Le Temps des Cerises by Zillah Bethel Page A

interest at this. The bird in question was pointed out, made much of and seemed to puff up a bit on all the attention. Like a cocodette’s bosom, Alphonse remarked amusedly – an observation which didn’t go down too well with Monsieur Pagini who huffed and ruffled up angrily on his stool.
    â€˜It is a very inervative proceedure,’ Jacques went on quickly, with great diplomacy. ‘These reduced messages are then taken to the Rue de Grenelle and read by magic lantern.’
    Eveline listened in growing astonishment. It really was like stepping into a fairytale. Letters taken out by balloon, brought back by pigeon then read by magic lantern.
    â€˜The pigeon is a sacred bird,’ Monsieur Pagini announced solemnly then. ‘If I catch anyone dreaming of pigeon pie they’ll feel the back of my hand.’ And even in the darkness he could be seen to be looking in the direction of Alphonse.
    â€˜Do many of them make a successful return journey, sir?’ Laurie asked then, sensibly and suitably deferential.
    â€˜That depends,’ Monsieur Pagini replied thoughtfully. ‘Peter, for example,’ he pointed to a box next to Neptune, ‘is easily waylaid. He is an idler, a flâneur if you like. He would go into every shop if you let him. Alice on the other hand,’ he pointed to another box in the corner, ‘is a gourmande. She knows the only place she will get a cabbage leaf and a bar of chocolate is back home and she flies direct, in time for supper. Poor little Squeak, however, is nervy and picky as a woman with child. He needs a great deal of encouragement but he shows promise. I tell them all to beware of anything with a Saxon plumage.’
    â€˜The Prussians train hawks to kill them,’ Jacques explained.
    â€˜How beastly,’ cried Eveline.
    â€˜Yes, it is war,’ Monsieur Pagini replied calmly. ‘There is always war especially in the human kingdom.’ And he told them a little of his life history: how he had always felt more akin to birds than boys; how he had run away from home to sleep in the treetops; how there was nothing like the feeling of seeing a bird return.
    â€˜I can imagine,’ said Laurie. ‘You give them their freedom and then they come back to you.’
    Monsieur Pagini nodded sadly. ‘Yes, though some never return. That is their choice. You only ever see them again in your dreams.’

    Jacques had so much to show them and wanted to get on before the practice flight to Moon City at two-fifteen. He led them down the corridor to Platform One and it was strange to see the dusty cushions from the trains piled high in corners with nobody to sit on them; and torn old posters on the walls advertising day trips to Champigny, Passy, Compiègne. How long had it been since anyone had been on a day trip to Compiègne?
    A sober mood fell on the group as they descended to the rails, the din getting louder as they approached. Two men walked by deep in conversation, and Jacques pulled up, trembling with excitement though he refused to say anything until they were out of earshot.
    â€˜That,’ he cried when they had turned the corner, a gleam of adulation in his eye, ‘was Etienne and La Montain!’ He stopped, as if they should know what he was talking about.
    â€˜Go on!’
    â€˜Etienne and La Montain! Etienne fell out of the Celestial and landed in a swamp just outside Paris. He lay there for hours with bullets skimming over his head then managed to escape over enemy lines by disguising himself as a cowherd. La Montain took a consignment of dynamite to Bourbaki’s army 9 and got paid a thousand franc bonus for doing it.’
    â€˜Blimey,’ said Alphonse. ‘I really am in the wrong job!’
    Jacques’ eyes glimmered darkly. ‘Yes you are,’ he said in a strange determined little voice which caused Eveline to look at him sharply. ‘Anyone who is not a balloonist is in the wrong