Lilou

He was lost; but lost in a benign way. When he had stepped out of his hotel located in the Saint Pierre district of Bordeaux, and let his legs do the walking, never mindful of any destination, without watching the time, and without any thought or precondition. Just walking in a state of emptiness, a blindness of mind, for any intended direction was a distraction. He pondered his many troubles, life’s burdens lay heavy each proceeding day, his head and heart ached, gnawing slowly on his soul.

The Saint-Pierre district dates back to the days of the Norman empire, and was fortified in the Middle Ages, and became a defensive enclosure where most Bordeaux inhabitants lived in those far away days. The wealthy merchants such as goldsmiths, ornate chest makers, and warehouses housing grain destinated for ships moored close by on the river being prepared for sailing into the Bay of Biscay and beyond.

As he entered the small café surrounded by vagrant ghosts and buildings from bygone days, it was without any conscious decision. It was though he entered this café on the Rue Saint Remi, a few streets from the winding grey river of Garonne, hundreds of times before. He went to the table by the large window at the front of the café and sat opposite the girl. It was a rendezvous, so why didn’t he have any knowledge of it?

The girl didn’t look up from the two steaming hot cafés, in ornate white and silver edged cup and saucers. On the small wooden coffee table, there was a glass shaped container, it looked like a small flower vase with more steaming hot coffee, a generous refill. The combined smell of all the drinking vessels was uplifting, the brewed black coffee was intended to wake up the senses, and to keep a sleep deprived mind on full alert.

She didn’t look up or acknowledge his appearance. He sat down without any bidding.

Her untidy appearance did not diminish her beauty. On sitting down opposite his beloved on the old creaking wooden chair; the chair legs noisily scuffed the linoleum floor, with its black and white square patten. Without exception each white square was now worn into a greyish, white colour, bravely wearing multiple black cuts and scars.

Lilou’s sat slightly hunched, resting her arms on the tabletop with her hands clasped tightly together in a prayer prose. She stared intently at the scene outside the window, to the scene of the busy street, watching the pedestrian and motorized traffic. But she wasn’t watching the traffic or the outside scene at all, her mind was internalizing, and the clasping of her hands in prayer was an outward sign of her never-ending turmoil, the thoughts and images of horror turning endlessly in her head.

Her long unkept hair was held back with a metal clasp, but most of the hair fell in all directions, as the light from outside made highlights in the long strands, and created blond, light browns, sometimes the odd red tint of her untidy cascading long hair. Her ears poked out rudely amongst the chaotic whisps, the dangling strands spread around the top of her coat.

She had nervously chewed on her nails, as fingers from those clasped hands were inches away from her delightful sad looking lips. Guillaume had never seen such colour in those light hazel eyes. The light bounced off the glistening pupils and dazzled the onlooker. Lilou, staring intently towards a scene in her mind, a serious worried look on her beautiful young face, made Guillaume’s heart flip. His eye lids acted like a camera shutter, as he captured her image in his mind for eternity.

Only weeks ago, they were happy carefree lovers, without any care in the world. Then Germany invaded and occupied France, and Bordeaux became part of Vichy France - État français. Although officially independent, and with half of French territory being occupied under the harsh terms of the 1940 armistice with Nazi Germany, and with the head of state; Marshal Philippe Pétain adopting a policy of collaboration, this was a second-hand type of occupation.

The French people turned upon themselves in this rump state, a remnant of a once much larger country that was reduced in the wake of Nazi Germany occupation of the north and west of France. Pétain ruled Vichy France with the French conservatives, and they became like fascists, similar dictators to the Nazi Germans who now occupied the rest of France. The authoritarian regime turned on any liberal or social ideologies and launched a campaign called Révolution nationale against its fellow people.

Both Lilou and Guillaume came from families with strong liberal views. Lilou’s parents were very outspoken against the quickly changing views of the authorities. When the first waves of arrests and internment of the most vocal opponents took place under Pétain’s new rules, Lilou’s parents were arrested and taken to the Mérignac internment camp, also known as Beaudésert. The camp was a transit and internment facility operated by both French and German authorities in Nazi-occupied France, where most prisoners were imprisoned, tortured or sent later to the concentration camps to the east, never to be released or seen alive, ever again.

The dangling ceiling lamp hovered over the table, the halo of light becoming brighter, a bright colour of yellow and orange against the drab grey autumn view outside the coffee shop window.

Guillaume felt a sudden rush from below the coffee table, the heat blast, burned his face, the table, the cups and saucers, the furniture, the entire contents of the room exploded, and spun like the contents of a food mixer. A veil fell over his vision, his mind lost consciousness.

“Puis-je vous servir, monsieur, que souhaitez-vous?”

“May I serve you sir, what would you like?” Said the waitress standing above the seated man by the wooden table next to the window.

The man’s distant thoughts were interrupted by the sudden appearance of the present. The waitress’ voice. The sound of her voice pierced his previous dreamy vision and brought him abruptly into a different reality. His slow recognition of her voice created a surprised questioning look on the man’s face. What had just happened, he thought.

“Ça va? On dirait que tu as vu un fantôme.” “Are you okay? It looks like you saw a ghost.” The waitress asked, a wry smile on her face, smiling at her witty remark.

“Yes” he said in English, and with embarrassment. He felt awkward, and he couldn’t look up into her searching eyes, as he felt vulnerable, still feeling the emotions of the vivid dream, and the sudden explosive end. He was shaking inside, and his heart was racing, which now caused him to perspire.

The waitress went away and brought back a paper napkin.

“Here, did you receive some bad news?” The waitress said in English. Looking down at the coffee table, at the mobile phone.

From the man’s sitting position, he also looked at the mobile phone, but with a look of incredibility on his face, as though it was the first time he had recognized the device. It was the recognition of the mobile phone that brought him back to the here and now, and at the same time jarred against the fading visions, and the previous deep emotional connection of an event that felt as real as this current reality.

He ordered an Americano, “un café allongé.” It was served in a non-descript grey mug, not in the ornate white and silver edge cup and saucer. He felt disappointed, a feeling of never being able to capture the wonderful moment he had felt deeply with the beautiful girl in the dream only moments before. It was lost forever, and at the same time bewilderment of such a vivid and emotional experience.

As he was about to leave the small café, and return to the pedestrian walkway, the same yet different from his dreams. In the dream the thoroughfare was full of noisy smoky vehicles, as well as a sidewalk for the walking passersby. On opening the door, he caught sight of an old black and white photo hanging on the wall, close to the entrance door. Instantly, he saw his face beaming out from amongst a crowd of laughing people, hugging each other proudly in front of the camera. He stopped, grabbed the picture from its position on the wall, and rushed back to the waitress.

“Who is this? Who are they?” Pointing at the old photograph. He shouted out gleefully; he couldn’t contain his excitement at the discovery.

The waitress looked at him suspiciously. “You don’t have permission to take pictures off my wall!” She said finally, in a flat unemotional voice.

“BUT it’s me, LOOK! It’s me! Who is this man?” The man was overflowing with excitement, pleading the waitress for an answer.

“It’s my great grandfather.” The waitress replied.

Without a word, she went to entrance door, flipped the sign to Fermé, and locked the entrance door.

“What’s your name?” The waitress demanded

“Jacob Nuupjaj from Long Island!” He held out an inviting hand of friendship to the waitress.

“Why did you come here, what do you want?” The waitress was suspicious and responded with a limp touch of Jacob’s outstretched hand.

“Nothing! I came to Paris on business; I jumped on a train. Just exploring outside Paris, I mean no harm. This is all very strange, and unbelievable to me, you must understand, what is your name?”

“Adele Lestonnac.” Said the waitress. She continued.

“The person in the picture that looks like you; his name is Guillaume Saulton. The beautiful girl in his arms is Lilou Lestonnac. They are my great grandparents. They never married; it was wartime. They both died right here, in this café, in this building during the war, an exploding bomb. A terrible tragedy and a terrible accident. Unfortunately, many people were killed.”

Adele the waitress paused for breath, seeking a reaction from the man, Jacob, the visitor from Long Island, USA.

“Lilou and Guillaume were part of the résistance français, the French resistance, they were going to bomb somewhere or other, and ended by blowing up themselves, and many other innocent victims. They were never forgiven in this town – never!”

“Hated by all, Germans and their own people!”

“Children died in the explosion, and this building nearly collapsed.” Adele continued in a quiet unemotional voice.

“I don’t understand. If your great grandparents died that day of the bombing, how are you here to tell the tale?” Jacob enquired.

“A miracle! Lilou was pregnant, carrying a child, my grandfather, Léo, the unborn infant survived the explosion, alas the torn apart body of his mother did not. He grew up from the ruins of the war and became a wealthy man here in Bordeaux. He rebuilt this bombed out building. It was lifetime’s ambition to rebuild and repair the damage. To restore the building in the memory of his dead parents. Parents he would never meet. My father, God bless his soul, owns this building, it is in the name of the Lestonnac family, as it should be.”

“Wow! What an amazing story. Like a phoenix, rising from the explosive fire, ashes and ruins, a rebirth! You must be very proud of your family.” Jacob said.

“Yes, I am, but Bordeaux, this old ancient city never forgets. The long time dead, the ghosts linger around Saint Peirre and never rest. This building is haunted by the weeping spirit of Lilou; you can hear her crying every night. Sitting in that chair by the window – weeping. Sometimes I forget to close the blinds, and people see her apparition from outside in the street. They see her shadowy figure as they pass by in the early hours of the night.”

“So, to answer your question about the likeness of you to my great grandfather Guillaume, I cannot answer you. My family has had enough trouble to last many lifetimes. I will tell you this today in exchange for your promise of privacy and confidentiality. You looked like you had seen a ghost earlier, so I wanted to explain. There are too many ghosts hanging around here, don’t you become one of them. My family has experienced many troubles, and we shut the door on the past – we don’t want any more problems. You understand?”

It was the end of the conversation. The waitress named Adele showed the visitor named Jacob to the door, and their connection ended.

As Adele tidied up the small café, closing the premises for the night. The streetlights poured into the dark establishment, autumn was quickly leaving the city of Bordeaux, and winter was announcing its arrival. Adele thought to herself, well that’s Cousin Jacob, the great grandson of the twin brother of my great grandfather Léo. So, he survived and prospered, and in the USA. Lilou and Guillaume would be happy!