Night was falling gently around them by the time they rounded the last corner near Jean-Philippe’s flat. Tired and hungry from the long walk Claire-Bear was well and truly over walking and was relieved when the only thing that stood between her and the safety of an armchair was the front door to the flat, complete with shoulder indentations.
Jean-Philippe inserted the key and turned it until he heard a the gentle click of the door unlocking. If the door had a head, it would have hung now in disappointment, having finally been defeated. Jean-Philippe eased it open and stepped inside, followed closely by Claire-Bear. Before he could say, “Make yourself at ‘ome,” Claire-Bear had already found refuge on a large suede-covered armchair and kicked her shoes off. She leaned back and couldn’t help but notice the wine bottles lining the walls of the flat and they seemed to flow into every room. Jean-Philippe noticed her noticing the bottles and explained that his father used to own a vineyard and made one of France’s most popular red wines and he had inherited all the remaining bottles from that vineyard before his father closed it. He further explained that the flat was temporary and he intended in owning his own vineyard to carry on the family tradition but was waiting for the right opportunity to do so as this year was not the best year for French red wine.
“I am taking you away.” He excitedly said to her. “You have much of France and the world to see!”
Claire-Bear’s face showed reluctance until he showed her his car parked inside a little garage around the back of his flat. A black Lamborghini Gallardo which seemed to reflect a deep red glow wherever light hit it.
“It is one of a kind,” Jean-Philippe said, his chest filling with pride. “A gift from my Fazer to commemorate the vineyard.”
Claire-Bear promptly agreed to the trip and after packing many bottles of red wine and cheese croissants they set off to have many adventures through the French countryside filled with laughter and challenging challenges.
Eventually though on one fateful day somewhere in the French coast Jean-Philippe found a lovely secluded spot on a ledge of a cliff overlooking the ocean while relieving himself after a long day of driving and keeping his hydration levels up. He went back to the car to find the little exhausted Claire-Bear fast asleep and at ease with life, drooling slightly while dreaming pleasant dreams of fairies and angel cakes. Quickly and quietly he packed a picnic basket and went back to the ledge. He spread out a blanket and put out the food and wine, he lit candles and filled their glasses, this was going to be a picnic he would never forget.
He rushed back to the car and gently woke the sleeping Claire-Bear, now dreaming deep dreams of adventure and sandwiches, she was hungry. He coaxed her away from the car under the guise that he wanted to show her the view from the cliff. Reluctantly she followed, feeling the pains of hunger growing stronger, she would much rather have stayed in the car and tucked into the sandwiches she packed earlier. Jean-Philippe lead her to the cliff ledge, his hand over her eyes to keep from spoiling the surprise. He removed his hand from her face. She opened her eyes and was totally lost in a wilderness of feelings. She threw her arms around him and put her lips close to his ear. “You did all this for just me?” She asked, trembling slightly.
“Yes!” Jean Philippe replied, his courage now rushing to the surface like a volcano, dormant for years, getting ready to finally unleash it’s fury upon the landscape. “There is somesing I need to ask you first before we eat..”
“What is it?” Claire-Bear asked still rummaging through her feeling wilderness.
Jean-Philippe dropped to one knee, the sun setting over the ocean forming the perfect backdrop for such an occasion. Birds sang their song of love and the gentle breeze took it upon itself to carry this song across the landscape and envelope the two lovers. The sun gently kissed their skin, slightly warming them as the evening started to cool. Jean-Philippe opened his mouth slightly and poised his finger as his question rushed to the front of his mind, his other hand occupied in his pocket trying to secure the little box in which lay the most beautiful diamond ring. The words started to edge their way out of his mouth and as they did so the ground under his knee overcome with suspense, gently released it’s grip on the situation.
“My Darli...” The words had barely started to leave his lips when he fell, he managed with his free hand to grip a stray root on the edge of the ledge. He looked desperately into her eyes which in sheer panic were filling with tears. The root, surprised by the sudden fall of Jean-Philippe had no time to secure it’s grip and finally let go. Claire-Bear stood staring in disbelief as Jean-Philippe fell towards the rocks to a gruesome but certain death.
From a distance he heard people talking and felt the sensation of someone holding his hand. Light flickered in his eyes as he tried to open them and like that feeling you get when standing on a subway platform and a passing train enters the terminal at the speed of a drag car being driven by a drunken lunatic with a death wish, everything came rushing back to him.
His hand being held was now warm and slightly damp, the smell of the small shop seemed strong in his nostrils and fighting his gag reflex he opened his eyes.
Leaning over him in the way that a massive cruise-liner leans over a small fishing boat was the fat store owner, a few strands of his hair were dangling off his head, with small drops of sweat hanging onto the ends with every ounce of strength they had.
“You ok monsieur?” He asked, his voice sounded like it was exiting a deep cave.
“I sink so,” Jean-Philippe replied, “I fell over?”
“Ah, you did monsieur, you did,” replied the store owner trying desperately to hold back his laugh, “You fall down like lead parachute ha ha!”
And with that everyone around him, like fireworks at a Chinese festival all accidentally lit at the same time, exploded with laughter. Everyone that is, except for her. He looked up and caught her gaze. Being very careful not to break it nor freeze time again (because freezing time is dangerous when performed by a novice and takes many years to perfect), he lifted himself off the floor relieved not to be dead but highly confused. “My Darling.” He said to her holding his hand out for her to take his grasp.
“I’m not your darling!” She replied strangely disgusted with the actions of this peculiar Frenchman.
“But my Darling, I love you,” He said, confused by her complete disregard for him. “You ’ave my keys!”
“The only keys I have are these!” She pulled out the keys she found at the airport and held them in front of his face.
Snatching them from her grasp he exclaimed, “My keys!”
Suddenly with a crash the door swung open, the bell above was so taken by surprise that it forgot to ring. Light poured into the shop and in the doorway stood Justin striking a heroic pose.
“Take your keys and leave my Claire-Bear alone!” He said, having heard the commotion from the street.
“Justin!” Claire-Bear said with a fright, “I thought you were...”
“I was.” He replied, “I got tired of trying to open the lock and rolled over to have a little nap and wait for you when the combination for my lock came back to me. I came here as fast as I could to tell you you don’t have to get anything for me to break it.” And with that he took her by the hand and led her out of the shop.
Birds twittered and danced, bees danced and buzzed, the clouds just danced as they can make no sound, and suddenly an overwhelming feeling of joy and serenity came over the both of them.
Justin boldly took Claire-Bears’ hand in his and danced her into the Streets of France to enjoy a lovely holiday with the love of his life and her wonderful family before reluctantly returning home to the heat and taxis of Durban.
Jean-Philippe returned to his flat, packed up his things, put them into his Lamborghini and took himself off on an adventure to forget about his ordeal and put things in his head back into order. This adventure would eventually lead him to crashing his car in an open field, growing in which (from a combination of a strange bird-seed taking refuge in the flattened corpse of a small bird that died from a serious case of indigestion) was a peculiar grape which, upon tasting lead him to buy the property and grow his own vineyard, which by total fluke produced the best red wine France and the world had ever tasted. Jean-Philippe lead a full and happy life and eventually met the woman of his dreams, produced seven children and eventually died peacefully in the ocean after falling off a ledge he found one day driving along the French coast.
The birds’ nagging wife eventually left their home behind a painting of the Eiffel Tower in a small hotel room, with her ten children, after giving up on her useless husband when he never returned after venturing out to find food.
The bird-lice left behind lived a happy life in the hollowing, eventually being sprayed with a lice-killing spray by a disgruntled hotel guest.
THE END!!
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