TAKING A NEW START (1959-1967)

In the shadow of the Cathedral (Sees, 1959-1961)

As there was quite a lot of moving around, I have summarized the addresses and the appointments, though they are not 100% accurate.

From here onwards, this chronicle takes on a slightly different technical approach for two reasons. The first is that there is virtually no more letters explaining from my main protagonists' point of view the reasons for decisions and changes. There is even some uncertainty about the exact dates, and the only direct source is the series of Hélène's diaries, which only tell part of the story, except for the installation in Sées. The second reason is that the tale can from now on be supplemented from my own memories, including some of the discussions that took place. Faced with this drastic change in the nature of my sources, I will not try to pretend that nothing has changed, but rather adapt the story-telling to accommodate this first-hand (my) recollection. This may be technically unsatisfactory, but it will help to stay closer to the evidence, even if that means that the narrative is veering towards the first chapters of my own memoirs, rather than the biography of my parents that it has been up to present.

There are a lot of details in the letters about his daily routine, about the Norman food (too heavy) and the town (very grey under the winter clouds). The restaurant of his hotel served lunches "in the pure Boudie style" but accepted to give Guy light suppers at a discount. He had never liked to eat too much in those early days. He spent the first weekends looking to buy a cheap house in the countryside or preferably the forest (which is beautiful) that he could rebuild, for later use during the weekends, to get away from the town. This is the first time since getting back to France that we see the theme that will lead to the purchase of the plot of land, future Berilegui, where everything had to be DIY.

The main concern however was to secure the flat promised in February by the authorities, but the lease got caught up in the municipal elections battle, with the conservative outgoing maire, in whose giving it was, reluctant to grant the state school and advantage that could cost him votes. It seems that the situation came unstuck in April, in time for the rest of the family to take up residence in Sées for the last term.

The flat with the high ceilings is very clear in my memory, where it appears very large and full of light because of the high windows. I have been back to Sées a few times, including once when my friend Jean-Pierre was posted to Alençon, and the place hadn't changed a bit. The flat overlooked a vast expanse of playgrounds of the schools, which were just nearby, and we were probably the pupils who lived closest, playing in the vast grounds during weekends. Shortly after obtaining the key in March, Guy wrote a description with a small floorplan. "It was a grey day but the place was very bright. Perhaps there is something in those tall rooms after all. The place is stately, no doubt about it. Your kitchen can become a real darling. But the stairs to get up there are as bad as three storeys of Rue St Gilles although we're technically on the first floor. Our kids can play all over a big room to themselves, bigger than two of our Rue St Gilles bedrooms. We will not attempt to warm it this winter, it can serve as a fridge. A van load¹⁹⁵ of furniture from Carennac allowed it to be furnished rapidly. There was also an order from the Manufacture de Saint-Etienne: the chairs are still in the old house in Berilegui.

The Easter holidays arrived very soon after and Guy passed via Carennac to finish pulling the put-put apart,¹⁹⁶ and must be when he gave the engine to Granou and brought the cabin back to Carennac on a trailer.

It was a short holiday in Orthez, and by 31 March the whole family drove up to Sées through the night. A happy time started for the family, perhaps the best since Bondi (Sydney). Three letters¹⁹⁷ to Aunt Hélène give a detailed picture of that new start.

The first items to arrive were the "Romance" gas-stove and the bed, and the six new chairs from the Junqua factory in Orthez. The wrappings were made into provisional and flimsy storage boxes and wardrobes. An order had been placed with Guy's favourite supplier, the Manufacture de St Etienne. The family had travelled up in an epic night-time journey from Orthez through thick fog. Beryl was very pleased with the flat and immediately set to make it a home for the family, cooking the local vegetables. Guy stressed that they would be living rent-free on 1,000 francs a day, when his salary was above 50,000. They would be drinking cider and eating horse meat, "enjoying intensely the first family privacy since Bondi, and (we) do not know what we have done to bring hack that forgotten paradise. The strangest is that it had not had to be paid for with ready cash. Had the administration even been so generous with Hélène? (…) The children spend their time in the next-door playgrounds. Charles finds the cours préparatoire too easy and Tooty the same in maternelle. They have rosy cheeks and eat their fill of the rainette apples that cost only 30F a kilo. Everybody is nice and a little impressed by these people who speak a strange language. What is going to happen if the cassock-wearing devil of a cousin Lecoeur turns up?"

It was at that time that the last feature appeared in Sud-Ouest Dimanche,¹⁹⁸ which must have impressed Guy's colleagues. He was careful to specify that he was not intending to carry out a career in journalism on the side.

Beryl even took to the town, finding some attraction to Sées in spite of the lack of drainage, luckily the wind-swept street did not smell and stayed healthy. She gave a detailed description of the flat (22 April): "No doubt most of my pleasure comes from at long last having a place of our own, it is a flat too that has lots of possibilities , it doesn't look much right now but Guy's gift of homemaking it can only be a matter of time. Alas, for the moment he is very busy with his work, preparing lessons and correcting copies takes up half the lunch time and nearly all the evenings, that is of course because he is new on the job, then on Tuesday he has to attend a lecture in Alençon and last Thursday the whole day was taken up by the Ecole Normale. Then there is this exam that we want him to do, don't worry, Auntie Helene, he is keen to get on with that, and for my part I want him to do it too, so all things considered we will be campers in our flat for quite some time to come, since this state of affairs is quite usual with us it's no great hardship. The six chairs from the Orthez factory with their red seats and solid as well as good to look at, the make-shift kitchen table is fine with its gay plastic cloth which matches the curtains, shelves there are none for the time being but the old packing case that came from Australia with us makes a larder. The paintwork of the kitchen is cream and not very old, so high as it is, it's clean and light, as well as catching nearly every bit of sun that shines on old Sées. A good sink and draining board with a half-tiled wall completes the kitchen and though it lacks with other tings the lino it is still a mighty pleasant place to live and work in. The first big bedroom where Guy has his book covered table, our bed and two little camp ones for the children along with another packing case and a wash bowl promises one day to make a splendid be-sitter and the third big sunny room also with a sink which one day may make a shower room and laundry. (…) The children have settled in their new schools quite happily. Charles finds the work a lot easier than St Joseph's but there are about three times the number boys in his class now this is not surprising.

In a second letter a week later, Beryl described the family outings which I remember well: the visit to some nearby Roman ruins, not very interesting, the mushroom gathering (for mousserons) in the forest, the picnics by the roadside. Charles first monthly report was good: he was "second in the class, out of eighteen, with 9/10 average, a "bon petit élève" was the teacher's comment. We rather think that after St Joseph's the work is rather too easy for him. In the evenings now, because really he has almost no homework, we are teaching him to read and write English. He enjoys this so much, and is making treat progress. I feel it can only be good for him. Poor old Tooty, who feels a bit left-out, and doesn't seem to do anything at her school except play, is given her old Orthez school book to read from. Then when the playgrounds are empty, they play football with the other teachers' children who live in the house." I remember that some time after that, perhaps Christmas 1959) Tooty and I were given bicycles so we used to race around those flat surfaces endlessly.

But he continued to "hate the establishment" and would never feel completely at home, with both a superiority and an inferiority complex, which precluded sitting the agrégation. I am not inventing, but interpreting some of the material, for instance a letter to Hélène on his meeting with the inspecteur d'académie in Tulle.

There was also a visit to the Mont St Michel over the weekend of 16 May 1959.

Guy and Beryl had a new social life, mainly among teachers. One of the young English assistants was Andrew Wright, who recently got back in touch with me for news. He was the first of a long series of assistants that Guy and Beryl invited home to dinner and conversation. Another remained a friend for life, even after she married in Denmark (Shirley). Andrew remembered well the long stimulating evening conversations, and was kind enough to write a contribution for this memoir:
"My overall memory is that Guy was a major person in that part of my life. I was 24. I had lived away from home and in London for five years but I was still a naïve person and very open to the charm and experience of Guy. He had the easy and natural charm of the Saint (later James Bond). I am sure he was a charmer of women by his very nature rather than going out of his way to be so. He was stocky, brown skinned and dark haired and his smile was ready and welcoming. I seem to remember him looking quite trim…grey flannel trousers and a sports jacket. Perhaps he wore a tie. He was quite proud of his writing…journalism?

He laughed at life in its conventional forms. He communicated to me that he accepted that he had to be responsible and have a teaching job because he had a family to look after but he loved playing George Brassens to me and making sure that I appreciated all the meanings and resonances of the text and soulful voice. Guy clearly identified completely with George Brassens, less so with Edith Piaf though I think we listened to her records too. (…) I think they contributed to my feeling that everything is possible and they contributed to my sense of fun in looking at society. But even this is too clear cut. I am happy and privileged to have been able to spend some time with them.

And now I am so sad not to have remained in touch, not to have continued to share life with them. "
That was the time when my parents befriended a family in an outlying village, Mortrée, where they were proprietors of a successful quincaillerie, the Quandieus. The parents were a little older than Guy and Beryl, and the children older than Tooty and I. I do not remember what was the common ground, but it may have been something to do with Australia. The Quandieus were useful friends, helping with technical or transport problems, but Guy reciprocated, and helped them visit England, and he drove them all the way to Bournemouth and back in their Peugeot, perhaps the year that Nicky was born.
During those years in Sées, Guy and Beryl were thrifty, making sure they stayed within budget, and saving a little if possible. That was also why Beryl took a job as a teacher of English for the smaller pupils.
Apart from the long walks, my parents liked to play the gramophone, and that was the beginning of my introduction to classical music. My parents tastes were not evolved, so the Pastoral, the 3^rd piano concerto were favourites, like the Hungarian dances, or the Prelude to the afternoon of a fawn.

Another great event for Tooty and I was being sent to Bournemouth by plane from Cherbourg to Hurn, in an propeller aircraft, at the end of the . Our Lidwell grandparents were waiting for us in Hurn, just next to Bournemouth. The holidays in England were of course justified by the need to keep up and develop our English. Nana loved our visit but I am not so sure about Pappy who thought we made too much noise. I loved being in such a different place, with different sweets, different comics, etc. The seaside was also a bonus.

In fact, relations between aunt and nephew were deteriorating. It is probable that after helping him so much, Hélène was expecting to see him and hear from him often, to break the her lifelong bain, loneliness, and probably was worse now that she was living in Carennac. But Guy did not intend to be roped down by gratitude, and he did not have much respect for her anyhow. Many letters have been lost or thrown away (one letter from Guy she judged "idiotic" and swore not to answer), but we know most of the episodes from Hélène diary, including some memorable quotes. But she changed her mind and wrote to him "une triste lettre pour dire de quoi il retourne."

Guy was studying Teilhard de Chardin, much to the annoyance of Hélène.

That summer, Hélène bought her 2CV, and had the stone alley repaved in the garden. In early October, following another catastrophic storm and flood, the municipality got a drain installed above the garden.

In November 1960, it seems that the family visited Granou only, so things must have been at their worst between the Montin and Hélène. No letters were written or received after the August blow-up. The first one noted in the diary is at the end of June 1961, announcing Guy's "success" (presumably his 2^nd year).

I am not sure which year we started going to Spain, to Aoiz, but it was quite soon after our return to France. That too is an enchanting memory, of camping in the countryside, where there were irrigation ditches and plenty of running water. Spain was really primitive at the time, with very cheap restaurants (40 pesetas, about 200 F, for a full meal, which was about a quarter of the price in France). Tooty and I were allowed, exceptionally, to drink Coca Cola in the cafés where our parents were spending a lot of time. Somehow, Guy learnt Spanish at record speed, having perhaps studied it a little at university, but I remember an incident once when his Italian came out better, and he said that language was still unpopular because of the intervention of fascist troops on the side of Franco. Guy's love of the dry plateaus around Aoiz would much later impel him to buy a tiny plot of land in a deserted village, which he very rarely visited in later years.

Birth of Nicky (1961)

It is family history that the new happiness found in Normandy, with a stable home and a job were at the origin of my parents decision to have another child or perhaps two more, seven or eight years after Tooty's birth. What is less known it that this third child did not appear as soon as it was desired. It is quite possible that Guy and Beryl would have been happy with a birth in 1960, but nothing was coming. I am telling this because there is a little story attached: in the hope of having another delivery from the stork, my parents actually visited Cerne Abbas during the 1960 summer holiday²⁰³, probably the year that Tooty and I took the plane over. This famous place features a giant drawn on the slopes of a hill, which is supposed to make women visitors fertile. This was one of the rare times when Guy was visiting the Lidwells, as he always avoiding them, as older relatives to whom he may have been obliged to show some deference, an attitude he hated above all.

Because our parents wanted their third child to have dual nationality, they planned for the birth to occur during the summer period, when Beryl could be visiting at her parents, along with her two children and wait for the birth. The child could be born in England, like the older ones had been born in Australia, and acquire the right to a second passport. Guy's principle, which I have never completely rejected as completely false, is that "any nationality is a limitation", which would make sense for a generation born in troubled times when a passport could be a question of life and death.²⁰⁴ This position was quite influential in our family in later years, and when it was Charlotte's time to be born, we actually considered having her arrive in Boscombe, but were deterred by the practical difficulties, and by that time, with the European Union in force, there were fewer administrative advantages to dual nationality. Another illustration is the care that I took when Sarah was born in Wellington to secure the right to a future New Zealand passport for her.
The Lidwells had in the meantime moved to Boscombe, a suburb of Bournemouth, where they were running a bed and breakfast, or "guest house", at "Rothsay", 786 Christchurch Road, on the main avenue leading into Central Bournemouth. Harry Lidwell did all the internal painting in the house, and cooked the meals for the guests. I supposed Olive did the cleaning. The B&B was always full in summer, with regular patrons returning each year. The cost for one night was one guinea (21 shillings) a night, including the evening meal. This was before the time that international travel became popular, and the chief attraction of Boscombe were the beaches. There were literally hundreds of guest houses.
Nicky was born on 28 August 1961 at the maternity in Tuckton, a healthy baby weighing 4 kg, and he was baptised a few days later, with his brother Charles as godfather, at All Souls Boscombe, just opposite Rothsay. There was some anxiety at the last moment, as the day for returning to France was approaching, and there was no sign of the baby wanting to be born. But all was well in the end, and the trip back was just in time for the rentrée.

The birth of Nicky was announced to Auntie Hélène by a card from Charles and Tooty (kept in the archive), followed by a letter from Beryl, written from Tuckton.

There must have been a lot of travel that summer, as at least Guy and Charles were in Granou around the end of July 1961. Another unfortunate scene occurred as Hélène went to fetch Charles in Guy's absence (he was attending a vernissage in Aurillac by an artist named Bonneuil), and on his return he was furious and abusive towards Hélène, and the "monster" treated her "as a criminal" says her diary. The next day, a Sunday, she was so miserable she couldn't attend mass.

The return to Sées by car must have been uncomfortable, as the car belonged to the Quandieus, who had come with Guy to collect Beryl and the now three children. The trip back was very long, as the passage over the Channel was in Dover, which had to be reached following the coastal road, though the traffic may not have been then as it is now.

The Honfleur years

Guy's next posting arrived right at the beginning of the school year, 6 September 1961, and may have been made possible by his professional efforts to improve his credentials. The move was hasty, and contrary to Sées, there were no official lodgings included. But it was a step upwards, as the establishment was the lycée Albert Sorel in Honfleur, instead of a cours complémentaire, the forerunner of the collège. The family first lived in a small house attached to a kind of manor house on the outskirts of Honfleur belonging to a grand lady called Mme Ouin. I remember that it was a bit strange to have my father working in my school, but it proved useful in that he was in a position to make me skip one class, the CM1, which in those days was amalgamated with the CM2. The move had absolutely no effect on my results, which were just as excellent as before. I just did not notice the skip. In later years, I tried on several occasions to get my own children take the leap, but by then the education authorities had become impervious to interventions by proud parents. It is only Charlotte who benefitted by the trick, on the pretext that she had just finished the first school year in the southern hemisphere.

At some stage, the family was able to afford a proper car, which was a Morris Mini 800 cc. I remember being allowed to start the car on cold mornings to warm up the engine before my father drove to work in Deauville.

We later moved to a nice new flat in a blog of HLM, on the outskirts of Honfleur, a building that still stands unchanged. It was, for children, a marvellous place, as every flat housed a family with children about our age, and there were extensive grounds for us to play on, with trees to climb.
At that time, perhaps because the family was becoming more numerous, Guy bought a Renault 4L, replacing the mini with a more spacious, though less trendy car. We were, for the sake of practicality and economy, giving up some of our English past to take on a more modestly French look.
By the early days of Honfleur, the next big project, that must have been in the books since 1962, and even Australia, was the move back south, to Orthez, and the independence of living on an owner-occupied farm. Already, there is a note in Hélène's diary for 5 April "received letter from Beryl, who is hesitant about the Orthez project." Now these are times that I am starting to remember, and this is true, my mother, for whatever reason, was not too pleased about leaving Normandy. It may have been because of the summer holidays in England, or because of the risk of having to look after Aunt Louise. Also she must have seen the farm Maupoey, and did not relish the prospect of living again in a house without running water. For the Easter holidays, the Montins arrived in Carennac without prior notice, but they again slept in Granou and only briefly visited the auntie. Hélène notes: "Nicky mignon" which has been confirmed since by other witnesses. His blond hair was a wonder to most family members and friends.

In August 1962, the family visited again briefly, staying in Granou again, but somehow must have restored normal relations with Hélène, since she was sending a cheque for 500.000F the next week²⁰⁵ (reason not indicated) and sent Nicky his first birthday card. On his father's instructions, Charles sent a card for the Sainte Hélène.

For Christmas 1962, Hélène was invited to spend a few days in Honfleur, which was a difficult time for everybody. She did not care for Beryl's radio blaring from breakfast onwards. Somehow Charles and Tooty were not there during her stay, the diary indicated on 15 December that they "had left", unfortunately with no details, but it must have been for Boscombe, to give their mother a rest. I vaguely remember a Christmas in England and it must have been then.
In January 1963, Aunt Louise in Orthez broke her hip, which must have put some pressure on Guy to ask for his transfer. The Easter holiday in Carennac seems to have been more pleasant for all the family, and letters started to get more frequent, with Charles now writing too. The family were a little gloomy at having to go back to Honfleur. In those days Tooty had an allergy to "the South", and developed rashes as soon as she crossed the Loire.
For the summer 1963 holidays, the family visited at the end of July²⁰⁶, and this time Charles was old enough to be left in the care of Hélène. The whole family were invited to Laveyssière, then the next day at Lacroix's, with Jeannot invited too, and finally at Malaval (hotel Fénelon now), with the addition of the Chaumeil. And throughout these meals, Guy and Beryl were condemning such excessive eating. At the third lunch, Hélène had invited Françoise Tournié, the organiser of prestigious painting exhibitions, and her husband, a famous police commissioner who had solved a high profile murder, and wrote a few books. I remember my parents recalling this lunch as an event, and I later tried to stay in touch with the commissaire, who retired to Carennac and died in the 80's.

A few days later, Guy's success at CAPES is noted in the diary, 18^th out of a contingent of some 500.²⁰⁷

After spending most of August in Orthez, the family stopped again in Carennac and, for the first time, Charles was left there to keep company and help his great-aunt from 27 August to 20 September. This was probably the first time that we set up what was to become my routine for the following summers. In the mornings I would work on the maintenance of the garden, cutting grass and pulling out weeds, especially in front of the garage. Most afternoons were taken up with visits, like Granou and Glanes, and meeting Hélène's friends in Carennac, with a lot of time spent at the Ayroles. We also climbed for a rest and fresh air at the Pimont pigeonnier or to the top of Paulette's tower at the back of her house. All lunches were taken at the hotel Laveyssière, this was extremely luxurious for me, and of course I enjoyed the abundant food. On Sundays we attended mass. To return me to my family, Hélène travelled to meet up with Guy in Chinon where we had lunch at the best restaurant. We visited together the atomic power generator in the vicinity before my father and I drove back to Honfleur. From now on, I remember details such as that it took our Renault 4L four hours at an average speed of 80km/h to make the journey.
Birth of Poli 16 October 1963. For some reason, the family could not plan the event in England, so Beryl gave birth sur place. For the duration of her stay at the maternity, the three children were accommodated by the Gontier family, who lived at the top of the street that passes in front of the lycée (now transferred to the outskirts). I think Mr Gontier was a teacher, and his wife Liz was a judge specialised in family law and litigation. Unfortunately I do not remember why we were such good friends. It was of course great fun for us to be living in another house, and probably much more comfortable, even sharing with the children of the family, who were our age. The Gontiers later moved to 31 rue Brûlée in Honfleur (right in the central district) where Tooty and I visited in 1969, along with the Daninos, who lived in a big house in the countryside.

Other friends at the time included a large Jewish family, the Danino, who had an impressive number of boys. They were quite affluent, spending a few weeks every year at a Club Mediterranée resort. Mme Danino was a woman on authority, president of the Parents d'élèves association. The family also continued to invite the English assistants, one of whom, Shirley, was a life-long friend afterwards, even though she married a Dane and went to live in Aarhus. Tooty and I travelled all the way there on our mopeds in the summer 1967, and Shirley visited Berilegui several times in later decades. Tooty and I were also good friends with a family living in the same HLM block of flats.

Now we approach the next turnaround in the life of the now largish family, saved from a future of small-time toil and savings by the sudden materialisation of the Orthez inheritance. This is one of those turns of fortune that you cannot plan on, nor take credit for either. At 42, Guy had not accumulated any capital whatsoever, in spite of the modest life style of the family and did not have enough money to make any serious projects. Just buying his own house would have been a big effort. But from 1964 onwards, once the new pay as a certified teacher had kicked in, which took quite some time, the family enjoyed a new affluence, due in part to the better pay, and in part to the absence of any kind of rent. Then a few years later, with the sale of the Orthez real estate, there would be plenty of cash for the next twenty years.

Life on the farm (Maupoey)

When Guy had been successful at the CAPES, he could finally ask for a posting closer to his region of choice, in this case Orthez. This involved getting the M.P. and childhood connection Moutet to support his application, and it was rapidly successful, perhaps because of the numerous family.

In the first months of 1964, the biggest issue in the family was to get Maupoey vacated by the old tenant Castera, to be in a position to move there and return to a more natural life. In those days, evicting a farmer was considered near impossible, and the family were perhaps lucky on this occasion. The process was quite well reported to Aunt Hélène²⁰⁸ who was on this point too providing advice (she even went to consult the Glanes cousin Marie-Thérèse). Over the Toussaint 1963 holiday, Guy had been able to drive down to Orthez to see what the situation was after the death of the titular (woman) farmer. The normal successor, the son-in-law, was selling his cows, which meant that he was losing all right to an agricultural tenancy, said the letter. After a "whirlwind' of legal meetings with notaires, avoués, etc. Guy extracted a promise to vacate the premises for 1 July against a number of counterparts, and obtained to buy the used farming tools at low cost. Aunt Louise had to pay 1,000 NF and forgive eight months' rent to help the Protestant church give the old farmer an easy job in one of its causes. Guy was overjoyed at having again some land to call his own and be his own master on, and could not believe his luck. He looked forward to a life where handiwork would take up at least half of his time. His most pressing problem was that the ministry was in no hurry to adjust his remuneration to his new ranking, an issue which would last for nearly two years.²⁰⁹ Most of the land was rented out to local farmers on a yearly basis, and only a modest garden came with the house, which we later made into a productive kitchen garden. He claimed that his wife was delighted to become "lady of the manor and the poultry." However the arrangement was not viewed as permanent, and Guy anticipated that the farm would become caught up in the suburban sprawl of Orthez within ten years. He was planning to buy land on a crest, foreseeing that over-population would make it impossible to live in low-lands.

While the new appointment in Mourenx was being finalised, the little family faithfully visited Carennac in July 1964 (21 to 23), where it was invited to Laveyssière. Aunt Hélène had a deal with the owners that she could bring family guests for lunch at the boarder's price (600 F or 6 NF since February). Then it was the usual visits to Le Merle and Granou. At the end of the visit, it was Tooty only who was left to the care of her old Auntie.

In September, Hélène took a short holiday in Biarritz, which was one of her favourite outings, with her friend Marie-Louise Blanc. But this time, she stopped for a night in Orthez (rue St Gilles, not yet Maupoey), and she noted that Guy was waiting for her on the Mont-de-Marsan road. She left on the next day, after taking the children to mass, and meeting the Tourné friends (the chemists).

I have no memory of the removal from Honfleur to Orthez, only the vague memory that I was once again losing my friends. But the move was presented as coming back to our real home and property, and a more permanent establishment, in a place where my parents were well-known, as suggested in one of the letters to Hélène. The installation in Maupoey must have been a hard time for Beryl, with no running water at the beginning, it must have been like camping. I remember digging the long ditch to lay the water mains pipe, and then my father installed the main plumbing himself, at least for the kitchen and the bathroom.

The house and estate was a delightful place for children, especially the lower ground floor which we left unoccupied, because it had housed both the kitchen and the pig-sty, in the room next to the kitchen. We did not like that memory and kept clear of that space, which was nevertheless just one floor below, with the same staircase as the living quarters. There were at least two out-houses and barns, with lots of nooks and crannies to play hide and seek. Our Gentieu friends also remember very happy times playing there, racing our bicycles round the barn.

The property included a garden which Guy and Beryl soon developed to produce vegetables, and the orchard gave an abundance of apples, pears and other fruit which all matured at the same time, requiring transformation into many tarts and countless jars of preserves. We also had a crop of potatoes which we kept in a dark cellar under the stairs. We also started raising chicken, and had a regular supply of our own eggs. This practice continued at Berilegui later, and lasted a number of years. The milk was collected from a nearby farm, one of whose daughters was in my class at school. All-in-all, a kind of return to basics, or to the earth, which was trendy in those days.

The family was again in Granou for the Toussaint 1964 holidays, having a shorter trip from Orthez, but they did not see Hélène much, who had lunch with the abbé cousin (André Lecoeur) instead. Here it is funny to note an anecdote: Hélène had got a parking fine while visiting Brive by car, but had a few days later got the commissaire de police to commute the fine to a warning. But a week later, she was woken up at home by the Vayrac gendarmes, because the procedure had followed its course. They even have to come back the next day in the evening. In those days parking violations were a serious issue ! Guy, accompanied by one or several family members, got to visit Carennac more often, though this did not improve the relationship and the stays were always short and stormy. He most often slept at Granou, and spent as little time as possible with his aunt. That was the time when he started to deputize Charles or Tooty to stand in for him, as we will see.

During the last quarter of 1964, Auntie Louise had been bed-ridden because of her broken hip. She was cared for by an aged spinster whom we simply called "Mademoiselle." But in those days, once you took to your bed, your days were counted, and Louise was no exception. Guy used to visit her daily to help her out of bed on to a wheelchair, but that may not have been enough, or she had other illnesses. She was buried in what looked to us a grand religious funeral in Orthez on 21 December 1964. The Tournés collected the family from the farm, because, I remember, we were supposed to be too distraught to drive ourselves.
From early 1965, Tooty started writing regularly to Hélène, as well as Charles. At Easter, Tooty was operated from appendicitis, so Guy came to Carennac with Charles and Nicky only. This time, he returned to Orthez with Jeannot from Granou, who stayed some time with us in Maupoey, probably to advise on farming issues.

That year, we also had a new family member, Joe the dog, who came as a puppy from a near-by farm. He was a pleasant character, with one little memorable quirk: he would bite and puncture the tires of visiting cars, causing quite a nuisance. He lived outside in a good kennel, and after a few vagrancies, he was chained to a trolley which gave him plenty of room to run along the side of the main entrance without endangering the neighbouring poultry.

During the 1965 summer holidays, we made the acquaintance of the Portugese family, the Simoes, who were to be long-standing friends of the family. Mr Simoes hailed from a well connected Lisbon bourgeois family, with a large dentistry practice. Mr Simoes, his wife and their three sons all spoke very good French and loved all things French, and their greatest pleasure were their annual holidays in the French town Orthez, where they were put up by friends who owned a more stately farm next to Maupoey. By being foreign, though French speaking, they were a breath of fresh air for the Montins, in spite of being highly bourgeois. That summer 1965, it was Tooty who was left with Auntie Hélène,²¹⁰ enjoying the pleasure of Carennac: big lunches at Laveyssière, meeting the Heinsbergens (American friends, with whom she went out visiting the region) and even being bought new clothes in Brive. She was even taken for a swim in the Dordogne, along with Christian Boucaut, by her great-aunt. Then it was Charles's turn to keep company with Hélène, and that was the year the friendship with the Perrenot started, as noted by Hélène in her diary. Perhaps I should insist on how pleasant and interesting these summer stays were, in spite of our aunt's rather difficult character. You could not fault her generosity, even if it may have seemed quite natural, as she had a good pension and we were a numerous family, this being said without belittling the benefits. For me, it was also a useful introduction into the normal French social usages, that was necessary. With an unconventional father and a foreign mother, I was really in need of such guidance, and Hélène was conscious of the fact, so she dispensed her help with great dedication and efficiency. It was just as if she was making sure that the quirks of the parents did not have a lasting negative effect on their children, thus acting like a true grandmother to us.

Charles was returned to his parents by Hélène at mid-way between Carennac and Orthez, at Penne d'Agenais²¹¹. We had a picnic in a nice spot inside the town, overlooking the Lot valley. On her way back, Hélène struck a storm in her poor 2CV, and she caught a bad bronchitis which lasted at least two weeks. Her subsequent discouragement was recorded in a strange letter addressed to "à tous" which is one of her oldest letters to us on file, though it may not have been actually sent. It was also the moment when she lost one of her longstanding friends, Marie-Louise Blanc (daughter of the Bouyssonies' best friends). In this letter she expressed her feeling of being abandoned, very lonely, and acutely aware of being able to count on no-one, not even her official next-of-kin.

At the February 1966 holidays, it was Jeannette's turn to be fetched for a week-long visit to Maupoey. She wrote a card to Hélène to say how happy she was. At Easter, Beryl visited her parents in England, taking all the children except Charles, who was left to look after the farm. For me those two lonely weeks looking after the livestock and studying my books were not much fun, but perhaps an early experience in responsibility. After leaving the family at the ferry, Guy went on to visit Belgium and the Netherlands, towing the caravan. That was probably how he got the idea that would lead to Tooty's and my mo-ped trip all the way to Denmark in 1968, using the special bicycle paths, once Tooty was old enough to have her own two wheels.
Summer 1966 was the one where we took the three-week camping trip around Italy, Germany, Switzerland, over a period of three weeks, with some memorable moments like the visit to the Arnoux, who had a boat in Cannes, or getting lost in Venice, and later, less pleasantly, in Munich. But of course, there is nothing remarkable about such a tour, especially compared to the overland trip from Australia, which it was perhaps trying to emulate on a smaller scale. But this time the family was traveling in a "normal" vehicle, a Peugeot 404 break, with enough room for the passengers. We were accompanied by Zé, the oldest Simoes son, with whom I slept in the car at night, the rest of the family spending the night under a tent. Later that summer, Guy took the Simoes parents to visit Carennac and its region, with Tooty tagging along. This was of course not a success with Auntie Hélène, in spite of the courtesy of Mr Simoes. I remember they had great difficulty finding a room for the night, and had to sleep in a Puybrun hotel. That year Tooty, who was left for a week, befriended Marie Barrière, the grandmother of our architect Pierre, who had been a close village friend of our grandmother, the first Yvonne Montin. Again, Charles succeeded Tooty in Carennac for a longer stay, nearly three weeks. That was the year that the family met the Huffmans at the beach in Magnol, an encounter that was even recorded by Hélène in her diary. The families were to be good friends for many years, with reciprocal visits and even a projected cooperation in designing comic books for children.

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