Villainsac

By John Warwick

Villainsac is a small market village situated in Southwest France which was constructed during the 13th century by Count Alphonse de Poitiers. The Count begets an illegitimate son called Charles who was tyrannical and mentally unstable. The Count therefore built a Chateau where he had Charles incarcerated until he died on 13th January 1289 or according to folk tale, suddenly disappeared.
The Chateau lay empty until it was occupied again in 1858 by John Henry Forbes, a wealthy London banker, and who on the night of 5th May 1868 also disappeared. In 2006 the Chateau was purchased by John Mortimer, also a wealthy banker.

However, after signing the first contract for the purchase of the Chateau, the Maire discovers a document which proves to be a Decree signed by Count Alphonse enforcing the owner of the Chateau to pay a pension to the local residents, free of tax. John Mortimer is a wealthy man but finding the money to fund the pensioners seems impossible.

John returns to London and late one afternoon in the City, John stumbles upon a pub which he had never noticed in the past called the “Alphonse.”

On entering the pub John finds that he has gone back in time to 1868 and is addressed by the landlord as Mr. Forbes. He purchases a pint of beer, sits down at a table, and passes out. He is awoken back in his own time by a young man, whom in time; John will find familiar.

Realising that he has been taken for John Forbes, he contrives to make a Will with himself the main beneficiary. Strange events start to occur, and it is presumed that the spirit of a person who died by means other than of natural causes was imprisoned in the tunnel. Meanwhile, the ancient Decree becomes public knowledge, and a great deal of interest is shown by the village folk. Cleverly, this is quelled less the Tax Officials should find out about it.

However, there are three ladies in the village who have nothing much more to do than snoop on other people’s business and are hell bent in finding the truth about the pension payments; as a result, all three meet their untimely deaths. They do in their plight managed to attract the attention of the Tax Office which generates the interest of Mme. Baldazzini (Tax Officer). In order to find the truth, she finally gate crashes a Hallowe'en Party given by John Mortimer at the Chateau thus manages to gain access to his study and filing cabinets. In doing so, she becomes possessed and disappears. This generates further interest by the police, the news media, and the Tax Office.
Further super natural disturbances occur at the Chateau which culminate in a surreal sexual experience being encountered between John and Mathieu Laffite (John’s Valet). John makes a trip to the Cayman Islands where his funds are held. He meets Charles Snoopchut Sfenalono who has a seat next to him on the aircraft and is staying at the same hotel on the island; John soon realises that Charles has very strange powers. Mathieu is asked to travel to the island, when he arrives, Charles has mysteriously disappeared. John goes to the bank where the Manager tells him that a further letter of wishes by Mr Forbes had been found and written at the same time as the Will, this letter gives further instructions that the monies are to be transferred to a Mr Charles Snoopchut Sfenalono.

The night after John and Mathieu return to the Chateau, Mathieu is unable to sleep and in his disturbed state decides to take his bedding downstairs to sleep outside John’s room in the corridor. The following morning Mathieu discovers that John is missing he alerts the rest of the occupants in the Chateau and a search commences. Mathieu is arrested on the basis that he is the main suspect resulting in the disappearance of John.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
• Release date: Jul 21, 2023
• ISBN: 9781662916359

Book preview

1

The Birth of a Village

Villainsac is a small market village situated on the east side of Aquitaine in southwest France, the population of which numbers no more than 1,400. When Villainsac was built between the years of 1265 and 1269, it was within the region known as the Languedoc or the tongue of Oc and to the north above Limousin was the tongue of Oil.

Due to the need for new towns in the area, it was by decree in 1265 that Gaston de Gontaut-Biron had to surrender a tract of land in the forest of Montlabour to Count Alphonse de Poitiers et Toulouse (1220-1271), brother of St Louis, King Louis IX of France. Thus, the town of Villainsac was born.

Count Alphonse was an honest and moderate man protecting the middle classes against exactions of the nobles and he exercised a happy influence upon the south, despite his naturally despotic character and his continuous and pressing need of money. His main work was on his own estates. He died without heirs—or so we are led to believe—on his return from the 8th Crusade, in Italy on 21 August, 1271.

In 1237, the Count married Jeanne, the daughter of Raymond VII. However, a romance occurred during 1241 with a lady of whom history does not leave us with any record and the romance resulted in the birth of a child called Charles but without any Royal title.

As Charles grew into adulthood, he became much more tyrannical than his father to the extent that he was mentally unstable and whilst a great love existed between the two, the Count had decided that any power bestowed upon his son should be quelled and that Charles should be shut away and forgotten about. It is supposed that Charles finally died after a long mental illness on 13 January, 1289; although again, records do not exist but, according to folklore, he suddenly disappeared on that evening and never was to be found again.

The original plans for the construction of Villainsac gave way to what should have been the most dominant feature of the town being that of the church, which would have been seen from miles around and built at the same time as the town.

The design of the church was exceptionally fine indeed and of ample proportions, incorporating heavy buttresses and two square towers linked by battlements housing the bells. The Count, however, had altered those plans, giving provision for the construction of a huge Chateau to be constructed on higher land to the south of the town, much to the disgust of the Monsignor.

Thus, the Chateau was the most dominant feature of the town. With its soaring medieval towers and battlements, it, together with the church at the time, became the main fortification and last point of refuge for the inhabitants should an invasion take place. Thus, underground passages connected the Chateau to the church. There were no fortified walls around the town, but Villainsac was surrounded by a moat which was some seven meters wide and was fed by a fast-flowing river.

The village of Villainsac was completed within four years and was built on a grid system and in the centre, a market square was constructed; but it was not until the end of the 14th Century that this was finally completed. A spacious Market Hall was built and completed with a most unusual wattle and daub upper story. Eight main roads ran through the town and into the square: two from the south, two from the west, two from the north and two from the east. In addition to these roads, many smaller and quite narrow lanes ran on parallel with the main roads. All of these were patrolled by chosen individuals in case of attack. The only disturbances to the grid system were that of the church, which was set at a slight angle and broke the rigidity of the pattern, and the Chateau, which had been constructed on the southern side of the village, being broadly rectangular and rounded on both the east and west elevations; each of these elevations supported two magnificent towers. Thus, the main living quarters of the chateau were on four levels surrounded by high walls; there was only one entrance gate.

On the northeast side of the market square, a lookout had been constructed on four floors, enabling a clear view of the surrounding countryside and any approaching army.

The Count, therefore, had got Charles shut up in the Chateau and made one further decree by providing for the immediate inhabitants of the village on their fiftieth birthdays. For aiding Charles during the years of his confinement, they would be in receipt of a lifelong pension free of any taxes and would no longer be due to provide any services from that day on. The responsibility of this decree was to be handed down to all future residents of the village, but only to those who were born and continued to reside in the immediate town and who continued to provide a service of requirement to the occupants of the Chateau.

In 1279, Villainsac was occupied by the English for 174 years until 1453, marking the end of the Hundred Years War. For the next four centuries, the Chateau stayed mostly unoccupied, although it was maintained by the people of Villainsac, who, mysteriously, were perhaps the most well off compared to those living in the surrounding areas. It has been said that they experienced a feeling of uneasiness when inside the Chateau.

In 1858, John Henry Forbes purchased the Chateau and used it as his main residence. He was a very handsome man aged thirty-eight years at the time, with long hair which was slightly greying. He was very fit and certainly had no physical problems, but unfortunately had lost his wife due to consumption some three years before his move to France. John Forbes was a very wealthy man and during his occupation at the Chateau made many trips back to London in furthering his business activities. John was well liked by the village people and held many glittering banquets.

On the evening of 5 May 1868, Mr Forbes had made his way to his bedroom where he was helped to be undressed and ready for bed by his man servant, Mathieu Laffite. Mathieu was twenty-five years old and about five feet six inches in height, having short blond hair, smooth face and a slim build, but a well-defined strong body and a confident air. By about eleven o’clock, Mathieu, having made sure that all the candles except those around Mr Forbes’ writing desk and bed were safely snuffed, left Mr Forbes writing a letter and returned to his duties downstairs before putting himself to bed.

At about eight o’clock the following morning Mathieu knocked on Mr Forbes’ bedroom door and entered, saying, ‘Good morning, sir. Shall I draw the curtains?’

He received no response which he thought rather odd and moved towards the bed in the darkened room. It appeared that the bed was empty and so he ran to the curtains and flung them wide open. The bed covers had been turned back and there was certain evidence that the bed had been slept in, at some point during the night anyway.

Mathieu searched the room and all the rooms further down the corridor but nowhere was Mr Forbes to be found. Mathieu duly alerted all other members of the household to Mr Forbes’ absence and ordered a search of the entire Chateau.

Later that morning when every inch of the Chateau had been searched, the gendarmerie was contacted, and they made their way to the Chateau immediately. On the arrival of the gendarmes, all the staff were ordered to be present in the main reception room, which was the first set of double doors on the right in the corridor leading on from the top of the entrance staircase.

The Chief Gendarme, M. Teyssier, was six feet two inches tall, very tall for a Frenchman, and was rather austere with a bald head and tufts of black slightly greying hair on either side of his head and long sideburns. He was scrawny to look at but had a large rump for his stature, wearing rather baggy trousers and leaving nearly three inches between the hems and the top of his boots. M. Teyssier began to question Mathieu regarding the events of the previous evening ending in his departure from Mr Forbes’ bedroom.

Mathieu described the evening accordingly:

‘M. Forbes had dinner on his own in the dining hall at half past seven. He commenced with a platter of ham and crudités followed by roast duck and a carafe of red wine. He then had cheese and a glass of port with some grapes. During dinner, M. Forbes was studying some documents and got up from the table at about nine o’clock and went to sit out on the terrace where I brought him another glass of port. He studied the documents for a while until the light went and also enjoyed a cigar. At about eleven o’clock M. Forbes wished to go to his room, and I followed him and got him ready for bed.

‘He then said, Mathieu, I shall write a letter before going to bed. Would you please extinguish all the candles except for those on my writing desk and by my bed?

‘I said, Yes, sir. I wished him a good night and left his room. I then went down to prepare for the following day and cleaned a pair of shoes for M. Forbes. I then retired to my room and woke at about half past six.’

One by one all the servants were interviewed but really had witnessed little as they had either been in the kitchen preparing dinner or had been dealing with some laundry in one of the adjoining rooms. During the whole time they had, as usual, had good conversation shouting to each other from one room to the other and occasionally enjoyed a good joke about one or two of the local village folk. After dinner was finished, they washed up the dishes and retired to their own rooms on the third floor of the Chateau.

M. Teyssier further questioned Mathieu. ‘Is there more than one exit from the Chateau?’

Mathieu said, ‘No. There is only the main entrance door leading to the only gate in the walls of the Chateau and both had been locked at about ten o’clock yesterday evening. There are doors which lead out onto the terraces, but all are flanked by high walls. The only other exit from the Chateau is the door in the dungeon which leads to the connecting tunnel to the church, but that has been firmly locked for centuries and I have no idea where a key might be or whether the door would ever open.’

‘Mathieu,’ enquired M. Teyssier. ‘Have you checked to see if there is anything missing from M. Forbes’s rooms?’

‘No, Sir. I have not really had time!’ said Mathieu.

‘Will you go and look? I will wait here,’ said M.

Teyssier.

Mathieu ran up to M. Forbes’s room and in about half an hour returned.

‘M. Teyssier, I have found that the following items of M. Forbes’s are missing: a black suit, a black bow tie, a white shirt, white winged collar, studs, a pair of black shoes, a black top hat, a white handkerchief and there is no evidence of the letter that M. Forbes was writing the evening before, nor are the documents that he was studying anywhere to be found.’

‘Is there any money missing?’ enquired M. Teyssier.

‘No. Not that I am aware of. But I have no access to M. Forbes’s safe,’ replied Mathieu.

‘Do you know where there might be a key?’ asked M. Teyssier.

‘No,’ replied Mathieu.

‘I think that we should wait a day or two just to see if M. Forbes returns. If he does not, then I suggest that I contact the local smithy to see if he can break into the safe. We may learn something from that,’ said M. Teyssier.

M. Teyssier continued, ‘I bid you good day. Please continue to search the Chateau and report to me anything that you find amiss.’

The gendarme left the Chateau and returned to the gendarmerie which was situated just on the periphery of the village and commenced writing a report on the very strange disappearance of M. Forbes.

Three days later, on 8th May 1868, M. Forbes had not returned. The gendarmes carried out a full search of the Chateau including the door which led to the tunnel but there was no way that it could be opened; it had managed to seal itself shut over the years and the lock was very rusty. There was no way that it could have been opened without extreme force being applied.

The safe was eventually broken into by the local smithy. Some bank notes, both English pounds and French francs, were found amounting to about £500, a considerable sum in 1868. A few documents were also in the safe but they only related to the Chateau and included the deeds.

The years rolled by while all the safe’s contents were held by the gendarmerie and then, finally, after ten years were passed to the Mairie.

The Chateau continued to be looked after by its staff and Mathieu continued to care for his Master’s chattels in the hope that someday he might return.

Mathieu retired at the age of fifty in 1883 on a full pension granted by the Decree of Count Alphonse de Poitiers et Toulouse as did the other members of the staff in turn. He died on 13 January 1908 of pneumonia.

2

Villainsac Today

There is no material difference today to when Villainsac was built more than 750 years ago.

The Market Hall, whilst renovated probably many times is much the same save for now it has a properly tiled floor completed at some time in the 1960s; the mud supports for the surrounding wood columns have over the years been replaced with stone.

The cobbled square shows no sign of any change except for the introduction of modern shop fronts which, in a way, blend in with the medieval design. The square is indeed the hub of the village in every respect, offering a market every Saturday morning, the concept of which was started by Edward I.

The eight main streets slip away restfully into the surrounding countryside beyond the little medieval houses with their shutters closed, protecting the occupants from the heat of the day; some are covered in Virginia creeper which will turn to a brilliant red as the autumn approaches.

The square has two bars and the most famous of which being that of Mme. Pompom. In addition, it has two pharmacies; both of which have green digital clocks offering the time of day and the temperature. One, unfortunately, runs about eight minutes fast and indicates a temperature of about seven degrees centigrade more than reality. But for those sipping coffee or beer at Mme. Pompom’s café, watching the world go by added to the conversation and details written on postcards being sent home to friends and family in less fortunate geographical climates.

Next door to Mme. Pompom’s café is the Mairie, quite a splendid building. It has five windows on the ground floor and five on the first floor, all of which have shutters partially closed and painted in a light dusky green, and its front terraces and balconies spill over with summer flowers. The architecture of the building is typical. Above the middle-shuttered window on the second floor is a large circular detail constructed in stone, which houses the clock of the Mairie together with the bells; above which there is the word ‘Mairie’.

A steep roof with shining grey tiles stands majestically, surrounded by chimney stacks. On the very top is the siren consisting of eight horns; when activated, they sound exactly like an English World War II siren alerting folk to the impending danger of enemy bombers. Having an increasing and dying wail, the siren is usually sounded three times and is used to alert the pompiers in the event of an accident, fire, or medical emergency.

The interior of the Mairie is somewhat less colourful with grey walls and neutral tiled floors greeting visitors to the spacious entrance hall. Supported by an easel on the far opposite wall is a large notice board covered with differently coloured papers reporting all impending and future events being held in Villainsac. To the left of the notice board is a glass cordoned reception with two ladies in attendance, scowling over piles of paper, signing this and stamping that.

When entering the building, the cool hits the skin almost as though you had entered a fridge from the outside heat of 35 degrees centigrade but to the eye this may well have been less to do with the air conditioning and more to do with the décor and the seriousness on the faces of the two receptionists as they toil away.

Suddenly, a door opened inside the receptionist’s office to the left and out came a rather short woman—well, initially one could not be wholly convinced of the sex—with short, grey, swept-back hair held in place by what might have been rather too much grease and wearing a stony grey face. Could this be Mme. Maire herself?

Indeed, it was Mme. Jeannette Squitieri. Whilst she was short, she did have a waist (to some degree anyway) but it was exempt from any curvature, being shaped more like a rift valley, but which somehow managed to support a pair of knee-length lifeless shorts coloured in dark green and brown camouflage. She almost goose stepped towards the two receptionists, her glasses attached to a black cord around her neck, which slid from side to side, uninterrupted by her bosomless chest which was clad in a mud brown tee shirt.

She focused on the lady sitting on the left-hand side of the desk, whose name was Bernadette, and bowed slightly as if she were talking into her ear and said, ‘Bernadette, it looks as though we might have a buyer for the Chateau. Will you go and see if you can find the Deeds? They should be in the safe downstairs in the cellar.’

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Bernadette, her face turning to one of surprise and delight, ‘Do you know who it is?’

‘No! Not really, some sort of banker from London,’ growled the Maire.

‘I do hope that he speaks French!’ said Bernadette expectantly.

‘I doubt it!’ said the Maire. ‘None of them do and if they do, then it is almost impossible to understand them!’

‘At least you are fluent in English so you will be able to help him,’ cooed Bernadette.

‘I might be, but he does not know that! We are in France, and we speak French here!’ the Maire said defiantly.

On that note, the Maire turned and goosestepped back into her office, firmly closing the door behind her.

Bernadette’s face turned to that of wonderment, and she paused for a while, looking into space; her chin resting on her clenched hands and her elbows resting on a pile of paper. Bernadette was a little on the plump side with rosy cheeks and blond hair swept back over her ears. She stood up, saying, ‘I might be some time!’ to the other receptionist, Danielle, a slim-faced girl who sported a tan with brown hair inset with highlights.

She came out of the glass enclosure and tottered across the hall in what can only be described as a loosely fitted green operating gown and disappeared down a staircase in the far-right corner.

About one hour later, she reappeared in cloud of dust and cobwebs and clutching a bundle of documents. The operating gown had doubtless given her some protection against almost 140 years of dirt and grime. She re-entered the glass-walled office and dumped the documents down on top of the existing piles of paper which were now to take a less important place under the revised workload. this resulted in a further cloud of dust being immediately emitted, causing Danielle to go into a convulsion of coughing and sneezing.

‘Sorry!’ said Bernadette, the conveyor of pollution, ‘But these have not seen the light of day for decades.’

Now red eyed and grappling with a handkerchief, Danielle agreed.

At that point, the front door of the Mairie crashed open and a rather lanky, awkward man in his mid to late forties strode into and across the hall in the direction of the receptionists. He had thinning blond hair, was about six feet two inches tall and wiry in appearance. His shorts, being those of sawn-off faded blue jeans, were rather too short for his age and there was a definite danger that a testicle could pop out from either the left or right side. His tee shirt was a rather grubby white and equally short thus exposing the navel. He lurched from side to side as he walked across the floor with an innocent smile upon his face, swinging a shoulder bag as he went.

‘Oh God!’ exclaimed Bernadette in her dusty operating gown. ‘Look what the wind has blown in! It is Mister Warm!’

As he turned to enter the glass-walled reception office, he tossed his bag, which had slid off his back, back onto his shoulder and as he did so, the bag caught the left-hand peg on the easel holding the notice board and sent the whole presentation cart wheeling across the floor, shedding its information as it went. It finally crashed over, blocking the staircase to the cellar.

M. Warm then crashed against the glass door to the reception area, making the whole enclosure shake; he never could work out what the French was for ‘push’ and ‘pull’.

As he finally worked out that the door needed to be pulled rather than pushed, he entered the glass office saying, ‘Sorry about that! Your notice board is a bit dangerous; it nearly fell on me. I have come about the position advertised in the local newspaper for general helper in the village.’

Both Bernadette and Danielle just looked at each other in total disbelief and were silent for more than a few seconds trying to gather the necessary breath to speak and overcome the anxiety which had been about to take them both over.

‘Hmmm! Mister Warm!’ said Danielle.

‘Luke Warm, actually!’ said M. Warm. ‘Has the position been filled?’ He smiled at the two receptionists in a relaxed, confident manner.

There followed a series of questions with responses returned like cannon fire.

‘No!’ ‘Yes!’ ‘Yes!’ ‘Yes!’ ‘No!’ ‘Yes!’ ‘No!’ ‘No!’

Soon, Danielle had managed to command enough composure to say, ‘Well, Mister Warm, we wonder whether your French is really good enough to carry out such a job.’

‘Well, what is demanded of the position?’ M. Warm enquired.

Bernadette replied by saying, ‘It is just helping the elderly in the village by doing small jobs of maintenance, gardening and general things that they need and cannot do for themselves.’

‘Well, I can do that!’ exclaimed Luke.

The two receptionists looked at each other.

Danielle then grappled for a response. ‘Weeee have a few others to interview; may we get back to you?’

Luke nodded his head and bid them a good day, turned and got hold of the door handle and wrestled with it, almost pulling it off until he remembered that he had to push instead of pull. He left the Mairie, vaguely glancing at the destroyed notice board and nearly slipping on the papers which covered the tiled floor on his way out, but he did treat the entrance door with care, first examining whether it should be pulled or pushed.

The two receptionists sat back and discussed the visit. ‘We have got no other response to the advert, and it has been in the press for two weeks now,’ Danielle pointed out.

Bernadette considered that for a moment and said, ‘But we cannot set Mister Warm on the loose. I mean these are elderly people.’

Danielle responded by saying, ‘Yes, but they do need help!’

Bernadette lowered her head in thought and said, ‘Yes, but they do not need high blood pressure or heart attacks. Let us wait until the end of the week before we make a decision.’

Bernadette got up, picked up the documents relating to the Chateau and said in a depressed sort of voice, ‘I had better take these documents to Mme. Squitieri and then I will give you a hand to put the notice board back in its place and clear up that mess out there.’

Bernadette knocked on the door of the Maire’s office and entered.

‘Madame Squitieri, I have got the documents that you want regarding the Chateau. I think that they are all here but the area where they were stored in the cellar was in a bit of a muddle. They have not been touched for decades,’ said Bernadette.

‘Hmm! I am sure that’s so.’ Mme. Squitieri eyed the oncoming bundle with reserved judgment.

Bernadette placed the bundle down in front of Mme. Squitieri and, with eyes affixed to the dusty pile, Mme. Squitieri said, ‘Well I suppose we should sit down and sift through them and make sure that we have everything before we hand them over to the Notary. You know, it is odd, but it is said that Monsieur Forbes, the past owner of the Chateau, had no heirs and that ten years after his death—or again, it is said of his disappearance—in 1868, that the deeds passed to the ownership of the Village. I think that this will be interesting reading and we will need to take care.’

Mme. Squitieri gently peeled back the brown folder revealing the first pages of the file on the top of the bundle and reached for a tissue to mop the dust from her fingers.

Meanwhile, the entrance door to the Mairie opened once more and a rather stout gentleman strode into the hall, followed by a very plump lady who waddled as though she had spent most of her life on horseback.

It was Lord and Lady Makepeace. They had not been living in Villainsac for more than a month and had bought a property about two minutes’ walk from the square on the south side under the morning shadow of the Chateau. It was a beautiful property and comprised of eight bedrooms all with en suite bathrooms and three reception rooms situated on the right-hand side of a large walled garden with its side wall along the street. It had an old medieval arched gate which led into the garden and a stone path leading around to the front door. The garden had many fine established horse chestnut and acacia trees and its walls were abound with red and pink climbing roses and purple wisteria. In the centre was a bowling green lawn and in the centre of the lawn was a circular stone wall incorporating a gentle fountain. A gentle breeze together with the tinkling sound of the water running over the fountain had the most perfect slumbering effect.

The garden wall in which the entrance gate was set was slightly stepped back from the street, allowing for a bank to have been built, abundantly filled with summer flowers and shrubs.

Lord Makepeace was dressed in a loose, short-sleeved cream-coloured shirt and knee-length khaki shorts, cream-coloured knee-high socks and brown shoes and was carrying a straw hat. Lady Makepeace was wearing a long-sleeved, white, embroidered silk blouse buttoned up to the neck and a long, pleated black dress and white open-toed shoes and waddled after her husband as they crossed the hall in the direction of the glass reception office.

They paused for a moment and Lady Makepeace said to her husband in a low voice, ‘Now, Claude, dear, please do not make too much of a fuss!’

‘Now look, Maud, I have got to complain; those incessant bells are doing my proverbial head in,’ Claude said with an authoritarian tone.

It was a little unfortunate to those inexperienced of French village life that Villainsac proudly supported three chiming clocks. There were the church bells, of course, set to chime on the hours between seven o’clock and ten o’clock with one chime every half hour, each chime on the hour being repeated twice, so that in the early days, farmers hearing the first chime but not all the chimes, could stop work to listen to the second chime, thus understanding the hour. Then there was the clock on the Chateau and the clock on the Mairie both of which chimed or at least were supposed to chime in tandem with the church clock. But due to some slip in maintenance, the clock on the Mairie was a little fast and the clock on the Chateau a little slow. Therefore, the village folk were able to enjoy the chimes from each individually.

As it happened, whilst Claude and Maud discussed assault tactics in the hall of the Mairie, it was about three minutes to four o’clock and off went the chimes of the clock on the Mairie, immediately followed by the siren on the roof of the Mairie, summoning the pompiers to some emergency or other and half drowning out the church bells more than fully celebrating the hour. This was then all followed by the clock on the Chateau, thus all clocks had completed the task of marking the four o’clock session.

Lord Claude threw his arms up in disgust and shouted, ‘This is worse than a battle charge in the Somme!’ He headed for the glass door of the reception, taking note of the papers strewn on the floor and the dilapidated notice board blocking the staircase on the far-right corner of the hall.

‘Typical!’ said Claude, turning his head to Maud. ‘This village is in chaos and with the continuous sound of these bells, no one can even think.’

He marched on and defiantly pulled the door open, entered and firmly shut the door behind him.

Maud could hear his booming voice which caused everything to vibrate and resulted in Danielle, the remaining receptionist, to sit bolt upright and unable to move out of terror.

Inside the Maire’s office, both Mme. Squitieri and Bernadette stopped investigating the bundle of documents brought up from the cellar and looked in horror at each other.

Bernadette whispered, ‘Do you think that Danielle is all right?’

Mme. Squitieri replied by saying in a confident voice, ‘Oh, she can handle it and if not, she will have turned to a pillar of salt by now. It is best that we lay low until the storm blows over.’

Several people passing in the street had just stopped and listened to the ruckus and apart from the shouting emanating from the Mairie next door, you could have heard a pin drop in Mme. Pompom’s café.

Lord Claude had a good command of the French language, but his accent was decidedly Oxford based. Having said his piece, he took his leave with a blood-red face and collected his wife Maud by the arm on the way out.

‘Claude, dear, this sort of thing does nothing for your blood pressure,’ said Maud in a caring way.

Claude marched down the steps of the Mairie with Maud on his arm and back up the street to their house.

‘You know, Maud, you have to tell these people! To leave them to carry on like this will only lead to a break-down in society,’ said Claude defiantly.

At that point, the French air force carried out a practice fly past over Villainsac. Six jets, one after the other, roared overhead almost splitting the air as they passed and Lord Claude looked up and shook his fists at them. He did say something, but whatever it was, it was completely drowned out by the noise.

Due to the almost terrifying quiet which had followed the storm, both the Maire and Bernadette edged towards the office door leading to the receptionist’s area and carefully opened it. They gingerly peered around the doorpost to survey any damage which may have been brought upon the unfortunate Danielle and who had taken the full brunt.

‘Better check to see if the roof is still on!’ muttered the Maire.

Danielle sat motionless, mouth and eyes wide open.

‘Is she breathing?’ whispered the Maire.

‘I am not sure. I will get her a brandy,’ replied Bernadette and she moved to comfort Danielle.

Five o’clock came and went as did the chimes and the Maire decided to call it a day. Danielle had to be helped to take the brandy to some extent, and it had been necessary to spoon feed her initially until the brandy hit the spot.

‘There, there,’ Bernadette said in a comforting voice.

She helped Danielle to her feet and, supporting her under the arm, led her out of the Mairie and across the market square to her home.

Lord Claude sat down heavily at his writing desk with a large, neat scotch and decided to back up his oral complaint in writing to the Maire. Having completed the letter to the Maire, he then wrote to the French Air Force to air his views on their practice strategy.

The following morning, and after a sleepless night, Danielle concluded that she needed to go and see her doctor. Having spent nearly an hour with him, he wrote out a prescription for a strong dose of valium. For the next two weeks, Danielle was totally spaced out and not able to sign or stamp anything in the right place.

The Maire received Lord Makepeace’s letter and gave serious thought to the way forward. She concluded that if she were to receive any further complaints from him she would do nothing more than erect a guillotine in the market square.

Villainsac was perhaps prone to more incidents than would be considered the norm, but no one could quite put a finger on any reason as to why this should be the case.

There would always be certain individuals who would always be at the centre of disquiet, Mme. Delprat being one of them. She was constantly being arrested for the abduction of young teenage boys for no other purpose other than for the resetting of her satellite television system. Mme. Delprat was in her late eighties and suffered with short-term memory loss and she could never remember which buttons she had to press to resume watching her favourite television channel. The problem was that her satellite provider would regularly send a signal down, which if the back up button was not pressed within a short period of time, the system would automatically shut itself down.

Mme. Delprat would lure these poor, unsuspecting boys back to her house with the sight of fresh cakes that she had purchased from the local bakery. Once she had got them into her house, she would firmly lock the door, sit them down in front of the television and make them reactivate her favourite channel. When they had done that, she would further lure them into an adjoining darkened room, cupboard or even the attic, saying, ‘Come and see what I have got in here for you!’

The door would then be firmly locked, and the sound of the boy’s cries would be nothing more than slight audible moans but drowned out with the television being at almost full volume.

But at least if a boy were to go missing, everyone in the village knew where he would be. Although on making an enforced entry into Mme. Delprat’s house, it would be necessary to listen carefully to where the muffled sounds of moaning were coming from to avoid tearing the house apart and, of course, the television which was always at full blast would have to be turned off to make this possible. Thus, after her return from reprimand at the gendarmerie, there would always be the need for a further abduction to get the television working again.

If a traffic accident should occur in the village, M. Fray would usually be at the centre of it. He was a frail man, short in stature with a bowed back, who had recently celebrated his ninety-fifth birthday. But like most of the elderly folk, he was clinging to his independence in being able to retain his mobility. Whilst being generally fit, he suffered with arthritis in his neck which prevented him from being able to turn his head too far in one direction or the other. He was also stone deaf. This would always present a problem when backing out of a parking slot. The car was a 2.5 litre Citroen manufactured at some point in the early 1980s and had been black in colour originally; although now was turning to a darkish shade of grey and supported the evidence that it had received many encounters during its ownership with M. Fray. Both wing mirrors had been tied on with tape, having sadly sagged over time; the rear-view mirror was never within eye view of the driver as the seat had sagged, even whilst cushions had been employed, they were not sufficient to do more than allow M. Fray to just see above the dashboard, a view which was sometimes hampered by the top of the steering wheel.

His technique of reversing out of a slot was usually on a wing and a prayer and he would edge the car out slowly to allow anyone who was passing to make alternative arrangements, but the lack of working reversing lights did not help passers-by to easily recognise an oncoming collision. In the main, a collision would be nothing more than a graze and whilst it would create a certain amount of hullabaloo, it usually amounted to nothing more. Then M. Fray would smile at the injured party, shouting through his car window and put his hands and shoulders up, indicating ‘What is the problem? It could not have been me’.

The injured party would usually give up in disgust, get back in the car and drive off with screeching tyres.

However, on one particular occasion, things were a little more serious. M. Fray had chosen a parking slot on the south side of the market square, which meant that he was parked with the two front wheels against the kerb, at which point the gutter was rather deep and the two wheels were firmly embedded. M. Fray returned from his shopping trip and loaded his two-wheel trolley into the boot. He got into the car, placed the key into the ignition and started the car with a roar, creating a dense carbon monoxide cloud. He then engaged the gear lever into reverse and gently pushed the accelerator as usual to show others that he was moving out.

On this occasion the car did not move, so he applied a little more pressure to the accelerator. Ah! he