Monsieur Pamplemousse on Vacation (21 page)

‘I think it calls for a celebration. Some of your favourite Gosset champagne, perhaps? Or shall I open a bottle of the Roullet
très hors age
cognac?’ His hand hovered over the glasses. ‘The choice is yours. Which is it to be?’

Monsieur Pamplemousse hesitated. He was unaware of having even remotely agreed to anything. ‘I hope you won’t think I am being difficult,’ he said, ‘but without knowing exactly what we are celebrating it is hard to reach a decision.’

He should have known better.

For a brief moment Monsieur Leclercq looked suitably chastened. ‘You are absolutely right, Aristide,’ he exclaimed. ‘I am so excited by the turn of events I am getting ahead of myself.’

He struck one of his Napoleonic poses; a pose honed to perfection over the years by taking in the view from his window of the Emperor’s last resting place beneath the golden dome of the nearby Hôtel des Invalides.

‘Pamplemousse,’ he said grandly, ‘I have a plan of campaign! It is my wish to run it up the flagpole and see if, in your view, it flies.

‘If your answer is in the affirmative, then it is really a question of pulling all the right levers, and for that we shall need what is known as a road map.’

Monsieur Pamplemousse gloomily opted for a glass of champagne. It was a good buck-you-up at any time of the day or night, and he suddenly felt in need of one.

‘Monsieur Leclercq has a plan?’ repeated Doucette over dinner. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

‘It is what he calls a “road map”, Couscous,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse. ‘I must say I was a bit sceptical myself at first.’

‘How many weeks will it take you?’

‘That all depends on how many dead ends I come across,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse vaguely. He toyed with the remains of his dessert. ‘It needs to be in place before the start of the racing season in Deauville.’

‘It would never do to miss that,’ said Doucette dryly.

‘It is all mixed up with the annual staff party at his summer residence,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse. ‘As always, wives are invited too, only this year, if all goes well, there will be an extra guest; a very important one.’

‘July? That’s over two months away.’

‘Just think,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse. ‘All that time at home.’ He spooned the remains of the dessert onto his plate. ‘Once again, Couscous, tell me the recipe for this delicious concoction. What is it called?
Crème bachique
?’

‘Bacchus Delight,’ said Doucette, ‘is a baked custard made with half a litre or so of Sauternes, six egg yolks, four ounces of sugar and a touch of cinnamon.’

‘But made with love,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse. ‘That is the most important ingredient, Couscous.’

He gave a sigh of satisfaction. ‘It is good to be home. White asparagus from the Landes with sauce mousseline – one of my favourites; sole, pan-fried in butter, seasoned with parsley and lemon and served with tiny new potatoes; and now Bacchus Delight … what more could any man wish for? Simple dishes, all of them, but as I have so often said in the past, anyone can follow a recipe. It takes love and understanding to bring a meal to full fruition. It is what is known as “the passion”.’

‘If you and Pommes Frites are planning to be around for two whole months, don’t expect to eat like this every day of the week,’ said Doucette, as she bustled around clearing the table. ‘Besides, there are all sorts of things that need attending to. The window boxes could do with a thorough going over for a start. I will make a list …’

‘First things first,’ said Monsieur Pamplemousse hurriedly. ‘It is a matter of priorities.’

‘In that case,’ said Doucette, ‘I suggest you start by telling me exactly what Monsieur Leclercq has in mind.’

‘Ah!’ Monsieur Pamplemousse looked at his watch. ‘Now that, Couscous, is going to take time. Time, and a measure of understanding. Perhaps, as an aid to digesting it all, before I begin we should open another bottle of Meursault? It involves my writing a play.’

Pommes Frites looked from one to the other before settling down in a corner of the room. A good deal of the conversation that day had gone over his head, but he knew the signs. Weighing up the pros and cons and coming down heavily on the side of the cons, it seemed to him his master might well be in need of support before the night was out.

M
ICHAEL
B
OND
was born in Newbury, Berkshire in 1926 and started writing whilst serving in the army during the Second World War. In 1958 the first book featuring his most famous creation, Paddington Bear, was published and many stories of his adventures followed. In 1983 he turned his hand to adult fiction and the detective cum gastronome par excellence Monsieur Pamplemousse was born.

Michael Bond was awarded the OBE in 1997 and in 2007 was made an Honorary Doctor of Letters by Reading University. He is married, with two grown-up children, and lives in London.

Monsieur Pamplemousse Afloat

Monsieur Pamplemousse on Probation

Monsieur Pamplemousse on Vacation

Monsieur Pamplemousse Hits the Headlines

Monsieur Pamplemousse and the Militant Midwives

Monsieur Pamplemousse and the French Solution

Monsieur Pamplemousse and the Carbon Footprint

If you enjoyed
Monsieur Pamplemousse on Vacation,
read on to find out about other books
by Michael Bond …

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Cuisine de Chavignol
is France’s premier television cookery programme. Seated in the front row of an invited studio audience, Monsieur Pamplemousse watches in silent horror as the eponymous host, having downed an oyster in close-up, utters a strangled cry and slowly but surely sinks from view behind a kitchen worktop.

Pommes Frites, sniffer dog extraordinaire, has his own views on the matter: Claude Chavignol was a bad egg if ever he’d seen one. Subsequent events prove him right, and soon he and his master find themselves caught up in a bizarre world of unrequited lust, murder and blackmail in high places.

It isn’t every day that a coffin explodes during a funeral ceremony. Barely escaping with his life, thanks to a warning howl from his faithful bloodhound Pommes Frites, Monsieur Pamplemousse can only wonder who was behind the explosion … and if they were also responsible for the demise of the coffin’s inhabitant.

But then another urgent matter comes to his attention: a terrorist group is planning to poison the food chain. Monsieur Pamplemousse, together with Pommes Frites and a rather strange ally, must spearhead an elite group to stop the catastrophe …

When Monsieur Pamplemousse gets an urgent summons from the Director of
Le Guide
, he knows that there is trouble at the top.

But neither he nor his faithful sniffer dog, Pommes Frites, expects the trouble to involve a nun who is in the habit of joining the Mile High Club or a full-scale smear campaign targeting
Le Guide
’s credibility as France’s premier restaurant and hotel guide. Someone has been spreading worrying rumours among the staff and infiltrating the company files – awarding hotel prizes for bedbugs and praising egg and chips signature dishes. Even Pommes Frites has become a victim of the assault. It could all spell the ruin for
Le Guide
, but Pamplemousse is on the case …

In an attempt to improve the lacklustre reputation of France’s most prestigious culinary guide in America, the Director of
Le Guide
persuades Monsieur Pamplemousse to write a play for the guide’s benefit, complete with a walk-on part for faithful bloodhound Pommes Frites.

Emphasising the importance of a healthy lifestyle to decrease one’s carbon footprint, Monsieur Pamplemousse tries to impress the well-renowned American food critic Jay Corby, but disaster strikes on opening night and Corby storms out in a rage. It’s vital he is found before he ruins everything for
Le Guide
. Luckily, star sniffer dog Pommes Frites is hot on the trail of their only lead: a flimsy undergarment belonging to an exotic dancer they came across in a state of undress before the start of the show …