Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The next day Dave phoned back. I dropped the juice I was serving Ellie and made my pro-
posal with a tremble in my voice. Without this sale we were finished. If he didn't proceed
with the order for the sake of that ten cents I'd never forgive myself.
'I'll organise the order confirmation. You'll have it in a couple of days.'
My body flooded with the euphoria of success and an adrenalin burst akin to that of hav-
ing just avoided a car crash. That evening Sean and I toasted our success with a glass of the
wine we had sold.
I watched the email hungrily. Days stretched into weeks and still no confirmation arrived.
I put our creditors off promising to pay in a few weeks and began to worry that he had
changed his mind. We needed that confirmation.
The kitchen drain had been smelly again and I was not looking forward to 'Operation
Stench 2'. We needed a long-term solution that did not involve me lying on the ground with
my nose in a stinking drain and a hosepipe in my hand every few months.
'Don't worry,' said Monsieur Fracasse, a compact, energetic artisan in his fifties who had
been helping Sean to finish the new terrace. The new terrace was to become our outdoor
area. The original one and part of the house would become a self-catering cottage that
would deliver much-needed rent long before renovating the old building that Helen and
Derek had uncovered - if we could ever afford it. He was full of ideas and spoke fast. 'I
work with someone who does septic tanks and drains. I'll call him to come down and have
a look.'
AnendlessblueskyspreadabovetheDordognevalley.Ourvineyardwasawakeningfrom
its winter sleep, with tiny pink shoots running along the vine canes. On the valley floor the
last of the plum blossoms had given way to green leaves.
'
Pas de problème,'
(No problem) he repeated, looking at the view and losing himself in it
for a moment.
'
Tiens, autre chose
(Another thing). What about the downpipe here? What's this?'
The downpipe on one side of the terrace went straight into the ground. There was only
one place that it could come from and that was the bathroom upstairs.
'It must be the
broyeur
out-pipe,' I said.
'You don't want any trouble with that,' said Monsieur Fracasse. 'We'll have to put new pip-
ing in for it.'
His contact, Monsieur Jegu, arrived a half-hour later. He was a tall, polite man who had
the ability to do ferocious amounts of work in a short space of time.
