C'est La Vie

By Margaret Heslop

Behind closed doors, all may not be as it seems. With the Arc de Triomphe and the avenues radiating from it in a circle as leit motif for the choices made in life, we look into the lives of fourteen women and two men as they are used, abused and undermined by words, deeds and circumstances.
Some suffer emotionally or physically under the will of others, some face tragedy. Some survive and emerge stronger but for others the struggle is simply too much and they succumb.
There are those who believe it is their right to impose their will on others. Choices are made and the consequences have to be faced. What is hidden and what remains unspoken cannot be healed.
Veronique says: “If we had only had a view like this of the life before us, what different choices would we have made?”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Margaret Heslop
• Release date: Jun 30, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476458328

Margaret Heslop

I was born and educated in Springs South Africa. I trained as a Medical Technologist (Clinical Pathology). Much later - to keep my daughter company - Idid a BA degree majoring in English and Psychology. This was followed by an Honours degree in English and some teaching diplomas. I am now retired from teaching and pursing my writing career. I consider my daughter and son and their families as the greatest joy in my life. I have the honour of calling some of the best people on the planet - friends. I live in Rustenburg South Africa with my cats and dogs.

Book preview

C'est la Vie

By Margaret Heslop

Copyright 2012 Margaret Heslop

Smashwords Edition

Cover by Ciro Correia

Discover other titles by Margaret Heslop at:

Half fledged she flew

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Table of contents

C’estLaVie

Genevieve & Justine

Angelica

Avril

Veronique

Janine

Dominic

Pia

Maria

Aimeé

Sabine

Guy

Nanette

Pauline

Avril

Freda

Veronique

C’est la Guerre

C’est La Vie

This life! It begins – it ends – and that is where all certainty leaves us. Imagine standing under the Arc de Triomphe watching multiple lanes of traffic whizzing by. While the arch towers above, straddling you like a protective colossus, one may feel completely secure. But, if one takes a few tentative paces towards the unrelenting whirlpool of cars, trucks and buses, suddenly, the prospect of crossing seems daunting in the extreme. Beyond this hub, radiating outwards like the spokes on the bigger wheel of a penny farthing, dozens of avenues stretch into neighbourhoods unknown. If you manage to make it by getting across all the lanes safely, which road should you take? So many choices… Should the choice be poor or should someone deny you the luxury of choice by asserting their will, how difficult might it be to find a way out?

Genevieve & Justine

Genevieve and Justine managed to weave their way through the speeding cars; the exuberance of youth gave them a sense of invincibility. Giggling at the hoots and gesticulations from a driver who, loath to slow down, had managed to swerve at the very last moment, they congratulated each other on reaching the pavement. They had been walking around for some time, when they were drawn by the sound of music filtering out of an avenue somewhere ahead of them. Was it a carnival?

*

Clowns dancing around at the next corner beckoned the girls. One had a red painted smile that covered the entire lower half of his face, large black surprised eyebrows and a bright red bushy wig – he said his name was Coco. The other one with the yellow hair – Jojo – had a smaller smile but the edges reached high – almost to his cheek bones and his eyes were decorated all around with shiny blue glitter and tilted upwards amusingly. They seemed very jovial and gave each girl a small packet of sherbet with a straw to suck out the sweet white powder.

For the two eighteen-year-olds, freshly arrived from their quiet country town, the city oozed excitement. The pair allowed themselves to be led into the avenue. Halfway down, a park opened up on the left hand side and they saw swings, roundabouts, a helter-skelter and rows of multicoloured tents offering all manner of treats like cotton candy, sticks of peppermint and lemonade. They felt ecstatic on the rides as they twirled and whirled until they were quite dizzy. Then, for more entertainment, there were performing chimpanzees, games of chance and everywhere, girls wearing short flared skirts and fish net tights sold tickets. They rode the swings again and danced to music that emanated from loud speakers. It was about the middle of the afternoon when the euphoria began to wear off and Justine found herself looking around for the clowns. Perhaps the sweet sherbet would boost their flagging energy. She spotted Jojo and he gave them each another sachet, refusing their offer of payment.

It was dark, but the blackness of the night sky was masked by bright fairground lights filtering through wafting clouds of smoke that rose up after a long, loud display of fireworks and the stars were hidden from view. In the silence that followed Genevieve remarked that they had better find accommodation for the night. Because they had been so distracted by all the fun, they had not given this a thought and it was possibly too late. Before they had time to panic Coco appeared out of the shadows with a man who, by his dress and demeanour, the girls took to be a ringmaster.

More sherbet? he offered.

Thank you, said Genevieve, putting her hand out absently, but we have to find a place to stay and it is already eleven o’clock. I hope we can get something at this hour.

"But – mon cherie – you are in luck! I have place at my hotel. I own it you see. Come – follow me."

They followed him up the stairs and watched, a little surprised, as he opened a padlock at the top of the door before he turned the key in the lock near the handle.

That’s a strange place for a padlock, remarked Justine.

It’s to stop vagrants should they manage to sneak in past the concierge during the night. Locks are relatively easy to pick. There’s another on the inside to keep guests safe, the ringmaster explained, Not that it has happened, you understand, but we take the precautions anyway.

They were each given a small room containing a double bed and a nightstand. They protested, saying they would be happy to share, but the ‘ringmaster’ waved this away. There was a bathroom in the passage which had to be shared by the occupants of the four rooms on the third floor. It would do for the night. They asked the ‘ringmaster’ how much they would have to pay and were amazed to discover there would be no charge. What a nice man! Were they not extremely fortunate to have met him?

In the morning, the girls were ready to move on but the smell of fresh croissants drew them to the dining room. The ‘ringmaster’ appeared and, after asking if they had slept well, poured them some coffee. He said they should call him Pierre. He was above average height and had dark sliced-back hair and a moustache reminiscent of Salvador Dali.

Thank you for your hospitality, said Genevieve, we will leave as soon as we have finished here. Please, can’t we pay you something?

No – no money necessary. But why not stay a little longer? There is much to see and there will be no charge. It is a pleasure to have two such beautiful young girls around. With a casually confident air, he sat down to join them for breakfast, calling out to a waiter to bring fresh coffee as he did so.

Where do your parents live? he asked amiably, pouring the steaming brown liquid into their cups.

A long way from here, said Genevieve, spooning some marmalade on to her plate, We left home as soon as we finished school to find work in this beautiful city. "Leaving your broken hearted boyfriends behind, and no doubt they will soon follow you here.

No – we have no boyfriends, Justine said quickly, We promised each other there would be no romance until we’ve established ourselves.

Staying virginal, he smiled.

You could say that, Justine blushed.

Ah! Here is Coco. He will take you for a walk.

I have some more sherbet for you, said the clown, I know how much you like it. Now I will show you some sights and take you to my favourite café.

In the clear light of day, the street was a little different with a fair amount of debris lying around after the night’s revelry. The carnival seemed to have packed and gone and Genevieve did find herself wondering why Coco still wore his full clown makeup. As she sucked on her sherbet, however, this became unimportant and they gaily followed behind Coco as, having showed them a few historical buildings, he made his way along the pavement towards some tables covered with red and white checked table cloths. He motioned for them to sit and ordered a carafe of white wine and some pastries.

Coco was obviously well liked in the neighbourhood. Numerous men stopped by and joined them briefly during the two hours they sat at the table. The girls were continually complimented on their looks and, although they blushed often, could not help but feel extremely flattered. They failed to notice the knowing looks the men exchanged with the clown. By late afternoon, as they entered the lobby of the hotel, both girls felt tired and listless. Pierre insisted they stay for at least one more day saying he wished to treat them to a superb meal the following evening and they agreed but said they would definitely leave the day after.

I’m so tired, I don’t think I have enough energy to climb three flights of stairs, sighed Justine as she slumped into an arm chair in the lounge.

Sherbet?

Thank you Coco, I was thinking of asking you for some more of that. I think the sugar in it gives me energy.

The restaurant I have in mind is rather formal. Do you have the right sort of dresses with you? asked Pierre.

Perhaps you should choose somewhere else, said Justine, all we have with us is rather casual everyday wear.

No problem, I will send Gigi to take your dress sizes and we will arrange something.

Later, sitting on the bed in Justine’s room, the listlessness evaporated and the girls talked animatedly into the early hours of the morning with the result that it was nearly noon before they awoke. Strangely, they both felt a little depressed and, without much thought or discussion, went downstairs to find Coco. The sherbet seemed to have magical properties and they wanted more of it.

The clowns escorted them for a walk to a park in the afternoon. Each man carried a bunch of balloons which they randomly handed to children along the way. Two of the men they had met on the previous day greeted them as they passed.

I look forward to the first bite of the apple, one was saying to the other as they tipped their hats.

Back at the hotel, they found two dresses on the bed in Genevieve’s room. They had been delivered in large boxes with the name of each girl printed diagonally across the lid. They lifted the lids, eager to see the contents, which agreeably surprised them. The green satin would be perfect for Justine with her auburn hair, while the royal blue was ideal for the blonde Genevieve. Both girls found the dresses a little tight and far shorter than they would normally choose and they felt slightly uncomfortable at the amount of exposed cleavage. They sucked on sherbet as they applied their makeup, a little too heavily, and they began to find something funny about everything they did. When the hilarity died down, they considered taking all the powder and mascara off and redoing their faces, but all concerns vanished as they admired themselves in the large full length mirror.

The private salon at the restaurant had plush red leather seating in a horseshoe shape around a table. Pierre sat in the centre with a girl on either side and they thought he was being quite paternal. Although a glass chandelier hung above them, the lighting was quite dim and the walls of the partition were padded in red brocade. They sipped aperitifs and looked at the menu, horrified at the prices they saw. Pierre said they need not worry as he had a share in the establishment and would take it upon himself to order for them.

The curtain that gave the salon its privacy parted and two men entered. Pierre greeted them warmly and asked them to join him. As they slid into the seats on opposite sides, the girls instantly recognised them as Coco’s friends from the café and the park. They were full of good humour and gazed at the girls with more than a little open admiration. The wine flowed and the girls were soon showing the effects.

Excuse me, I need the bathroom, said Genevieve, as she finished her meal.

But I have just brought you girls a very special after dinner liqueur, said one of the men. I’ll take it with me then," she said giggling. Later she would remember that she had left the glass untouched on the basin. Having had far too much to drink, they stumbled into the car to drive back to the hotel.

Both virgins, I assure you, Pierre mumbled, pocketing a fat envelope from each man as the girls were escorted up the stairs.

Genevieve would recall this in the morning. That night, however, after all the wine and champagne, neither girl was in full control of events. Justine seemed to be vitually somnambulant and Genevieve thanked her lucky stars that she had not touched the last drink, but was glad, nevertheless, to have someone near that was capable of unlocking the door.

The men, oozing charm, had ushered them into the rooms and before they knew what was happening, had efficiently proceeded to rape them. Genevieve was shocked into sobriety and as the man opened the door to leave, she dashed past him and ran down the stairs screaming. Pierre appeared and, gripping her upper arm firmly, led her into the empty lounge where she broke down and told him what had been done to her. She wanted him to call the police immediately.

No, he said.

What?

They are my friends. I will not call the police.

I’ll call them myself. I’ll get Justine and we’ll leave now.

You’re not leaving.

You can’t stop us!

I can. You have had free meals and accommodation for what – three days – four days? I can have you arrested for not paying.

You can’t do this, she cried.

Those men paid good money for you two, he sneered as he peeled notes off a roll, folded them and shoved them roughly down the front of her dress. He whistled and two men appeared. They seemed vaguely familiar and, by the time they had man-handled her back to her room, she knew why. Coco and Jojo! Without their make-up, Coco’s pock marked face and thin lipped scowl and Jojo’s cruel eyes and scared forehead, epitomised the hardened criminal. They pushed her through the door and she heard a bolt slide across the top from the outside and then the click of a padlock.

She could have banged at the door but she knew it would be pointless. She sat and thought over the previous days and suddenly understood some of the things that had puzzled her. The large bolts on the outside of the doors obviously had nothing to do with vagrants because they now suggested to her that there must have been a need to keep someone confined in the rooms before. Coco and the men at the cafe´ - it was becoming clearer. This place was a brothel and the clowns were pimps and – oh – the sherbet – could it be?

It was two weeks before Genevieve saw Justine again, and that was just a brief glimpse by chance. Two of the girls who she’d seen selling tickets at the carnival would arrive and escort them to the bathroom. It was on one of these occasions that she saw Justine being taken back to her room. The girl was pale and did not seem fully awake. Strange men arrived nearly every night and not always the same ones.

Having realised that the sherbet contained some addictive substance – she suspected cocaine - Genevieve was determined to avoid it. Surreptitiously, she found a way to make it look like she used the stuff by emptying the sachet into a bag that she hid under the mattress. She pretended to accept her circumstances and was at last, after three months, allowed the freedom to visit Justine. Her friend was thin and vague. Men had taught her to sniff the powder and the syringes on the nightstand suggested she had been introduced to heroin. Genevieve was determined to find a way for them both to escape.

I can’t live with this shame, sobbed Justine, I just can’t live with it! Don’t look at the syringe like that – it helps me get through the nights.

I’ll get us out somehow. Just promise me you’ll hold on till then.

There were thundering footsteps on the stairs and the sound of doors crashing open on the floors below. Toilets were being flushed on every landing as Coco, Jojo and Pierre tried to get rid of anything incriminating lying around the girls’ rooms ahead of the invading drug squad. After they had had a quick look around her room and moved on, Genevieve pulled the packet from under her mattress, stuffed it under her shirt - and waited. The Kevlar vested men who burst into her room seconds later, found her co-operative. She surprised them by slamming the door shut behind them and telling them to stop and listen.

Here, she whispered, Please arrest me – here take this as evidence but please – can you arrest my friend as well.

As they broke through Justine’s door, Genevieve let out an anguished cry. Her friend lay sprawled halfway off the bed, a syringe hanging from her arm and her lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. Genevieve turned, stretched out her arms to be cuffed and allowed a policeman to lead her down the stairs and away from the hotel never to return.

Having made statements and agreeing to testify in court, Genevieve sat in the back of the police car that would take her home. It gave her some small satisfaction to see Pierre, Coco and Jojo in handcuffs,