On the road to
freedom
by Jilliana
Ranicar-Breese
I used to be
friends with a Canadian Jewish girl called Seema
in London. She was well endowed with beautiful
Titian red hair and very voluptuous.
We decided to go hitchhiking to Spain via La
belle France. We got a lift as far as Louviers,
100 kilometres from Paris in Normandy and then
the heavens opened. We were unprepared and it was
getting dark.
In desperation I waved down a grey Mercedes which
seemed to be slowing down to pick us up! Two
bedraggled hungry girls gratefully got into the
posh leather upholstered car.
The driver was a distinguished elderly Frenchman
who didn’t speak English. In my school
French I explained we were heading for Spain
which seemed to amuse him. He told us to get into
the car and off we sped. But first he stopped at
a corner shop and picked up Camembert, salami and
a baguette for us plus local red wine for
our dinner.
He turned out to be a banker who was interested
in our courage to brave the journey.
He then indicated that we could stay at his home.
I innocently asked if he had room to which he
laughed and nodded. Mais oui! We then turned into
a leafy private road, past trees and bushes until
we reached his home. We gasped when we saw we had
arrived at a big chateau with two wings to the
east and west.
Somehow he made us understand that we were
staying in the west wing while he, his wife and
daughter were in the east wing. He told us that
his wife was giving a dinner party that evening
which was why he had bought us the food because
he couldn’t invite us.
It turned out the chateau had been taken over by
the Germans during the war. Before he retired he
showed us an area that had been untouched with
numbers on and uniforms piled high. This area was
boarded up with the inevitable Swastika symbol on
all the boards. It was erie and haunting. I
wondered what had happened to his family during
the war.
Back in the bedroom we watched the well dressed
guests arriving. And saw Madame greeting them
French style.
We didn’t sleep too well because the bed was
lumpy and dare I say, damp!
The next morning we found the remains of the food
left on the table. Monsieur appeared and told us
to help ourselves. There were grapes and cheeses.
Then he was gone.
It was still raining as we began to walk the
private road. Suddenly Monsieur drove up and told
us to get in the car. He took us to the main road
and waved adieu with a smile.
After that meeting I was determined to study
French and I did!
Written
in Nightingale 27/11/24.
|
