CHAPTER 40
We finally arrived in what was clearly the Deep South, at least of France, and I must have muttered something along those lines as Nansi Edwards immediately corrected me. She did it nicely, she did it with a smile, but it was clearly a very polite slap down.

“Politics, Enfys, and religion. You don’t need to know the details, but this was a different country back then. Paris-based France it wasn’t; different language, different culture. Once they had an excuse to come down from the North, well, lots of castle building, lots of land and property to be redistributed. Local language made illegal. Sound familiar?”

I got her point immediately, of course, and as if she had read my mind, she was already holding up a hand to forestall my comments.

“No. The castles we will be looking at were built by the locals rather than the invaders. Think Dolbadarn rather than Harlech”

She looked over to her husband, then smiled at me.

“Word of warning, love. What the English did to us is nothing compared to… Ah, there was some really nasty stuff here. Not going to go into it; it’s a gorgeous place, so let’s just enjoy the views”

The views were fine, but my reaction to them felt odd, especially as I was now officially Well-Travelled after our holiday in the Canaries. As we made our way further south, I tried to work it out, and all I could imagine as the reason was the setting.

Alys and I had travelled as part of a group of our peers, to a place clearly well accustomed to, and prepared for, British tourists. This place was French, with a capital ‘F’, even if Nansi disagreed, and with very few concessions to anyone from any other place. The locals were far from unfriendly, smiles and what seemed to be teasing jokes in abundance, but we were clearly the ones who were out of our comfort zone.

The other aspect was simpler, in that it was Vic and Nansi who were clearly in charge, and taking the lead. Vic seemed to speak reasonable French, while my lover and I struggled with a local accent that seemed designed to confuse us. I mean, some English accents are perverse, and what on Earth the Hwntws think they are speaking god alone knows, but the local French bore no obvious relationship to what we had studied at school.

We were back in our childhood, it seemed, hand in hand with the real adults.

I lost track of where we were as the motorway miles spooled past, the other three working their tag-team driving shifts, interspersed with occasional supermarket food breaks, until we were finally off the motorway system, as Vic checked a paper map.

“We have our first photo stop in a few miles, ladies. It isn’t a Cathar place, but I really want to get some shots. Riverside, ruined castle on top of a cliff, lots of narrow streets and really old buildings”

It was indeed lovely, perched over the Lot river, a place called Saint Cirq Lapopie, all steep streets, cool in the shade brought by their narrowness, and I took an awful lot of photos. I knew they wouldn’t stand up against Vic’s professional eye and equipment, but they were mine. The fact that Alys appeared in so many of them was merely coincidence.

South again, and our first campsite for the night, on the outskirts of a big city, Toulouse, which surprised me. The idea of a city campsite was a weird one, but there we were. Once again, it was Nansi who talked me through it.

“It’s a big thing in France, camping. Most towns have what they call the ‘camping municipal’, usually simple sites, sometimes a bit shabby. The other places are more holiday camps, all mobile homes and swimming pools and ten times the price. A lot of them shut up shop after August, as well. There are some buildings Vic wants to snap here, in the city, that is, and then we are off via a really big place. That’s big as in castle. Oh, and the Count of Toulouse was a big man in the Cathar community, so it all fits. We’re going to eat nearby tonight; about two thirds of a mile to walk. Buffet place”

“Sorry?”

She grinned.

“As your Dad puts it, it’s an eat-till-you-pukery”

It wasn’t actually bad, and I had oysters for the first time ever, which was interesting, and actually tasty, even though they did look rather as of someone had found a shell and used it to blow their nose into. What was harder was the simple matter of trying to sleep in a tent that felt like an oven; Alys and I kept the outer and solid inner doors open for air, just the netting door between us and the constant whine of mosquitoes. Going to the toilet in the small hours left me bitten in several places, which itched for days afterward. I looked at Alys in a different light, as while I would have delighted in utter extinction for the bitey, whining little bastards, she would no doubt have come up with some ecosystematic justification for their existence, just as she had years ago when I had declared my hatred of wasps.

I have my limits.

We took the bus the next day, into the middle of the city, past a lake that had cable tows for water-skiers, and from the centre, we made our way through a maze of streets, eventually emerging next to a dull brick building with what I thought of as gothic windows, or lancets, or something. Alys looked confused.

“Is this it, Dad? All this way to photograph a brick wall?”

“Ah, watch and learn, love! Don’t judge by external appearance”

Nansi snorted.

“Indeed! Look who I married, for starters”

They were as bad as my parents. Alys and I shared a look, before following her father into the building, and… I was lost,

I know nothing about architecture, although I can appreciate the line a climb takes on a good crag, but that place was utterly wonderful. There was nothing special about the shape, for it was, in essence, just a great big stone barn with a single line of columns running down its middle, but where those columns met the ceiling, their tops spread out like palm trees, the air so cool and calm beneath them that it seemed a sin to speak and break the spell.

I felt an arm drop over my shoulder as Vic sorted his camera, and it was Nansi, as Alys already had my hand in hers.

“Didn’t want to spoil the impact, Enfys. This is one of our favourite places. Thomas Aquinas is buried here”

She must have caught my confusion, for she grinned.

“Roman Catholic logic chopper. I believe he was around at the same time as the Cathars. Very clever man, but concerned with justifying his religion rather than examining it. Never mind”

She left me to stare upwards at the ceiling. And I don’t know how long I was caught there before I realised Vic had packed all his kit and was ready to leave.

“Right, Enfys? Got a treat for Alys, then back to the big square for our supper. Bit of a walk, still”

More rambling streets, all in brick, which led to an explanation of how it was called ‘The Pink City’ by the French, and we arrived at a bridge across the big river that carved through the city. Once again, Nansi was full of explanations.

“Canal links, Enfys, from the Atlantic to the Mediterranean. This city is the hub. Anyway, we’re here for the bridge, not the river”

We walked partway across before Vic stopped us, pointing to the trees to our right.

“Got them, Alys?”

“Oh, Dad! Yes! Thank you!”

There were birds roosting in the trees, some sort of hawk, and as Alys went mad with her compact camera, her father just said “Let me”, and set up his pro kit. What seemed like an hour later, we finally left the bridge, Alys almost skipping, squeezing my hand and looking into my eyes as if she had just won the lottery and didn’t know how to tell me. After a much longer walk, we settled around a table on the edge of the huge town square, menus to hand, and I finally asked the question.

“Hawks. Love?”

“Not quite. Black kites! I mean, I’ve already seen a few, but, wow! Just sitting there! Makes this trip worthwhile!”

Vic coughed.

“I think you might want to clarify that one, my darling”

My lover blushed, then grinned.

“Ah, but Enfys always makes living worthwhile, so nyah!”

Vic looked archly at Nansi, then sighed.

“Ah, I feel an onrush of saccharine, my dear. We need an antidote. Chicken gizzards?”

Nansi nodded.

“And wine. We need wine. Squiffiness is important, I believe. What is it Steph says?”

Vic nodded in turn.

“She does say she got it from that Eric, though”

He raised a finger, before declaiming, “The liver is evil”

All three of us joined in with the chorus.

“And must be punished!”

Yes, we had gizzards, which were actually lovely, and there were various main courses involving steak with garlic butter, or red fish, or meaty lamb shanks, followed by apple tart or chocolate mousse, or whatever, and there was kir to start with, a first for me, but not a last.

And there was wine.

The bus delivered us to within walking distance of our campsite, and Vic said goodnight by promising to return home by way of the Massif Central.

“Population of griffon vultures there, love”

Her goodnight hug should have been accompanied by the sound of cracking ribs, it was that tight.

I don’t know whether it was the wine, or simply the joy radiating from Alys, but despite the heat we found the time and energy to confirm how we felt. It was at least two thirty before we finally settled down to sleep.