The Long Summer of Monsieur Loiseau

The wedding began at ten o'clock, but the mansion was filled with hurried footsteps and muffled conversations just after dawn.Old pipes whine harshly in the walls, and a woman upstairs walks around in high heels like she's hammering nails into a wooden floor.The sun poured in through the exposed glass windows, and Alex complained softly, hiding deep under the covers.Harry subconsciously blocked the light with his arms, trying to sleep for a while, but suddenly remembered something, sat up, and gently shook the person curled up next to him awake.

"Wedding," he explained to the frowning Alex, who blinked as if icy water had been splashed on him, woke up suddenly, got up, picked up the shirt and pants on the floor, and hurriedly pulled them on, sleeves I couldn't find the buckle, so I had to give up.Harry opened the door, and the two cautiously poked their heads out to make sure the corridor was clear.Alex pecked Harry's lips, and ran quickly to his bedroom with his coat in his arms.

Harry closed the door and tidied up the messy room in vain.There are not many clothes he can change. The shirt he wore last night is a little wrinkled, which is not obvious, and it shouldn't be noticeable under the suit jacket.Martha knocked on the door while he was hesitating over the two ties and asked if he was awake, breakfast was in the sunroom.Harry replied "Thanks, right away" through the door and chose the lighter tie.

The chapel, which was bombed 13 years ago, has been rebuilt and turned into a low round masonry building, like a flattened tent, which has lost its old charm, but at least it is exquisite and friendly.Only two of the fourteen stained windows were restored as they were, and the rest of the stained glass fragments had been lost, so ordinary glass had to be installed.Loiseau and Hartford naturally sat in the first row, and Harry found a vacant seat on the bench in the fifth row, next to a strange middle-aged couple.The chapel used to have a pipe organ, but it was also burnt to charcoal when it was bombed. Now it is replaced by a brand new upright piano, which is placed on the left side of the altar, which is a bit out of place.This is a Protestant church. The gilded cross that was salvaged from the ruins was finally seen again after being in the utility room of the police station for nearly ten years and returned to its original place.

When the pianist began to play, people stood up one after another, turned their heads, and watched Viscount Hartford holding the bride and walking towards George who was waiting beside the altar.Harry realized that this was the first time he had seen the enigmatic Madame Loiseau, a head taller than her pudgy, mole-like father, her face obscured by a lace veil, long tawny The hair is tied into a bun and hidden under the veil.The flower girl walking beside her was very excited, jumped up and down, grabbed a bunch of petals, and threw them into the air like throwing a grenade. When she walked to the side of the first row of benches, she accidentally stepped on the tulle, and the Viscount didn't move. Pulling the child away sensually, calmed down the little confusion.

The priest, who was young and looked younger than George, instructed the bewildered couple to exchange vows, and the spectators applauded as they kissed, before a lengthy ceremony ensued.Due to some omission, there was no hymn book on the wooden shelf in front of Harry, and he had to share one awkwardly with the couple next to him. The piano music was unexpectedly unpredictable, and the melody seemed to avoid him deliberately , not letting him step on the right syllable.

The open-air drinking party was held on the grass outside the chapel. Two long tables were set up, covered with glaring white tablecloths, and the four corners were pressed with stones to prevent them from being blown up by the sudden strong gust of wind.The sparkling wine lost its bubbles after drying in the sun for a while, and turned into sugar water with the smell of orange peel.The little cakes were delicious, but the bees loved them too, and before long a whole squadron had arrived, buzzing around the multi-tiered tray.The newlyweds spent half an hour on the sun-battered meadow, making sure to say thank you to each visitor, before setting off for Southampton, from where they embarked on an ocean liner early the next morning.It was George's idea that they would spend their honeymoon in New York.

The forecourt and gravel driveway were quickly quiet after a short burst of noise and congestion as wedding guests left in the afternoon.The decorations were removed, and the extra tables and chairs were put away, piled up in the ballroom that had not been used for a long time, and covered with a dustproof cloth.The Baron had gone to London, to "do some business" at Mr Bloomer's office.Martha was gone too, and she had a month or so of vacation every summer, supposedly to visit her elderly aunt in St. Agnes.Leaving the cook and a silent maid to take care of everything, the mansion largely fell into hibernation, with Harry and Alex as its temporary owners, who could live there undisturbed until the end of August.

As long as it wasn't raining, they both went for a swim after lunch, taking turns carrying a rattan picnic basket found in a corner of the storage room, stuffed with a bottle of wine - claret or champagne, depending on Alex's mood - Two tall glasses, corkscrew, novel, napkins, thinly sliced ​​sausages, a bowl of cherries, and some other morsels if they happen to be in the kitchen.For portability, they wrapped the towels around the handles of the picnic baskets.

Years ago, George had pointed out to the boys the fighter planes flying over the bay on the hillside. Now the barbed wire fence separating the grass and the beach has long since been dismantled. The only traces are a few solitary wooden stakes, and one is almost submerged in weeds. A wooden sign warns that there may be bombs and landmines on the beach that have not been cleared. If found, the nearby naval base should be notified immediately.Harry was extremely skeptical that the unfortunate man who had discovered the landmine would ever get off the beach alive.Once they found rusted shrapnel and detonators beneath the reef, the warning signs might have been justified.

It was a bountiful summer, with long days and an abundance of sun that burned their necks and backs and painted both of them a light copper tinge.Alex stuck the wine bottle between two stones, soaked in the sea water, and retrieved the cold wine after swimming, wrapped in a bath towel, and sat side by side with Harry on the warm sand to share the wine and cherries, watching The gray shadow of the ferry slowly disappears where the sea meets the sky.The seagulls coveted the ham, but they didn't dare to fly over to grab it rashly. They paced on the reef until they lost their patience and spread their wings and flew away.

More than once they had made love on an empty beach, slightly drunk, to the rhythm of the waves.Alex straddled Harry, fresh from a swim, his hair wet and his skin cool and salty.The rough grit scraped Harry's back, Alex bent to kiss him, panting against his lips, Harry pressed the back of his neck lightly, his other hand reached into their tight torso between.

The waves slapped the reef heavily, rumbling, knocking out white fine foam, receding, rolling up again, splashing in all directions.

Another option for killing time is Mercury.The silver-flecked white Arabian horse remained the only resident of the stables. Phoebe and Apollo never returned. No one knew what happened. The Army may not even have complete records of people, let alone horses.It took Mercury almost a week to get acquainted with Harry again, discreetly eating turnips and apple slices from his hand.Mercury was still excited by the fresh air and the sounds of the countryside, and Alex led him, walking side by side with Harry on the dirt road that was about to be swallowed up by weeds and shrubs.The hillside where the paratrooper’s body was found was still the same as Harry remembered. The oak tree seemed to have grown larger, entrenched on the top of the hillside, with branches and leaves stretching out in all directions, blocking the sunlight. Only scattered mushrooms and moss remained.

A new railroad has been built across the rocky moors, and a seafood processing factory has been established in the village, much of which is sent to the southwest by freight train.Harry asked about the switchman at Lakenston Station, Alex shrugged and said he didn't know, the old man should have died long ago, and that train line was also abandoned, the facilities were too old to be worth the money renovation.

"We tried walking to London, do you remember?" said Alex to Mercury, and the Arabian looked at him intently and shook his ears. "Mr. Prudence and I are two little madmen, You think so, don't you?"

"Tell him Mr. Prudence doesn't care what animals think."

"Mr. Prudence is not kind." Alex patted Mercury on the neck, and let go of the rein. "You want to walk by yourself, my boy? Go."

If it was raining, they would sleep until noon, tangle together, and hide under the warm quilt until tea time, when they lazily changed into something slightly more decent than their nightgowns and slipped into the kitchen.A few days ago they moved the long-unused round coffee table and wicker chairs back to the sunroom and turned it into a small tea room.The window faces the lawn shrouded in rain. The showers are unpredictable. It may tick for two days, or it may be lightning and thunder for an hour or two, and then it suddenly clears up, and the sun bakes the water droplets remaining on the grass into sticky fog.Alex moved the typewriter from the study into the sunroom, claiming to type letters and telegrams, but was actually revising a short story, slipping bits and pieces into Harry's hands now and then for his opinion.Judging from the fragments, it is a horror story set in the 1870s. The original version described a small town with an eerie atmosphere. In just one week, several strangers came, first a small lawyer, and then a rich man. The widow and her entourage, followed by a taciturn Austrian and a judge, who do not seem to know each other, but for incomprehensible reasons, are all armed with noose and net, as if preparing to hunt a wolf.Another version opens with two gravediggers receiving a huge sum of money from unknown sources and a letter telling them that a carriage will appear at a designated place on a designated date, and they need to transport the coffin inside to a remote small town. However, late at night before arriving in the town, the gravediggers noticed that the body had disappeared.

After reading more manuscripts, Harry realized that these were not two versions of the same story, but probably two parallel plot lines, but he never saw the whole of the novel.Alex used a pen to revise the typed manuscript, often crossing out entire paragraphs, and writing new ideas on the side with abbreviations and symbols that he could only understand.

"Just a time-killing hobby," Alex replied every time Harry asked, "Not worth looking at seriously, Harry, honestly."

Towards the end of the summer, however, a heavy postal package arrived at the house, forwarded via a hotel, and addressed to Mr. D. Peterson. "Necessary precautions." Alex explained, opening the mail bag, took out a neatly bound manuscript and a letter from inside, read it quickly, laughed, and handed it to Harry, "Look at the old pedant What it's like to be terrified."

It was a scathing rejection letter, accusing "Mr. Peterson" of writing "indecent, dirty and anti-Christian" and "for your own sake, sir, I recommend that you burn these unsightly manuscripts".Harry folded the letter and put it back in the envelope: "What did you write?"

Alex opened the manuscript, found a passage, and pointed it out to Harry.Harry glanced up and looked up at Alex, who dimpled at him like a smug cat who's smashed a vase.

"It's very." Harry searched for the right words to describe these explicit descriptions, "True."

"Imagine the faces of the editors, Harry. They'd probably be so terrified that they'd call in a priest to exorcise the whole office."

"How many publishers did you send your manuscript to?"

"All. This is the only one who wrote me back, probably to call me the 'anti-christ.' They can't imagine how 'anti-christ' the whole of Oxford is. Put on your coat, Harry, we're going to the post office."

"Please don't tell me you're going to write back."

"No, I'm going to send "The Wake" under a different name to see if they will change their mind."

"What is "The Wake"?"

"The gravedigger who lost the body, Harry, you saw it."

"You told me the story wasn't finished."

"It's finished now." Alex tossed him his coat. "Don't take your time. It's a nice day for a walk."

They sent the manuscript under the name of "R. Bishop", and the return address was the "Puffin and Trident" pub in Oxford.The small movie theater in the town was showing "Gilbert and Sullivan". For many people in this remote seaside town, it was the first time they had seen a movie in color. It was very fresh, so the auditorium was always crowded. full of people.Harry and Alex bought two tickets to see the last show of the afternoon and, coincidentally, the last show of the summer.By the time they left the movie theater and drove across the fields, the August sun was hanging low over the treetops, turning the grass a caramel-yellow-brown color.

-

"Martha came back at the end of August, we were just heading back to Oxford, and it was business as usual. The Wake did come out, no one paid much attention to it, it was just a cheap horror novel about a bunch of people with different agendas Chasing a baron who should have died in the gloomy swamp, because of money, greed, and grievances, most people forget after reading it. The non-existent Mr. 'R. Bishop' received a small manuscript fee, Probably all spent on cigarettes."

"'Just like all summers, this one is over', "Eternal Summer" Chapter 12." The reporter said, shrugging when he noticed the old man's gaze, "I am probably the person who is most familiar with this summer besides you. The man of this book, Mr. Prudence."

The other party smiled, did not answer, and stopped at the intersection of the beach and the long embankment.A gust of mist was blown by the sea breeze, briefly covering the line of sight, and then quickly blown away, the lighthouse stood at the end of the breakwater.

"Look, Mr. Rivers, here we are."

tbc.