Faster than Fairies, Faster than Witches 

Chapter 1

“Your mother asked me to give you lunch and take you home later this afternoon.” Said Mrs Webb

as Gemma got into her car at the end of the boarding-school term.

Gemma was not in the least bit surprised as this had happened every term for the last three years

ever since her mother had gone back to work full time. At first she had felt neglected and upset, she

accused her mother of not doing her maternal duty. Now she had decided that there was a definite

advantage as it meant she had so much more freedom, and anyway she rather enjoyed her

afternoons at the Webbs’ house. Aurora always had marvellous new games and had promised that

they could play tennis on the Nintendo Wii that she was given last Christmas.

Aurora had two brothers one older and the other younger and they were always good fun. The

three siblings were very close together in age and teased each other unmercifully.

Names were very important in the Webb family. Mr Webb was an enthusiastic amateur classicist

and he had selected Ancient Greek names for his offspring. The eldest was Damian Aristotle, called

“arse” by his brother and sister; the youngest was named Lysander Homer, but generally known as

“lice” or “nits”. For his daughter Mr Webb chose Eos Persephone, but, Mrs Webb decided that that

was not really fair in the modern world to lumber a girl with such unusual names and claiming that

she had the right to name their daughter if he decided for the sons, changed it to Aurora Penelope.

Her brothers, however, rarely used those names. Often she was called “Bore” after the Northern

Lights, and Damian, who was a keen army cadet with dreams of joining the Grenadier Guards,

sometimes called her “Hector”.

Lunch with the Webbs was always delicious and Mrs Webb went out of her way to produce a special

feast to welcome her children home at the end of term.

The tennis was great fun but turned out to be more difficult than she was expecting. It was galling

that Aurora was so much better than she was, and Lysander better still! Damian had something else

to do, much to Gemma’s disappointment but she was quite glad he was not there to see how

rubbish she was at it. Once she had had enough practise to have actually won the last game that

they played Gemma felt she was leaving on a “high” and was happy to be taken home after tea.

“We are going to have a proper family dinner today to celebrate the end of term” her mother

announced wiping her hands on her apron as she came to open the front door. She had never been

a very keen cook even when she was being a stay-at-home mother so this was rather special! Come

and talk to me while I get this into the oven.

“Oh I do hate chopping up onions, but it always makes me think of that little rhyme:

If a man who onion cries

Cries not when his father dies

It would seem that he would rather

Have an onion than a father.”

Her mother seemed to have some little quotation for every situation.

“Both the twins are coming over, with Justin and Natalie of course, but they don’t want to be too

late as they have got something they are doing later, so we’ll eat as soon as they arrive.”

Gemma’s siblings, Caroline and Andrew, were more than twenty years older than her and had both

long since left home but they did not live too far away and could sometimes be prevailed upon to

come and see their little sister. It was a great treat when they did come because she idolised them

both. She tolerated their partners knowing that if Natalie and Justin did not come too she would

never see her brother and sister.

“So how’s our little princess getting on?” Andrew enquired as they sat down to dinner, “I trust you

are still showing the others how to do it!”

“Well, now that we have finished with the Key Stage exams we just had ordinary end of term ones

and I did come top in English Lit, English Lang, French, History, Geography and Music.”

“Not bad. But what about Maths and Science? You’ll never make a really useful modern woman if

you don’t master those too.”

“Just because you are an accountant you think everyone should love numbers.” Said his twin sister

“Don’t you worry, sweetheart, that was a brilliant haul. Continue like that and you will be able to do

anything you want” And changing the subject went on to say “Mother, I am afraid we are all going

to have to dash off as soon as we finish dinner. We have got tickets for that cinema club we belong

to and the film starts at 11p.m.”

“What are you going to see.”

“A French film, “Emmanuelle””

“I remember when that came out.” said their father “It was very cutting-edge naughty at the time.

In fact I am not sure it did not have a role in your conception!”

“Dad, please?”

“What’s wrong, Andy?” broke in Justin, Caroline’s partner. “Won’t you allow your parents a sex life?

I don’t see you as a candidate for immaculate conception.” Andrew and Justin had never been very

good friends, in fact neither of her siblings could understand what Caroline saw in him.

“Can I come to the cinema?” asked Gemma

“No.” Came a chorus from everybody else at the table in unison

“Why not, it would be very good for my French?”

“Oh darling” said her sister “they would never let you in and they would never let us back if we tried

to take you in.”

Their mother realised that a change of subject was needed so announced “I have got some things

here for you three. You all know that Great Aunt Stella died a few weeks ago.”

The twins both said “Yes.”

“I didn’t know, you didn’t tell me. I loved Aunt Stella, I don’t want her to be dead.” wailed Gemma.

“She loved you too, but she was very old, 96, and she fell and broke her leg then she had a major

stroke while she was in hospital. Anyhow, although all her money is tied up waiting for Probate, she

left you each something specific to remember her by, James has been sorting them out. Andrew you

have got the musical box that she said always used to fascinate you when you were a child. Caroline

you are to have the brooch that she used to wear most of the time. And Gemma for you there is a

painting of a castle that was hanging in the hall that she said you particularly loved to look at. The

only trouble is that there were two pictures of castles in the hall and James hopes he got the right

one. I have got it here for you.”

“No he didn’t, it was the other one. This one was in the dark bit of the hall so you couldn’t see it

properly. The one I liked was that German one they used in Chitty Chitty Bang Bang. I think it was

called Neuschwanstein. It looked like something out of a fairytale. But don’t worry I rather like this

one now that I can see it properly. It looks like a proper castle, and it will still remind me of Aunt

Stella”

CHAPTER 2

After the others have left for the cinema and she has done her share of the washing up Gemma

went upstairs and had a really long, luxurious bath with an entire bottle of bubble bath, which she

liberated from her mother’s supposedly secret supply.

She had no particular problem with school, after all that was where her friends were, but home was

better. Once she felt she had soaked school away and was ready to start the holidays she went back

to her room and put on a night dress with the rather smart dressing gown that Great Aunt Stella

gave her last Christmas and sat down to have a good look at her picture.

It is a very sturdy, no-nonsense castle with turrets and a draw-bridge, it is obviously very old and

conjures up visions of gallant knights in shining armour and beautiful damsels in distress.

As she sat there on her bedroom chair there was a peculiar tugging feeling which started very gently

but got stronger and stronger until she felt she was whizzing along so fast that she could only shut

her eyes and hope for the best. After a bit, when she seemed to be slowing down, she opened one

eye a bit, just in time to see a grassy slope approaching. She was deposited, surprisingly gently, on

this slope next to some viciously sharp looking rocks and looking up Gemma saw that she was just

below the castle in her painting.

It could not possibly be, it must be her imagination real people did not find themselves transported

into pictures. It could not be a dream, you never asked yourself if you were dreaming when you

were still asleep, if only you could it would make nightmares much less frightening. She shook her

head and pinched herself but it made no difference. In a way she was rather pleased because it was

rather exciting suddenly to find herself somewhere odd like this.

The castle looked very menacing and fierce sitting on top of its hill, and instinct told Gemma to

approach very cautiously, but before she could move out from behind the rocks there was the sound

of wheels and horses. An ancient looking carriage preceded by a troop of armed men on horseback

emerged on the dusty track leading out of the thick wood below and drew to a halt while one man

rode ahead towards the castle.

As Gemma watched from behind the rocks a young woman climbed out and crept back into the

woods.

This was not a situation that Gemma could resist and with the excuse in her mind that at least this

would, presumably, get her into the castle she quietly let herself into the carriage. As she was still

wearing her dressing gown she felt she looked a bit like the person who ran off.

“Who are you, and where has my maid gone?” demanded a girl of about her own age. It must have

been her maid who ran off.

When Gemma cannot answer that she went on “Never mind now, as you are here now you will have

to help me change my clothes, at least she has left everything ready. My name is Lady Catherine de

Quercy and I am here to marry Gaspard de Rocquefeuille of Bonaguil. We were betrothed when I

was seven and he was fourteen, but now that I have just had my fourteenth birthday I have been

sent for to come and be married properly.”

Helping with the dressing was not very difficult as the girl was able to do most of it herself. She just

needed help with a row of tiny buttons and tying a ribbon. “You are hopeless!” she declared as

Gemma tied a very wonky bow on the sleeve of her dress, “but I suppose you are better than

nothing. Marie is very naughty, I would have let her go off to visit her aunt if she had waited until I

arrived, she knew how important this meeting is for me.”

Just at that moment there was a knock on the door of the carriage “Open it then.” ordered Lady

Catherine. Outside Gemma found a wonderfully attractive young man with longish curling brown

hair and mesmerising dark eyes. He looked extremely surprised to see her there, but managed to

say only “Is Lady Catherine ready now? I have just had a signal from the castle to say that they are

about to lower the draw-bridge.”

“Just a minute, please, Chevalier” said the girl from behind Gemma and indicating a loose strand of

hair insisted that it be fixed inside her headdress.

The carriage jolted up the hill and soon the change in the sound from the wheels indicated that they

were crossing the draw-bridge and entering the castle courtyard. The carriage door was thrown

open and a middle aged woman was standing there, and behind her a number of other females of

various ages, at least three of whom were obviously daughters.

“My mother-in-law, Lady Anne” whispered Catherine as she stepped elegantly out of the carriage.

Gemma followed, rather less elegantly, but she told herself, with a bit of practice she would be able

to do it just as well.

“Catherine, my dear, welcome to Bonaguil.” Said Lady Anne “I am afraid that our men folk have had

to go to the furthest corner of our lands to put down some unrest, they will not be back before

tomorrow at the earliest. Come now and meet the ladies of our household. Chevalier, arrange for

Lady Catherine’s trunk to be taken to her room.”

Two of the soldiers were given orders to take the trunk up a narrow spiral staircase so, as she was

supposed to be being a maid and was obviously not going to be introduced to the ladies of the

household, Gemma followed them.

In the bedroom there was just a big four poster bed, a stool and a small table. There was nothing

much she could do but sit on the stool and think about the situation in which she found herself .

Thinking about it she realises that all the people must really be speaking French but it is as if her

head has been fitted with a very superior version of Google Translate because she can understand

everything that everyone says and when she speaks, although it feels, and sounds, to her as though

she is speaking English other people apparently hear it in their own language. It was all very odd but

rather wonderful!

After a while Catherine made her way up the stairs and into the room.

“Lady Anne is very kind and welcoming but the girls are really horrid, just because they all speak

French all the time! They make fun of my accent and the way I talk.”

“What do they think is wrong with the way you talk? It sounds alright to me”

“Thank you, but you speak the Langue d’Oc too so it would sound alright.”

How odd! Gemma had never even heard of the Langue d’Oc so she did not know how she was

speaking it.

“What language was the Chevalier speaking when he came to tell you that the drawbridge was

about to be lowered?”

“What a strange question! French, of course.”

Odder and odder! It had not sounded any different to her.

Catherine was not one to dwell on her problems and was rather excited by her new surroundings.

“It is the first time I have been here but my uncle said it was very fine. Strong and newly built. I’m

sure I’ll soon get used to it. I was expecting to have Marie here with me at least to start with but she

has disappeared, so.... I have no idea who you are or where you came from and you are obviously

not really a maid or you would have been more competent at helping me with my clothes and you

would have opened my trunk by now. I wonder if you do have any uses at all, can you play chess?”

“Yes, but not very well” Gemma replies

“That proves it, no serving maid would ever be able to play chess.” Exclaimed Catherine

triumphantly “Do let’s have a game. I have got a set here, my cousin Edouard gave it to me as a

wedding present. He made it especially for me. He taught me to play, but he was the only person I

could play with, my aunt did not approve of girls playing chess and my girl cousins were just like her.

I’ll set it up on this table. No, there is not time now I suppose we had better go and eat, but as soon

as we are free again. You will have to go down to the kitchen. I am afraid that there will not be a

place for you at the dinner table and it would not be possible to explain that you are not really a

serving maid but some kind of magic being from who-knows-where. They would be petrified and

have you arrested as a witch, which would be horrible.”

Gemma thoroughly agreed, she had some idea of what happened to witches and the grisly sort of

things that were done to them. It was so lucky that Catherine did not seem to think of her as a witch,

more some kind of fairy! Rather a substantial fairy. Gemma’s parents had recently taken her to a

performance of Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Iolanthe” which featured a group of fairies that were about as

fairylike as a herd of elephants, but that was what made them so funny.

The kitchen was not difficult to find, the crashing of pans and the smell of cooking lead Gemma to a

cavernous room where she found a large man with only one leg overseeing a couple of young boys

and a wizened little old man as they tended the oven and cut up fruit and vegetables. The boys

seemed incredibly young for that kind of work, but there was probably not any law against child

workers in whatever year it was that she had landed in.

The chef looked at her in amazement. “Who are you? I presume you came with Lady Catherine.

Nobody told me that there was going to be anyone extra. Come in, you can help us clear up later

As soon as dinner had been taken in to the dining room by the boys the five of them sat round the

kitchen table to eat their own meal. It was very simple consisting of a vegetable stew ladled onto

thick pieces of bread and a cup of a rather unpleasant red wine. Not that Gemma knew anything

about wine, or liked it on the rare occasions she had been allowed to drink it at home. There was

water but it did not look very clean.

The chef turned out to be much nicer than he had at first appeared though Gemma realised that he

was touching her more than was strictly necessary. The two boys vied with each other to attract her

attention – the shorter one, Jean, obviously had some kind of mental problem, while the taller Jean-

Marie had the worst case of acne she had ever seen. The old man leered at her in a most unnerving

way.

At least washing up was something she could do, but it was odd not having the usual brushes,

sponges or washing-up liquid, or even much water. Gemma noticed that she was only given the

plates from the dining room to clean and was only expected to wipe them over with a rather nasty

damp cloth, the wooden boards that they had been eating off in the kitchen were just wiped over

with a piece of bread and then the bread was eaten.

The two men and two boys sat and watched her for a while before getting on with the other kitchen

tasks. Except for the one legged chef who decided that she should also sweep the floor and handed

her a broom of the type her 21st Century mind associated with witches. As long as he was not

making some kind of clever joke! No, he wasn’t the clever joke type!

It was a relief to be able to escape to the bedroom.

By the time Gemma got there Catherine had already got out her chess set. It was a beautiful thing,

delicately carved and painted. It looked very much a labour of love. Maybe the beloved Edouard

was as keen on Catherine as she obviously was on him.

It turned out that although she was so enthusiastic about chess Catherine was not very good and

Gemma soon got the upper hand and had to start making mistakes on purpose in the way that

Caroline and Andrew had for her when she started.

They played until it was no longer possible to see what they were doing and as there was no lighting

in the room, not even a candle, there was nothing to do but go to bed.

A maid would have slept on the truckle bed which was kept under the big bed, but Catherine wanted

Gemma to sleep in her bed; she had always shared a bed with her girl cousins so had been dreading

having to sleep alone. It was a good time to chat and for Gemma to find out more.

Catherine’s parents died when she was about ten and since then she had been living with Uncle

Pierre and his family. Her father had been a big landowner and she was his only child so she had

inherited it all. Her uncle had been looking after it for the last few years and if it wasn’t that she had

been betrothed to Gaspard de Rocquefeuil all those years ago, she was sure that her aunt and uncle

would have found a way to keep her land for themselves. Maybe she could have married Edouard,

that would have been nice, but Edouard was going into the church and anyway they were too closely

related.

She had only met Gaspard at their betrothal but his father Berenger de Roquefeuil insisted that she

come over here to Bonaguil as soon as she turned fourteen, and she had had her birthday two weeks

ago. In fact he had sent his own men to collect her. They would be married as soon as the men

returned from whatever it was they were doing. It would only be a quiet ceremony; the big

celebrations had been at the betrothal which her parents had organised in their chateau in Quercy.

CHAPTER 3

They woke with the sun

Gemma wanted to go and explore, Catherine only wanted to play chess so they compromised.

“I still don’t know who you are.” said Catherine “But if you are going to pretend to be my maid you

had better do what a maid should do and go downstairs and find out what is happening. Whilst you

are about it you could see if there is any breakfast. You really do not know much about anything do

you? But if I am honest I only know because my aunt gave me a long lecture on what to expect

before I left Quercy. She was terrified I would show them up as country bumpkins. Are you a

country bumpkin? You seem so ignorant about so much. But no, you can’t be you don’t seem to

know much about country things either!”

Gemma felt that maybe she ought to be insulted but in fact she just found Catherine’s puzzlement

very funny. Also she was incredibly relieved that she had chanced upon the one person who was

prepared to accept her as she was without asking unanswerable questions

The smell of baking bread welcomed Gemma to the kitchen. The one legged man and his three

helpers were all very busy. This morning the chef was only too happy to stop and chat, he was

obviously quite taken with Gemma and was happy to fill her in on life in the castle. He would have

gone on talking all morning if she had not stopped him by asking if there was something for

breakfast.

He seemed surprised that she needed to ask.“We have made bread.” He said indicating some large

round loaves cooling on a table “but I made some special little honey cakes to welcome Lady

Catherine. We knew they were betrothed but did not know if the marriage would ever take place.”

She took the little cakes, together with some bread and two cups of goats’ milk, up to Catherine and

they had a picnic in the bedroom. Gemma had been allergic to cows’ milk when she was little so she

was quite used to the taste of goats’ milk. Then they sat down to play chess as she had been told

that Lady Catherine was not expected to go downstairs until the sun was much higher in the sky,

when Lady Anne would be in her solar doing her sewing and writing.

They played three games and then stopped when Catherine at last managed to win one by herself.

She was so thrilled “You weren’t trying to lose that time were you?”

“No, you won that one fairly and squarely. I have noticed a great improvement in your game

already.” Said Gemma, feeling rather pompous.

Catherine then went to sit with Lady Anne like the dutiful daughter-in-law she had every intention of

being so once she had cleaned and tidied the bedroom and done the things that she thought a

maid would be expected to do Gemma went exploring by herself.

There was a small chapel, a dairy that smelled strongly of goat and a number of storage rooms, as

well as the stables, but nothing of much interest. She started to climb the narrow spiral staircase in

tower. There was the sound of raucous laughter as she passed the guard room.

On the floor above the Captain of guard, the Chevalier, came out of a room just as she was passing.

It was too sudden for her to hide so she smiled winningly, or so she hoped, and tried at least to look

innocent and not too stupid.

“You should not be here, girl” he said, “women are not allowed in this part of the castle. I have seen

you snooping round everywhere. I think you must be some kind of spy. ”

“Goodness no! I don’t want to know anything like that, I just want to be able to admire the castle it

is so impressive”

Luckily he appeared to believe her and she had chanced upon the one thing that the Chevalier could

not resist, he was immensely proud of the castle. Even if he was only the Captain of the Guard he

thought of it as his castle and relished the idea of showing it off, especially to an attractive girl.

“Well, let me accompany you to the top so you can see the view.”

There were three more rooms leading off it as they climbed up the spiral staircase but the doors

were all shut tight and it was not until they got to the very top that there was anything to see. There

was a lovely view but her guide did not seem very interested in showing her anything beyond the

confines of the castle.

The Captain introduced himself as The Chevallier Gildas d’Auch and started telling her about the

castle. He was very enthusiastic and went into great detail about how it was a revolutionary design

that was completely impregnable because Lord Berenger hated all the people on his land and was

not going to let the English get it either.

Gemma was glad she had not said that she was English or he really would have thought she was a

spy. She would prefer not to think about what these people might do to a spy! It was unlikely to be

any better than the way they would treat someone they thought was a witch.

It struck Gemma that here she was old enough to be married and treated as an adult, so

presumably would be tortured and executed if they thought she was an enemy, while at home she

was not even allowed to go to the cinema with the others. Though it probably would not make any

difference if they thought she was a child!

Gildas was happy to talk and show off. He let slip that there was a secret passage from the middle of

the group of big rocks that gave the castle its name (near where she had landed) which came up

under the guard room at the bottom of the tower but no-one could ever get in that way as there

was always someone in the guard room.

From their vantage point they could see riders approaching and as they reached ground level the

horsemen were clattering into the courtyard. Berenger de Roquefeuil had returned.

He was a very small man who tried to make up for his lack of stature by being loud and demanding.

Short, wiry and bad-tempered looking he started shouting for someone to take the horses and to go

and find his wife the moment he rode into the courtyard.

Lady Anne and the other ladies quickly appeared and she had just introduced Catherine when her

husband spotted Gemma and demanded to know who she was. He was furious and snapped that he

had said Catherine was not to bring anyone with her.

“Chevalier, I specifically said no extra women. You brought her here so you can take her back to

Quercy now, and make sure you are back here by first light tomorrow.”

Gildas rushed off to the stables telling Gemma he would come and get her in three minutes.

Gemma was not sure that she was pleased to be being sent off with Gildas, much as she liked the

idea of spending more time alone with him she didn’t want to be taken somewhere strange where

she was unlikely to be accepted as easily as she had been by Catherine.

Catherine was horrified that her friend was being taken away and tried to shield Gemma but the

men around Berenger held on to her until Gildas reappeared with his horse . She was then hoisted

up behind him and they cantered out of the castle and down the track into the forest.

Gildas was seething with rage, “I had arranged with the maid that she could come in the coach just

to get Lady Catherine to agree to come but that we would stop for a few minutes before we arrived

at Bonaguil and she would find a way to slip away and hide in the woods. You were not supposed to

be there instead, I don’t know how you got there, but you have spoiled everything.”

They rode in silence for an hour or so, by which time Gildas had simmered down and Gemma was

relishing being perched on his horse so that she had to put her arms round him.

He had changed the object of his complaints to Lord Berenger himself who he called “a pathetic little

man who wastes a wonderful castle like Bonaguil by building it where no-one would want to attack it

anyway. He’s a poltroon. He is either a coward or a fool, or both.”

After a while they stopped near a rocky outcrop outside a village to have a drink from the water bag

that Gildas is carrying.

“Will she be alright?” asked Gemma.

“She’ll be fine” Gildas insisted “once she gets used to the place. I doubt if she will be bothered much

by Gaspard, he prefers to spend his time in the guard room, though I’m sure he will do his duty.”

“You will keep an eye on her, won’t you?”

“Of course, don’t worry.”

He started climbing up the rocks. “Come up here, I know you like views and there is a wonderful

view from the top. It is not difficult, here take my hand.”

It was an incredible view to a very distant horizon over miles and miles of thick forest. Looking

straight down there was a fast flowing river. “That is the Lot and over there is where we came from,

Bonaguil” As he reached across to point things out to her Guillaume somehow managed to knock

her off balance and Gemma felt herself falling.

Falling and falling. She seemed to fall a long, long way until she landed with a bump on something

hard but smoother than she had expected. She realised she had her eyes tight shut. She opened

them very carefully to find that she had landed on the wooden floor of her bedroom.

Did he push her or was it an accident?

CHAPTER 4

Gemma spent much of the rest of the Easter holidays in her bedroom trying to get back to Bonaguil.

She found a map of the area, left over from the summer holiday they had had nearby a few years

before and spent hours poring over it. From its position near the river Lot and the distance from the

castle she reckoned that the village near where she fell back home must have been Puy l’Eveque.

She tried to replicate everything from that first time, even to the extent of splurging her pocket

money on another bottle of the bubble bath she had purloined from her mother’s hoard. She also

tried desperately to remember if she had said anything in case she had accidently stumbled on a

magic formula, but she was not really given to talking out loud to herself, or to inanimate objects, so

there was nothing.

She did not appear to have been gone for any time at all, just the time it takes to fall off a chair and

land on the floor. She was almost prepared to believe that it was just a dream but that did not

explain the sticky patch on her dressing gown where she had dropped one of the honey cakes

The weekend before the beginning of the new term Caroline came over to borrow a suitcase from

her mother to take on holiday. She went in to see her little sister who was wearing her nightdress

and dressing gown even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Here was someone who Gemma

felt she could confide in who would not laugh at her, so the whole story came tumbling out.

Caroline was an ideal big sister, she never talked down to Gemma or made her feel small in the way

everyone else in the family did. She at least seemed to take it all seriously, even though she really

thought her little sister had just had a particularly vivid dream.

She looked carefully at the picture “I think I saw that name, Bonaguil, on the map of the area where

we have rented a “gite” next week, I’ll try to go and see what I can find out.”

Back at school Gemma was very disappointed to find that her suddenly acquired ability to speak

French or whatever language had been spoken at Bonaguil, Occitane – the Langue d’Oc had

completely disappeared, in fact she seemed to have gone backwards!

The first couple of weeks of the new term were uneventful and sluggish, and then a postcard from

Caroline arrived.

“This seems to be your castle, it certainly looks like it. You might like to know that it was built by

Berenger de Rocquefeuil”.

From then on time until half-term time seemed to move even more slowly and when it finally

arrived Gemma discovered that arrangements had been made for her to stay with her aunt and

uncle because her mother was away on a business trip and her father was in Spain for a golfing

weekend with friends. She would be taken home on Monday sometime as her father would be back

that evening. In a way it was a little bit of progress, at last her parents were beginning to realise that

she was old enough to look after herself for bits of time anyway and did not need to be parked with

other people for every minute that they could not be with her.

She had quite a pleasant weekend as she liked her aunt and uncle and they always spoiled her as she

was so much younger than their sons were now, and they had never had a daughter. Even so the

time dragged by until Aunt Patricia deposited her back at her own front door.

There was no-one at home so Gemma grabbed a handful of biscuits and a banana from the kitchen

then rushed upstairs to compare the postcard with her painting.

It was definitely the same place even though there were a few minor differences. She stared at it

trying to imagine what difference the changes would make to the castle as she knew it.

Then she felt it again, the strange feeling of being drawn irresistibly forwards. Slowly at first but then

gathering speed faster and faster and faster until she landed hard in exactly the same spot as the

previous time.

CHAPTER 5

The pointed rocks are exactly the same but the woods seem different. The castle on top of its hill

has some extra bits that Gemma realises are on the postcard but not in her picture. Oddest of all

there are cars in a car park and people in modern dress!

Feeling she would blend in as she is wearing jeans and an old sweatshirt that once belonged one of

her cousins she makes her way up to the entrance. But it is all wrong! Gone are the soldiers with

their medieval weapons, the drawbridge is now guarded by a ticket booth and turnstile, and there is

an entry charge of fifteen Euros. Even if she claimed to be a child it would be eight Euros and she

has not got any money on her of any denomination.

While thinking what to do next Gemma examins the notice board with its map of the local area, one

of nearest places is Puy L’Eveque. It is right on the River Lot - so it must have been the village near

the rocks where she fell or was pushed off the last time.

Thinking of Gildas reminds her that he said there was a secret passage from the rocks to the guard

room. It is very unlikely still to be passable but it would be worth having a look.

As what she is looking for is really a clandestine way of getting into the castle it seems obvious that

she should be surreptitious about it. So sauntering over to the other side of car park Gemma stops in

among the trees to look around her before she crosses over to the place Gildas seemed to indicate.

A young man is approaching carrying a bulging rucksack and a pilgrim staff, he is fiddling with his

trousers as if bursting to have a pee. He disappears behind the rocks so Gemma tucks herself behind

a tree to wait until the coast is clear. A few minutes later he reappears but without the rucksack.

Once he is well out of sight Gemma creeps out of the wood and dodges behind the rocks. It is quite

well camouflaged, not something you would see if you were not expecting it, but there is the cave-

like opening she is looking for.

On ledge inside there is a box of matches and the stub of a candle. They have obviously recently

been used and blown out. She relights the candle and looks around.

There in a corner is the rucksack that the young man was carrying when she first saw him. It is too

great a temptation for her to resist. Inside there are three bags of white powder. Gemma was

offered something that looked exactly like that a few months ago but even if she had wanted it she

could not have afforded it.

She hated the idea of drugs. A friend of Caroline’s died after taking Ecstasy at a party and the son of

some neighbours had died of a heroin overdose. It wasn’t worth it.

At the bottom of one of the outside pockets she finds a 20 Euro note and a few cents. It does not

feel like stealing, nicking it off drug smugglers and it means she can get into the castle legitimately.

While she is in the cave she looks for Gildas’s secret tunnel. She finds the beginning of it but after a

few feet it is completely blocked by fallen rocks. At least she can now pay the entrance fee and go in

through the front gate in the way she is supposed to.

Unfortunately the ticket booth is closed by the time she gets back to it and entrance is barred.

There is nothing else to do but wait until the next day. Luckily it is quite warm and dry so with a

newspaper that someone has dropped to use as a cover she makes herself a little nest under the

trees and settles down to while away the evening. The date on the newspaper turns out to be the

same as it was at home so she must have travelled horizontally rather than going back in time like

her last trip here.

She feels a bit like a tramp dossing down in one of the London parks then a leaf falls onto her

shoulder and she decides she is really one of the “Babes in the Wood”, maybe there is a gingerbread

house somewhere around! The trouble is that reminds her how hungry she is. She finds a couple of

Custard Creams that she had crammed in her pocket when she first got home, but that is hardly a

substantial supper.

As the light begins to fade Gemma looks up to the tower where she had stood with Gildas, she can

see someone waving out of the little window just below the top. It looks very much like Catherine,

she always held her head slightly to the side like that, but it is much too far away to see properly and

anyway if, as it appears, she has time-travelled horizontally it could not possibly be someone who

lived five hundred years ago.

The nest is surprisingly comfortable though she is glad of the newspaper, she manages to doze a bit,

making herself ignore the hunger pangs and the fact that once the sun goes down completely the air

is very much chillier. Then, well after dark, a car draws up and the driver walks quietly down the

path towards the cave, shielding his torch with his hand so that it only just gives enough light for him

to see where he is walking. He re-emerges after a couple of minutes carrying the rucksack.

Once he has driven off and everything is quiet again Gemma can no-longer keep her teeth from

chattering, or her ears from picking up all sorts of odd noises which could be nothing or could be

some wild animal snuffling around. She thinks they have wild boar around here, do they have

wolves? Surely, now that the rucksack has been taken away, no-one will come back tonight and it

must be warmer in the cave than out here among the trees, at least there will no-longer be this stiff

breeze.

The floor is relatively smooth and hard-packed from its many hundreds of years of use, not the most

comfortable surface for sleeping, but Gemma is tired now and does not think she will have much

difficulty getting to sleep. It is very dark when she blows out the candle and there is no point in

trying to do anything other than shut her eyes.

After what seems like only a few seconds they snap open again as she hears the noise of footsteps

and can see a very pale light coming from the direction of the former tunnel. There is a faint

whispering and a little giggle that is quickly stifled. Is that a human form she can see or is she

imagining it? Would it be better to risk the wild animals? Gemma huddles back into her corner

making herself as small and unobtrusive as possible, she does not dare move until she hears the first

car drive into the car park, and feels that it is safe to get up and go out into the daylight.

As soon as she stands up her tummy rumbles alarmingly. As long as she is careful to keep enough

for the entrance she might be able buy something to eat nearby.

There is a small village at bottom of hill, it must have housed staff for the castle in the past, some of

the cottages looked as though they had been built at about the same time. Dad had explained when

they were driving through France last time that there used to be a tax on the outward display of

wealth so the French let their property become dilapidated so they did not attract the attention of

the taxman.

There is a bar in the village so Gemma buys herself a Coca Cola and, as they do not sell food, a bar of

chocolate and sits in the warm sunshine pondering the relationship of Coke the drink to coke the

drug.

Once she gets inside the castle she is relieved to find that visitors are free to wander where ever

they like. A lot of it looks very familiar but close up it is easier to see where there have been

alterations and additions. She visits the kitchens where she can visualise the one legged chef and

little basket of honey cakes, she looks into Lady Anne’s solar which is horribly empty.

She has saved the tower till last. There are no rough voices of soldiers as she approaches just a

family with two little boys admiring the suit of armour displayed there.

Gildas’s room on the floor above is completely empty so is the next room up. But in the little room

just below the top floor there is a small group being given a guided tour. She latches on to them

when she hears the guide saying “This little room is particularly sad”.

“When he inherited from his father Berenger’s son Gaspard had a lot of trouble with his wife,

Catherine, who he accused of fomenting trouble among his peasants. When he discovered she was

also cuckolding him with his gentleman at arms he took the opportunity of imprisoning her in this

room and having the door bricked up, so that she was starved to death. When the room was

opened up in the 1950s a woman’s skeleton was discovered curled up in that corner over there.”

The group all turn to look at Gemma as she gasps and then bursts into tears.

“Oh! Catherine, how could you have been so stupid?!” is her first thought quickly followed by guilt

that she had told Gildas to look after her friend. It must have been Catherine’s ghost that she had

seen last night but she could not have done anything to help her even if Catherine had had hair like

Rapunzel.

The most important rule of time travel – if time travel has rules – is that the time-traveller must

not/cannot do anything that interferes with what actually happened.

And she had thought she was hungry because she missed out on supper! The idea of being starved

to death is so horrible – so slow and so cruel!

One of the people in the group asks the guide “What happened to the gentleman-at-arms?”

“History doesn’t relate. He was probably rewarded for giving Gaspard an excuse for getting rid of his

troublesome wife. There were no children so the succession went sideways.”

Gemma had not wanted to believe it at the time but the more she thinks about it now she realises

that it was not an accident when she fell off the rocks Gildas had pushed her. She was meant to be

dashed to pieces on the way down and her body washed away by the river, he must have been very

surprised when she just disappeared. It almost made her laugh to imagine his expression , it served

him right, he really was horrible and ruthless. She had no difficulty believing that he seduced

Catherine just so that his friend Gaspard could get rid of her. He probably thoroughly enjoyed

walling her in too.

The group that Gemma had latched on to insisted that she stay with them for the rest of their tour

of the castle. They were surprised that she was there by herself but she explained that her friends

had had to go ahead and that she had said that she would meet them in Puy L’Eveque, near the

Mairie.

She has decided that she should tell the police that the caves under Bonaguil are being used by drug

smugglers and give them that car registration number. Most things she would have been horrified

at the idea of blabbing to the authorities about but drugs do so much damage she feels justified,

anyway they could be destined for England .

“Well, we go very near there and can easily make a detour. Come along with us” said the leader of

her new friends as they pile into their mini-bus.

CHAPTER 6

The Mairie turns out to be very easy to find and Gemma assures her new friends that this really is

fine, she just has to make a quick call on her mobile phone and the others will come and find her. It

is a great relief to find that her ability to understand and speak other languages has returned as the

group who have been looking after her is Italian.

Maybe she should really look for the Gendarmerie, but it is impossible to explain exactly how she

happened to have stumbled upon the drugs and the Mairie was the thing that had popped into her

mind when she had to think of somewhere where she was supposed to be meeting her mythical

friends. If she leaves a note here addressed to the mayor perhaps it will get to the right place, it is

the best she can think of doing. Writing French is as much of a problem as ever, as far as Gemma is

concerned she is speaking English so even if she says what she wants to say out loud she cannot hear

the difference. The final result is a bit messy but hopefully someone will understand.

Now to find the portal back home. It was a rocky outcrop right next to the river Lot and just outside

a village called Puy something, and there was the river so it must be this way.

Keeping to the top of the ridge Gemma follows the bank of the river for a couple of hundred meters

until she finds what she is looking for. Not surprisingly the rocks have not changed much in the last

five hundred years, there is possibly a little more lichen and bird muck than she remembers and

maybe more moss. She climbs to the top where she had been with Gildas. It is all so very weird, this

sort of thing does not happen to real people, she had been beginning to accept the first visit to

Bonaguil had been a dream but now that she has come back it is obvious that it had really happened.

Is she sure she wants to go back already? It is such bliss to have this freedom and she does not think

anyone is likely to have missed her but she has not got any money or anywhere to stay.

“Oh well, here goes!” and she jumps. It seems natural to shut her eyes but when there is no tugging

feeling or whooshing noise as there has been on previous occasions she opens them, just in time to

see the surface of the river before she hits it with a tremendous splash!

The River Lot is fast flowing but luckily Gemma is not too far from the bank, and is a strong swimmer

for her age. All the same she is rushed a couple of hundred metres before she can catch hold of

anything.

A man in fluorescent green lycra shorts and top props up his bicycle against the nearest tree and

comes running down to help her. As he hauls her out of the water she realises that it is the same

man she saw depositing the rucksack in the cave, just as well he had not seen her then.

“You must come with me, mademoiselle, my mother lives just round the corner. She will help you

dry your clothes.”

Gemma is very wet and rather cold but she has been told so many times never, never, never to go

anywhere with a strange man. However the circumstances were a bit peculiar and he is supposedly

taking her to his mother, if she keeps her wits about her she should be alright.

In fact his mother turns out to be a sweet little Mrs Tiggywinkle, with the same ability with an iron.

Gemma’s jeans come back looking better than at any time since they were brand new.

Her knight, who’s name appears to be Jean-Luc, changes out of his bright green shining armour and

having stabled his trusty steed somewhere at the back of the little house comes to see how the fair

damsel is getting on. It has given her time to think what to do next. If it is not going to be possible

to get home the way she came she will have to find her way back home the normal way. But how?

Who does she know in France who might help? Maybe .... Amelie? But she is in Paris. How far away

is Paris? It was four years since she did that first exchange with Amelie and they got on very well,

when they were both eleven. It had not been quite such a success a couple of years later, at least

Amelie had not seemed very happy when she came to London, but they kept in touch by email and

thought of each other as a friend. As long as she can remember the address.

“Ah, mademoiselle, you look very much better.” Says Jean-Luc, “Now what can I do to help you? I

expect you need to get home, where is that?”

He would not believe her if she told him so she just says “I need to get to central Paris, but I haven’t

got any money on me. I suppose I’ll have to hitch-hike, but I don’t really want to.”

“No, wait, I have got a better idea. I have a friend, Michel, who has a truck and he is always driving

up to Paris. Stay here a moment and I’ll go and ring him.”

He comes back in just a couple of minutes “You are in luck, he will be leaving in about an hour and a

half to go and pick up his load and drive over night to the market at Rungis. I’ll take you round to his

house as soon as you have eaten the sandwich my mother is making for you.”

Jean-Luc was being so kind and helpful, she feels a bit bad that she had wanted to make trouble for

him. But at the same time he was smuggling drugs, and that she cannot forget, or forgive. They

were possibly destined for her home town .

To change the subject she asks “Is that your pilgrim staff over there? “My father was telling me how

a staff like that is carried by people making the pilgrimage to Compostella. Is this on the route?”

“There are lots of different routes though none of them actually pass through Puy L’Eveque. I

organise and accompany groups who want to go on the pilgrimage but do not want to organise it

themselves. I have walked all the routes now I only cycle to keep fit when I am not walking.”

CHAPTER 7.

Michel welcomes the idea of having company for what is for him a routine trip and he chats happily

about his job and his family. He mainly takes fresh fruit and vegetables from local growers up to the

market at Rungis outside Paris and then he has a contract to bring household goods from a depot

the other side of Paris to some of the big out-of-town shops in the area. He drives over night to

Paris, then back the following day, three times a week.

Michel’s family consists of a wife, two sons and a daughter. He has always lived locally and his

children, who are all in their teens, go to school in the nearby town by bus. He is such a warm,

avuncular man that Gemma soon feels she has known him all her life.

They drive for about twenty minutes to the collection point where a number of smaller vehicles,

trucks and vans, full of fresh fruit are waiting.

Michel unlocks the back of lorry and in the few seconds it takes him to put the bunch of keys on his

seat in the cab to keep them safe Gemma notices the man she saw last night approach carrying the

same rucksack, which he puts into the back of the lorry, presumably tucking it somewhere at the

back out of sight. It is done so quickly and slickly that it suggests that this has happened before. The

produce from all the other vehicles is then loaded quickly and carefully before they set off again and

soon hit the motorway heading north.

Gemma fights very hard to keep her eyes open and make polite conversation but within about half

an hour she succumbs and Michel, having plenty of experience of teenagers, is kind enough to let

her sleep. The next thing she knows he is shaking her shoulder and saying they are about to arrive at

Rungis. He has phoned ahead and organised a lift for her into central Paris, but she will have to

move speedily as the friend who’s brother is going to take her onwards has just rung to say that the

lift is waiting.

Seconds later they arrive at the big fruit and vegetable market which is frenetically busy despite the

early hour

« There they are. The driver is Martin, he is the brother of my friend Vincent »

« Thank you so much, Michel. And by-the-way did you know that someone put a big bag of drugs in

the lorry when we picked up the fruit? » From the look on his face it was evident that he did not

know. Gemma felt vindicated, she had been hoping that he was not involved.

There is not time to say anything else as Martin had already started the engine of the battered grey

Renault Clio.

CHAPTER 8

Martin is a mousey little creature with very bad skin and halitosis, he is obviously very much in awe

of his big brother, Vincent. It seems only polite to try to make conversation although he does not

seem very friendly, he is only giving her a lift because his brother said he should.

She asks for rue Benjamin Franklin near Trocadero in the 16th arrondissement “This is very kind,

where do you work?” Gemma asks

“Near Place de la Republique, on the other side of Paris.” He grunts

He makes a rather half hearted suggestion about the fact that as she is alone maybe they could meet

up when he has finished work but when he does not get any encouragement says that he would be

too busy to meet her anyway.

When she gets out of the car in rue Benjamin Franklin and tries to recognise the building she had

stayed in with the Vernets she remembers that Amelie and her family moved recently to rue

Hamelin. At the time she had thought they were forsaking Benjamin Bunny for the Pied Piper.

Rabbits for rats – (oh dear, that’s the sort of association Mum would make!) But at least it made the

new address stick in her mind.

There is a porter in a nearby block of flats who gives her directions and Gemma hurries round. If she

is lucky she will catch Amelie when she leaves for school. She does not want to bump into her

parents so she hangs around on the opposite pavement until she sees M. and Mme Vernet leaving

for their respective offices. Hopefully that means that Amelie is there by herself and not that she

went out early.

When Gemma rings the front door bell Amelie answers. She appears genuinely pleased to see her

and Gemma is relieved that her friend seems to have no difficulty believing her story. Also as Amelie

happens to have the morning at home to study she is quickly working out how best she can help. Of

course Gemma can ring home and she can borrow the chambre-de-bonne, formerly a bedroom for

a live-in maid - which they normally let to someone working nearby but which happens to be empty

at moment.

Gemma uses the Vernets’ land line to ring Caroline who is extremely surprised to find that her little

sister is calling from Paris. “You remember I told you about being sucked into the painting of

Bonaguil? Well it happened again, except that this time I didn’t go back in time, it is the same here

now as it is in England. The trouble is that I don’t know how to get back, I tried the route I used last

time, by chance - but it didn’t work (maybe I have to be pushed!), anyway I have managed to get

myself as far as Paris and Amelie is helping me.” This all comes out in a rush.

“Calm down, darling” Caroline tells her. “Let me be sure I have got this right. You have somehow

been magicked to France but the magic won’t bring you back.”

“Yes”

“Well, I must admit that really I thought you had dreamt your previous trip there but if you are really

physically in France now I suppose it must be true. I don’t want to be mean but before I start

rushing round organising to get you back I am going to have to have some proof. Is Madame Vernet

there?”

“No, she has gone to work. And anyway I doubt if I could explain it to her. You are the only person I

thought would believe me.”

“I am flattered and I am quite prepared to believe you but I am just being practical. Now do you

think you could get yourself to the Champs Elysées? Hang on just a moment and I’ll ring my friend

Marie-France, she works just off it in rue La Boetie. I don’t know the number so I’ll have to ring her

mobile and get her to meet you and then ring me back.”

“OK, Amelie says we could get there in less than half an hour.”

Caroline arranges a meeting in a café on the right hand side of the Champs Elysées just above rue La

Boetie at 10.00 o’clock.

It only takes about twenty minutes for Gemma and Amelie to get to the meeting place and Marie -

France arrives not long after, on the dot of 10.00 o’clock. Gemma vaguely recognises her from

photos in Caroline’s album.

“This does seem extremely peculiar but Caroline asked me to verify that her sister really is here so I

have come to do that. You certainly do seem to be here in the flesh so I now just have to ask the

two security questions she has given me. “Who of your relatives died recently, and which film was

she about to go and see after the family dinner at the beginning of the last school holidays?”

“Great Aunt Stella died, and the film was “Emmanuelle””

“Right both times, you must be real. Let’s quickly ring Caroline, and then I must get back to my

office.”

They make the call and Caroline agrees to go and find Gemma’s passport and courier it to Marie-

France’s office together with a Eurostar ticket for two days hence. In the meantime Gemma will go

back with Amelie and call Caroline again this evening to make sure everything is alright. She makes a

note of Marie-France’s phone number so she can arrange to come and collect the passport and

ticket. She really misses her own mobile phone but it must have fallen out of her pocket when she

fell in the river.

Back in rue Hamelin Amelie gets Gemma to help her with some English school work and then shows

her the chambre de bonne in the attic of the tall building. They agree to meet up again after school.

“Do you remember where we used to live? There is a café right opposite our old front door, I have

arranged to meet up with a couple of friends there to celebrate Sylvie’s birthday. I’ll meet you there

and then we can come back here. My parents will be out this evening but my cousin Olivier will be

around. He is living here at the moment as his parents have been sent to the South Pacific and he

wants to get into the Science Po. Do you remember Olivier, I think he was there when we stayed

with my grandmother that time?

Gemma certainly did remember Olivier. He was probably the best looking boy she had ever met and

she had been seriously smitten! Unfortunately, though, she had been horribly shy and tongue-tied

not being able to remember even the smattering of French she had mastered. She hopes he doesn’t

remember, he certainly did not take any notice of her at the time.

CHAPTER 9

Gemma spends the afternoon in her little eyrie attempting to read a pile of Asterix books.

Unfortunately her wonderful gift with languages does not really help with the written word unless

she reads it out loud when it translates itself, and after a while she realises that she has actually

learned quite a lot.

She is not due to meet Amelie and her friends until 6pm so she does not leave the building in rue

Hamelin until well after half-past five and makes her way down Avenue Kleber to Trocadero, then

dawdles a little having a good look at the Eiffel Tower on the other side of the Seine. It looks very

fine catching the late afternoon sunlight.

As she turns into rue Benjamin Franklin she is surprised to see Martin’s scruffy little grey car draw up

beside her and Martin jump out and rush towards her.

“Oh hello” she says wondering how she can get away “I thought you said you were busy this

evening.”

Martin grabs her by the arm and pushes her roughly against a wall, “I am, but Vincent rang and told

me to come and find you. Apparently you told Michel about some extra merchandise he was

transporting in his lorry and Michel called the police. How did you know and what else have you told

anyone?” He is only a few centimetres from her face and as well as the revolting smell his anger is

making him fizz and spit.

It is less a calm, rational thought and more a desperate need to get away that makes Gemma bring

her knee up violently into his crotch. As he crumples onto the ground at her feet she runs as fast as

she can.

She had not noticed the other person in the car but manages to avoid him too. He shouts after her

“We’ll be watching you.”

She does not stop until she reaches the café and sees Amelie ensconced in a corner with a group of

four or five friends. They all make a point of shaking hands as she joins the group and then go back

to discussing other people at school, most of whom seem to be boys.

Amelie realises that her friend is looking very shaken and pale despite obviously having been

running. When she hears she says “we’ll just have to make sure they don’t follow you. I don’t

suppose they know this area as well as I do so as long as you are prepared to go the long way round I

am sure we can shake them off.”

They wait until the rest of the group are ready to leave and as they all go towards the metro station

Amelie and Gemma saunter off in the opposite direction. At the end of the road they turn right into

the rue de Passy and some way along there Amelie leads the way across the road and into a kind of

shopping mall. It is possible to walk right through and come out on the other side.

“You go ahead and turn left when you get to the other side, I’ll wait in that shop and make sure

there is no-one following you. Stop at the bottom of rue de L’Annonciation and wait for me there, I

wont be far behind”

True to her word she skips round the corner in just a couple of minutes “I’m sure we have shaken

them completely. Nobody followed you through the Plaza, and just to make sure I also went down

through the supermarket underneath and back up into the rue de Passy to make sure they weren’t

hanging around out there. I think I saw a battered grey Clio driving off. Let’s get home now.”

CHAPTER 10

“May I have a bath or a shower, please? And can you lend me some clean clothes, I have been

wearing these ones solidly for days. I’ll make sure you get them back.” Gemma suddenly realised

she was about to meet the godlike Olivier and did not want to make too awful an impression.

Certainly, I’ll go and look something out for you, we must be approximately the same size. Then I’ll

go and see what has been left for Olivier’s and my supper, I am sure there will be something in the

kitchen that we can add to stretch it for three.” Amelie had always liked to be in control and loved

to be asked to organise things, she could be very bossy. In the past Gemma had found it annoying

but now it was helpful.

When she is feeling clean and fresh again Gemma joins the others in the kitchen where they were

tucking into a jar of mock caviar with a tub of créme fraiche on pieces of lovely fresh bread.

“Come and join us. I was just telling Olivier a bit about what has happened to you over the last few

days, but now you can fill in the details. Olivier this is Gemma. But I think you two have met

before.”

“Yes” said Gemma at exactly the same moment that Olivier said “No.”

“Of course you have, Gemma came with me to stay with Grandmama a couple of years ago.”

“I vaguely remember someone being there with you but I don’t think she said a word the whole

time, in any language let alone French. I gather you have suddenly and mysteriously become a great

linguist.”

Gemma cringes to remember how tongue-tied she was on that previous occasion. “It is very

peculiar, but yes. Unfortunately it is only speech, reading and writing are just a difficult as before.

The really good thing though is that it seems to be the same for other languages too. Not that I have

tried many but I met some Italians and the effect was just the same. It is not that I can really speak

the languages all of a sudden, what happens is that my brain (or something) translates everything

that I hear into my own language and then translates everything I want to say back into French, or

whatever language the person I am talking to speaks. At least they hear it in their own language,

whatever that is. At least I think that is how it works.”

She gains in confidence as she is talking, particularly as Olivier is looking more and more impressed.

“However it works, you could have a wonderful career in the diplomatic service. Have you decided

what you are going to do with it in the future?”

“Not yet, I haven’t really had time to think about it.”

Amelie breaks in to defend her “Give the poor girl a chance, she has only been like this for three

days.”

They start talking about what happens next, and tell Olivier about Martin and the drug smugglers.

Then after they have polished off between them a large plate of salami and some salad Gemma asks

to use the telephone again to ring her sister and Olivier goes back to his room to study saying as he

leaves,

“I’ve got a free afternoon tomorrow so I’ll come back at lunch time and take you round a bit.”

Gemma can hardly believe her ears but manages a relatively cool “That would be great.”

She is almost bubbling over by the time she gets through to Caroline. “There’s so much I want to tell

you but I can’t really do it here.” She is sitting in the corridor in the middle of the Vernets’ flat and is

not sure how much Olivier can hear from his room just opposite. It is frustrating having to use the

landline but with her mobile languishing at the bottom of the River Lot it is the only way.

Her sister says “Well calm down a moment. I have been to get your passport. Dad thought you

must still be with Patricia and David, or the Webbs, he is hopelessly vague about things like that, he

always has been. Mum’s still away, until Friday. I’ll get you a Eurostar ticket for the day after

tomorrow and courier both to you. I had better send them to Marie-France for you to collect. Can

you continue staying where you are?”

“Amelie has said that no-one is going to need the room for the moment, but I am slightly nervous!”

and she told her about Martin and his friend and their threat “I don’t think they know where I am,

we are pretty sure we lost them but I thought that if you could arrange it I should go somewhere

else. Maybe you could book me into a hotel for a night and pay over the phone. I’ll pay you back

when I get home.”

“No, I can’t have you doing that. I’ll ask Marie-France to put you up, after all it is only for one night.

The trouble is that she can be rather .....er ..... peculiar, and I am hesitant to deliver you into her

clutches, but at the same time I know she will look after you. If there is anything that you are not

happy with I want you to say “Caroline says to “remember Francine””

“Who’s Francine?”

“There is no need for you to know that.”

This was intriguing but Caroline’s tone was very final so Gemma did not push it. Instead she said

“Can you let me know when you have got it sorted? Amelie is going to lend me her mobile while she

is in school tomorrow.” And she reads out the number.

“I don’t really think you need to worry about whatever his name is ....Martin. He doesn’t know who

you are, or where you live; nor does that lorry driver so he wouldn’t have been able to tell the cops,

though it is not as if you could tell the police much anyway even if they could track you down. You

just go and get a good night’s sleep, and I’ll ring you tomorrow.”

The little attic room feels quite luxurious after the last couple of nights but nothing much would

have kept Gemma awake anyway even if she had had to sleep on the bare wooden floor, or standing

up. She sleeps right through until midday, except for the few minutes at about 7.30am when

Amelie comes up to hand over her mobile phone.

“I have arranged that Olivier will ring you on this when he is free at lunch time. Also I have

borrowed this from my mother’s secret reserve tin, can you let me have it back as soon as possible

I’d like to replace it before she notices.” And she hands her a twenty Euro note.

“Yes, of course, and I’ll give the phone to Olivier to bring back to you.”

CHAPTER 11

Gemma is just about awake when the phone rings, but the moment she sees that it is Olivier calling

the drowsiness evaporates. He is about to come back and will meet her downstairs just inside the

front door of the building in half an hour.

She makes herself as presentable as she can. Amelie has found her some soap and toothpaste, and

at least the denizens of this warren of little rooms have all gone off to work so there is no

competition for the very basic washing facilities tucked into a corner of the corridor.

Olivier is nearly three quarters of an hour late, and although she had begun to be a little worried in

case it was her who had made a mistake it does help to break the ice and makes him more

concerned to look after her.

“Let’s go and get some lunch. There is a little place I know that serves a mouth watering cassoulet.

Do you like cassoulet?”

Gemma is not too sure what cassoulet is, but she is not going to admit that! “I love it” and they walk

for about fifteen minutes talking about inconsequential things like the traffic and the weather and

the differences between Paris and London.

The cassoulet is very good. If she had been at home she would probably have turned her nose up at

it but here, and in the company of Olivier, she devours it without thinking.

Olivier is happy to talk and Gemma is happy to listen. His father is a diplomat and as a family they

have lived all over the world as well as periods in Paris. Recently his father has become an

ambassador has been posted to Papua New Guinea and Olivier is looking forward to going out to

visit after the end of term, but this is rather a crucial time in his education and he is determined to

get into Sciences Po, so his aunt and uncle, the Vernets, have kindly agreed to let him stay with them

in term time. He wants to follow his father into the diplomatic service.

“I am very envious of your ability to be able to converse and be understood in other languages. Do

you know if it works for all languages or just European ones?”

“I haven’t had a chance to find out yet”

“Let’s conduct a little experiment. That waiter over there I know well, and I know he speaks Arabic,

he comes from Morocco, his name is Mustafa. I’ll get him to come over here and talk to you in

Arabic. I speak a certain amount of it myself so I’ll be able to listen.”

“OK”.

He makes his way over to his friend and after explaining what he wants brings him back to the table.

“Hello” says Mustafa “Olivier tells me that you want to hear me speaking Arabic. I don’t know what

you want me to say. I have been living in Paris for nearly ten years now and like it very much but I

miss my family who are still living in Marrakesh. Is that alright?”

“That was great, thank you Mustafa.” Gemma replies “Do you ever get a chance to go back to see

your family?”

“I have been back only twice in all that time, but I have been saving up and will go to see my parents

in Morocco this year. My parents are very old and my brother wrote to say that our mother is ill.”

“Oh dear, I do hope she gets better.”

“So do I, but not before I get there.” And seeing his boss looking questioningly at him he dashes off

back towards the kitchen just whispering to Olivier “You didn’t tell me that your friend speaks

Arabic.”

“Was he really speaking Arabic? It sounded the same as French or English – or Italian - to me” says

Gemma.

“That was fascinating. He was definitely speaking Arabic but you replied in French, though he

seemed to think you were speaking Arabic. Let’s try something else, how about Japanese?” He

jumps up and goes over to a table where three young Japanese women are talking quietly.

Gemma can’t help feeling that she is being treated like a performing monkey but it is so much better

than being ignored that she is happy to play her part.

Olivier brings a very sweet looking Japanese girl over to the table and invites her to sit down with

them, saying “This is Noriko.”

“Hello, your friend tells me you want to hear Japanese being spoken, so here I am. I don’t know

what to talk about, I am here with my two sisters and we are doing lots of sightseeing and lots of

shopping.”

“Thank you, Noriko.” Gemma says. “Have you been shopping already, what sort of things do you

want to buy?”

“We want lots of those lovely French clothes and accessories. You can buy many of them in Tokyo,

but it feels much, much better to buy them here. Only we are going to have to stop soon as our

luggage is going to be too heavy. My big sister, Yoko, over there says we have got to concentrate on

sightseeing now because we must go home soon, and our father will ask questions.”

“How much longer have you got here and what have you seen so far?”

“We leave at the weekend and tomorrow we go to Versailles. We have been to the Louvre, the Jeu

de Paume and all over the left bank and many other things too. Is there anything you think we

should see?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not the best person to ask, but I am sure Olivier can advise you.” She looks

questioningly at Olivier.

He is watching fascinated. “I can only understand you, I have never learnt Japanese. What am I

supposed to be advising on?

Noriko looks very surprised because her French is good enough to understand what Olivier has said.

“Why are you speaking Japanese to him when he says he doesn’t speak Japanese?” She asks.

“It is a very long and peculiar story, Noriko, but it is sort of a game we like to play. Thank you for

helping us and enjoy the rest of your stay. We have got to be going now!” Gemma manages to

gabble.

Once they were out of the restaurant and half way down the road Olivier bursts out “This is brilliant.

You can speak anything and everything. I am going to have to keep you close to me all the time.

How long can you stay?”

“My sister has got me a ticket on the train back to London tomorrow afternoon, and before that I am

going to stay with her friend. But I’ll come back.”

“Make sure you do. I’ll tell Amelie to organise it. She is good at that sort of thing.”

When the mobile in her pocket rings it is Caroline ringing to say that she has arranged things with

Marie-France and she will come to that café on the Champs Elysées where they met up before when

she finishes work. Olivier accompanies Gemma and his enthusiasm and obvious respect for her

strange gift for speaking all other languages does wonders for her self-confidence so that by the time

he leaves she is glowing, particularly as the parting kisses on both cheeks did seem very much more

significant than usual and were accompanied by a warm hug.

CHAPTER 12

Marie France turns up soon after 6pm and takes Gemma by bus to her little flat in the Marais. It is

only two small rooms with a tiny kitchen and an even tinier bathroom but she is very proud of it, and

even though there are shops and cars outside there is a definite feeling of oldness in the building,

the history of which she is keen to tell Gemma all about.

The flat is too small to eat in so they go round the corner to one of the local restaurants for dinner.

Gemma finds Marie France much easier to talk to than she had expected from their first meeting.

Her new-found self-confidence (thanks to Olivier) of course helps and she is soon telling Marie

France the whole story.

“That is absolutely extraordinary!” she exclaims. “What language do you think we are talking now?”

“In my head you are speaking to me in English, and I am answering in English.” Gemma replies “It

feels slightly wrong because I know I am in France and the down-side of the situation is that I can’t

hear the difference between languages. But that’s a small price to pay.”

Gemma also talks about Jean-Luc, Michel and Martin. But she keeps Olivier to herself, there is no

way she wants to share any of that with a relative stranger.

When they get back to the little flat Gemma asks “Where shall I sleep?”

“You can sleep in my bed.”

“Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll sleep there too, there is plenty of room.”

Oh dear, is this what Caroline meant about Marie-France being rather peculiar? Gemma had been

happy to share a bed with Catherine but she had just been a frightened, lonely, little girl whereas

this woman, even though she is Caroline’s contemporary, seems positively old! Now is presumably

the time to use Caroline’s message.

“Caroline said that I should say “Remember Francine.”

The atmosphere in the room suddenly becomes extremely chilly and the expression on Marie-

France’s face becomes hard and unfriendly.

“She promised she would never tell anyone about that.” She spits. “You can sleep on the sofa in

here.”

“She didn’t tell me any more than that, she said you would know what she meant, and obviously you

do. I’ll be fine on the sofa, I can assure you I have slept on worse in the last few days and anyway I’ll

be home tomorrow night.”

Marie-France relents enough to say “Here is a blanket and your ticket and passport are on this table.

I expect I’ll have left before you wake tomorrow, I shall be as quiet as I can. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye and thank you very much for all your help, and for dinner this evening. I am sure Caroline

will be in touch with you very soon.”

Gemma makes herself comfortable on the sofa and runs through the events of the last few days, it

has all been such fun, and there is still tomorrow. This will be the first time she has travelled on a

train by herself. The three times she has been anywhere by train she was always with her mother in

the days before she went back to work and packed Gemma off to boarding school. Every single time

Mum had recited a poem she liked, something that started “Faster than Fairies, Faster than

Witches” but Gemma couldn’t remember any further than that.

She realises that she really is quite tired so lies back to dream about Olivier.

CHAPTER 13

It is just still morning when Gemma wakes. Everything is very quiet in the flat so obviously Marie-

France did go to work leaving her to fend for herself. The train apparently leaves at 15.13 and she

wants to give herself plenty of time as she would hate to miss it after all the effort that has gone into

getting herself this far.

She folds up the blanket, feeling very responsible and grown up, and being very careful to pick up

her passport and ticket lets herself out of the flat and posts the keys into Marie-France’s mail box on

the ground floor.

Using Amelie’s mother’s 20 Euro note Gemma buys herself a banana, a delicious looking filled

baguette and a drink, then looks around for somewhere to eat her brunch. Going round the corner

she finds herself in the Place des Voges and seeing a little gate goes in and sits on one end of the

nearest bench.

On the other end of the bench a young man is working on a laptop computer. He looks somehow

familiar but it is not until he looks across and smiles at her that she can put her finger on who he

reminds her of. She lets out an involuntary “Oh” and spills half her drink down her front.

The man is immediately on his feet and is being very helpful trying to dry up the spilt drink “I am

sorry” he says “I made you jump.”

“I thought you were someone else, but it is not physically possible.”

“I’m Gildas d’Auch. You must have met my brother or my cousin, all the men in our family look

exactly alike, it can sometimes be amusing but it can also be quite disconcerting if you are not

expecting it.” He holds out his hand to shake hands, Gemma looks at the hand and hesitates. Surely

this man is really here, really flesh and blood, ghosts aren’t visible in daylight. She holds onto the

bench with her left hand and shakes the proffered hand.

Everything is fine, he really is a real live human being!

It is such a relief that she almost embarks on telling him her story of Bonaguil but it is too

unbelievable to tell a stranger, even a stranger who doesn’t look like a stranger.

Gildas is very friendly and chatty, Gemma soon feels she has known him for ages. She asks his advice

about how to get to the Gare du Nord.

“Whichever way you go you will have to change. You can either walk or take a bus along here as far

as Boulevard Beaumarchais and there you can either get another bus straight into the Gare du Nord

or you can take the Metro from Chemin Vert but you will have to change at Republique. I think the

bus is the best option. Better still my car is not far away, I’ll drive you.”

Gemma cannot believe that this Gildas is as ruthless as his ancestor, but she would rather not put it

to the test. “That is very kind but there is no need. I like travelling by bus and I am sure I can

manage.”

“Well let me at least walk with you as far as Beaumarchais then I can make sure you get on the right

bus.”

She does not want to be treated as a child, though she has to admit that technically she is a child,

even after the last few days’ events. It has been quite an achievement to get herself this far, it

would be a shame to ruin it all now by getting on the wrong bus and missing her train just because

she is too pigheaded to accept help.

As they turn into the main road Gildas says “Do you mind waiting just a second? I must pop into this

travel agency to give someone a message. I’ll be very quick.”

“That’s fine, I’ll wait here.”

He had hardly gone through the door when the pock marked face of Martin looms up in front of her.

Gemma had not associated the fact that he had said worked near Place de la Republique with the

area she was now travelling through.

“Well, if it isn’t the vicious Miss Busybody. We said you could never hide from us.” He hisses “You

made us lose hundreds of thousands of Euros.

Gemma looks round desperately and is relieved to see Gildas coming back

“Is this man bothering you?” he asks and taking her arm starts to lead her away. Martin puts out a

hand to stop him and Gildas slaps it away. This is too much for Martin who hits out with all his

strength and then crumples to the ground as Gildas retaliates considerably harder. They don’t wait

to let him pick himself up

“Let’s go, there is the bus.” He hurries her away and across the road to the bus stop leaving Martin

gaping and rubbing his chin. “What on earth have you been up to to deserve that? No, don’t tell

me, it is better if I don’t know. I think it is best if I come all the way to the station and make sure you

get on your train, it looks as if it is not safe to leave you.”

The bus takes them right into the station and Gildas leads her straight to the Eurostar section. He

shows her how to validate her ticket and where to queue to go through customs and onto the train.

He has been so thoughtful she is almost inclined to forgive his ancestor, obviously he has not

inherited the ruthless, nastiness along with the appearance. Gemma can’t help wondering if the

identical brother and cousin have also avoided the curse of being a d’Auch.

Gildas leaves her at the barrier and promises that he will let her know when he is next coming to

London, as he needs to come over every couple of months. Gemma has not admitted that she is still

at school, and boarding school at that. Gildas has been treating her as a grown-up and it has been

wonderful.

Soon she is comfortably ensconced in her seat and has time to watch the other people as they look

for their seats. Suddenly she notices their neighbour from London on the platform. How very odd

she was thinking of her only a couple of days ago, it was her son who had died of an overdose. She

sinks as far as she can into her corner because for a moment it looks as though Mrs Wilson is going

to get into the same carriage but, much to Gemma’s relief, she appears to realise that it is the wrong

one and disappears further down the train. She is a nice person but would have been bound to start

asking unanswerable questions, and if the subject of drugs came up she would probably get all teary

as she usually does when she thinks about her son. She might even tell Mum who would make a

terrible scene and probably stop her having so much freedom.

The trouble with her mother is that she is very torn between being a good mother and a high-

powered business woman. Maybe it was a bad idea to make so much fuss when Mum first went

back to work. Well, it is too late to worry about that now and, as long as the train gets in on time

and Caroline is there to meet her as promised, she should never know about this trip.

The train starts and Gemma turns to watch as Paris and its outskirts rush past the window.

CHAPTER 14

Faster than fairies, faster than witches,

Bridges and houses, hedges and ditches;

And charging along like troops in a battle

All through the meadows the horses and cattle:

All of the sights of the hill and the plain

Fly as thick as driving rain;

And ever again, in the wink of an eye,

Painted stations whistle by.

Here is a child who clambers and scrambles,

All by himself and gathering brambles;

Here is a tramp who stands and gazes;

And here is the green for stringing the daisies!

Here is a cart runaway in the road

Lumping along with man and load;

And here is a mill, and there is a river:

Each a glimpse and gone forever!

('From a Railway Carriage' by Robert Louis Stevenson)

CHAPTER 15

Epilogue.

It is notoriously difficult to predict the future with any accuracy but the latest, most up-to-date, high

definition, digital crystal ball foretells that Gemma will find her strange gift a mixed blessing. She will

have to get used to being treated by some people like a prize exhibit in a freak show. The local

newspaper will get to hear about her and a young journalist will come to interview her but as he can

not prise many details about what really happened out of her the resulting article will be rather thin

and will be banished to the bottom of an inside page on a day when there is no other news.

Although speaking all languages becomes possible she will have to work extremely hard to be able to

read and write those that she elects to study for the various examinations both at school and

university. The effort will pay off though and she will leave university with a first class degree in

modern languages. She will set her sights on becoming a foreign correspondent and after a number

of years of apprenticeship and more lowly positions she will achieve her goal when she lands a job

with one of the national newspapers.

From time to time there will be unforeseen problems because her interlocutor will hear what she

says in his or her mother tongue. On one occasion she will narrowly avoid being arrested as a spy

when reporting from a particularly volatile part of the Middle East. And on another one she will

have to be rescued from the jail of an African dictator who feels that she is making fun of him when

he hears her speaking his tribal language.

Amelie will do as she has been asked and invite Gemma to stay in Paris but by then Olivier’s interest

will have moved on and although he will be friendly and still be fascinated by her language ability it

will be obvious that he has fallen passionately in love with one of his fellow students and has not

really got time for a friend of his cousin, however useful she could be for his chosen career.

She will have a very brief affair with Damian Webb and about five years, and seven boyfriends later a

rather longer relationship with Lysander.

Gildas will contact her through Caroline as she has only been able to give him her sister’s contact

details. He will become a good and very reliable friend even after he has heard the whole story and

her suspicions about his ancestor. It will be a very long time before she stops seeing the ghost of

Catherine waving from her prison in the tower at Bonaguil and feels she can really trust him. Then

their friendship will blossom into a long-lasting, happy and loving relationship.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Lavender Taylor 2013

lavenderlc@gmail.com