The Red Hare Restaurant: A Tasting Menu of Short Stories

By Honorè E. Bourdon

Have you ever imagined dining with the Devil, finding Paradise in your town or even turning into a hat?  
Bourdon takes the reader to a world of dreams, hidden desires, vulnerability and discomfort in these grotesque and, at times, absurd stories. Their sinister atmosphere provides theatrical settings where reality and imagination meet and merge taking or pushing ordinary characters into extraordinary, unbelievable and sometimes fatal situations involving supernatural creatures and surreal events.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Release date: Dec 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781788033879

Book preview

The Red Hare Restaurant

(a tasting menu of short stories)

by

Honoré E. Bourdon

Copyright © 2018 Honoré E. Bourdon

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, actual places or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781788033879

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To Thomas

Tasting Menu

The Red Hare Restaurant

(A couple spend their skiing holiday in France and discover a restaurant different from any other restaurants they have ever been to)

Save Our Souls

(A customer wishes for the impossible – and a very special hatter from Brussels might just make it come true)

Margarita’s Sweet Shop

(An American professor and his wife celebrate their wedding anniversary in Palma de Majorca, where the wife befriends a mysterious sweet shop owner)

A Funeral in San Marcelo

(A man travels to Italy to find his old love, which will lead to unexpected and undesirable consequences)

Elise

(A father and his young son enter the UK after escaping from the terror in their home country. As neither of them can speak English, the father creates a wonderland of tales and fairies for his son while they are travelling across the country)

New Challenges

(An Italian woman decides to take control of her fate, but she faces new challenges when she meets a young man)

Paradise Exists

(A young theology student doubts the existence of Paradise)

The Garden

(A terminally ill man discovers a secret garden in his neighbourhood he had never no-ticed before)

Fortune Travel

(A businessman decides to go for a trip with a travel agency that never offers return

tickets)

Hotel Marmo

An English antique shop owner travels to Sicily where he meets three women in similar circumstances, but at different times)

Concert for Two

(A psychologist is invited to a concert by a young entrepreneur, who claims to be the same person who visited her in the form of a much older man)

The Red Hare Restaurant

1.

A British couple from London spent their skiing holiday in a small village in the French Alps a few years ago. On the last evening of their trip, they decided to dine out. Spurred on by this idea, they searched the village for a nice restaurant with some atmosphere. However – as often happens during the winter season – they found that most places were stuffed with tourists and had no available tables. They had been wandering the streets and alleys for an hour or so when the husband noticed the illuminated sign of The Red Hare Restaurant in a tiny narrow alley. Exhausted and fed up with the long fruitless walk, they entered the restaurant, and although many tables were occupied, they were lucky to spot a free one. A friendly young waiter seated them at the table.

The couple were in a lively mood. They chatted about their holiday, the great weather they had had, and the freedom of being far from work and their everyday life. They secretly observed the other people in the restaurant: the dark thin waiter who greeted them, the blonde middle-aged waitress manoeuvring between the tables, grabbing a silver fork that was falling from one table, occupied by two elderly French-looking women. A young fair couple and their two kids, a girl and a boy, were sitting at the table on their left. The boy was drinking his Coke so greedily that the dark liquid had flowed onto his jumper. His father seemed annoyed and shouted at him while his mother took the glass and put it on the table. A big company of loud American students sat close to the entrance; they looked pretty much drunk already. One of them, a dark boy, stood up with a big smile on his face and started singing. A group of elderly French people – probably from Paris – were chatting at the next table. A few of them looked at the menu while others looked at the American youths with disdain.

Our couple ordered wine from the friendly young waiter and received it a few minutes later. They ordered the starters and main courses as well then continued their carefree discussion. After twenty minutes, the wife grew impatient. Her eyes searched the room for the waiter but could not find him. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the middle-aged waitress rushing between the tables and catching a fork that nearly fell from the table of the French-looking women.

How odd, she thought. Then she refocused on the story that her husband was telling her.

Fifteen minutes later, their food was still nowhere to be seen, and the wife was getting really hungry. Her husband appeared relaxed but took another sip of his wine and looked towards the kitchen door.

The middle-aged waitress had just passed their table, and the wife was tempted to stop her and ask about their meal. But the right moment had passed, and the waitress bent to pick up a fork that was falling from the table of the French-looking women.

How very odd, the wife thought, and then she said it out loud.

‘What is odd?’ her husband asked.

‘The waitress,’ the wife said. ‘This is the third time she’s picked up a falling fork from that table.’ She discreetly pointed at the two women. ‘They must do it deliberately.’ She frowned in disagreement.

‘Oh come on!’ Her husband smiled at her but also took a quick glance at the kitchen door once again. He was getting hungry too. He took a sip from his glass and looked around. ‘I hope that kid will not sing the same song again,’ he remarked when he saw the American boy standing up.

They heard the angry voice of the little boy’s father.

‘Did he pour the Coke on himself again?’ the wife asked.

‘It seems so.’ Her husband nodded. He wanted to sip his wine, but his glass was empty. ‘Where is that damn waiter?’ he asked impatiently.

‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since he took our order. Let’s ask the waitress,’ his wife suggested.

The waitress appeared among the tables, looking tired and lost in her thoughts. The husband raised his hand to get her attention, but she passed their table without noticing his gesture and automatically picked up a fork at the next table. One of the women apologised, for the fourth time.

‘Did you see that?’ the wife asked.

Her husband nodded. ‘I thought she saw my signal.’ He looked annoyed.

‘I meant the fork. She picked up that damn fork again,’ his wife whispered. Her voice was almost hysterical.

The American boy stood up once more, giving a sweet smile to his audience, before he started singing the same song as before.

‘I will go mad if I have to listen to this song again,’ the husband said. ‘I’m going to find the waiter.’

He put his napkin on the table with the intention of standing up from his seat, but to his surprise, nothing happened. The energetic movement of pushing his chair slightly back and jumping up stopped before it had started. His legs did not follow his mind’s instructions. He tried once more, to no avail.

‘What are you doing?’ his wife asked, seeing the confusion on her husband’s face.

‘I’ve tried to stand up, but I can’t!’ he said, almost shouting.

‘Why?’ She did not understand how it was possible not to manage such a simple thing.

‘I don’t know!’ A mixture of fear and confusion was reflected in his face.

‘Let me see,’ his wife said. Her mind, muscles, and bones were ready to carry out the list of simple instructions, one after the other, but she could not move. Her body did not answer the urge of her brain. Her face filled with terror and frustration.

‘What happened?’ the husband asked.

‘I cannot move either,’ she whispered.

They heard the father shouting at his son as the black sparkling stream of Coke spilled down the boy’s jumper. The American boy finished his song and sat down, accompanied by a round of applause. The waitress caught the falling fork before it reached the floor.

‘What the hell is going on?’ the husband asked.

His wife left the question unanswered. None of them knew what was going on in The Red Hare Restaurant. How could they? There was only one person who did know. He was sitting comfortably at the table of the group of elderly French tourists. He had been looking at the middle-aged British couple since they had entered the restaurant. He saw them chatting and laughing, discussing the menu, drinking their wine. He watched them from behind his eyelashes: the blonde woman in her thirties and the dark man in his early forties.

Nice insouciant couple. Pretty, passionate woman, and handsome guy. He has his full hair, lucky chap, he thought.

He curiously followed their growing impatience and realisation that something was not quite right around them. The blonde woman looked around; hunger, impatience, annoyance, frustration, and fear had changed her expressive face. He could hardly hide his smile when the husband tried to jump up from their table but was stuck there like a fly in honey. His green eyes shined with joy. His heart would fill with pleasure if he had one. He knew so well what would happen next. He felt the excitement in the tips of his fingers. His muscles tightened in his legs, ready for the next move. He did not hide his smile any more. On the contrary, he looked straight into the eyes of the blond woman and saluted her by nodding his head.

‘Look at that man,’ she whispered to her husband.

‘Which one?’

‘That French guy in the steel-blue shirt.’

‘The chubby one with the curly grey hair?’

‘Yes!’ the wife almost shouted.

‘What about him?’ Her husband seemed puzzled.

‘He smiled at me,’ the wife said.

‘Well, I cannot go and tell him off for that, I am afraid,’ her husband said with an ironic smile.

‘Look, he’s asking if he can join us!’ the wife said with an excited voice.

If anyone were to ask her later why she got so excited about this, she would not be able to explain.

‘Why not?’

They looked at the French guy with an encouraging smile. He got up from his chair and walked leisurely towards them, carefully avoiding a clash with the waitress who was cleverly manoeuvring between the tables. When he reached the couple’s table, he greeted them.

‘Good evening. I apologise for interrupting you, but I thought you would not mind if I joined you.’

‘No, not at all, Monsieur . . .’ the wife said quickly, then she stopped when she realised she did not know the stranger’s name.

‘Monsieur Bourdon.’ The Frenchman smiled at her.

‘Please take a seat.’ The husband pointed to one of the chairs.

The Frenchman took the seat offered to him and then pulled a cigar out of his pocket. ‘I hope you do not mind...’ He looked apologetically at the couple.

They both shook their heads. ‘Not at all,’ the husband said. ‘I myself have tried to quit for years but have always failed.’ He laughed lightly and looked at his wife.

‘Well, I have another one if your wife doesn’t mind me tempting you.’

‘I don’t mind, of course, but what about the others? I saw the non-smoking sign at the entrance,’ the wife said with uncertainty in her voice.

‘They will not mind,’ the Frenchman said confidently. He took another cigar from his pocket and offered it to the husband, who accepted. M Bourdon lit both cigars. The two men inhaled the smoke with pleasure and satisfaction.

‘Excellent cigar,’ the husband commented as he blew the smoke.

‘It is, isn’t it?’ the Frenchman agreed.

They entered into light conversation. M Bourdon learned that his companions’ names were Eleanor and Matthew. They lived in London where Eleanor worked as a food critic, and Matthew as a travel book writer. They had two cats, but no children yet. The couple found out that their new friend was a bachelor, who spent half a year in his Parisian apartment and