Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

The red-headed woman had responded to Monsieur Bourbon, although not quite so enthusiastically as she quickly kissed his cheeks two times, then righted her beret, while those two gargoyles looked on, as they wondered whether they might have a go as well.

However, Monsieur Bourbon had other plans as he spied those small satchels around their chests, as he looked and wondered as he said: ‘do tell what’s in there, since you two have been on a bit of a jaunt, am I right?’

The two gargoyles then mention those beautiful gems as they were about to remove them, but meanwhile the red-headed woman peered out from the shop window, while Monsieur Bourbon turned the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’, as he said: ‘let’s go into the backroom.’

‘Ah ha, diamonds,’ smiled Monsieur Bourbon, as he took his loupe and gently fixed it into his eye socket, as he began to analyse those gemstones and there were many of them to look at.

The red-headed woman began to pace, and soon, since it was taking such a long time, she started to march around, even though it was a rather small backroom, but the two gargoyles continued to watch the magnificent Monsieur – mesmerising – they both felt.

Then Monsieur Bourbon removed his loupe and said: ‘they’re not real, none of them… they are synthetic,’ – the red-headed woman said, ‘you mean they’re just junk and no real value?’ as she put up her head and jutted out her chin with grumpiness.

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

‘Well, this is a stroke of luck,’ muttered the red-headed woman to the two gargoyles, ‘see that Inspector Clouseau, he’s still walking around that busy boulevard, still walking briskly along, while swinging his truncheon happily, and taking no notice about anything at all, and that’s perfect, don’t you think,’ as she grinned.

‘Still,’ said the red-headed woman, ‘we’re not quite there yet, but I do remember exactly where that small shop is, and I’m sure he’ll still be there, also I’ll never forget his name, Monsieur Bourbon, so let’s get moving, as the two gargoyles agreed, while they continued to hold their small satchels very tightly.

Meanwhile, Mr Cushing and The Old One had commandeered the large kitchen – Francis had poked his head around the door to say, ‘be my guest, I’m sure you are both great cooks… sorry, I mean chefs.’

Mr Cushing had explained that he had bought some sirloin from the excellent butcher, ‘looks good, doesn’t it,’ while The Old One said, ‘hmm, very nice and bloody,’ as his fangs appeared for a moment, but then he said, ‘of course, we need to cook this, and nicely.’

‘Okay, let’s get to business,’ said Mr Cushing, ‘we’ll cube the beef since we have been hankering to make some delicious curry – not too hot but really creamy.

Meantime, the red-headed woman pushed open the tingly bell in that shop; Monsieur Bourbon was right next to the door, he cupped her face in his hands and then kissed her forehead.

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

All of them were back in Paris, and how lovely they felt now – Joan had a long and relaxing huge bath, she loved to float around it; Scatty had a very hot and quick shower, she was almost buzzing; while the guys had been freshening up.

It seemed that none of them were bothered about those gems anymore, maybe because they don’t need any dosh, since they have oodles of cash around several banks and vaults, and also several countries – old and ancient vampires and other creatures have always looked after their money.

But where was the red-headed woman, and where were those two gargoyles? and maybe you might wonder about that too, so let’s listen in for a while.

The red-headed woman was making a plan and a plot (as often she would); she was not into the territory yet, and at least she wasn’t at the end of her tether, although this was going to be tricky, she glanced at the two gargoyles, ‘well, we have many teachable things, including getting those diamonds to Monsieur Bourbon.’

‘We need to get across several streets, including that busy boulevard, and definitely no talking, taunting or anything else; just keep quiet… remember, mums the word.’

The two of them said, ‘we will try to look as normal as we can, we will wear proper clothes and put on trilby hats; we will blend in as we walk – plus, we won’t talk to that monkey just there… oh gosh, it’s Clouseau… again!’

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

There was an announcement from the loudspeaker on the train which said, ‘it will arrive at the station in four minutes’ – ‘that’s our cue,’ grinned the red headed woman, as she looked outside to see the station car park, where she could see that elegant limousine.

The red headed woman could also see those two gargoyles who had been skulking in the car park right by the wall, and now she was certain they would be able to get into the limo as usual, while Mr Cushing would open the rear door, as the two of them trundled to the end of the very long car.

Meanwhile, Mr Cushing and The Old One had been talking about movies, – ‘I did like a meaty role,’ explained Mr Cushing – ‘great actors, like Clouseau and Cato,’ as they both grinned.

‘Come on, we need to get off this train,’ said the red headed woman, as she grabbed her big bag and made her way to the exit doors; she smiled to the little girl who she’d met in the other coach, while saying, ‘thanks mate’, to the dad.

Scatty, Joan and Francis also followed as they all alighted from the train, as they made their way to the station car park; it seemed there was a mass of people around there, but there was no problem to find that gorgeous car.

‘Everyone in,’ smiled Mr Cushing, as he glanced back at all of them, ‘we’ll be flying soon (figuratively speaking, of course).

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