French Life – Mr Allen 5

We left the hotel in Lourdes after our second night. I wanted to try to find the mysterious Jenny Allen and hopefully the missing Mr Allen. This was the point where I didn’t want L around. Fortunately there is a very good old friend of mine who lives in the vicinity. I gave him a ring and asked if they could baby sit L for the day.

I dropped L off at my mates place and then headed into the mountains. Although warm the sky was black and menacing and a storm threatened. The mountains were exactly that. Mountains. Stark, rocky, big and foreboding and full of menace. You don’t fuck about with mountains, they need to be treated with respect, even in early summer.
I went down the valley road heading south toward the very heart of the high Pyrenees. The green of the vegetation in the valleys in stark contrast to the naked rock piercing the sky above. They were formidable. After about an hour I got to within striking distance of the village where Jenny Allen was shown as living. I now need to decide whether I went straight to her house or spoke to the French bloke whose number I had.

As I got about 8km from the village the road splits and you can head up to the the Col de Peyrasourde past a ski resort and on to the town of Luchon or turn Right to Val Luron. I was at the junction when I saw a big advert for some apartments that were being built and the contact details were that of the French man I had found.

I drove towards Val Luron and the valley opened up and there was a big blue green lake on my left. It was perfectly still in the morning light and the mountains and clouds were reflected in the water like a big fuck off mirror. It was breathtaking.

Of course I still had to find this Jenny Allens gaff and there was a good chance I was barking right up the wrong tree and that she had nothing to do with it.
As I entered the Village I was looking for I thought I could do with a break or maybe just a little miracle. The next instant and fuck me I got it. Parked outside a small super market was a mini. Now minis are not that common in France, especially in the remote mountainous countryside of the Pyrenees. But this was just any mini, but a right hand drive mini although it was on local French plates. It was the same colour as Mr Allens but his had been registered in the UK. Was it the same one? Only one way to find out.

I parked up a bit down from where the mini was parked, facing the same way as said mini. a few moments later a women came out and got into the car and drove off. I followed her at a leisurely pace for about 2km when she pulled into the parking area for some new appartments. She got out carrying a couple of baguettes and went into the flats. I was able to see her walk along a balcony on the first floor and go into a flat at the end. I gave it a couple of minutes before going after her. I was fairly sure this was Jenny Allen.

The apartment the lady I had followed was the same number I had for JA. I rang the bell and it was opened by a very attractive woman I would have said aged about 45 to 50. She had shortish spikey hair with blond highlights just like the woamn at the car hire place said.

I said something like I am Uncle Norman and I am looking for Mr Allen. She took one look at me and started to cry. No cry is not the right word. She wailed and sobbed and then suddenly just sat down in the hall with her arms around her legs hugging herself.

She kept saying “Don’t Kill us, don’t kill us”

I kept telling her I wasn’t going to kill her but she kept going on and on. I walked into the hall way of a bright very modern apartment.
“I’m not going to bloody kill you but for gods sake shut the fuck up please!” I said foreceably. She shut up.
“Sssshhh now calm down I am not here to hurt you” I said as reassuringly as I could in the circumstances “What the hell was that all about, why should anyone want to kill you and where is Mr Allen?

“I’m here” said a soft, well spoken, mans voice behind me from the main room.

I turned around and there was a very trim casually dressed Mr Allen. What was not so casual was the hunting rifle he was pointing at me.

“Hello Mr Allen” I said as matter of factly as I could manage in the circumstances. “I am very glad to see you alive and in apparently good health”

He laughed a artificial forced laugh “I bet you are buster”

“The names Norman actually” I corrected him
“Don’t be witty with me, I am in no mood for bullshit” he snapped back. There was something in his manner and the whole situation that led me to believe he wasn’t joking.

“OK, look would you mind telling me what this is all about?” I thought it was a reasonable question. Clearly Mr Allen didn’t because he adjusted his grip on the gun and repositioned himself as if steadying him self to shoot.

“I said don’t give me any bullshit, youre the one being paid to kill us”

“Kill you, why the fuck would I want to kill you?”

“You’re a trained killer and Amy has paid you to kill us” His speech was rather rapid and his voice was loosing some of its control and was a little shrill.

This was not good. Bad enough having a gun pointed at you, but when the geezer holding it is scared and starting to loose the plot.

Deary me not good.

Best to try to stay calm, but I have to be honest inside I was anything but fucking calm. This is the sort of situation that can go seriously tits up.

“Lets get a couple of things straight shall we” I said very matter of factly “I am not here to kill you and I have not been paid to kill you. I am not even armed. Would you like me to remove my jacket and clothes so you can see I am not armed?”

“Yes do that please” he said a little calmer but still pointing the rifle at me.
I stripped down to my boxers very slowly and then with my hand up turned round slowly so he could see I had concealed nothing -well apart from my manhood and he was trying to make himself as small a target as possible. I kicked the clothes towards Jenny who sort of checked them.

“OK sit down on the chair there very slowly”

The room was very modern and furnished in a very similar way to his rooms back in Egham. I sat in a classic Ikea bouncy armchair. It was a sort of fake leather and bloody cold on my skin.
“Look Mr Allen I am not sure what is going on here but rest assured I am not here to harm you.”

“Why are you here at all?” yelled Jenny

“I was paid by your wife and daughter to find you” I said. “They were concerned about you as you failed to return home after your last trip to Lourdes”

Mr Allen snorted “Yes I bet Amy was concerned, the malignant bitch and as for my wife she is sitting here with you”

I looked at Jenny. What the fuck. My head hurts.

“Well who was that woman in Egham then if she isn’t your wife?”

“My sister” he said very flatly.

“your sister!” I repeated.

“Yes my senile alcoholic slut of a whore sister” He hissed.

I detected a hint of family friction.
“So who is Amy then?”

“A cancerous, scheming, blackmailing bitch” he rasped with even more malice.

“Oh I see” I said although I didn’t really.

“Look Mr Allen why don’t you put the gun down and put the kettle on a make us all a cup of tea and tell me the whole story. I have to be honest I am a bit nippy without my clothes so either let me get dressed or turn the heating up please” I said

“I told you before no bullshitting witticisms from you” he barked back

I had enough of this bollocks.

“Mr Allen I am being very nice in the circumstances, but I am starting to loose my patience here. Now look, I have been lied to, stripped and had a rifle pointed at me by someone I have no intention of hurting. I am starting to have fucking sense of humour failure here pal and if you don’t put that fucking gun down, I am going to come over there, take it off you, and shove it your mouth and blow you fucking brains out. I will then turn the gun on Doris here and blow her face off. The police will think it was a lovers suicide pact or something like that and I will be on my way. Do I make myself clear.” I gave him my fiercest uncle Norman gamma death stare.

“I think he means what he says darling, put the gun down” said Jenny very calmly

He wasn’t sure.

“Mr Allen Have you ever shot anyone”

“Yes” He said slowly “In Palestine, a little boy and his donkey. It was a terrible mistake”

“Yes I am sure it was but these things happen” I said with all sincerity knowing exactly what he meant and was feeling.

“If I put the gun down do you promise you wont kill us” He said more calmly.

“I give you my solemn word” I said and raised my right hand. Why do we do that, raise our right hand? Any way I did and he sat down in a chair and put the gun down.

“Thank you Mr Allen, that’s better, now how about that cup of tea while I put my clothes back on and then we can have a chat about all this cant we”

“I am afraid I don’t have any biscuits” said Jenny very apologetically.

“Oh darling we have some fig rolls” chipped in Mr Allen “Would fig rolls be alright?” he asked me.

“Fine with me”

How very English. Point a bloody gun at a bloke and then offer him fig rolls with his cuppa.

4 Responses to “French Life – Mr Allen 5”

  1. dl says:

    God! Confusing, or what!

  2. Uncle says:

    DL – It was a very weird confusing experience. It got worse.

  3. Brigitte says:

    I read your comment and thought how could it get worse? When I read the next part of the story I understood.

  4. Oh Good Lord, they’re all balmy.

    I do feel for you Norman, and your manhood…

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