House Hunting

It’s been a long day house hunting. I’m late for my final appointment, a detached maison in the Pays Sorgues. When I arrive there’s no sign of life. No response to my knock on the heavy oak front door. Nobody in the garden when I walk round the side of the property.

At the bottom of the garden, past the olive trees and the beautiful piscine, is a small cottage. It looks uninhabited, but when I try the door, to my surprise it opens. Inside, there are two main rooms. One is a kitchen dinner, the other a small bedroom, with an en suite bathroom. It’s all been beautifully decorated.

I’m standing before the large patio doors, looking out onto the veranda, when I’m startled by a voice, close to me, from behind.
Hands up. Don’t turn round, you’re under arrest, it threatens. A young voice, a boy’s voice, I reckon.
I turn round anyway, hands raised. I’m confronted by a menacing dwarf in combat fatigues, armed with a gun. The gun is loaded with water, and its owner is a boy of about 11 or 12.
I told you not turn round, he barks. You’re not supposed to be here.
He comes closer, affecting a snarl.
I’ve only come to look round your house, I tell him. Are your parents home?
I’m going to get my dad, he shouts.
Then the little beast fires a volley of water at me. From such close range, he could hardly miss. So I’m standing there, in this gite, my dress is saturated, and this man walks in. He’s very tall, tanned, balding, wearing shorts and sandals. He looks faintly amused by the situation, whereas I am not.
I’m sorry, he says, but Sebastian, my son, is trained to protect his property. He thought you were an intruder.
He’s very well trained, I say.
I didn’t know you were coming, mademoiselle….
Krantz. Sandrine Krantz. I arranged the appointment with your wife. I’m a little late though.
He nods.
I see, well, she’s at the restaurant right now.
He’s standing too close for my liking, staring at me.
You ought to get out of those wet clothes, he says.
It’s okay, I say, I don’t live far. It doesn’t matter.
Don’t be silly, I’m sure Tamara would love to meet you.
I hesitate for a moment. It would only take a flicker of weakness, and I sense he’s interested in me. His eyes are boring into mine, and his hands rest on his hips.
I’m sure my wife wouldn’t mind you borrowing one of her dresses? She’s about the same size. I imagine.
He’s looking me up and down. I feel uncomfortable.
You know I could have you arrested, he laughs. He leans forward, placing his hand on the wall above my shoulder. I can smell his breath. Faint traces of alcohol, and cigarettes.
I’m shivering now, it’s cool and my dress is sticking to my body. I try to stay calm, but he’s making me nervous.
I’m still waiting, he hisses, for you to take that dress off.
I look over his shoulder, to where a small figure stands still armed with his gun.
Papa, he shouts, are you going to torture her?
He looks angry, and his erection subsides quickly. Now it’s my turn to smile.
The man turns round laughing. It’s okay, son, he says, it’s just a misunderstanding. This lady is here to view our house.
He throws me a look.
You can use the shower, and there are some clothes in the wardrobe. Help yourself. Come up to the house when you’re ready.
Merci, I manage to stutter.