Seasons of Love by Anna Jacobs Page A

poorest auberge were usually excellent. A couple of times Helen managed to earn a little money herself, or payment in kind, which was just as good. It was nothing like as much as Robert could win on a good night’s gambling, but it was enough to pay for a meal or for their room.
    Once, when a maid was ill at an inn bursting with guests, she helped in the kitchens and served at table. She had no shame in offering her services, but explained quite frankly about her husband's illness and their need to conserve money.
    The second time, they stayed on a few days at another inn and she sewed for their keep. The landlady's daughter was planning to be married, the village seamstress had just died and Helen volunteered her help. Robert was tiring again and needed a rest, so he was very willing to stop. Harry was sent to play with the ostler's children, and seemed to get on with them well, experiencing few problems with the language differences.
    Indeed, everywhere they went, Harry was petted and made welcome. He soon began to use French words without seeming to differentiate them from the English, which annoyed his father, who had no gift for languages. The little golden-haired boy enchanted the women and amused the men with his precociousness. He was also a passport into conversations with strangers and therefore into chances of finding cheaper means of transport or accommodation.
    As the weather improved and they drew nearer to the Mediterranean, Helen found to her surprise that she was enjoying herself. It was an adventure and Robert was exerting himself most of the time to be a pleasant companion, not grumbling too much at setbacks.
    And Harry, dear little Harry, was thriving on the fresh air and the stimulation of travel, growing apace and enjoying himself hugely. That mattered most of all to her.
    At Avignon, however, the enjoyment stopped abruptly. They had a disagreement because Robert wanted to make for Nice and Helen refused. This developed into their first big quarrel since leaving England. There would be too many rich people wintering in the sun at Nice, from what she’d been told, which meant too many chances for Robert to find a cosy little gaming house or a group of fellows who wanted to test their skill with the cards or the dice.
    ‘If you want to get better,’ she insisted, ‘really better, we must go somewhere quiet and live very simply. You still get tired easily, Robert. You know you do!’
    He hunched one shoulder and turned partly away from her, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
    ‘We'll die of boredom if we stay somewhere with no congenial company.’
    ‘And you'll die of other things, if you don't give your body a chance to recover! Anyway, I refuse to go to Nice! We can't afford it. So if you go there, you go alone.’
    In the end, they compromised on a city called Beziers, which a chance acquaintance had praised.
    It was an old town in the south-west of France, large enough to offer Helen a chance of finding employment, yet near enough to the Mediterranean to have a mild winter climate.
    When they arrived, Robert was not at all impressed. ‘The place is too damned quiet for me. What if it does have a very old cathedral? The place looks ready to fall down to me. Someone ought to knock it down and build a new cathedral.’
    But Helen liked Beziers, especially when they found two tiny rooms with a friendly widow in a narrow side street. Madame helped Helen find employment teaching English and soon she had so many private pupils that Robert condescended to teach a few of them as well. He wasn’t good with the younger children, but he was very successful with the teenage girls, and even more so with one or two ladies who had decided to alleviate their luxurious boredom by learning English from ce cher monsieur Perriman.
    Helen didn’t inquire too closely into his linguistic progress with these ladies and closed her ears to hints of other activities. As long as he left her alone, she didn't care