Puzzled

“You know, Monsieur Moreau is quite taken with you!”

“Likewise. By the way, why haven’t you introduce him to me before?” I ask.

“Oh, there hasn’t ever been a right moment, you know. He travels a lot and doesn’t visit Monaco often…”

“Ah, I see.” I mutter, not looking at her.

She comes to my bed and gives me a kiss on the forehead.

“Good-night, sweetheart.”

“Good-night, Mum.”

She leaves the room.

I turn the light down. Staring into the darkness, I listen to the silence of the house and ponder for a while over the name of the stranger who seems so familiar, then pull the blanket over my head and fall asleep.

Chapter Two

It’s just a drop in the ocean

A change in the weather

I was praying that you and I might end up together.

    – Ron Pope, A Drop In The Ocean

Episode 11 – Santa Claus

Monte Carlo, 25 December 2010

The curtains undrawn, the bright sunlight is flooding into my room.

I stretch, throw the blanket on to the floor and spring off the bed.

In the bathroom, my sleepy face, the hair’s sticky and dishevelled, glances back at me from the mirror. I turn away, pull my clothes off, and step under the shower.

In the dining room, maman, as fresh as daisy, sits at the head of a large walnut table, polished to a gleaming shine. On her right, Monsieur Moreau is seated. It seems he’s never left the house.

“Good morning, darling,” maman greets me, a wide smile attached to her lips.

“Good morning,” I reply and seat myself opposite Monsieur Moreau.

My appearance seems to have interrupted their somewhat intimate conversation.

Shunning their gazes, I pour myself some coffee and start on my bacon and eggs breakfast.

“Did you sleep well?” Maman breaks the silence.

“Quite well, merci,” I answer, not looking at her.

“Chéri, I’ve invited Monsieur Moreau to spend Christmas with us. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all, on the contrary… It’ll break our usual routine.”

“Luke, dear, what on earth do you mean by that?” She cries out.

“I think Monsieur Luke might have meant that guests bring an element of a surprise into family holidays, making them more delightful.” Monsieur Moreau helps me out.

I nod in agreement.

The rest of breakfast passes in a solemn silence.

Finished, we move into the sitting room where a glitzy pyramid of gifts towers under the fluffy Christmas tree, a miniature version of the one in our reception room.

Maman sits down on the sofa, her legs crossed. I flop into an armchair. Monsieur Moreau, cigar in mouth, comes and stands by the fireplace.

“My dear Rosalinda,” he addresses maman, “May I take on a role of Santa Claus in this house today?”

“But of course! I’d be delighted. Usually, I’m the one who has to play this role.” She replies with a laugh.

“Very well,” he says, “then I’d like to start with Monsieur Luke Andrew Allen.”

Episode 12 – Classic

Monte Carlo, 25 December 2010

Approaching the Christmas tree, Monsieur Moreau reaches out behind it and draws out a box, in height levelling his chest. His arms wrapped around it, he comes to my armchair and places the box before me.

“Here, my dear friend”, he says, “I hope this gift will mark the beginning of your journey in the fascinating world of music”.

Intrigued, I quickly examine the box, then rip the golden wrapping paper off it and open the box. Inside, I find a Fender electric guitar, brand new, still smelling of fresh lacquer – a real classic.

Carefully, I pull it out and, laying it on my lap, stroke it gently.

“Thank you so much, Monsieur Moreau”, I say full of delight. “I’ve always wanted to have one just like that…”

He smiles and goes back to the Christmas tree.

Soon, the pyramid of now-opened presents is transferred onto the sofa and the Persian carpet in front of the fireplace becomes littered with colourful sparkling bits of wrapping paper.

“And now, time for a glass of cherry”, announces maman and gets up.

She walks out of the room, leaving me tête – à – tête with Monsieur Moreau. I take the opportunity and venture out with a question:

“Monsieur Moreau, why are you being so kind to me?”

“Well, mon ami”, he replies, “firstly, because you’re the son of Rosalinda, and secondly, I find a great pleasure in pleasing others, if I may say so.”