Brian: Taking Courage - 35. Holiday

They had had ten days of pure chill-out; Pont-Audemer, so far, counted as a great success. Mind, it had started rather badly. The journey down had taken them eight hours, what with delays on the M25 in England, and on the coastal motorway in France. They had rapidly got bored with Toby’s recitation of interesting facts about where they were going and the things that they would see, but if it helped to keep the boy engaged then what the hell. Not surprisingly, Gordon and Brian had a stupid argument in the car, when approaching their destination, about whether to make straight for the supermarket or go to the house first.

Brian thought it made sense to get sorted out at the house first and then go back out to the supermarket, as Google said that it closed at 7.30pm, whereas Gordon thought that it would be sensible to get it over with then they could crash. And looking at Toby, dozing in the back of the car, Brian had finally had to admit that that made sense. With the resilience of youth, Toby had quickly perked up when faced with the potential delights of a foreign supermarket, his lack of comprehension to much of the language no barrier to exploration. Brian and Gordon, their brains turned to mush by the journey, did their best not to bicker and to find a suitable selection of food. It was a relief when they finally parked in front of the rather dowdy looking house.

Inside, it was pleasant enough, rather old fashioned with furniture that could even date back to the 1950s and a colour scheme that relied a bit too much on dull green and dingy off-white. But there were three bedrooms, a dining room that they would probably never use, and a decent size kitchen that they would almost certainly live in. There was TV, but no satellite or cable, so the reception was spotty, and the TV channels were all in French. Dead loss.

Toby examined the place in great detail, whilst Brian and Gordon unpacked. Toby opted for the downstairs bedroom, which looked out over a rather pitiful garden. Brian and Gordon took one of the bedrooms in the roof (it was a bungalow with two bedrooms and a shower room upstairs), and they hoped the distance meant they could have sex with something like impunity.

In fact, stripping out of their travel clothes and removing the stress of travel in the shower led to a cuddle on the bed which developed into a full-scale fuck, both men forgetful and oblivious. Thankfully, Toby didn’t say anything when they got downstairs, so the attic must be sufficiently sound-proof.

Dinner was quick and easy, just pasta, but there was garlic bread and salad, plus crème caramel for pudding. All pre-made, bought from the local supermarket, but quite acceptable. Afterwards, they switched the TV on, and eventually found an American crime drama dubbed into French. They fell asleep; as Gordon commented, it was amazing how tiring just sitting for eight hours was.

Sunday, Pont-Audemer was closed except for convenience stores and a couple of bars. And it was pouring with rain. After much nagging from Toby, they had gone for a drive, but it became quickly apparent that to see the area properly, to explore the Marais itself, they’d have to walk. It was pointless trying to explore in the car or walking in the rain.

By the time they got back from their drive, the rain had eased, and Brian announced he was going for a walk round town. Gordon opted to be lazy, but he deserved it, he’d done the bulk of the driving the previous day, and the trip in the rain that morning. Brian wanted to find out what shops there were. Toby had joined him, the boy experimenting with all the French words around him. Languages were not one of Toby’s strong subjects, but his curiosity seemed stirred by the challenge of working out what all the signs meant.

From the Monday, when the weather cleared, they happily fell into a rhythm. Out first thing to the boulangerie at the end of the street to get bread or croissants for breakfast, a duty that Toby happily took on after the first couple of visits when he discovered he could ask for things in French and not make a fool of himself. Breakfast would be followed by a drive to a destination and a long, long walk, then back to the house late afternoon to chill and unwind.

Every couple of days they’d go shopping for food. There were a couple of traiteurs as well as fishmonger and butchers. Toby was chary of trying anything new, but they managed. Brian found that the boy was open to bribery, the prospect of one of the sticky cakes or gooey pastries from the bakery was just about enough to persuade him to try Roulade de Lapin, or Saumon en croute or whatever. The three of them found it fun and worries about where the food came from and how healthy it was were put on the back burner. Brian was relieved that Toby was able to be an ordinary teenage boy on holiday. They rarely ate out, beyond the treat of a pizza, because after a long afternoon walking, they didn’t feel inclined to venture out again properly.

They explored the whole area, Brian lost track of the places, the paths, but the landscape was glorious, or perhaps that was simply his son’s enthusiasm rubbing off on him. They even visited the sea, walking up to a lighthouse. Toby had an endless fund of curiosity about what they were seeing, taking lots of pictures and writing things down. There was no WiFi, but Brian took the restrictions off his phone and let the boy spend an hour searching for information each evening.

Toby’s pre-holiday research really came in handy here; the pages he had printed out, including a digest that he had even created, proved a mine of information about the places they visited and the plants that they came across. It was a very Toby’s-eye-view of the world, concentrating on the things that interested him, and basic facts such as history and dates rather passed him by.

After dinner, they usually fell asleep in front of the TV, though a couple of times Gordon and Brian left Toby watching an American film (subtitled in French) and walked to a bar in the main square. They just had one drink, and the locals were polite without being that friendly, but it was a nice change of focus and routine.

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“Enjoying yourself, sport?” They’d stopped in the town square for an ice cream, having spent the day exploring the nature reserve on the banks of the Seine.

“Mmm”, Toby had a mouthful of vivid green pistachio ice cream. He looked up at his Father with a green moustache and grinned, “Terrific, Dad. It’s way better than Spain with Mum”. Deirdre’s ideal holiday was evidently spending the day on the beach, something that didn’t appeal at all to Toby. She’d been good and sent him a couple more photos, though how much Deirdre would appreciate her son’s replies with their images of life in the French wetlands, Brian wasn’t so sure.

“And I like doing things with Gordon”, this was said whilst paying great attention to his ice cream. “Do you think Mr. Russ will want to do things with us whilst he’s here?”

“I’m not sure, don’t get your hopes up. He might just want to chill and relax, not do anything strenuous.”

“But I thought he was coming to see us?”

Gordon laughed and ruffled the boy’s hair, “Not everyone’s idea of a holiday treat is a long walk, attractive though the area is.”

Toby nodded, “OK. And will he want to put his feet up with you?”

Brian laughed, “Cheeky bugger.”

Brian and Gordon had got into the habit, when they returned from the day’s outing, of going upstairs to their bedroom. Brian’s comment, early on, that he and Gordon were going to ‘put their feet up for an hour’ had immediately been translated by Toby into code for having sex. In fact, the boy wasn’t far wrong, though it was of the leisurely, explorative variety rather than full on banging. Mornings, they’d even taken to cramming into the shower together, so that washing came admixed with other delights.

The town itself was attractive, with half-timbered old buildings and a river meandering through. Brian could imagine that if Russ wanted to decompress, they would do worse than explore the town more, though he knew Toby would be agitating for a trek through the Marais or a return to the lighthouse. But what was Russ’ idea, and did the guy realise that time alone for the three of them would be strictly limited. Still, perhaps they were right, that Russ was as interested in family life as in sex. It was going to get awkward otherwise.