A House in the Sunflowers Read Online Free Page B

copper set into the end wall. There was also a second porch closed in with ugly galvanised doors on the west side which faced the barn. There was no mention of the barn on the specification so we assumed that the farmer used it and it was indeed full of hay. How much land would be ours? It said 2000 square metres but as we were surrounded by fields, it did not seem too important.The pale cows watched us, standing in a line. Mike poured himself another glass. Might this be the moment to try to explain how I felt? Before I had time to say anything Matthew came hurtling back again.
    ‘It’s great. We can have it Dad, can’t we?’ he said.
    His father looked at him, glass in hand. ‘I think we might. There’s an awful lot to do, it’s in a dreadful state and you’ll have to help, you realise. But I feel it’s manageable and it’s less than five thousand pounds.’ We were home and dry.
    By the time M. Bertrand returned we were planning which would be the main bedroom, which the kitchen, and Matthew had already chosen for himself the floorless room facing south. I now realise that he was the only one who got it right but we had not lived in our house then. We hadn’t even bought it.
    M. Bertrand seemed delighted. We shook hands again and then it was a matter of returning to the Agency to pay a deposit and sign the agreement. It seemed a comparatively simple procedure.
    ‘There’s another way back to the road,’ said M. Bertrand. ‘It will be quicker for you. Go down that track,’ he shouted, pointing, and then he whizzed away. Ten minutes later we were completely lost in a strange farmyard encircled by dogs, cats, chicken, ducks and guinea fowl and a family of three generations who had come out to show us the track that we should have taken. Our new home was certainly remote.
    In order to pay the deposit and, more important it seemed, the Agent’s commission which was, we discovered in our region, six per cent and, alas,
à la charge de l’acheteur
, we spent the next hour chasing from one bank to another. At that time one could only write a sterling cheque for fifty pounds cash so the process had to be repeated in each available bank. Fortunately the small town appeared to be full of banks. Returning to the Agency we struggled to make sense of the official documents. Mike, who many years before as an eighteen-year-old soldier in wartime France and the only one in his squadron with any French, had had a great deal of practice but nevertheless found it hard going. My own French was abysmally rusty and Matthew, who could just about conjugate
avoir
and
être
if he put his mind to it soon got bored and went to have a snooze in the van.
    We were almost finished when we were joined by a newly bathed and dressed M. Bertrand and his small, fair, girlish wife. With a wide face and a radiant smile she was clearly enjoying this unexpected trip into town. At last the documents were completed and we could all leave the airless office for a drink at the café across the road.
    ‘Tomorrow I must get the
géomètre
to measure your land exactly,’ said M. Bertrand, and we arranged to meet at the house the following day. We toasted ournew friendship in Pernod and Dubonnet. Clinking our glasses we beamed at each other. Time would tell us the quality of these friends that we had had the good fortune to find.
    Le Géomètre
was young, handsome and very serious. He walked round our house to the front porch and regarded it in silence for several minutes. Then he said solemnly, ‘
Oui. C’est très recherché
.’ We were suitably pleased. We thought so too.
    He paced and measured, M. Bertrand following him banging in small wooden stakes at each corner. The narrow strip of land between the barn and the house was evenly divided and then he marched off along the track with his giant tape measure. The further he went the further fell M. Bertrand’s face. We were to learn over the years that our friend is totally without guile, his face