely, monsieur, you only had press the OFF button to cut the call. The person at the other end would never have guessed who you were. Even if they had, what did it matter? You were over 10,000 metres up in the air over the Atlantic ocean.’

‘It matters a great deal, Pamplemousse,’ said the Director soberly, ‘when it happens to be your wife. That is something not even Pasteur, for all his knowledge and worldly wisdom, could have prepared his mind for. Like me, he might well have wished he was on the ocean bed, rather than 10,000 metres above it.’

‘I fully understand, monsieur, that what you have just told me could not have been the best news in the world, but …’

‘There are no “buts” about it, Pamplemousse,’ said
the Director grimly. ‘It was the worst possible news. Furthermore, it was only the tip of the iceberg.’

‘You mean, there is worse to come?’

‘That is putting it mildly,’ said Monsieur Leclercq. ‘It was not what our American friends would call a “marriage enhancing” situation. Fortunately, by the time I recognised Chantal’s voice I was thinking on my feet. It made me appreciate what it must be like for a boxer when he finds himself up against the ropes with no means of escape, and the eyes of the world are upon him. Think how much worse it was in the confines of an Airbus galley, Aristide. At the time, I thought I acquitted myself well.

‘As soon as I was able to get a word in edgeways I assumed an American accent and turned what might have been a debacle into a failure-deferred success. Peppering my speech with the latest transatlantic phraseology I had picked up during the human potential seminar, I began by apologising for my daughter’s bone-head behaviour in dialling the wrong number.

‘Then I went on to say it was my sincere hope madame wasn’t feeling emotionally disrupted, or that she pictured me as some kind of crazy kook trying to pull a fast one by entering her life under the radar. I also made the point that I did not want her to think she had inadvertently become a pawn in a game plan which resulted in her feeling left off the loop. If that were the case, I would be happy to recommend a suitable anger evaluation consultancy …’

‘And she understood what you were saying?’

‘She was hanging on my every word,’ said the Director. ‘By the time I finished it was like having a pigeon eating out of my hand. A pigeon, moreover, cooing in a tone of voice I had not heard for many a year.’

‘Flushed with success, I suggested that since my daughter would be going straight back to finishing school once we landed, leaving me all on my own in little old Gay Paree, maybe the two of us could touch base.

‘It was merely gilding the lily with a pleasantry, as it were. I had no intention of following it up, but she took the wind out of my sails. Do you know what she said, Aristide?’

Monsieur Pamplemousse shook his head.

‘She said she would like nothing better, but we would have to exercise great care because her husband was due back shortly and he was apt to be extremely jealous.’

‘You must have regretted your offer, monsieur.’