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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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

Mr Cushing had continued to drive, as a smallish town appeared; then The Old One said: ‘the signpost, look, that will be the station just down there, and next to it will be the station car park,’ -the Old One was still using his smartphone on GPS as he said, ‘take a left… indicate, now!’

Mr Cushing just raised one eyebrow a little, as he smoothly drove down to the station car park, while carefully looking in his rear mirror – still no gendarmes and no Inspector Clouseau, a small smile appeared.

Meanwhile, the red-headed woman had been using her own smartphone to ping to WhatsApp as another phone pinged back; she grinned as she started an important conversation.

And this is how it went, but using condensed words and useful emojis:-
I’m not sure that faith comes into this – not faith, just practical things, hmm, gems… diamonds – well I know what to do, I know a former jeweller who became a fence, he’s called Monsieur Bourbon, it’s near Montmartre, just a few streets from where I stay, as she winked and used a thumbs-up sign.

The red-headed woman pocketed her smartphone, as Scatty, Joan and Francis all looked at her with various very quizzical questions – who, what and why… and when?

She held up her hands with a radiant smile – ‘all of us, plus Mr Cushing, the Old One, and of course, those two who we know very well, we’ll be back in Paris, very, very soon – mark my words.’

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

Meanwhile, The Old One and Mr Cushing had managed to get across all those sheds without being noticed by those many gendarmes around that large farm, and they had a hairy time while that bumbling Inspector Clouseau had been laying across that gorgeous limo.

‘Outrageous,’ muttered Mr Cushing, as he clenched his teeth, while both of them hid in some bushes until Inspector Clouseau somehow or other managed to fall down to the ground from that very expensive car; he stood up rather quickly, as he moved away to catch up to all those gendarmes.

‘Now’s our chance,’ grinned The Old One, as Mr Cushing pulled out his keys; ‘no wishful thinking with this perfect purring car,’ as he gunned into reverse, and very, very quickly, he swung a right, and then put it onto drive, ‘zoom on, we’re on the move,’ as both of them grinned with glee, ‘what wits we are!’

They were racing through the countryside, Mr Cushing drove swiftly, while The Old One used his smartphone: ‘hear we are,’ he said, ‘I’ve the GPS, we can find them near the rails and then to the nearest station, hmm, excellent.’

Then The Old One started a soliloquy, almost like a fourth wall he thought to himself: ‘I think I might be a writer, I feel I should write my memoirs, but only the highlights,’ as he took out his posh pen and beautiful notebook.

Mr Cushing glanced at him, and said: ‘you’re going to be busy then.’

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

‘Mark my words,’ said the red-headed woman as she looked outside from her window on the train as she stared across the tracks and pointed, ‘this is going to be a train smash, in a way, look at those two, they are off the train now, they seem to be going to the train station, hmm, wonder why?’

She tried to crane even further to see what they were doing since the station wasn’t far, she could just see the station car park, but nothing further than that, although it was clear that there was much movement around the cars in the car park.

Meanwhile, the two gargoyles were moving stealthily, crossing the tracks without being seen, of course, they still had those diamonds with them since both of them have natty satchels and several useful pockets inside of them.

The two gargoyles had already put their smartphones on silent but on vibrating instead, just to be sure, as they began to climb up the wall to the car park by the station.

They already knew that this town was too small for a cathedral, and it seemed most unlikely to find a proper large and ancient church; it was even less likely to meet some other useful gargoyles around here.

But luck could still come into play as one of the gargoyles said: ‘do just pinch me now, look at this, what a happy coincidence,’ as the two of them sniggered as they moved over to the next vehicle.

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

‘Where is our coffee?’ wondered Scatty, ‘she’s taking ages,’ as she craned her head across the aisle, ‘but at least that lovely red-headed woman had given us our tickets, she’s so useful, never inept is she,’ as Scatty glanced across the aisle again.

‘We’re going to be branded as liars and thieves,’ muttered Joan, – Francis said, ‘well, it wasn’t us, was it, it was only them, those wretched gargoyles,’ as he glanced up, although they couldn’t actually see them, since the two gargoyles were lying on the top of the train.

‘Hush, don’t talk so loudly,’ muttered Joan, ‘we need to introduce a different topic, people can hear what we are talking about and that is not a good idea – mums the word, eh?’

Then the red-headed woman appeared holding the four coffees; she was putting them down on the table, and she said, ‘ouch, that was very hot, I got a slight injury, look, there is a small burn on my left wrist, still it’s not a train smash, as we would say – and yes, I’m crossing my one thumb for luck,’ as she grinned.

They sipped their coffees – all black and no sugar – as they were all mulling their thoughts as the train continued to travel quickly; of course, it was dark now, but they could see more buildings, ‘it’s a big town coming up soon,’ remark the red-headed woman.

A little later, the train slowed down, ‘look it’s going to stop before the town, I wonder why?’

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Paris Photographer – Louis Paulin

‘It’s stopping, look, that train,’ grinned Scatty, ‘we should get on it, shouldn’t we,’ as they looked to each other, ‘see, those gendarmes are past the last shed now, let’s go, and why not, there are no problems are there?’

Both Mr Cushing and The Old One looked rather apprehensive: ‘it’s my limousine,’ said Mr Cushing, ‘I’m not leaving the old girl by that farm,’ – ‘no siree,’ said The Old One, ‘I always ride shotgun with you now, so we will have to chance it then,’ – and a moment later, they both shot off.

‘Train time,’ smiled Joan, ‘how handy there was a tiny station just here,’ – ‘more than handy,’ said Francis, ‘I am kind of thinking this could be a ghost train,’ but he muttered very quietly and no-one else heard what he said.

However, everything seemed normal as all four of them got into that busy train.

The train was moving quickly now as the red-headed woman walked through the carriages, she brushed a wisp of hair away from her face, as she glanced at a rather pretty baby who was sitting by her dad playing pat-a-cake, pat-a-cake; and in the next but last carriage, this was what she was after: ‘ooh, at last, a brew… hot coffee!’

Meanwhile, the two gargoyles had been checking out those diamonds, since of course they had got them; they had been using their smartphones since they had an inkling about something clever Reena had said quite recently: ‘ah, there it is…’

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