Chapter One - Moule II
The train skidded to a halt in the Boulogne station and we had to carry our luggage to the ferry-boat. There again, another first, a sea-crossing: my idea of the ultimate nightmare, just after the re-election of a Conservateur “député” (Member of the French National Assembly). Fortunately, the weather was a typical Summer one and no storm was brewing. We took possession of the boat and this first Sunday of August saw many other educational organisations pouring pupils and young students on the different decks that rapidly looked like the flea market. Some went directly to the self-service restaurant, others to sandwich dispensing machines. I had been saving pocket money for months and my grandparents had suitably topped up my holiday kitty. The tall blonde that had come to my rescue was coming out of the toilet and, there was no member of the group in sight. I could not explain whether the distance put between my normal life in Paris and the combination of dreams and fears ahead was working like the Stone of the Philosophers, but I somehow felt my inhibitions fading away.
Being brought up in a Lingerie Shop, I had seen all my young life in negligés and underwear several hours a day, every day, every week, and all these ladies, significantly older meant protection, those of my own age petrified me.
I walked swiftly to her. She was taller than I was, by a couple of inches. Her golden hair was parted in the middle and fell like a cascade below her shoulder. Her darker eyebrows accentuated her royal air. Her mouth was always slightly open, as if frozen between two questions. Her full lips making me feel like kissing her.
‘I know that you are totally out of my league and that I may have to wait for a few years before ladies of your status even condescend acknowledging my presence, but I would like to thank you for your assistance early this morning. Allow me to invite you to the restaurant on the next deck up.’
She raised her eyebrows. She was probably only three years older, but from a completely different world. I imagined that her boy friends took her in their fancy cars to discos whereas, being nearly fifteen, I was not even allowed in a café unless accompanied by an adult.
‘Please, accept. I can assure you that it has taken me a lot of courage to come near you and speak to you… Do not you see in me the one that I am now, but rather think of the one who I may become with the assistance of your glittering eyes… Please, don’t make kneel and beg you!’ Over the years, I had practiced silly approaches like that to the customers who simply laughed me off, but this time, it was for real.
She smiled and said:
‘You’re so sweet!’ She laughed gently. ‘C’est ça,’ I thought, ‘prends-moi pour un con!’ (‘So you think I am a jerk’ may be an acceptable translation).
‘Please accept my arm and let me dream for a while!’ She raised her right hand and flipped her hair back. She moved, barely touching the ground, swaying her hips with elegance. I folded my right arm (as I had seen in many romantic movies, the hero looking marginally more attractive than your servant), my elbow brushing against her left hip, which sent me electric waves. She placed her lovely hand around my elbow and we made our way towards the staircase, without me noticing the yawing motion of the boat.
‘Isabelle, what are you doing?’ A girl called, from the self-service. Good, I knew her name.
‘I’ll catch up with you later!’ Isabelle replied.
‘I’m glad that you said that! For a fleeting second, I was afraid that you would change your mind!’ I commented.
‘I wouldn’t do such a thing!’ She replied, pretending to be offended, but her smile betraying genuine amusement, perhaps the motherly instinct in her.
We reached the top of the staircase and a waiter came to us:
‘We would like a table for two people!’ I said proudly. It was the first I would sit in a restaurant with a girl who would neither be a member of the family nor a customer.
‘Very well, Sir. Follow me!’ I must have been gleaming with joy.
‘You’re really enjoying this!’ Isabelle had a voice that made me imagine her as a druidess singing to the Gods in the field.
We came to the table. The waiter went behind Isabelle, pulled her chair back. She sat down and he accompanied her descent so that she did not have to make any effort. He then did the same for me. Napkins were placed in a pyramid fashion on our plates, he unfolded Isabelle’s and cast it on her lap and repeated the operation for me.
‘It’s the first time I’m in a restaurant without an adult, the first time with a woman, the first time with the earthly incarnation of a Goddess … and probably the last time before I can assume that she will be the mother of my children!’
‘Don’t you have a girlfriend?’
‘I have kissed a couple of times, but it seems that the rest of their bodies was a no man’s land, for me anyway… Yes, Isabelle, I’m ashamed, but you have before you a young man who is immaculate as the Virgin Mary!’
She threw herself back on her chair and laughed frankly. The restaurant was filling up and neighbouring conversations might soon ruin our nascent intimacy. The waiter came to our table and asked: ‘Are your ready to order?’
‘Not yet, we have not looked at the menu yet.’ I answered.
‘Would you like to have a drink first?’ He asked.
‘What would you like, darling?’ I winked to Isabelle, hoping that she would play her part as I expected. She smiled, probably thinking that she was babysitting an oversized toddler.
‘A red Martini, on the rocks, with a slice of lemon. What about you, hubby dear?’
I undoubtedly blushed, but a feeling of intense satisfaction overpowered me. She indeed had cottoned to my little scheme or, perhaps, as the following months and years would soon teach me, I had cottoned to HER game. There I was, sitting at the same table as a future top model. Hang on, I don’t mean for a minute that she was a bimbo, on the contrary, she also conveyed the impression of sailing through the educational system, regardless of the subject. She was more than a woman, she was an apparition and I was totally subdued by her charm. At the same time, I knew that she would only remain a dream and I wanted to tell her how much she already represented in my life and, most important, in my dreams. I waited for the waiter to leave us. Isabelle glanced at me over the top of the menu card that she was perusing.
‘You have no idea of the effect that you have on me!’ I started.