Anyway, they didn’t know I was from Carrick. They thought I was French! I ask you! Everybody said I spoke English with an accent. But I find that rather incredible, don’t you? But then somebody copped on that I was from the tuck-shop back in school and that cleared matters up a bit. Incredibly, I’ve been told my tan is rather noticeable.
So this was around 10 p.m. And we all stood around in the field where the barn/shed is situated, yapping away. There was a French girl there that I know so I was talking to her for ages as well. Miriam Walsh is staying with her.
Lena knew quite a few of the French guys, so our conversations kept getting interrupted by them – no complaints. By eleven thirty, we were fed up of it there, and decided to go to the pub about a mile up the road to see if any of Lena’s friends with cars were there. We wanted to go to the Quartz, a nightclub, but by the time we got to the Suroît all of her gang were gone. So we just had a coffee and went back to the Fest Noz.
I think I have to go now. But maybe I’ll have time to tell you of the utter misery and torture one of the girls (who will remain nameless) inflicted on me last night. I pity you living in the same town as her! She never stopped whining about the family she was staying with because she wasn’t allowed to stay out ’til 4 a.m. The whole way to the Suroît she kept on and on about all the guys she’d pinched from her friends. And how much she drinks and smokes and how often she goes out per week and all the boyfriends. God, I wish I’d pushed her into the bloody sea. With specimens like her, I’m not in the least bit surprised that most girls (or at least the decent ones!) won’t admit they’re from Carrick. If the people here could have understood her, I’d really have felt ashamed. I really feel sorry for the two chaperones in the group!
Anyway, we got back to the Fest Noz at about 12.30 a.m. There we once again met three guys Lena knows. They’re really nice. So we stayed talking to them ’til two. It was all very friendly and chummy and funny. I really enjoyed myself. We were sitting on the grass and the moon was shining and the atmosphere was just terrific. Unfortunately, Hervé wasn’t there, sob, sob. Hadn’t expected him to be.
But you know what really struck me? Everybody (except the three above mentioned) of around our age was just blind drunk. I was really disgusted. Nothing but young fellas swaying and staggering around the place. I suppose, though, that it is pitiable. Gilles said it was because there’s nothing else to do here. But, Mary, it was just incredible. I mean, how could you live like that, never remembering if Saturday night existed or not? I think the drinking problem here as concerns young people is much worse than at home. But then I suppose I didn’t really see a lot of what went on after closing time in pubs at home. They close here at about 1 a.m. and the niteclubs do so at 4 a.m.
I was saying to Lena how awful it was and she said the crowd she hangs around with never get to that stage. Thank God, otherwise I doubt I’d enjoy myself all that much here. See you later if I’m still alive!
Tuesday, 10 July
Hi again, I’m terribly sorry for taking so long getting back to you. I’ll cut out all the useless chatter and just give you the news. Donkey derby consisted of three rounds – fell off halfway thru the second. My only distinctions being that I was the only foreigner to ride AND I was the first to fall off. Met most of the Carrick crowd again. Actually, I’ve bumped into most of them two or three times since Saturday night.
Last night was great. At about 10 p.m., myself and Lena got all dolled up and went off to the Suroît. I borrowed these gorgeous trousers from her as well as a beautiful V-necked jumper. She did my make-up and I really felt confident. Great way to start the evening. Anyway, when we went into the pub, the two Nolans were there. So we went and sat with them – real case of the Irish sticking together. They’re very nice. Next thing is Laurent, a guy Lena vaguely knew last year and whom we met last Saturday night, came in with a friend. Laurent has long blond hair, but he is something else, beautiful mouth, lovely blue eyes, great taste in clothes. So he came over and said hello and started talking to us. Great flirting going on. At first I vaguely suspected that he was after me, but then it hit me that it was Lena he wanted. Please don’t think this upset me. I think he’s fantastic, but I’ve no feelings in the romantic line for him.
So about one o’clock the two of us got up to go, and when we kissed goodbye, Laurent hung onto me and asked me if I’d help him to get thru to Lena. Now you know me, I’d do anything to help true love. So guess the result, I ended up walking home with Patrice, his friend, while the other two walked off in front. Patrice is terribly nice. I think he wanted to ‘get off’ with me but, well, I didn’t feel that way about him, so it was no-go there. Just before we got to Lena’s place, there’s a wall. So, the four of us ended up yapping on that ’til two. The guys then walked me home again, and guess what we did en-route – visited the graveyard. Crazy, huh? But I’m beginning – for the first time – to feel really happy here. At last I’m beginning to meet people of my age, and I’m beginning to feel like a human person again. Great feeling.
I MUST tell you about the people Lena’s staying with. They’re just out of this world. He’s called Alain and is shoving on for forty, I think. But you’d give him at least ten years less. I don’t know when I last saw somebody so gorgeous-looking. Hopefully, I’ll be able to lay my paws on some photos for the end of the summer. He’s a bank manager. She’s thirty-five-ish – really friendly and cheerful. Great dress sense. Works in a sailing school. Ronan is a beautiful kid. Just a year older than Thomas. Tends to be bold at times, but I like him just the same. I’m practically living in their place at the moment. The house is fantastic.
Alain is on the twinning committee. But he says nobody knew I was here. In fact, nobody can believe I’ve been here for ten months without meeting anybody. The Le Suavés said if they’d known I was here they’d have asked me to go out with them and all that. Lena gets on great with them. She’s already been out to a family dinner, and she only here a week!
The two of us went to Concarneau yesterday afternoon. She ended up buying a beautiful ensemble of skimpy top and beautiful gathered trousers. They’re white background with cream and black tiny motifs. She looks great in it.
I got a beautiful outfit of a top and trousers. It’s pink material with barely noticeable big white flowers. It really suits me. I thought I’d look like a pregnant elephant in it, but I don’t. I hope to be going somewhere for 14 July so that I can wear it.
Change the subject a bit. Did you get to see much of Wimbledon? I didn’t even see one match. I mean, the weather was beautiful here the week it was on so I was at the beach the whole time (my swimming is coming on great). And I really wanted to watch the finals but, on account of that blasted derby, I couldn’t. Just as well anyway, if Connors was beaten so humiliatingly! Had a letter from Celia today. She went to the courts one day and saw a lot of the big names playing. Lucky thing. Unfortunately for the past three days the weather has been just awful. All the water is going to get cold again and it just after heating up and all!
Lena is just about to go so I’ll have to finish off. Please write soon, forgive the scribble, take care of yourself, and get on fine with your job.
Lots of love,
Catherine
Letter 26 / The lost letter!
Late July 1984
Though Catherine received a letter from Mary, sadly it later went astray.
Letter 27 / I’ve fallen in love!
Trégunc
Friday, 3 August 1984
Dear Mary,
Where do I start? A thank you for your letter or a telling off for its tardiness? God, I thought you’d never write and I’ve so
much to tell you.
Firstly, and most importantly, last Saturday, for the very first time in my life, I fell in love. It’s like nothing – absolutely nothing – I’ve ever experienced before. Sure, I know I’ve had crushes, one of a three-year duration, but I mean, they are incomparable with what I feel for Mike.
If you’ve ever really fallen for a guy, you’ll be able to understand my sentiments, but then can one ever really understand how one feels at such a time. I mean, everybody from Shakespeare to John Lennon have tried to do so. And they haven’t really come up with any explanations, solutions or antidotes, so I doubt if I will either.
I know next to nothing about him. He’s called Mike – Michael – and is nineteen–twenty-ish. He doesn’t resemble Robert Redford but he has got something so attractively beautiful – even now I don’t have to close my eyes to see him, and his smile. But I’ve fallen for him VERY, VERY, VERY heavily. And the thing is, he’s terribly shy and … hell, why aren’t you here so that you can see everything for yourself, and save me these difficult explanations and so that I can cry on your shoulder?
Right, start at the beginning. He came to the beach a couple of days with the rest of the gang, but apart from the usual greeting, we didn’t have much contact. Then on Saturday, there were almost ten of us all stretched out on our towels, and Mike was just across from me. And I suddenly looked at him and said to Lena, ‘Hasn’t he got beautiful eyes?’ And then I just fell in love. Simple as that.
That night twelve of us went to a nightclub in Quimper. It was really great. I freaked out like I’ve never done before. Myself and Lena made sure the rest of them kept on their feet.
Anyway, at about 2 a.m. the ‘slows’ came on and I kept praying that HE’D ask me out, only time was passing and no sign of him doing so. So Lena goes and has a little chat with Raphael, and comes back with the info that Mike is interested in me, only he’s really shy in front of his friends. Lena said I should ask him to dance. But, well, I couldn’t ask a fella to dance. Only time was slipping away, and I was getting desperate so I whispered in his ear, ‘I’ve never danced a slow in France, can you ask me?’ So he did, and an hour later when the second set of slows came on, he pulled me onto the floor (the dance floor!) and the rest made up the most beautiful night of my life! I’ll go into more detail when I see you in Sept.
We came back with Thierry and the fecking eejit dropped me off first outside the restaurant with the words ‘Home, sweet home.’ Talk about a thinkless, stupid, senseless idiot!
Went to the beach on Sunday, and when he came, he put his towel right beside my one – and fell asleep! Could have killed him. Later this other member of the crowd, Gilbert – who’s an immature, rough, annoying pain in the neck – came along and started pestering me. Afterwards Marie-Thérèse – a really nice girl – said Mike looked absolutely furious.
But the problem is he’s unbelievably shy, and doesn’t say or do anything when the rest of the gang are there. At least, everybody keeps telling me he’s shy. And I hope they’re right, and that he reacts the way he does because of that and not because he’s not interested.
Anyway, at about six we went to the Suroît for a coffee, and to make plans for going out that night. Mike seemed very concerned that somebody would call for me. You see he lives about twenty km away himself. (Did I mention he’s in the army, and was only down home for a few days?)
So, I was picked up around nine, and we went to a pub in the town where they all live, i.e. Riec-sur-Belon. Mike acted as if I didn’t exist. The same thing happened when we met up with the rest of the gang in another café/pub. At about eleven thirty he just said goodbye, he was going home to bed, and walked off.
When Olivier and Marie-Thérèse dropped me back home I walked up to the beach by myself and bawled my eyes out ’til one in the morning. I’m just so crazy about him and felt so hurt by his indifference, especially after the night before.
Sylvia and Lena say it’s just because he’s afraid to show his emotions in front of the others. Also he had to go back to the army in Lille – nine hrs by train – on the Monday, so he was ‘pissed off’. PLEASE excuse the expression. It’s a quote and I can’t find a better explanation except maybe – oh, God, I hope so – he’d ‘found’ me and had to leave so soon. I believe he’ll be here on holiday for the last two weeks in August. I really hope so, and that if he is, things will go okay between us. Be an angel and keep your fingers crossed for me, won’t you? But I’d better warn you, even though I’m looking forward so much to seeing you all, I’m liable to bawl my eyes out over him for the first week when I’ll be home.
In an effort to console myself over his absence, Lena and I went to a nightclub with a few others. It wasn’t great – too small and poky. Too many people, not enough space. Just the same I got into the humour and probably lost a few kilos dancing. Got to bed at about five and had to get up again at eight thirty. I’m wrecked since. Could’ve killed the DJ! We asked him twice to play ‘High On Emotion’; he promised us he would and didn’t. Went up to him afterwards and said very politely, ‘Merci pour avoir joué le disc.’ He just smiled! Pig!
Thursday, 9 August
Excuse the shaky hand. Just had a row with Chrystelle and still suffering from reaction and temper. It’ll take me five minutes or so to cool off.
You know, the day Lena walked into the restaurant I was, well, I don’t know exactly what word to use – worried, I suppose. They’d said so many things about her that I was sure she’d turn out to be a right cow. You should see them now – fawning all over her – and guess what, asking her to replace me in September. Talk about a laugh. But she knows as well as I do how fickle and what absolute brats they can be.
Every day Lena comes up here or I go down there and often the both. If Marie-Pierre or Alain, her bosses, are there, they chat to me and treat us like adults and tell us to make ourselves at home, and do we want a cup of tea and so on. One night, Alain even went and made it for us. But when she comes in here, Viv hardly says hello to her. It’s terribly embarrassing for the two of us, as you can imagine. I’ll go into more detail when I get home. It takes too long to explain on paper.
The other night (Monday) I finally got to see the inside of the area’s snobbiest, classiest, chicest nightclub, the Shogun. The whole thing was a wash-out for me for many reasons; one of them being I’d just caught the flu. Anyway, next morning I was informed that my dear papa had phoned. They had told him I’d gone out, just for that night, for fear of him being one of those strict types. Ironical, huh? Anyway, he’d said he’d phone back on the Tuesday. So, 10 p.m – I drag me weary limbs off my sick-bed to hear his distant voice. Guess where he was? A few miles outside Paris! (Gasp!) That’s what I said too! Apparently he’s set up yet another company with another guy – something to do with cleaning ceilings – and they were over here on a job ’til today. He wanted me to try and get over to see him. Unfortunately due to my illness (serious!), financial state (critical!) and the train journey length (six hours each way) I’d to refrain. Work out too much just for the one day even though he is worth it.
Sunday, 12 August 1984 (on enclosed postcard)
Dear Mary,
I started a beautiful letter to you ten days ago. In it I told you all about Mike, the first guy I’ve ever fallen in love with. Only it didn’t work out, and my heart is in smithereens.
What’s more, Vivianne is ‘out’ with me and I don’t really know why.
As a result, I’m sitting here all by myself in Concarneau feeling like the loneliest person in the world and trying to hold back the tears. And such a short while ago, I was walking on the moo
n.
I miss you all terribly and am looking forward to seeing everybody in a couple of weeks.
If a miracle happens and I recover my morale, I’ll finish my letter and send it on. But don’t hold your breath and don’t believe ‘It’s better to have loved and lost, than never have loved at all.’ It’s not true.
Yours miserably but in the anticipation of seeing you real soon,
All my love,
Catherine
PS Say hello to your folks for me.
Letter 28 / I’m coming home!
Trégunc
Thursday, 23 August 1984
Dear Mary & Sue,
Just a quick note conveying my apologies and explanations to you both. I’ll be polite (as usual) and start with the apologies. Firstly, for this letter meanly addressed to the both of you, but lately I find that time is worth all the timepieces in the world in gold. Hence, I find myself unable to send you both separate accounts of the more or less same thing.
Secondly, the postcards you probably received last week. The day I wrote them was most likely the most miserable day I’ve ever survived, without exaggeration. It was a beautiful sunny Sunday, and all the birds were chirping away like hell … But the night before, I’d copped on that Mike, a guy I was VERY serious about, and who gave the impression of feeling the same way about me, was only amusing himself with me, on a weekend off from his military service. So my heart was in smithereens over that, and I only glued the pieces back together a couple of days ago. The thing is, they’re not firm yet, and if I see him again, the whole thing is liable to fall apart. So, I’m keeping my fingers crossed ’til the end of the month!
Dear Cathy ... Love, Mary Page 18
