Monsieur Pamplemousse Aloft Read Online Free PDF Page A

was in one piece. The far side of the ditch was higher than the other, being part of a long platform on which salt was piled to dry off in the sun, and the grass which covered the sides had acted as a cushion. But the possibility of getting his car back onto the road again all by himself was remote. He made a few desultory attempts, but one rear wheel was lifted clear off the ground and even with Pommes Frites’ weight on the back seat, that was where it stayed. He would need the help of a tractor, and looking around the area, mechanical aids of any sort seemed to have low priority in ensuring the continuing supplies of sea salt to the tables of France.
    Bleak was perhaps the best way of describing the countryside; bleak, but with a strange, almost translucent light. In the distance across the empty landscape he could see the occasional figure of someone working late, but they were all too far away to notice his plight, or to do much about it if they did.
    A sandpiper flew past.
    Four cars came and went, but they were all going the wrong way and full of holiday makers. He glanced at his watch. It was just after “six-thirty. They were probably the last he would see for a while. Most visitors would be back in their hotels by now, getting ready for the evening meal, having left the beach early because of the approaching clouds. After a long day on the sea-front those with families were probably glad of the excuse.
    Just as the first rain began to fall he saw a car coming towards him, travelling the way he wanted to go. It was being driven fast, and as it drew near he saw there was a girl at the wheel.
    Signalling Pommes Frites to stay where he was, Monsieur Pamplemousse decided to abandon his own car and leapt into the road, waving his arms. Almost immediately, he jumped back again, nearly losing his balance as the black BMW shotpast, swerved, then skidded to a halt a little way along the road. He might have been killed. Regardless of the rights and wrongs of stopping for strangers, there were ways of going about it. For a moment he almost regretted no longer being in the Force. In the old days he’d thrown the book at drivers for less.
    There was a roar from the engine and a moment later the car reversed towards him. At least the girl wasn’t leaving him to his fate like the others. It skidded to a halt and he waited impatiently for the electrically operated window to be lowered.
    Sizing up the situation with a quick glance the girl reached over and released the door catch. ‘You’ll get soaked. You’d better get in.’
    ‘I have a companion.’ Monsieur Pamplemousse pointed to Pommes Frites. ‘And some
bagages.
I’m afraid we have had an accident. Some
imbéciles
nuns driving on the wrong side of the road. If you would be so kind …’
    There was only a moment’s hesitation. ‘He’d better get in the back. I’ll look after him. You see to the rest. The compartment is unlocked.’
    Pommes Frites was in the back of the car almost before his master had time to get their luggage out, watching proceedings through the rain-spattered glass, making sure his own things were safely installed.
    The boot was empty save for a small and expensive-looking valise and a roll of coarse material which he had to move before he could get his own belongings in. There was also a strong smell of pear-drops.
    Monsieur Pamplemousse closed the boot and ran round the side of the car, reaching for his handkerchief as he went. He could feel the water running down his face in tiny rivulets.
    ‘It is very kind of you.’ He climbed in, mopping his brow. In the circumstances gratitude was very much in order. He could hardly complain that a moment or too earlier she had nearly run him down. ‘I’m sorry if we have delayed you.’
    The implication that she’d been going too fast was not lost.‘I hope I didn’t frighten you too much. I was reaching for the lights as I came round the corner and your car was hidden from view. Besides, I