George's Grand Tour by Caroline Vermalle Page A

that?’
    â€˜Dunno. I’ve been thinking about it for two days, but I don’t know what to say.’
    â€˜Want my opinion?’
    â€˜Yes,’ lied George.
    â€˜Reply to the text when you’ve got something to say.’ He paused for emphasis and then carried on:
    â€˜Believe me. Talking to women when really you’ve got nothing to say to them never did anyone any good. And I’m not saying that just because she’s my sister.’
    â€˜You know, that’s not bad advice,’ said George, actually quite impressed.
    â€˜Well, there you go.’
    â€˜But she’s not going to be offended or anything?’
    â€˜Oh!’ exclaimed Charles. ‘I can’t help you at all there. Psychology’s not really my strong point.’
    Now that everything was out in the open, the mood lightened considerably. Charles got out his Sudoku and George beganwriting a text to Adèle describing the house. He got a reply a few minutes later:
    Â 
    Adèle 02/10/2008 22:46
    Luky u, id rther b in brttany thn in ldn. we r shooting crooked house by Agatha Christie in a v old, dark crooked house + v bad wthr here. Heres 2 brttany!
    (Lucky you, I’d rather be in Brittany than in London. We are shooting Crooked House by Agatha Christie in a very old, dark and crooked house and very bad weather here. Here’s to Brittany!)
    Â 
    George smiled and made a note to buy a copy of the book the next day. He felt excited about the day to come, just as he had always done as a young boy.

Friday 3 October
    Mûr-de-Bretagne–Saint-Brieuc (Côtesd’Armor)
    When George woke up, Charles was already getting dressed. It was not even eight yet; George asked him what was going on.
    â€˜I was thinking of going to the market. I talked to the lady at reception yesterday, apparently there’s a little market in the village that sells local produce. Farmer’s cider, foie gras, goat’s cheese, everything. Not to be missed, she said. So, would you rather stay in bed or are you coming?’
    â€˜Oh no, I’ll let you go. My back’s playing up again; this bed is too soft.’
    In fact, the bed was fine, and his back, for once, was not bothering him at all. But George felt like a rest. This Tour was turning out to be pretty exhausting. Today he would have a lie-in.
    But he hadn’t counted on Charles having quite so much energy. As soon as he came back from the market he was talking about getting back in the car to go and visit the hydroelectric dam in Guerlédan, not far from there. George, who had only just finished his breakfast, began by dragging his feet, but the beautiful countryside bathed in autumn sunlight was enough to revive his enthusiasm. It seemed almost as though they were in Switzerland, surrounded as they were by valleys and craggy forested peaks criss-crossed with walking trails. The dam had created a magnificent lake in the heart of the forest. Charles and George picnicked on a feast from the market in the shade cast by the ruins of Bon-Repos abbey, and George, inspired once again by the beauty of his surroundings, sent a long message to Adèle.
    In the afternoon they followed the Tour itinerary – the beautiful old houses at Corlay, the town of Châtelaudren on the river Leff, Plérin with its beaches and sandy coves beneath towering cliffs – and got to Hotel Regina in Saint-Brieuc before nightfall.
    From the bay, George wrote to Adèle:
    Â 
    St Brieuc Bay: luvly beach, ntr rsrv, wndrful lndscape, amzing cliffs, little ports in the roks. St Brieuc has lots of chrming little sts, old houses, nice shops. This eve we r eatin mussls. u hav 2 come here wen ur in Brttny. 2moro goin 2 buy agatha kristi bk 2 kno wat hppens @ the end! luv.
    (Saint-Brieuc Bay: lovely beach, nature reserve, wonderful landscape, amazing cliffs, little ports in the rocks. Saint-Brieuc has lots of charming little streets, old houses, nice shops. Thisevening