AND THEREBY HANGS A TALE (Continued)

The Odd Job Man (Continued)

It had taken Felix less than a week to progress from odd scraps and sleeping under the caravan to a proper menu and loosely set meat times and a spot on the bottom of Ross’s bed. It had developed into the easygoing companionable arrangement they now enjoyed.

A competent cook with no temper and little personality had replaced Anton. Edith was a plain girl and a good catholic. She was good hearted and suited the camp’s restaurant kitchen well. As most holidaymakers were there for a fortnight at most her somewhat plainer and limited repertoire did not matter, in fact it hardly noticed. More importantly she did not fly into a rage if asked for egg and chips or take it as a personal insult if little Johnny wanted fish fingers and chips for every meal. Anton had refused to have fish fingers anywhere near the restaurant declaring them to be an abomination unfit even for his cat. Felix appeared from behind a small shrubbery as if he knew he was being thought about and joined Ross for the final few yards back to the caravan. Little did Felix know he had been just one factor in Ross’s end of season arrangements.

The season was drawing to a close The late season visitors were a marked contrast to those high spirited souls of the high season.., They were far more sedate and laid back either older in years or younger with pre-school children. Gradually the end of term atmosphere spread through staff and visitors alike. Holiday reps took down tents and sorted them into those that would be disposed of and those that would do another season. Caravans were cleaned locked and secured ready to be opened a few weeks prior to the new season. All was busy in a controlled way. There was none of the buzz and bustle that in a few months would herald the start of a new season.

Ross had a secret. In between attending to his own end of season chores he would disappear through a diagonal path he had cut in the wide hedge behind his caravan. By cutting the path at an angle it was almost impossible to see that there was a path through the hedge at all.

Ross had negotiated with the farmer whose field it was to use the headland as his garden plot and the last few weeks of the early autumn he spent digging and manuring. He intended to grow his own salad crops and herbs. Before he left the site for the winter he was going to edge the whole plot with garlic cloves. Grown that way, he had been told, would, as well as providing a good crop, deter pests from invading the rest of his crops.

Ross had arranged to rent a single bedroomed stone long house as his winter quarters. Already he had accumulated an enviable log pile for the winters, though short, could be bitingly cold.

Finally the last visitors left and as if by magic the weather immediately turned several degrees colder. One final frantic week of tidying the campsite and everyone was away some off to foreign climes for their own holidays, others back to their homes in other countries or other parts of France. Some, he knew, would come back for the new season others would seek pastures new. But Ross felt he was home, he was where he wanted to be. He had no yearning to be anywhere else.

At last he loaded the Kombi collected Felix ready to drive to his winter home a mere two kilometres away. Already he was looking forward to warm nights by the fire, convivial evenings at Les deux cygnes and cookery lessons with Marcel. There were no plans to be made for Christmas he would be expected to join in with the village folk and that he would be delighted to do. Marcel would, no doubt, cook Christmas dinner with himself attending to the prepping.

Life was good, life was simple the trick was to keep it that way. He started the Kombi’s engine. Felix settled on his lap making driving that little bit harder but they were off and it wasn’t far. He bade farewell to another season.