Read Serge Bastarde Ate My Baguette for Free Online Page A
Authors: John Dummer
said you liked it. You're going to have to give it away like we did. That way you can counteract the hex.'
  I was stunned. 'What hex? You mean you gave it to me knowing there was a hex on the foul thing?'
  'Well, no, we didn't know exactly,' she said. 'It's just that since it's been gone sales have suddenly picked up. We've come to the conclusion that it must have brought us bad luck. When you're saddled with an unlucky object like that, the only way to be rid of it and break the curse is to find someone who is attracted to it and give it to them. We gypsies know about these things.'
  Gerard nodded in solemn agreement. 'Sorry, John, I can't afford the risk.'
  'And it's no good throwing it away,' said Josette. 'The hex will stay with you forever then.'
  Oh, great! I was going off these two.
  'Right, so I'll just have to hang on to him then?'
  'Guess so, until you find another mug,' said Josette, breaking into peals of uncontrolled laughter.
  'Like me?' I said.
  'You said it,' she said, wiping her eyes.
  I joined in and laughed with them, and as I packed up my gear later I came to the conclusion that I'd allowed them to spook me. What did they know, superstitious Gypsy folk?
  As I was packing up I knocked over a spelter figure of a cavalier whose sword arm broke off when it hit the ground. Then there was a massive thunderstorm as I was loading and most of my stuff got soaked.
  On the way home, the sky was ablaze with sheet lightning, and once there was a blinding flash and a deafening clap so close I nearly shat myself. I half expected to see ball lightning rolling past me on the road as I once had years before, driving with Helen. At one point the rain was so heavy I was forced to slow down to a snail's pace as I could barely see the road ahead of me.
  The storm eased as I drove down the small winding lane that snakes over the hills near our house and I was thankful to be almost home after a horrendous journey.
  Maybe I was so relieved I let my concentration drop (they say most accidents happen within a few kilometres of home), but one minute I was on the road, and the next the van was skidding out of control along the grass verge.
  It happened in slow motion and was almost balletic in its grace and simplicity. There was a small sunken stream with steep banks and as the nearside wheels went down the van tipped over onto its side and we glided along gracefully with grass and wild flowers whipping against the window.
  I remember thinking, Oh dear, what a nuisance. Looks like I'm going to be late for dinner, and coming to rest hard against the door, looking down at the water gurgling past. I sat for a moment, held firm by my seat belt, thankful I wasn't hurt. Then I released myself and climbed up across the passenger seat, opened the door and clambered out.
  It was a beautiful evening. The storm was over and the air smelled fresh and clean, washed by the rain. A blackbird was singing deep in the woodland, a liquid song of joy. The van lay sadly slewed on its side, the stalled engine ticking and gurgling gently as it cooled down. I'd left my mobile at home so set off along the lane to make the short walk home.
  When I got there Helen was waiting at the back door, looking worried.
  'What's happened? Are you all right?'
  There was a note of panic in her voice. I explained.
  'I knew something was wrong. I was about to come and look for you.'
  This didn't surprise me at all. Helen regularly has psychic premonitions and they're usually correct.
  We phoned the pompiers (firemen) and they told me to go down and wait by the van. The sun was beginning to sink below the trees when they arrived in the type of square red retrieval lorry I'd seen bombing up the motorway to multiple pile-ups. There were three of them on board: a couple of scruffy assistants in blue
  I was stunned. 'What hex? You mean you gave it to me knowing there was a hex on the foul thing?'
  'Well, no, we didn't know exactly,' she said. 'It's just that since it's been gone sales have suddenly picked up. We've come to the conclusion that it must have brought us bad luck. When you're saddled with an unlucky object like that, the only way to be rid of it and break the curse is to find someone who is attracted to it and give it to them. We gypsies know about these things.'
  Gerard nodded in solemn agreement. 'Sorry, John, I can't afford the risk.'
  'And it's no good throwing it away,' said Josette. 'The hex will stay with you forever then.'
  Oh, great! I was going off these two.
  'Right, so I'll just have to hang on to him then?'
  'Guess so, until you find another mug,' said Josette, breaking into peals of uncontrolled laughter.
  'Like me?' I said.
  'You said it,' she said, wiping her eyes.
  I joined in and laughed with them, and as I packed up my gear later I came to the conclusion that I'd allowed them to spook me. What did they know, superstitious Gypsy folk?
  As I was packing up I knocked over a spelter figure of a cavalier whose sword arm broke off when it hit the ground. Then there was a massive thunderstorm as I was loading and most of my stuff got soaked.
  On the way home, the sky was ablaze with sheet lightning, and once there was a blinding flash and a deafening clap so close I nearly shat myself. I half expected to see ball lightning rolling past me on the road as I once had years before, driving with Helen. At one point the rain was so heavy I was forced to slow down to a snail's pace as I could barely see the road ahead of me.
  The storm eased as I drove down the small winding lane that snakes over the hills near our house and I was thankful to be almost home after a horrendous journey.
  Maybe I was so relieved I let my concentration drop (they say most accidents happen within a few kilometres of home), but one minute I was on the road, and the next the van was skidding out of control along the grass verge.
  It happened in slow motion and was almost balletic in its grace and simplicity. There was a small sunken stream with steep banks and as the nearside wheels went down the van tipped over onto its side and we glided along gracefully with grass and wild flowers whipping against the window.
  I remember thinking, Oh dear, what a nuisance. Looks like I'm going to be late for dinner, and coming to rest hard against the door, looking down at the water gurgling past. I sat for a moment, held firm by my seat belt, thankful I wasn't hurt. Then I released myself and climbed up across the passenger seat, opened the door and clambered out.
  It was a beautiful evening. The storm was over and the air smelled fresh and clean, washed by the rain. A blackbird was singing deep in the woodland, a liquid song of joy. The van lay sadly slewed on its side, the stalled engine ticking and gurgling gently as it cooled down. I'd left my mobile at home so set off along the lane to make the short walk home.
  When I got there Helen was waiting at the back door, looking worried.
  'What's happened? Are you all right?'
  There was a note of panic in her voice. I explained.
  'I knew something was wrong. I was about to come and look for you.'
  This didn't surprise me at all. Helen regularly has psychic premonitions and they're usually correct.
  We phoned the pompiers (firemen) and they told me to go down and wait by the van. The sun was beginning to sink below the trees when they arrived in the type of square red retrieval lorry I'd seen bombing up the motorway to multiple pile-ups. There were three of them on board: a couple of scruffy assistants in blue
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