Writer's Notebook

It was with a heavy heart that I left Gensdouce just two days later to return to Olonne. I had just four weeks of my course to go but I knew they were going to be four long weeks. I sat there and imagined what they would be like. The work, the nights at the beach, the contacts with other students and teachers, they all seemed so trivial now. Violette had disappeared and I couldn't get her out of my thoughts. Was I still in love with her? I had certainly loved her once, although it may have been more a fascination with her beauty than true love. Certainly, she never really showed much love towards me; nor to anyone else for that matter. Maybe that was her tragedy. She so wanted to be loved, it made her unable to give it to any one person. After her disappearance rumours soon surfaced that she was pregnant. I remember asking Thérèse, but she refused to confirm or deny the rumours. At first, I thought they were true. But when Gérard swore to me that it was absolutely impossible, I believed him. Strangely, the thought never occurred to us that it could have been someone else.

Gérard and me were once again becoming friends. Not the kind of friendship we'd shared in those heady, carefree days of our first meeting in Ireland. I guess he never was that kind of person and I'd most definitely changed since then. I couldn't help wondering what his father would have made of me, had he met me for the first time now, and not the unruly youth I was back then. To be honest, I could even muster up a measure of understanding for his attempts to prevent Gérard from having anything to do with me. But this slight I got at the time I was most vulnerable hurt me deeply and it took me a long time to forgive him, despite his humble apologies. But now, we were growing closer again, and I slowly began to look on him as a friend.

As for the centre things were beginning to look up. Most of the old team had promised to renew their activities when we started up again after the holidays. In addition, we had one or two promising, new additions to our list of activities, including aquarelle painting and electric guitar. But our biggest gift was Morgana. Guillaume and Thérèse had mentioned Morgana several times in their letters and I was disappointed not to have had the chance to meet her. She came from Brittany, so was a fellow Celt. She was a music teacher and had recently been named the new director of the Conservatoire in Besançon. Not being used to large cities she decided to live outside the city and found a flat in Gensdouce quite close to the railway station. Being a stranger, yet not having the exotic touch an Irishman would have had, meant the population was somewhat cool towards her at first, but she soon won them over with her gentle manner and her willingness to do almost anything to help.

Unfortunately, French employment laws did not permit her to teach music other than at the Conservatoire, but she didn't let that stop her. The moment she heard about the espace loisirs she immediately volunteered to run a folk dance workshop, and didn't wait for us to open up to start. So every Thursday evening Jean's pub was turned to a dance hall and rocked to the sound of traditional folk music from all around the world. It even began to acquire the reputation as the place to go to look for a girlfriend. But that wasn't all. Morgana also volunteered for a fair amount of the centre's correspondence and thus became the centre's first secretary - unpaid, I hasten to add.

As for me, I was once again going to have to get used to school life. The prospect didn't quite fill me with unmitigated joy. It had been a chore at the best of times, but the events of the past few weeks made it more difficult than ever. At least, there were no more exams and the four weeks crawled by until, at last, I was once again sitting in the train and returning to Gensdouce, excited at what the next few months would bring. Make or break time was coming near. Would we beat all the odds and make the centre work? Would I still be in a job in six months time? And most important of all, would I see Violette again?

As David stood next to Simon in the aisle, only one thought passed through his mind. Why on earth did they have to pick, this day of all days. David hated Valentine's day, ever since the trick that had been played on him. And what made things worse was that Melanie had no idea about what had actually happened. Melanie, if the truth be told, had suspected that he was in love with her, but had soon given up any hope in that direction when she found out about the Valentine's card to Veronica. But how could she know it was all an elaborate hoax.

David had been a longstanding and very proud member of the 2nd Tredegar Boy Scouts Troop, so once he's reached the age to move up to the Venture Scouts he was immediately given the job of secretary, part of which included having to sign the minutes of all their leaders' meetings. He attended these regularly so was surprised when Simon asked him to sign the minutes of a meeting he'd known nothing about. But he thought nothing of it, and didn't even notice the carbon paper hidden between the sheets above a Valentine's card. This was Simon's way of getting rid of a rival. He'd send the card to Veronica, and if all went well, he'd soon have Melanie all to himself. And it all worked out perfectly well. Veronica was so surprised to receive her first ever Valentine's card, David didn't have a chance to escape. And some six months later, Melanie said yes to Simon's proposal. So that was why David stood here today in the aisle of the church playing best man instead of husband. And in just one week's time, the roles would be reversed, as Simon would take on the role at David and Veronica's wedding.

Oliver didn't know what to do. Ever since he'd dared ask for more, his life had been turned into a misery. Now, there was little option left open to him but to beg, steal or borrow. Well, maybe borrow wasn't a good idea. Most people had something against getting regurgitated, borrowed goods back. But now, a new source of provisions was opening himself up to him. It all started when he went to sleep in one of these new-fangled telephone cells. They weren't exactly comfortable but they did, at least, afford him some little respite from the cold and moist London evenings.

The first night he'd been kicked out pretty quickly by a guy who'd threatened to call the police if ever he saw him again. The second night he'd sought out a cell quite a distance away from the first, and actually managed to stay there most of the night, not being disturbed until the infernal contraption started ringing and sent Oliver into flight, fearing that once again the police were onto him. The next night he decided he'd try his luck elsewhere but the cold soon got to him and forced him into desperate measures. This third cell proved to be the strangest of them all. The moment he crept inside, he realised it was far bigger than he'd ever imagined and full of the strangest contraptions. Then, a man entered, and Oliver hid himself in a corner, afraid that once again he'd be summarily evicted. But no, this man didn't evict him, he didn't even notice him. The man, apparently some kind of a doctor, was soon joined by a young woman, and together they pushed a few buttons. Oliver noticed nothing, but after a few minutes they talked about having arrived somewhere and decided to go out exploring. In case anything happened, they were to meet together at eight o'clock the next morning. The moment they left Oliver crept out of his hiding place. He had some ten hours and peeked outside. The landscape that presented itself to his eyes, seemed most strange and, not being as adventurous as the doctor and his companion, he decided to stay inside. He turned to the console in front of him and his eyes feasted themselves on the many buttons that presented themselves. He determined not to touch a single one; who knows what might happen. But temptation soon got the better of him and seeing several buttons that said London, he pressed one, and before he knew he was in the London of 2008.

He had in fact landed at precisely the same spot that the telephone cell had stood. But he recognised nothing because the site had been turned into one of London's biggest and most elegant hotels, and he was in the kitchen, or to be more precise, in the part of the kitchen where the fridge stood. Now, I'm sure you're all aware that a telephone cell would scarcely fit into a kitchen fridge, even if it was no ordinary hotel and no ordinary kitchen. But this cell could squeeze itself into almost any gap, including the smallest fridge space possible. Once Oliver felt certain that it was safe to do so, he opened the door and his eyes fell on all the wonderful goodies that had been prepared for a party that evening. He stared and stared. He'd never seen anything like it, not even back at the warehouse, in the governor's kitchen. In fact, he stared so much, that he almost forget to try anything. But he soon pulled himself together and attacked the contents with gusto, eating a lot and taking cramming all he could into his pockets, which seeing as he was in the magic tardis had now grown quite big.

Now came the greatest problem. In two hours time the doctor would be back and would wonder where his machine had got to. He let his eyes roam over the consul once again, but as he had no idea where he had come from, he had no idea which button to press. Then, he saw the abort button. With a bit of luck that might work. And indeed it did. And what's more, upon his return the doctor and his companion were kind enough to return their still hidden stowaway back where he came from. Now all he needed to do, was to memorise the place where this strange contraption stood, then he could pay a visit every day to the place with all the wonderful goodies. But as we all know, the tardis never stands in the same place for very long, and so Oliver was disappointed in his attempts to revisit the future. Instead, he turned to writing books about his strange adventures with the doctor, and earned himself a fortune, especially once the BBC got hold of his stories and started televising them.

It was an exact replay of that fateful day I arrived in Gensdouce. The same train, the same early morning wait. The same secretary... but this time I didn't sit and wait. I didn't even ask to see Meeeeezieur Demille as I had pronounced it in those days. I slammed my way through the antechamber leaving the poor woman no time to react and burst into the Mayor's office half forgetting to open the door. The one difference was that this time it was myself who had the pleasure of watching an adversary bounce his way to the bottom of the town hall stairs.

My job done, I made my way out of the town hall, across the bridge and ran as quick as I could to John's pub, but once again the village tellaphone had beaten me to it. And within minutes of my arrival people began to pour in to find out what had possessed me to commit such a daring act of folly. And it was only now that I asked myself the question. What had driven me to do such an incredible thing?

A few years back when it had been me on that same slide, I'd sworn to get my revenge for that humiliation. But that wasn't it. That revenge was cold and was still being spun out. Was it a sense of loss or betrayal? But how could I have expected anything different from him? Once again I saw his face and heard his kind words at the village meeting:

"... In addition, I am recommending Mr. Simon Brighting for the job of administrator of this centre. It's true, we have not always seen eye to eye in the past, and I'm not sure that we always will in the future. But my future daughter-in-law has convinced me of this young man's abilities and his motivation has been quite discernible in all he has said and done this evening and throughout the past weeks and months."

Now that I'd paid him back for his betrayal, I began to think over what I'd actually done. The thought of having caused him any actual physical harm didn't concern me in the least. But, one thing disturbed me profoundly. My act had almost certainly ruined any chances I still had of taking over the centre. The moment this thought entered my head, a hundred others followed it; all of them reminding me how stupid I'd been. I needed a drink and quick. Fortunately, John was there and he refused to give me one. But he did put on some good, hot coffee. When Thérèse came in, I succeeded in separating myself from the mostly admiring crowds and went into a corner to talk things over with her. Shortly after, we were joined by Guillaume with the news that the Mayor was no worse for his experience.

"Indeed, he might even have learnt something from it," he stated with a cheery voice. But we'd better start hoping he doesn't pull you up in court. What on earth drove you to do such a stupid act?"

I gave them the whole story and they were more than sympathetic. But they were still worried about the future. Apart from my attacking him I'd turned my back on the training program which was not only my gateway to a brighter future but the main hope of keeping the espace loisirs going. What were we going to do now?

"Where is he? I've got to see him at once."

The cry from somewhere behind me took me by surprise. I looked up to see Gérard pushing his large, sturdy body towards me. "Simon, what on earth have you done. Father's at home turning the place upside down and swearing to get his revenge. You've got to get out of here, now. He's just phoned up Inspector Lefevre in Besançon; he's sworn he'll see you in prison by nightfall.

"Don't worry about the Mayor. Just leave him to me."

With these words Thérèse got up and left the pub, followed by three pairs of more than astounded eyes gazing after her.

I didn't see her again until later that evening. I was sitting with Guillaume watching some soppy romantic comedy when she came in. We turned the television off as she pulled up her chair, but she still didn't take the hint.

"What are you looking at me like that for?" She was obviously enjoying every single glare of attention from us and seemed in no mood to ease the tension. But we did eventually coax out of her the fact that Mayor Demille had promised to drop any idea of a court-case. And more... If Simon would go back to Olonne and complete the last few weeks of the training program, he would find me a supervisor so that I could do my placement right here in Gensdouce.

Amazed I could only stammer, "How on earth did you manage that?"

But this time she didn't give me one of her knowing smiles. Indeed, I could almost have sworn, it was with tears in her eyes that she said, "I'm afraid, I'm not at liberty..." A loud knock then a slam and Mme. Bouclier burst into the room.

"Thérèse have you seen Violette? She's gone! She's taken everything with her, her clothes, her cosmetics, everything. Have you any idea where she is?"

But Thérèse just sat there deathly pale and staring into the emptiness.

"So what can I do for you Mr. Brighting?"

"Well Sir, I've been thinking about my placement at the end of the course. I've a somewhat special request to make..."

"I'm pleased to hear it. You're a talented young man, Simon and I've already been at work to pulling a few strings for you. If all goes well, then I hope to be able to get you an excellent placement in Rennes. There's even the possibility of your staying on there, as the assistant director is moving on at the end of the school year. And as a result of my efforts your way in should be quite smooth."

The ensuing silence was long enough to make him feel ill at ease. Still I didn't know what to say.

"Well, I expected you to be pleased and surprised but I did think you'd have something to say about it."

I did, and this complete misinterpretation of my reaction woke me to my anger. But I first tried the diplomatic approach.

"I very much appreciate your trouble on my behalf, Sir, but I'm afraid that just won't be possible. As you know, or should know, I've been sent here to prepare the opening of the new espace loisirs in Gensdouce. I'm just not available for another posting."

"Gensdouce? Where on earth is Gensdouce? I'm not talking about some mundane, little, backwater municipality; I'm talking about Rennes, the big city, your big opportunity."

Silence being the only answer I managed to muster, he went on.

"Well now, I'm glad to see that you agree with that, at least. When I got the letter from Javert asking me to do what I could for you, I agreed at once. We were old college friends, you know and we still get together every year at the annual gathering for Mayors. Of course, Gensdouce is only the beginning of his ambitions, and as such it'll do fine, but in a few years I quiet expect him to move onto better things. Anyway, when I got his request to take you in here, and to find you a good post somewhere, I took you in on his behalf. But now I realise you have real talent. You can go to the top, young man, and you should be forever grateful to Javert Demille for providing you with your big opportunity."

I can't remember anything more about this conversation, nor about how I reacted. I remained in a state of trance for the next few hours, and I saw only one way out. I phoned up a couple of friends and we hit the town. But the bottle after bottle only kindled my anger further, so instead of going back to bed to sleep it off, I ended up on the first train to Paris. From there, it was just two hours to home.

Helen walked spritely away from the old schoolhouse where she had just left Daisy. She loved being alone at night and what was there to be afraid about? Her parents always worried too much anyway. She knew there would be trouble when she got home, but she'd face that when she got to it. For now, she had twenty wonderfully free, moonlit minutes all on her own. And after all, it wasn't her fault if her brother had refused to accompany first Daisy and herself, and then just herself, preferring the comfort of a ten minute ride home to the drudge of a thirty minute walk, conveniently forgetting that it was her secret hope all along that he would do so. And what good would Ian have done them anyway. Had there really been a mad sex-attacker on the streets, then her spindly little brother would scarcely have proved a match for him. Besides, their club meeting had been both interesting and dense. There was a lot to think about. And now was the time to think things over. That's why she needed to be on her own.

Carter had chosen his spot carefully. He'd never been to this town before and no one here knew him. He'd arrived just a couple of days previously and taken a berth at the campsite outside of town. He had paid for a week's stay in advance and mixed easily in with the holiday makers. The mornings he would spend in town. The afternoons and evenings he'd laze around at the swimming pool reading or joining in the various sports activities held for the benefit of the campers. Anyone who'd talked to him, came away thinking this was just another Mr. Normal. True, they had no idea where he came from, but they'd never thought of asking. He just fitted in wherever he was.

During his morning visits to the town he would meticulously prepare his one deed of shame. That was his first rule, and he was totally scrupulous in the way he stuck to it: never more than one attack in the same town. That was the only way to stay free. He had heard of others in his position who'd been taken because they grew too greedy, or they didn't leave enough time between attacks. That would not happen to him.

Shopping bag in hand he melted into the crowds of locals and holiday makers, whilst all the time taking in the information around him. The streets, the narrow alleys and the broader pedestrian areas. The shops, the street vendors, the local meeting places. Where did people congregate? He'd have to steer well clear of those places. What routes did they take walking back and forth into town? And where could he lie in wait? His search revealed several interesting facts. The first was a concert Thursday evening in the large courtyard opposite old schoolhouse. That would certainly attract a large number of young people. True, most wandered home in groups, but if you waited then there was nearly always the odd one out, who either wanted or had little choice but to be alone. Then, he discovered that Ransvereux had no municipal police force - all the policing was done by car. And the moment he had discovered this, he knew where he would lurk.

The town centre was cordoned off by a small metal posts strategically placed just a few months previously, in order to prevent cars from parking on the sides of the wide pedestrian alley and clogging up the entrance. Anyone needing access could come through the back streets but it did mean that there was a stretch of some fifteen metres into which no cars could come. No cars meant no police controls and Carter's heart skipped a beat. Within minutes he had found a suitable hideout between a second-hand bookshop and a baker's. The alley led to a courtyard with nothing but storehouses and the bakehouse. At night, it would be totally uninhabited. Now, all he had to do was wait for Thursday.


Helen skipped along gaily as she approached the square leading down to the main street. She'd had her time alone, and was now looking forward to getting home. As she went on, she gradually became aware of the sound of music somewhere in the distance. Must be the concert she had seen when she dropped Emily off at home. They'd soon be getting out and the town would liven up again for a brief time. But Helen was in no mood for company tonight, so she carried on home, stopping only to glance into the window of the second bookstore long enough to note that they had nothing new today... on past her favourite baker's, the flower shop where her mother worked and then down the steps and through the small alley that led to her parents' flat. And just one minute later Carter took up position in his lair on the lookout for some unsuspecting victim.

Life on the training program wasn't all work and no play. The college was situated in Olonne just a few short miles from one of France's most beautiful and most renowned Atlantic resorts. So we students very often congretated there after class just to relax, chill out and visit the town's many bars and dance halls. As usual, I proved to be quite popular with the girls and rarely suffered for lack of an escort. But more often than not we hung around in groups, grilling on the beach and singing protest songs late into the night. Now and again, a couple of local policemen cast a weary eye on us, in search of various illicit substances. Smelling our breath made little sense, as our alcohol intake on such evenings was usually so high that nothing else could be detected. But after the first few weeks, the police must have put us down as being quite innocuous as they stopped bothering us. And those who did drift our way, usually joined in the fun.

During these long evenings as we sat there soaking up what was left of the descending sun and putting the world to right, my thoughts often went back to Gensdouce and to Violette. I'd not seen her since the night of the meeting in Gensdouce when I was appointed the new director of the espace loisirs. Rumours as to her relationship with Gérard were rife. Some felt they would be married before the summer. Others weren't so sure; she had after all been involved with so many young men in the past... including me, I thought still not able to put the bitterness out my feelings. True, I'd played around with the girls myself and had my fun but I'd never got serious with anyone and would hope that I'd hurt anyone, the way Violette had hurt me. But it was no use crying over spilt milk, so for the umpteenth time I threw my scattered thoughts into the wind and resolved not to think about any girl for the time being. Besides, the last thing I wanted to throw was to throw myself into another relationship right now, especially here, hundreds of miles from where I knew I belonged and would very soon be returning to.

During these months at the college I was in constant touch with Gensdouce. Guillaume and Thérèse wrote regularly, as did Annie. She and John were now converting the little outrooms I had once occupied into a small shop where they wanted to sell Irish products. Annie had met the owner of such a shop whilst on holidays last year and threw themselves into the idea the moment they discovered that Besançon had nothing similar. They hoped this would be a real money-spinner and had even promised to devote part of the profits to the espace loisirs, helped by the promise of a, for once, generous French government to increase the tax-breaks granted on donations to charitable and cultural insitutions.

But despite all this correspondence and the not infrequent phone calls, it soon became clear that if the centre was to open as planned in September, then someone was needed right now in Gensdouce, who would take up the reins and move things forward. My course was due to continue for another four weeks and then I would be assigned to an office somewhere nearby for a three month placement. Would it be possible to return to Gensdouce for the placement? The questions was more than a practical one, as I suddenly realised that I was beginning... no, ... that all along I had been homesick for Gensdouce and for those who were now far more than just friends.

Now, I knew I had to get back, come what may. I jotted down a short note to the course supervisor: "Could I come in and see you sometime tomorrow afternoon," and dropped it off at the office on the way to my afternoon classes. I was cheered up no end seeing a letter from Thérèse in my box and raced to class feeling the world was at last beginning to work out for me. That was before I opened the letter, itself, so full of good news, but finishing with the words:

"I saw Violette coming out of her mother's shop today. I'm afraid she didn't look at all well and she'd obviously been crying. She immediately turned the other way when she saw me coming, but when I followed her she softened and we went for a coffee. She won't let me say too much, but I can say that she's not at all well."