Francois sat at the bar drinking his ‘pression’ with an unparalleled passion. As he wiped the remnants from his wrinkled and grey mouth his sharp eyes caught sight of two men who had sauntered in through the open front porch. Immediately the cogs began to whir in his mind and then they clicked like gold coins coming together in sweet symphony. “Des anglais!” The man's eyes darted from his empty glass to the men once again, swiftly swinging his stumpy legs around to face the men.
“Ah messieurs! Welcome to ze best bar in town, and it happens, you have er found ze best guide non? For the small price of une bière I will tell you all!” He looked at the pair with a smarmy smile that would put Fletcher to shame, gesturing to the bored looking bartender behind who had a megot hanging from his dry lips.
Darius looked at Joe smiling “why not, for we are thirsty for both knowledge and beer!”
Francois took this as a matter of course, firing off a litany of commands to the bartender, which although as quick as an automatic weapon, was interspersed with a round of expletives that made a nearby mademoiselle blush to her bleached roots.
Soon the trio were seated beneath an awning as cars rattled by on the road adjacent. Somehow François had snagged a fag off Darius and was smoking it contently while Darius looked slightly disgruntled as he rolled his own. Half a glass later François smacked his lips. “So, you are luking for azother Englishman oui? Your papa non?”
The brothers nodded, having explained this already numerous times in both languages.
“He liked ze rocks and ze histoire? I sink, I remember oui, wore a coat like a trèe non?”
“Yes exactly” Joe replied excitedly “the Barbour was his favourite for work”
Darius nodded nostalgically “he said he liked the numerous pockets”
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“Oui, ze Babeurre as you say. I souviens because he told me about the rocks in ze cliffs, and m’achete many bières ahaha!”
François excitedly drained his drink to punctuate the point, looking at Darius and Joe expectantly. Groaning Darius took out his tobacco pouch as Joe waved at the bartender “so do you remember where you took this man, our father?” Darius asked.
“Si. The zame place we took all ze anglais, the cave above St Jérôme.” Here the man's rosy face turned somewhat as he made the sign of the cross across his chest. “C'est dangereux en haut, il faut que je le dise. Les locaux hein” he tapped his temple “ eux ils savent de ne pas y aller. Souvent il y des bruits bizarres qui sortent de là, et il y a aussi des histoires des personnes qui ont disparu pendant l'en dans.”
“Hmm missing people and mysterious noises eh? Sounds like we're on the right track Dar.”
“Meh, more wacky inexplicable shit like your arm. Woopdidoo i'm so excited”
The three men chatted into the evening, François providing ample entertainment with his humorous tales of days gone by. They soon left ways having secured a promise from François to help them the following day, for a small fortune in euros of course.
—
The following day found the brothers following a beat up Renault 5 up a bumpy track from the village into the cliffs to the north east. A faint wisp of tobacco smoke could be seen trailing from the left window providing a clue to the driver within. Darius eyed the path warily with the thought of the extra insurance protection he had paid on the forefront of his mind. Joe however was feeling a sense of exaltation as they bounced their way through the intermittent woods and game trails. A faint whiff of moss and tea tree leaves permeated the air and as he breathed deeply he felt a sense of lightness he thought he had long lost. ‘here, we will find answers, I feel it in my bones’. Unbeknownst to him, parallel to his mental elation, the flames within him were flickering with unbridled vigor, their strength regained.
The small convoy finally crested the hill where they were met with a spectacular panorama of the valley below. The Renault slowed to a halt upon an out of place patch of tarmac that had invaded the surrounding bush like an ugly plaster scarring the landscape. The bald pate of François soon emerged surrounded by a cape of smoke smiling a somewhat toothless smile at the pair. “Et voilà, nous sommes arrivés!”