The Stone Read online

  ‘Yeah, but things are in our favour just now. They’re French, and we’re English, and it doesn’t look like the Yankee sailors speak French either. ‘Paul said.

  ‘Good point there, so we’ve got to make hay while the sun shines, and whilst luck is on our side, but we must keep our eyes peeled and not be greedy.’ Edmund said.

  ‘What about the night time?’ Paul asked.

  ‘I have thought about that. Think on. Yes there could be more Yanks about, but they will all be boozing, and when booze is about there is always trouble, what do you think about that?’ Edmund asked.

  ‘We don’t want any trouble mate, do we?’ Paul admitted.

  ‘No, so let’s make some money and keep our noses clean at night, agreed?’

  ‘Yup, let’s go for it buddy.’ said Paul in his best Midwest accent.

  For nearly two weeks they both kept to their rules, and for quite a small effort, amassed a tidy sum of $350, but there were two things that made Edmund concerned. By now there were fewer sailors going into their cafe, also, Edmund had noticed that on the last two evenings they were being followed by two of the locals on the way back to their lodgings. Paul was also playing with fire. In the last few days he had struck up a relationship with a French girl. Nothing wrong with that, but the relationship had coincided with being tailed.

  They sat on the bed counting their loot. ‘Mate, we have got to stop now, and get out of here.’ Edmund looked worried.

  ‘You’re joking aren’t you? Paul asked

  ‘Trust me mate, there are some fireworks brewing and very soon. We have to get out of here and at the latest tomorrow, or we risk losing everything.’ Deep down Edmund feared that Paul would blow up a storm, especially now when he was getting tied up with Marie-Pierre.

  Paul looked worried, ‘Where are we going Eddie, home?’ He looked so downcast.

  ‘Not that I don’t trust you Paul, but I’ll tell you where we are going, when you get back from seeing Marie tonight. My advice is to tell her nothing about this, but if she presses you, tell her that we are planning to return back to England next week, and whatever you do, don’t say anything about tomorrow savvy?’ Edmund’s face looked tense, ‘I really mean this Paul, there is going to be trouble, and soon, I can feel it. I don’t know whether the bird has something to do with it or not, but we’ve got to move.’

  Paul looked at his friend with new eyes, ‘where had that spotty-faced office boy gone’ he thought to himself.

  ‘Without much help from me, here we are with a good pile of dollars stashed away.’ He looked straight at his friend and said.

  ‘Shit to the French bird, there’s plenty more where that came from. Let’s move out matey.’

  The relief on Edmunds face was plain to see.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of going to England mate. Oh no, twenty miles up the coast is a town called Cannes, and we can catch a bus to there just down the road.’

  ‘What are we waiting for? Let’s go tonight.’ Paul shouted.

  Leaving the room that night was no problem, the cafe owner had received his rent for the week, and true to form as with the entire locals attitude to them, he said, ‘don’t expect a refund monsieur.’

  In a very short time, they were sitting on the bus bound for Cannes. The route through St Raphael passed the cafe, and Paul stuck two fingers up at it as they went by. Living on their wits, and against the odds, they had grown street-wise in this foreign country, and they were now escaping the trouble that they would have most certainly encountered, and were escaping totally unscathed.

  In less than an hour the bus had deposited them outside the Imperial Hotel on the Cannes seafront boulevard. For a while they stood still taking in the sight. Across the boulevard was the beach, which edged up to the azure sea, and in the distance, white sails of numerous yachts were bobbing gently on the swell. Along the boulevard huge palms were swaying in the light warm breeze and disappeared into the distance as they looked both ways. Behind them were the white edifices of the huge hotels, and rising up behind them in the lush green hills were dotted the villas of the super rich. Paul pointed to the banners, flapping in the wind.

  ‘Look. They’re getting ready for the Film Festival.’ His eyes were popping out of his head; even Edmund had to admit it was the most incredible sight that either of them had ever seen in all their lives.

  Pulling Paul back out of the clouds, Edmund said.

  ‘Look Paul, the sun will be down very soon, and we need somewhere to bed for the night. And don’t think we’re staying in one of them.’ Edmund pointed at the hotel that they were still standing in front of. He finally got Paul down to earth and they went down the nearest back street, and luckily found a small lodging house, securing a reasonable room, and after Edmunds good haggling, at a reasonable price.

  Being the height of the season, and nearing the Festival time, the owner had no problem accepting dollars. After all the work in St Raphael, Edmund made sure that they weren’t screwed, not too much anyway. Paul was like a dog on heat, so after a quick splash and unpack, he was ready to take the beach.

  Back on the seafront, the sun was leaving the sky on the horizon, with a range of bright yellow colours, fading into a scarlet hue, streaked by the white vapour trails of jet aircraft. It was truly a magical place.

  ‘Look Eddie, over there!’ Paul shouted. The beachfront, as they looked right, gave way to a sumptuous yacht marina, where hundreds of Sunseeker yachts and huge touring launches were bobbing together. ‘Let’s go and have a look at them.’ As they came closer, the huge ‘gin palaces’ came into view. As the two young men walked by, the crowds of beautiful girls and poser guys looked haughtily at them.

  ‘All waiting for the film producer to walk by, I expect.’ Paul said through his teeth.

  Edmund knew that looking at this vista alone was enough to make a life-changing impression on Paul, and it would drive him into the show business world for the rest of his life. The money flowing into this place was immense, way beyond their dreams, and Edmund knew that there were ‘no easy pickings here ole Buddy.’

  As they headed back to the digs, there was a local bar on the same back street, obviously one the locals frequented and they picked up a bottle of wine, and from the next-door boulangerie, two baguettes and some local cheese. In their sparse surroundings, they ate and drank their purchases whilst making plans for the next day in the beautiful French town of opportunity.

  They agreed not to take all their cash out with them. Each would take $50 and leave the balance in the concierge’s safe in the vestibule of the hotel, about $250. There was no point in taking any risks. Paul couldn’t wait to get out there in the sunshine, and try to make his impression on some of the starlets. They also agreed to split up, Edmund wasn’t that impressed with the showbiz types and decided to leave all that to Paul.

  Everything was so fresh and bright on the seafront boulevard and the sunshine almost blinded them as they emerged from the darkened backstreet. In a flash, Paul headed into the crowd, which soon swallowed him up, and he didn’t look back. Edmund headed back to the marina, where he remembered from the previous night as they had walked between the flotilla of yachts that near the end of one of the floating gangways there was a boat, which was not lit up like a Christmas tree and didn’t have all of the flashy types parading on deck. He easily found the right gangway, and ignoring the others moored there, he spotted its sleek exterior. The prow was topped with a steel handrail jutting out, overhanging the walkway.

  As he approached, there was no sign of life on board, so he strolled by and continued on the gangway, which extended for only a few more paces so he turned on his heels and continued back the way he had come. As he passed the boat for the second time, he was unaware that he was being watched,

  ‘Hey buddy, you looking for someone?’ Edmund turned and looked up, seeing a friendly face peering over the huge prow, and a hand beckoning him over. ‘Do you speak English?’

  ‘I am English, I’m just out fo
r a stroll’ said Edmund, smiling back.

  ‘Well then, why not come aboard and join us for some coffee. That is, if you have the time.’

  Edmund nervously climbed aboard, and held the shiny rails as he went down into a sumptuous saloon.

  ‘I’ve never been in one of these before.’

  The man pointed to a soft leather seat, and soon they were chatting. Edmund stood up as in walked a small but well proportioned woman in her thirties with a tray of coffee.

  ‘Let me introduce myself. I’m Ben, and this is my wife Vera.’ They shook hands, and Edmund introduced himself, and started to relax a little.

  ‘Hope you don’t mind me asking Ben, but what do you do?’

  ‘Well Edmund, I’m a stockbroker on Wall Street, and Vera er...’ Vera smiled at him, ‘I paint a little’ she said, looking at Ben. ‘She paints a little - only has an exhibition in 46 Street!’ Ben laughed awkwardly.

  Edmund decided to tell them truthfully what he had been up to since arriving in the South of France. He felt somewhat embarrassed that he had taken advantage of their countrymen. They both laughed loudly,

  ‘Yeh, I guess they deserved it too eh Vera?’

  Edmund noticed from the beginning, even though they had this luxury, they seemed genuine people; Ben particularly was not what he expected. Instead of spouting off about his achievements, he was more interested in Edmund’s meagre ones. Time had passed so quickly, and Edmund got up to leave, but Vera would have none of it.

  ‘Will you please stay for lunch Edmund? It won’t be much, but you’re surely welcome’

  ‘Listen Vera, I can tell you that you don’t eat much when you’re living on your wits every day.’ Edmund told Ben that he was down here with his best pal, but he was more interested in the trappings of show business, so they had agreed to split up during the day. He explained his humble beginnings at the steel plant, and told him that that sort of thing interested him more than trying to get into the false world of glitz and glamour.

  Ben told Edmund that he was still very close to his mother who was a widow living in an apartment in Manhattan. His father had died when he was quite young, so she had brought him up on her own.

  ‘New York is a tough place when you don’t have money Edmund.’ His mother had got him through college and now he was a rising star, making deals ‘that would curl your hair buddy.’

  He told Edmund that his mother was not happy in New York anymore, what with the rising gun crime. What she wanted more than anything would be to live in the UK. She had a pen friend in Bournemouth and was very impressed with it.

  Later in the afternoon Edmund decided it was time to leave his hosts, but not before offering to contribute to the wonderful meal he had shared with them.

  ‘It’s good money Ben, as you now know, it’s care of the US Navy.’ They both laughed so much that Ben’s eyes were streaming.

  ‘We’d love you to come and visit us tomorrow. Would you join us Edmund?’ Vera asked him. Ben was still recovering from Edmund’s last remark.

  ‘Look buddy, we both would love to see you again, with comedy like that, I could get you on the Ed Sullivan Show.’ Ben gave Edmund his business card and shook his hand mightily. ‘Come if you can Edmund, it’s been great to have you.

  As he walked down the floating gangway, he looked back. They were on deck, waving. He waved back, clutching Ben’s card. On his way back to the room, there was a real warm feeling inside him, not from the food, but the genuine hospitality, from two people, very rich people, who, if they had been British would have treated him so differently! Stretched out on the bed quietly thinking about the day he had had, he dozed off still with Ben’s card in his hand. He woke up with a jerk, the small amount of light had disappeared from the window, and he looked at his watch. Eight o’clock. ‘Where the hell are you Paul?’

  Edmund was just thinking that Paul had finally scored with one of the myriad of starlets also looking for fame, when he heard the downstairs door slam. He swung his feet off the bed, out of the bedroom door and onto the landing. He spied Paul struggling to get up the stairs swaying from side to side as he just managed to put one step in front of the other.

  ‘What the hell, what’s going on mate?’ Edmund asked concernedly.

  Paul looked up at his friend, grimacing with pain. There was blood on his face and his right coat sleeve was torn at the shoulder. His clothes were dirty and the knees of his jeans were scuffed and black.

  ‘I’ve just been run over by a horse and cart.’ Trying to laugh, Edmund knew what he meant. Paul was referring to Albert Finney’s character Arthur in ‘Saturday Night and Sunday Morning’ when he explained the severe beating up that he sustained at the fairground. As Edmund helped him into the room, Paul explained that two men had jumped him from behind about an hour before. He had taken punches in the face and had several kicks to his side.

  ‘Get on the bed Paul and I’ll go and get us something to eat and drink.’ The sense of wellbeing he felt after the day with Ben and Vera had vanished. As he walked to the shop he weighed up in his mind what the reason could have been for it. Either it was a simple robbery or even perhaps a sort of reprisal for the time they had in St Raphael. He soon returned to the hotel room laden with the regulation baguettes and cheese along with a big bottle of local wine.

  Paul had showered and got into bed and as Edmund entered the room, he stifled a smile, as Paul looked a sorry sight, and he had certainly had the stuffing knocked out of him. The bruises on his face were forming, and no doubt several on his body were forming too!

  They talked into the night. Before the trouble, he had had a great day, and met some interesting people and ‘nearly scored’ with a gorgeous blonde, which helped with the pain as he retold it. Of course Edmund was more concerned with the reason for the beating, but they agreed to see how he felt the next morning before deciding on that. When it finally came to Edmund describing his day, he glossed over it somewhat, and made light of it, considering what his friend had been through.

  The next morning Paul was in no fit state to go chasing the starlets so Edmund suggested that they make their way to the Marina, not just because Ben and Vera had invited him, but maybe they could help to get Paul checked out in case he had broken anything. Quite frankly, there was nowhere else to turn so Paul agreed; he of course liked the attention as usual.

  They arrived at the floating gangway, Paul stood there for a while, catching his breath and Edmund hurried on towards the yacht. He called Ben from the side of the boat, and fortunately he appeared quickly.

  ‘Ben, I need a favour from you, my friend has been badly beaten up and is in some pain, do you think you could help? I’ve brought him here, and he’s just along the gangway. It would be a great help if you could take a look at him.’

  Ben ran along the gangway with Edmund towards his injured friend, and not too far behind came his concerned wife. With some difficulty Paul was pulled on board and down into the saloon and stretched out on the long leather couch.

  ‘What happened buddy?’ Ben asked Paul, his face grim with the pain. Paul had undone his shirt revealing two heavy bruises.

  ‘Vera has had first aid training, Paul, and she is going to check if anything’s broken under there, whilst I get us some coffee.’ It didn’t take her long to ascertain that there were no bones broken, to everyone’s relief.

  ‘I guess you ain’t going nowhere today old buddy, why not stay on board and we’ll take care of you,’ Ben said to Paul, and then to Edmund. ‘I guess that you don’t want the cops to be involved, is that right?’

  Edmund nodded. ‘Thanks Ben, I’m really sorry to drag you into this, but quite honestly we hadn’t got anyone else to turn to.’ Vera passed Paul some aspirin for the pain, covered him with a blanket and in a few minutes he closed his eyes as the pain diminished. ‘We’ve paid for another night at the hotel, and well go back there a bit later, then tomorrow I have decided that we will be making our way back to Blighty’

  ‘Blighty? Wher
e’s that, Edmund.’ Ben said looking puzzled.

  ‘Sorry Ben, I mean England; it’s an old nickname for home.’ Ben stifled a laugh looking at Paul’s prostrate body. ‘This really changed my plans Ben, as I was looking forward to hearing about yourselves and your life in the States. One thing is for sure though, I have your card, and when I am in a position to, I will contact you, and one day I will be in New York to thank you personally for your kindness and hospitality. Paul wants to be an actor, I know that, but since I have met you, I think I know what I want to be now.’

  ‘What’s that old buddy?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Bloody rich Ben, bloody rich!’ They both laughed, and Edmund looked at Vera, and she was laughing too.