‘Mais oui, I do,’ Demelza preened.
‘Shut it,’ Jenna poked her. ‘You know about five words. Go on Derek, this sounds fine.’
So Derek went on explaining. I was just amazed. He’d been to the tour company. He was able to buy everything – tickets, travel arrangements, hotel room, even Paris tours came as part of the package. It was all set out on paper.
‘Cardboard tickets, wow.’ I held one up.
Derek snatched it back. ‘This is the newest ship; you will be very comfortable.’
All we had to do was turn up at the London station and everything would be done for us.
‘You have luggage?’ he asked.
‘We don’t have anything.’ Demelza could see the chance of more shopping.
Derek explained that we could go to a store where Masterson had an account. He really shouldn’t have said that. Demelza’s eyes were rolling like an arcade game that had come up with the jackpot line.
‘Now? We can go now?’ Demelza jumped up.
Derek nodded.
‘Hang on,’ Jenna grabbed her. ‘Not going anywhere until we get a few more details. How do we get away from this tour and go off looking for Miss Tregarthur?’
‘The guide who comes with you is from England,’ Derek was ready with more detail. ‘I have told him you need to go and see someone, on your own. He wanted to know who it was, but I had been told not to tell anyone. You will be on your own.’
‘How can we find Marie Curie?’ I felt this was going to be difficult with no English speaking guide while we got lost in Paris. The page from Miss Tregarthur’s book was the only information we had. It only had the name of the place she had worked.
Derek pulled out a map. ‘This is the best I could find. It doesn’t show exactly where Marie Curie lives or works, you’ll have to ask.’
The map looked more like a tourist guide. Going over these plans in my head it felt as if an awful lot had been left out.
‘How do we get back?’ My first worry.
‘The tour company will bring you.’
‘But we might have Miss Tregarthur with us.’ My second worry.
‘I will ask Bill to get her a ticket.’
‘She may not want to come.’ My biggest worry.
If we took the crystal from her, why would she want to come with us? The only way I could see that happening was the use of violence, a lot of violence. I couldn’t see that the tour company would help us to kidnap a struggling woman and drag her back to England.
Derek seemed flustered. ‘You will have to contact me.’
‘And you will do what, exactly?’ Jenna said.
Derek’s face was blank.
‘And how do we contact you? Got your mobile number?’ Jenna had picked up my next list of worries.
‘Mobile what?’ he asked and we just stared at him. ‘No, you write to me.’
‘What,’ all three of us shouted.
‘Yes, it is no problem.’ Derek looked surprised.
‘How many weeks is that going to take? For you to get the letter?’ Jenna’s turn to sniff.
‘The post arrives from France the next day. You will get my reply often on the same day.’ Derek thought that was obvious. He did have to give us a talk about the mail service which turned out to be incredibly fast, using boats and trains. Although we still didn’t discover what Derek could actually achieve when we wrote to him.
‘If we do this, it’s bound to cost loads of money,’ I said.
‘Mr Masterson told me to give you this.’ Derek very reluctantly handed over a leather pouch containing more of the white paper £5 notes and also some different money which Derek told us was French.
‘What happens if we need more?’ It looked like he’d given us quite a lot, but how far would that go? Kidnapping would be expensive.
‘This is the name of a bank in Paris that you can go to.’ Another reluctantly handed over piece of paper.
My mind was whizzing now. What had happened to make Masterson do all this? The white robed man on the moor said he would help, not spend a fortune. Masterson must be much more involved in all of this. We still hadn’t figured out why Miss Tregarthur went to him in the first place. He wasn’t mentioned in the pages from her book, not directly. It had only talked about men like him who had made loads of money with the new industries.
I suppose telling the world he was a spy might have worried him, but if he fled the country there was nothing we could do. There had to be something much more important and Derek had no idea what it could be.
The tour was going to leave in two days. That was enough time for Demelza to fill a suitcase from the store – a place called Harrods. Demelza had heard of it. Masterson’s account didn’t run to jewellery but Jenna did buy a watch.
‘Clean pants,’ Jenna gasped.
At least I did manage to get a few things that didn’t actually make me smell like a camel.
Two days later we were standing outside a train station along with our luggage and a group of ten other people going on this trip to Paris. Bill, our guide, turned up beaming smiles and telling the sort of jokes that would get you arrested in more modern days. I had to stand between him and Jenna otherwise it would have been her that did get us arrested.
The train left on time, we met the boat, and that left on time. My sea sickness returned, something I’d had before, but the steam boat trip wasn’t too long. Another train, French this time, but that left on time. Things leaving on time seemed normal. We knew everything was on time because of Jenna’s watch and Bill, who kept telling us.
We arrived at the end of the line. Checking the map and the itinerary we’d been given this had to be the ‘Gare du Nord’ railway station. We climbed out with the rest of the people on the trip. Standing on the platform was confusing. Bill called us all together.
Porters were clamouring to carry our bags. Demelza was good at giving out orders and telling me to pay. Our group was bundled into a horse drawn bus. A double decker bus drawn by one exhausted looking horse. We trundled through the streets of Paris. The buildings were like those in London but more ornate. Everyone in our group pointed at the sights, laughed at French words and tried to repeat them with imitation accents. I think we joined in.
Demelza mostly sat with her nose in the air until, ‘Look! Look!’ she pointed. ‘It’s the Eiffel Tower.’ And the bus nearly toppled over as we all leant out from one side.
There were more cars in Paris than London but they still weren’t common – and breakdowns were a problem. Again there was a lot of shouting from the horse people with their carriages and carts. Not everyone was going to believe cars were helpful progress, not if their wages depended on horses.
After seeing the Eiffel Tower, Demelza stopped being snotty and was squirming in her seat. ‘Where are the shops? The clothes?’ she chirped in holiday mood.
It was true that the women on the streets looked a higher class than those in London, with fur things around their necks. Demelza said these were called ‘stoles’ and made me feel an idiot to think that meant stolen. Demelza used to know a lot about fashion and wanted to make sure she told us all about it.
The bus stopped at several places to drop off people on our trip, we weren’t all staying at the same hotel. It depended how much you had paid. Derek made sure we three were together but not in the most expensive place.
‘It’s the same hotel Bill is staying at,’ Derek had told us. ‘You may need his help.’
We had two rooms next to each other on the fifth floor. Our hotel was a tall building squeezed in between a bank and some offices in a narrow cobbled street that led nowhere. Two glass panelled doors swung open leading into the entrance hall. They provided the only natural light in this dark and fusty place. A dried up plant in a chipped vase sat in one corner. I could almost smell the way the staff looked down at us, wanting to make sure we knew our place and not to expect too much comfort, but to keep quiet and behave nicely. Even Bill stopped telling jokes.
; ‘Bill, where’s the lift?’ Demelza had the heaviest suitcase.
‘Mademoiselle,’ a lady behind a concierge desk cut across Bill. ‘You can only use the lift before ten in the morning.’ She turned away.
Bill nodded in the background obviously anxious that we shouldn’t argue.
‘Why?’ Demelza had a look of arguing.
‘You walk up the stairs.’ There was no more arguing because after handing us the keys the lady gave a huff and left the desk empty. We climbed the stairs.
Two rooms, the same size. Both with two beds. One room for me, one for the girls. The sort of furniture that made someone invent Ikea. The slope of the mattress suggested elephants had sat on my beds, a wardrobe with doors that swung open and stayed open, a chair unlikely to hold your weight, and notices in French with exclamation marks. Bill had told us there would be a meal at six, sharp.
Jenna came into my room and tried to bounce on one of the beds, it squeaked and rocked from side to side. A loud cough came from outside even though no one had climbed the stairs with us. We looked at each other and started laughing. After a few hysterical minutes there was a loud knock on the door.
Bill stood outside. ‘She mustn’t go into your room,’ he said in a whisper. ‘It is not allowed.’
We went down stairs at six. Food arrived later. About an hour later. Soup, bread and cheese. We’d eaten worse, but not much worse.
Bill had joined us. ‘It is very French,’ he said. He meant it was sophisticated, rather than his words being an insult.
He gave us a leaflet describing the plan for his tour the next day, how we would be met by a real French expert who would show us the sights. Demelza wanted to know all the details. Bill was keen to explain.
‘Sorry Bill,’ Jenna butted in. ‘We have to go and see an old lady we know. Didn’t Derek explain what we needed to do?’
Bill clearly thought we were missing the point, ‘But you must see the Louvre, the Tower.’
Jenna shook her head.
‘It won’t be easy. You’ll have to do it on your own.’ Bill made that sound almost impossible.
Even with a bed broken in by heavyweights, I slept through the night. Jenna had to wake me, whispering in case the management showed up. Breakfast was bread and coffee. I think it came from the same loaf we’d had yesterday.
Leaving Bill with his other guests we walked out into the street and followed it down to the main road. This was as busy and noisy as London. We stood on the corner. Bill was right, this wasn’t going to be easy.
‘We have to ask.’ Jenna looked around the street for someone helpful. I couldn’t see anyone and I certainly couldn’t speak French. Demelza knew a few words.
‘Ask a policeman?’ Demelza said, as though it was the obvious thing to do. I felt it was the most obvious way of getting us in jail. What were we going to ask: ‘Have you seen a mad woman searching for a radioactive source?’
We wandered the streets for a while, looking for help. We started to notice the difference between here and London. Street lamps were more ornate, so were the horse carriages, there were more trees and flowers in this part of town and more people selling flowers. Men with top hats, curly hats, square hats, walking with women in long skirts carrying parasols but seeming to have no direction. Just walking and talking.
Jenna checked the map Derek had given us. ‘He said we’d have to make for the river, it’s called the Seine, don’t know how you pronounce that. I’ll ask.’
Jenna walked up to a couple and said something. They didn’t stop, just walked on glowering at her. Jenna was puzzled. ‘What did I do wrong?’
I was beginning to worry about us not fitting in. We’d been fine when we were with the tour group but now we stuck out again. Despite following Demelza’s fashion advice we looked odd compared to the people on the Paris streets. It wouldn’t be long before we drew enough attention to cause a problem. Anyone walking around here behaved as though they fitted in, lived here, the place wasn’t full of tourists on their own.
‘What’s that?’ Demelza pointed at a strange looking horse drawn cart. This one was being driven by a man in uniform with a cap.
‘It says Poste.’ Demelza pointed again at the cart. ‘Poste et Telegraphes,’ she read the French words. ‘It’s stopping at that building, might be a post office, couldn’t we ask in there?’
We went in. Immediately I felt this was a mistake. The office was dark and brown everywhere – wood, walls, floor, dark brown and full of people who knew exactly what they were doing – and we didn’t. The room went silent as we entered. Everyone turned to look at us. I wanted to run.
It was Demelza who strode up to a counter, placed the map on the desk, ‘Excusee moi,’ she said. ‘Directions pour le Seine, si vous plait?’
I was impressed. The man behind the counter definitely wasn’t. He drew himself up to his full height, puffed out his cheeks, ‘LA … LA … LA Seine, she ees woman,’ he almost shouted and muttered something about Les Eenglish which made the other customers laugh.
Demelza said something like ‘whatever’ but she smiled and the man relented, reluctantly, because he poured out a torrent of French and kept poking the map. This was not helpful. Demelza might have managed to get the question almost right but she had no idea what the post office man was spouting about. She turned to us and raised her eyebrows.
‘Ello.’ A woman tapped Jenna on the shoulder. ‘Vous need ‘elp?’ She was an elderly looking woman and even though the day was quite warm she was dressed mostly in black with a heavy wrap of brown fur and a hat with a fur band.
Through a fractured conversation we explained about going to the river. Showing her our map.
‘La Seine is very big, what you want?’
‘Oh, for goodness sake just tell her,’ Demelza went on. ‘It’s no use pretending this is some sort of secret.’ She turned to the woman. ‘Marie Curie. Alvin give me that piece of paper with her name.’ She took the paper and showed it to the fur lady.
‘Ah l’ecole, bonne, good, eet in Rue Vauequelin. Eer.’ She stabbed her finger on our map before looking us up and down, sighed, ‘You have monai?’
I nodded.
‘It is easy. You call carriage, he take you.’ The woman nearly dragged us outside. She waved to a row of horse drawn carriages and made us get in. The woman stayed on the pavement and gabbled out some directions which caused more shouting.
‘He wants monai now.’ The woman leant up to the window in the carriage. ‘Is bad he want monai now, before you go.’ She looked so unhappy that this had happened. ‘I pay him.’ She dived into her handbag and pulled out her purse. Jenna tried to get out and stop her but the woman was determined. ‘You Eenglish must help us in war.’ She pushed Jenna away.
Even I knew it was a few more years before the First World War, how did she know about it? Maybe it was more obvious to people in France. I wondered what would have happened if Miss Tregarthur had made her nuclear bomb. There wasn’t any more time to argue or wonder because the carriage took off and we waved to the helpful lady.
Easy, I thought, just get a taxi. Now we were on our own private tour. The carriage bumped and banged its way across the cobbled streets. We passed open squares and green spaces, more men in hats – lots of striped trousers, nearly everyone in boots, women in long skirts and more hats.
We crossed the river.
‘Do we want to get out before we get to this place?’ I was trying to work out where we were from the map. The driver had started to take narrow side streets. I wondered if he was trying to get more money or perhaps was going to stop off and rob us. It was impossible to read anything with the lurching and bumping.
‘Rue Tourne … something,’ Jenna cried as we slowed down at a street sign. We had to slow in the narrow street with shops seeming to pour all their produce out into the road. Fruit, vegetables, café tables, places selling wine. A shop on a corner with rows and rows of boots.
‘Not great shopping,’ Demelza was developing a sne
er in the less expensive streets. The posh men in hats and women in skirts were giving way to smocks and tunics. Might be less posh but I thought we’d fit in better here.
‘Let me see the map.’ Jenna tugged it from me. ‘Thought so, this Rue Tourne-what’s-it is close. OI! STOP,’ she leant out of the window and shouted at the driver. Stop seemed to work and I had the impression that the driver was happy to get us out and return to the more expensive parts of town.
He was obviously going to ask for more money. Back home, I wouldn’t have paid him but on the corner were a group of men in uniforms I hadn’t any idea what they were. Could be police, could be anything and I didn’t want to be answering a load of questions. Jenna had the purse in her bag and I nodded towards it. We paid. The man gave us a smirk so I guessed he wasn’t expecting it and we probably paid too much. And we were alone again. The uniformed men had wandered off. The streets were strangely silent here, tall stone buildings looming over us. The shops had all closed. In the distance I could see a café with tables and chairs outside.
‘Lunchtime,’ muttered Demelza, our supposed French expert. ‘Everything stops for lunch.’ She looked up at a sign. ‘It says Ecole something up there, Rue Vauquelin over there. That’s where the lady from the post office said we had to go. The Ecole something, she told us. That’s where Marie Curie works.’
‘It’s an ordinary street,’ I said, wondering if an ordinary street was the sort of place you did research into radiation?
‘Don’t suppose they knew what it was when they discovered it,’ Jenna said.
‘What … what the?’ Demelza was staring up another street at a strange looking man selling things. His rounded hat, his felt jacket, his moustache, his shoes like slippers and all of that might have been quite ordinary but … ‘He’s selling lampshades.’ And he was. They were piled in a large basket attached to his back.
As he walked past us he waved one shade in our direction shouting something like ‘marching about jours’ but probably I was way off the mark. Demelza didn’t know either and started to laugh. That wasn’t a great idea and we had to push off quickly. Luckily all his lampshades made it difficult for him to chase us.
Tregarthur's Crystal: Book 4 (The Tregarthur's Series) Page 14
