Sense and French Ability by Ros Rendle

Harriet gave their thanks and took their leave. At the door, Fliss halted.
    “What’s this?” She indicated a piece of card tacked to the back of the door.
    “The ducasse,” Harriet said reading the hand-made poster. “Most of the villages have one. It’s the celebration gathering that happens in May; the largest event of the year. Everyone sits for an extravaganza of feasting and fun with games and quite a bit of drinking.” She laughed. “Alain Ducasse was the first chef to own restaurants carrying three Michelin stars in three different cities. He acquired the most stars during his career. The village ducasse is an acknowledgement to this level of expertise, ‘though the event itself is just an excuse for rollicking good fun, if you ask me,” she continued. “For Jerome it must be his major source of income. He’s provided the catering for several years now. If he lost that contract it would mean serious financial problems, I should think, and it might even force the closure of his business. So he hinted.”
    “Well, thanks. It’s been great meeting you.” Fliss meant every word.
    “You too,” Harriet agreed. “I don’t think I’ve talked so much in one go for ages. ’Til next time, then,” and they parted company.
    Jerome checked his oven and looked in to make sure Éric had completed the task to his satisfaction. Then car doors slammed out in the street and the first of the Jourdons opened the heavy oak front door. He came forward to greet him in the time honoured way. It was his place to pour the wine so he gave Éric a little shove and nodding towards the kitchen said “Fetch the rest of the trays for the ‘apéro’.”
    *
    A couple of days later, Nicolas and Alexandre Augustin called in to see Jerome. The brothers, twenty and nineteen, still lived at home with their mum and dad and their two much younger sisters, Elodie and Collette.
    “ Salut ,” Nicolas said, as they walked in that evening.
    They came forward and shook hands.
    “There’s a beer for each of you,” Jerome said. “On the house.”
    “Thanks,” said Alexandre “Our house is always so crowded.”
    “And not comfortable,” added Nicolas.
    In true French, country life-style everything happened in the single living room. The dining table with its plastic covering and the mismatched wooden chairs took up most of the space. There was just room for one more comfortable but battered armchair.
    “Dad’s commandeered the chair again since he’s got in from work before us. That’s fair enough but the television’s blaring away in the corner and if Elodie isn’t arguing with Mum it’s not possible to watch anything we prefer. At least here we have space to talk boys’ talk and drink a beer in comparative peace and quiet.”
    They had formed a habit of dropping in after work and before their family supper.
    Each boy worked as a farm hand for different large enterprises in the local area. These farms were mixed agriculture with both crops and cattle. The farm owner dealt with the cows but needed help all year with the crops. The boys drove tractors and harvesters and had each become skilled in manoeuvring large pieces of attendant farm equipment such as trailers, ploughing mechanisms and spreaders, seed drills and balers. In their own way they were skilled, but the work involved long hours and poor pay. The joint income of the adults in the family kept them solvent. It was a confined life-style, with neither boy getting out much, never mind meeting girls or having much social life outside of the village.
    Jerome was always pleased to see the boys, and often gave them a beer free of charge. It wasn’t good for his profits but he welcomed the company. He liked looking after Éric; it satisfied his need to care, since his wife took the family away, but it was wearisome.
    The heavy oak porte d’entrée was always unlocked, there being no fear of robbery or vandalism in this quiet back water. Anyway, Jerome wanted his