Michael Pearce - A dead man in Tangier

As Seymour came out of the shop he felt his arm seized.

‘Why, Monsieur Seymour!’ cooed the soft voice of Juliette Bossu. ‘Are you out shopping, too?’

‘Well, not exactly.’

‘What is that thing you are carrying? Surely not a lance?’

‘A souvenir of Morocco. To take home to my mother.’

‘A lance?’ said Juliette doubtfully. But then put Seymour’s concerns aside.

‘I made Constant bring me. I always feel safer with a man, you know, especially these days when it is so easy for a lone woman to be attacked. But, do you know what, the wretch has deserted me!’

Juliette sighed theatrically.

‘But when duty calls, I suppose a man has to go. Someone came running up and told him, and the dear man felt he should be there. “But what about me, Constant?” I cried. “Do you not also have a duty to me? Am I to be left alone to be ravished in the street?” Alone, that was, Monsieur Seymour,’ said Madame Bossu fondly, ‘until I met you!’

‘Well, yes, Madame. Thank you. Yes. I’m sure — you will be quite safe with me — although I was going-’

‘Oh, thank you!’ breathed Juliette. ‘And now let us go and have a nice tete-a-tete over coffee. Just the two of us, I know the very place!’ She thrust her arm firmly through Seymour’s.

‘Well, thank you. Yes, that would be nice. Very nice. But — what about Monsieur Renaud? Should he return?’

‘Oh, he will know where to find me. Anyway he shouldn’t have abandoned me. Suppose they come down the street and fall upon me?’

‘Indeed. Yes, indeed! But — who, exactly, Madame, might fall upon you?’

‘They, of course! The students!’

‘The students?’

‘Have you not heard? They have risen in revolt. And seized the main madrassa block! And they have closed the classes, and hung dreadful banners from the windows and are shouting the most awful things!’

‘No, I hadn’t-’

But now, in the distance, he could hear shouting and chanting, and he suddenly remembered what Chantale had said about the students planning some ‘stunt’.

‘I don’t think you need to be too alarmed,’ he said.

‘But, Monsieur Seymour, you do not know these people! They are not like us. Excitement goes to their head and they become violent. There is talk of a procession, and it might come down here, and then what will we do?’

‘Well, what we could do, Madame, is follow your excellent suggestion and go for some refreshment.’

‘Well, we could. I suppose…’

She led him across the street and into a small salon de the.

‘And we could watch the procession as it passes!’ said Juliette happily. ‘I do love a procession! A peaceful one, of course. They usually have bands. But-’ Her face clouded over. ‘The way they dress! So drab! There is no style, Monsieur Seymour, no style! If they would just spend a few moments with me, I could — But, perhaps, on second thoughts, that might not be a good idea. They have no respect, that is the problem. That is what I said to Monsieur Renaud. “Too right!” he said. “And that is just what I am going to teach them!” And then he went off and left me-’

‘You are quite safe now, Madame.’

He looked covertly at his watch. A quick cup of tea and then he might get rid of her.

‘Although I would not wish to take you from your shopping-’

‘Oh, you won’t! I have done most of it.’

‘Well, then, we can enjoy our tea.’

Fortunately, they did not have to enjoy it for long. The face of Monsieur Renaud appeared round the door.

‘Juliette!’

‘Constant!’ said Madame Bossu, not altogether pleased.

‘You are safe?’

‘I am safe. With Monsieur Seymour,’ she said pointedly.

‘Do, please, join us, Monsieur Renaud,’ said Seymour hastily.

‘I may?’

He pulled up a chair.

‘And you, too, are safe, Constant,’ said Juliette, relenting slightly.

‘It was nothing.’

‘I hope you did not risk yourself, Constant. Those sauvages!’

‘It was nothing. I put a picquet on. A few policemen. The students shouted, of course. Jeered.’

‘The brutes!’

‘But you expect that from students these days. Now in my day-’

Juliette cut him short.

‘Have you arrested them?’

‘Well, no-’

‘But why not?’

‘Juliette, there are hundreds of them! And I only have half a dozen policemen!’

‘Why have you not sent for the army?’

‘Well, of course, it could come to that-’

‘You should assert yourself, Constant. Crush them. That way they learn.’

‘Yes, well-’

‘You are too soft. The only language they understand is bullets.’

‘Bullets, Juliette?’

‘Well, why not?’

‘Well, one reason is that the newspapers were there-’

‘The newspapers? But surely Monsieur Lambert can take care of those?’

‘Yes, but-’ Renaud wriggled. ‘Some of them were foreign, Juliette. Spanish, English-’

‘We should expel them!’

‘But even then, Juliette. Word would get out. You have no idea — It is very difficult-’

‘It is always difficult, Constant. For you,’ said Madame Bossu. ‘But you must be resolute. What does it matter if word does get out? They expect you to be firm, Constant. They are only students, after all.’

‘Yes, but — some of the newspaper men were inside the building. Talking to the students.’

‘Well?’

‘Getting their point of view.’

‘So?’

‘Mademoiselle Chantale, for instance-’

‘That woman!’ Juliette cried. ‘But she is a sauvage herself! She attacked a woman in the street. Poor Madame Poiret. She struck her, actually struck her!’

‘Juliette, calm yourself

‘No, Constant. I will not. That woman is always causing trouble. She and her father. Yes, her father, too! As you know better than anyone.’

‘Juliette, really-’

‘He quarrelled with everyone! Even with poor Bossu!’

‘Juliette-’

‘When he was only trying to help him.’

‘Help him?’ asked Seymour.

She turned on him.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You don’t know this, do you? You only hear one side. It is always: de Lissac good, so good, Bossu bad. But it was not like that. Yes, they were against each other in Casablanca, and bitter things were said. But afterwards — when they were so poor. Destitute. When no one would help them. Bossu did what he could for them. He found de Lissac work. Yes! When no one else would. He got him a job. Driving a truck. “I know it’s not much,” he said, “but it’s something. It will put you back on your feet. After that it’s up to you. I know you don’t like me. I don’t like you. I’m doing it not for your sake but for hers.” That’s what he said. I heard him. When he came round to our house that morning. “It’s a chance,” Bossu said. “Take it or leave it. But it’s meant well.” ’

‘Juliette,’ said Renaud, ‘we don’t need to go into this-’

‘I know what they say about Bossu. That he had it in for him. But he didn’t. It’s not true. He helped him when no one else would. And as for the daughter! Stirring up trouble with the students. That’s her, all right. Showing herself in her true colours. A troublemaker! Just like her father!’

Renaud finished his tea quickly and then said he must return to the students. Seymour, to Juliette’s chagrin, said that he would go with him. He could still hear the shouting in the distance and as they drew nearer, it grew louder.

‘The idiots!’ said Renaud. ‘The last thing that Tangier needs just at the moment is this sort of thing.’

‘It is to be expected, I suppose,’ said Seymour. ‘With the French moving in. You’re lucky you’ve not had it before.’