Chapter 8

Easter

Easter arrived, and Peter’s parents were still suggesting that he needed to study rather than go off for a week. Luckily the parents’ evening arrived at the right time. “Peter is really knuckling down, I honestly don’t think you need worry.” was the general response from the teachers, including Mr Bowers, who thought a trip to stay with a friend in Paris for a week was “just what he needs to get his language skills even better.” With that endorsement, he was set fair for France.

He took the Eurostar, was met at the station by Angelique. “Hello ma cherie.”

“I hope your French has improved beyond getting the gender right.”

“My French kissing has.” It was a pretty poor line, but neither of them really cared.

“Oh, mama has asked where you should sleep. We have a guest room, or there is a spare bed in my room.”

He did a double take. “You mean I can share your room?”

“If you want to. She ... we don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“No, no, that would be fine.” his smile was even broader than when he’d seen her. He’d half expected her parents to be there too, he was pleased to greet her alone. “I’ve missed you.” His hands were clutching her rear whilst he was kissing her intently and deeply, holding her really close.

“Missed me? Or missing my body?”

“Oh, both. You are in a perfect body, and your body houses a perfect girl.”

“Good answer, come on.”

They walked to the Metro, caught a train and then walked to a pleasant suburb. An apartment spread across the first floor of a block. It was very different to his home. Madam Montand came to meet him, kissing him on both cheeks. That was a surprise for his uptight English side, but rather pleasant. This was not some old granny with a hairy lip and wet mouth planting a smooch on him/ This was a yummy mummy (a milf? No, he wouldn’t do it, he wanted Angelique). She was well dressed, attractive, and, well, yes, she was shapely too. She turned and went back to the kitchen with Angelique, after a brief and rapid discussion. His name was mentioned.

“Heh, stop giving my mother the once over. She was just asking where you wanted to sleep, and if you had any food hangups – since I’m vegetarian, I told her you would have what I’m having.”

“Like when Harry Met Sally. No? Nevermind. You get your looks from her.”

“Come on, I’ll show you my room. Papa won’t be back tonight, he has to spend some time in Marseilles training some doctors.”

So dinner was the three of them. “How do you make such delicious food when you work long hours in the hospital?” Peter asked, he was actually being genuine, which was just as well for such a cheesy question.

“Two things: I do an early morning shift, I leave at 4am, sorry. Then we also get a lot from Cuisine. It sells prepared meals.”

“Peter likes to cook, he could do some of the British specialities, like suet pudding, steamed pudding, macaroni pudding.” these were foods he had told Angelique that he had made.

He laughed and poked Angelique. “Heh, these are Michelin Starred recipes. Seriously, happy to help if we can, yes WE can, Angel.” Her mother raised her eyebrows slightly, she’d never heard her daughter called Angel. She’d also not found a man who liked cooking, her husband was useless, her father had been hopeless.

“A word, Mister Walker.” His heart sank, the official title meant this was serious. Angelique made herself scarce. “We are liberal minded. I know my daughter is not – what is a good word? Chaste? - but we love her dearly. If you hurt her, her feelings I mean...”

“I shan’t, you needn’t worry, Edith.” Doctor Edith Montand gave him an appraising look, decided he was probably on the level, and left.