Chapter 1

The sunhat woman

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Perrot glanced at his pocket watch. It was still three and a half hours until the time stated on the invitation. Quite a lot could change. Clouds could slide in front of the sun, for example. Not the looming kind. Rather those small, white ones that sail along like airships and once in a while allow for long moments of slightly cooler air. He scrutinised the sky. No clouds. No cooler air. But balloons. After this observation, he purposefully headed for the garden café and towards of the empty table under a sun umbrella. He really hoped that on the occasion of his visit, Jeff wouldn't serve him heavy, local fare. He knew his British friend’s fondness for dyspeptic food. Considering the current temperatures, he himself fancied smaller, manageable portions. Something light. Like brown trout with lamb's lettuce.
Mon Dieu, this heat is simply murderously.“
Perrot had reached a group of ladies sitting at a table overlooking the barn. He nonchalantly bowed in the direction of the small group, as he lifted his matelot with a perfectly executed gesture.
Nes pa, Madame.“ He smiled at one of the faces under an apricot-coloured sunhat. “This late summer heat is indeed murderous.“
After his short and seemingly witty comment received no reaction from the addressed lady, he continued on his way to the shady umbrella.
Once arrived, Achille Perrot, grandson of the great Hercule Perrot, thoughtfully stroked his moustache with an almost identical gesture like that of his dearly beloved ancestor.

Perrot glanced at his pocket watch. It was still three and a half hours until the time stated on the invitation. Quite a lot could change. Clouds could slide in front of the sun, for example. Not the looming kind. Rather those small, white ones that sail along like airships and once in a while allow for long moments of slightly cooler air. He scrutinised the sky. No clouds. No cooler air. But balloons. After this observation, he purposefully headed for the garden café and towards of the empty table under a sun umbrella. He really hoped that on the occasion of his visit, Jeff wouldn't serve him heavy, local fare. He knew his British friend’s fondness for dyspeptic food. Considering the current temperatures, he himself fancied smaller, manageable portions. Something light. Like brown trout with lamb's lettuce.
Mon Dieu, this heat is simply murderously.“
Perrot had reached a group of ladies sitting at a table overlooking the barn. He nonchalantly bowed in the direction of the small group, as he lifted his matelot with a perfectly executed gesture.
Nes pa, Madame.“ He smiled at one of the faces under an apricot-coloured sunhat. “This late summer heat is indeed murderous.“
After his short and seemingly witty comment received no reaction from the addressed lady, he continued on his way to the shady umbrella.
Once arrived, Achille Perrot, grandson of the great Hercule Perrot, thoughtfully stroked his moustache with an almost identical gesture like that of his dearly beloved ancestor.