"That's it! No more U-turns until you work out exactly where the hell we are" I said slamming on the brakes and stopping by a small farm building.
"It's not my fault" said Sarah angrily "if you slowed down a little instead of driving like a maniac I might stand some chance of reading the bloody map."
I looked across the road at a herd of cows sheltering in the shade and sighed, "perhaps if you turned it the right way up so you could read the place names I wouldn't have to slow down."
"Look, if you think you can do any better help yourself" she said flinging the map on my lap and folding her arms.
"Oh for Christ's sake! How the hell do you expect me to map read and drive at the same time" I fumed looking at the car clock "at this rate we're going to arrive too late for dinner."
We left the channel port of Calais that morning. Breezing down the slip road onto the autoroute south with the top down on our sports car in anticipation of two carefree weeks in Italy seemed a distant memory now. This was to be our first decent holiday since getting married 18 months earlier and we had been looking forward to it for weeks. Now we were hopelessly lost somewhere in the Alsace mountains with the whole of France gripped in a cruel heat wave. When the air temperature reaches the point where a breeze no longer cools then an open car without air conditioning becomes a liability rather than an asset. I pulled the roof up to get some relief from the sun and studied the map....
We decided to call it a day and stopped in a small village high on the slopes of a minor pass. By now we were hardly talking. The hotel was basic without dining facilities and the room had no air conditioning. I opened the shutters slightly to let in some daylight but protect us from the still furnace-like glare of the suns rays. Sarah peeled of her sweat soaked clothes without ceremony and headed for the shower while I unpacked some overnight gear. Sarah's French is very good (mine is nearly non-existent) and had found out from the hotel manager that there was a small restaurant within walking distance in the village so at least we would eat.
By the time I got out of the shower Sarah was sitting at the end of the bed painting her toenails. She was wearing a very short yellow print sundress with thin shoulder straps. She looked very beautiful, her golden blond hair falling over her shoulders her face set firmly in concentration. "Do you have to do that now?" I said "we are late for dinner already."
"Unless you are going out like that" she said sarcastically without looking up "you're not ready yourself."
As I walked past her, one leg was drawn up exposing her abundant freshly washed pubic curls. "You should wear underwear with that dress," I said.
"I'll wear what I want" she said defiantly "I'm a big girl now and I don't need you to tell me what to do."
We walked down through the narrow streets in silence. Sarah had been given directions to the restaurant and to my great amusement and her fury she had got us lost again. Despite the fact that the sun had set it was still appallingly hot. The walls of the buildings radiated the heat of the day and I was sticky with sweat just walking slowly downhill. Finally, after taking a 'short-cut' across some open ground, we found the tiny restaurant, which to our despair, was full. Fortunately the waiter took pity on us and persuaded a couple to share their balcony table with us.
Pierre and Catherine introduced themselves and we thanked them for their generosity. Pierre spoke in English some of the time but Catherine only spoke French. They had just started their first course and seemed to be in convivial mood. Sarah brightened up immediately and started conversing in French without bothering to translate leaving me to sit there like a lemon staring at the view.
We ordered and I slowly wormed my way into the conversation by asking questions that Sarah translated for me. Pierre and Catherine were on a walking holiday and were staying in rented accommodation in the village. They lived in Paris and had only arrived that afternoon. Apparently it was so hot that several people across the country had died from heat exhaustion.
I estimated Pierre was a few years older than us, a muscular man, with curly black hair, sharp dark eyes and a wide amiable grin. He wore shorts and open neck shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms displaying a good deal of body hair. He had the relaxed air of someone completely at ease with himself.
Catherine was more our age - mid 20's. She was slender to the point of being thin with long dark hair and smooth pale skin. Her eyes too, had dark pupils but they sparkled with life in the candlelight. Her face had angular features that defied categorisation. I imagined that artists would love to have her pose for them as an interesting beauty. When she spoke it was quiet, polite and sparing never interrupting and always interesting. She wore a striped sleeveless top revealing long slender arms and a plain skirt.
As the evening progressed, Pierre introduced us to Eau de Vie, a strong clear spirit, available in a variety of flavours, most of which we drank, together with some extremely pungent cheese. Sarah became quite drunk talking animatedly with Pierre and paying little attention to me. Catherine would occasionally try to include me in the conversation by speaking in broken English but it was clear to me that Sarah was punishing me for our earlier row.
The restaurant was closing so we paid the bill and Pierre suggested to Sarah that we walk back to their place for a nightcap. As we walked up through the village Sarah openly flirted with Pierre, laughing at the occasional joke then leaning on his shoulder for support. Catherine and I walked a few paces behind in silence. The heat was still oppressive, hanging like a blanket with little or no breeze. The effort of climbing up the hill was exhausting and I could see patches of Sarah's dress sticking to her as she walked ahead.
Sarah tripped on the cobblestones, swore, and hopped over to some nearby stairs to remove her sandal. She sat down and raised her injured foot, resting it on her knee, to inspect the damage. It was obvious despite the dim streetlights that Pierre, who was standing directly in front of her, was getting a grandstand view of her bare crutch. Pierre said something in French and Sarah giggled saying in French something about it being too hot. Unhurriedly she uncrossed her legs and, accepting Pierre's hand, stood upright and carried on walking leaning against him for support.
The house, on the edge of the village, was typically French, set on a grassy mound with a garage underneath the main living area and steps up to the front door. The living room was baking hot and stuffy. Catherine immediately opened the patio doors that led onto a wooden deck and turned on the outside lights. Pierre handed out glasses of Calvados.
"It's too hot" Pierre said in English "it is a pity we do not have a pool."
