A Normal French Village

Gaius and Margaret had walked through the deserted village unscathed. They had come to a road. A normal French road. Down the road, to the right, they could see a French village. A normal French village.

Let's go there, said Margaret. There might be a cafe, where we can get a cup of coffee, and a bus we can catch back to Carcassonne.

Soon they arrived in the village. It was about half past three. The drizzle was now a steady rain. They headed towards an open square with several shops on one side, and a carpark in the middle of which was an information board with nothing on it. On the left was a taxi stand with no taxis. There was no one about. The shops were closed, except for a Tabac.

What use is a Tabac? said Margaret crossly. What we need is coffee, and a bus.

Calm down Margaret, said Gaius. I shall look for a bus stop.

He disappeared round a corner. And came back.

There may be a bus at five o'clock, he said.

But that's AGES, said Margaret.

Just then a small supermarket rolled up its windows behind them. They went in, and bought oranges, and crisps.

Est-ce qu'il y a un bus pour Carcassonne? said Margaret to the supermarket owner, as she was paying.

Non, said the man. Le bus a departé a quinze heures.

Three o'clock! said Margaret. Then we must walk all the way back  in the rain.

Oui, said the man. Bonne journeé.

Lucky we have our umbrellas, said Margaret, as they set of for Carcassonne in the rain.

And our crisps, said Gaius.

They marched boldly back through the deserted village, munching crisps.