See you soon Caroline! Chapter 14 Argeles sur Mer

Chapter Fourteen:

 Argeles-sur-Mer

 

The journey from Paris to Argeles-sur-Mer was something of an ordeal! The Weavers began to regret not taking two days over it, but at least the children were old enough to amuse themselves without the constant “When are we there?” of years gone by! The parents shared the driving, stopping every couple of hours at convenient rest areas, while Caroline and Simon passed the hours by reading, watching the scenery passing by, and of course with long sessions on their mobile devices.

Caroline had stopped looking at Facebook as she found the remarks made by her so-called friends irritating. She had become so involved in the search for the truth about her grandfather’s family (her family, she reminded herself), that the business of her involvement with John Bond, and her friends’ reaction to it, struck her as stupid and childish. She was still deeply moved by what she had learned yesterday about the conditions in Drancy all those years ago, and had no time at all for the silliness of the girls back home. “Perhaps I’m growing up!” she thought. “Is this what being adult means?”

They were passing over higher ground now, the countryside had changed and a sign announced that they were in the Auvergne. ‘Region des Volcans’ it said. ‘I hope that they’re extinct!’ she thought.

Just then her phone beeped. It was a text message. She didn’t send or receive texts very often. It was all Facebook these days!

The text was from John Bond! ‘Oh no! Now what!’ she wondered.

But it was all right! It was a short, sensible note, saying that he had heard about the comments circulating amongst their classmates, that he was sorry if he was to blame in any way, and that he hoped that she was having some success with her research.

Caroline smiled to herself. It was typical of him, she thought. He really is quite a nice guy, the others just hadn’t had the opportunity to get to know him better as she had. She settled back in her seat and began to compose a short reply, bringing him up to date with the main discoveries they had made in Paris.

Simon, who had been studying the map on his iPhone, announced that they were about to cross the Millau Viaduct which, he said, was higher than the Eiffel Tower! This was greeted with some disbelief, but this soon turned to amazement as they found themselves soaring above the valley, suspended in air on what seemed to be the flimsiest of steel ropes! Unfortunately they had already passed the viewing area which was on the northern side of the valley, but Dad promised that they would stop on the way back to take photographs.  As it was, they pulled into the first service-area they came to after the crossing.

Caroline and Simon wandered off to look round the shops, having promised to meet up for drinks in a quarter of an hour. When they all sat down together, Dad had some news for everybody.

“I had a phone call!” he said. “It was from Sabine at the Museum in Paris. She has found out about our missing child! She was a girl!”

“You mean Grandad had a sister then?” asked Simon.

“That’s right! She was taken off the train at a place called Montauban, apparently with her mother’s permission. She was then taken to Toulouse, to a children’s home called the Chateau de Larade!”

“Wow!” said Caroline! “So she survived! She could still be alive! That’s your auntie, Dad!”

“Hold on, hold on! Not so fast! They don’t know anything more than that, except for her name. She was called Lotte!”

“But don’t they know what became of her after that?” demanded Mother.

“Apparently not! This ‘chateau’ wasn’t a grand castle or anything like that, it was just a run-down old building that the Archbishop of Toulouse had lent to the Quakers to look after the Spanish children in.”

“What Spanish children?” asked Caroline

“Spanish children from the Spanish Civil War!” answered Dad.

“But Grandad’s sister was German! So why put her with a load of Spanish children?”

“That’s what I wanted to know! Well, apparently it was all part of a cunning plan! She was Jewish of course, and in danger so she needed to have a new identity. She was not old enough to understand that she must become a different person, and they were afraid that she would give herself away if she was placed in an ordinary home. So she was hidden among the Spanish children.”

“And what happened to her then?” asked Mother again.

“That’s what they don’t know. She would have been given a Spanish name, and quite soon would have been talking Spanish. We may never know what became of her. Apparently many of the children were adopted by Spanish families, some went back to Spain later on, but many stayed in France.”

“So is that what happened to Grandad too?” asked Simon

“No! He was so much younger – he was only about six months. It would have been easy to place him with a French family when the time came.”

“When the time came? What time?”

“Well, apparently only a few weeks after Grandad was rescued, the Germans invaded the non-occupied south of France, and then all the remaining Jews were rounded up. That’s when he would have been hidden with some friendly French family.”

“Gosh – there’s still so much we don’t know, and perhaps never will know!”

At that moment, a waiter came with a tray of coffees and cokes, and the family sat silently drinking and thinking.

 

They arrived in Argeles-sur-Mer by the early evening, and followed signs to the camp-site near the beach.

“Here we are!” said Mother. “Just there on the left! Camping Sud!”

Her husband brought the car to a standstill at the barrier, applied the hand-brake, and jumped out of the vehicle. Caroline wondered how he would manage with the little French he had, but he seemed to be talking freely enough with someone inside the cabin. Presently he emerged with a bunch of keys.

“Do tents have keys?” asked Simon puzzled.

The two adults exchanged amused glances. Dad said nothing, but drove slowly through the camp. They passed tents of all sizes, shapes and colours, and then turning behind a hedge, they saw what appeared to be a small housing estate of bungalows.

Their father pulled up beside a small attractive garden, surrounded by a low wooden fence, and enclosing a large mobile home with a decked terrace.

“Wow!” exclaimed Simon. “Some tent!”

Dad laughed. “Mum and I went off the idea of a tent” he said. “Even a luxury one! This seemed the best of both worlds!”

They were soon inside the mobile home and exploring what it had to offer. Caroline was delighted with her bedroom as was Simon with his. The kitchen was spotless and equipped with everything they could possibly need. The bathroom easily passed Mum’s inspection, and both youngsters were impressed with the iPhone dock beside the TV set.

“You two go off and explore the site while we unpack!” suggested Mum.

They couldn’t miss the swimming pool – it was huge! In fact it was three pools, connected together in what was described as “California style”. But what attracted them most was the beach – directly accessed from the campsite. It was a vast expanse of sand stretching away in one direction out of sight, and in the other towards the distant mountains.  There were a surprising number of people still about, some sun-bathing, some in the sea, some playing beach volley-ball, yet the beach seemed almost empty so huge was the expanse of sand. Caroline thought of Margate, and shook her head in wonder!

By the time they had unpacked and settled in it was getting quite late. They had eaten fairly well on the journey down, so it was decided to make do with a take-away. Caroline and Simon were sent to the bar with enough euros for drinks and a pizza.

A lad behind the counter smiled as they approached and said “What can I do for you?”

Caroline thought ‘How is it that everyone knows we’re English?’ but she said nothing while Simon placed the order.  “Just arrived?” asked the boy counting out the change from the till.

“An hour or so ago” replied Caroline. And feeling bold as he seemed friendly, she asked “Are you French? You speak very good English!”

He smiled, his white teeth set in a very sun-tanned face. “Spanish French” he answered.

Simon looked puzzled, but said nothing.

The boy noticed that they were both somewhat confused by his answer, so he explained.

“Many people here are from Spanish families. But as we were born here in France, then we’re French!”

“Oh!” said Caroline, still not much the wiser. “What language do you speak at home then?”

“French with my Mother, but Catalan with Dad and my grandfather!” replied the boy. And then seeing that they were totally confused, he broke into laughter.

“Catalan is the local language on both sides of the Pyrenees!” He pointed to the mountains where the sun was already low in the sky. “Round here we’re all Catalan first and foremost, and then either Spanish or French second.”

“Your English is so good!” Caroline marvelled.

“That’s because so many of our clients are English! OK – here’s your pizza, and your drinks. Can you manage them?”

Caroline and Simon assured him that they could and said “Good-night!”

“À bientôt !” he replied. “That means ‘See you soon!’

I hope so, thought Caroline!