I squirmed. Her English was not good, but the word idiot is common to both languages; she must have understood it. I ought to have refused, but the vicious nature of the insult he wanted me to deliver shocked me, and fearful of making the situation even worse by infuriating him more, I lamely said to Madame in French, 'Monsieur would prefer it if the young man who brought our drinks did not serve us our dinner.'
In a gentle voice that filled me with shame she replied, 'Georges is my son, Monsieur, he often helps me in the restaurant; but if you prefer, of course I will serve you myself.'
'Forgive us, Madame, thank you.' When she had gone, my voice quavering, I said, 'He's her son.' Caroline's face remained expressionless, but Marie gulped mouthfuls of air and looked as though she was about to cry.
Peter tried to justify himself. 'Being soft with her will do no good. What she has to learn is that the way to make a success of a business such as this, stuck out in the middle of nowhere, is to put the client first, second and third. Exposing customers to a mental defective is only going to put them off. That's the harsh reality of her situation. Country inbreeding, I expect.'
Resolved, too late, to stand up to him I said, 'She's probably been running the place happily and profitably for decades. Why create a problem for her?'
'Look around you,' he said, waving an arm and glancing around the room. 'There are three occupied tables; there would be two if it were not for the complete fluke of our being here. It speaks for itself.' At times when he could not have his own way he had been condescending and rude to people in the office, but never as hateful as he was now.
After the main course I complimented Madame on the food, and said how neatly kept the vegetable patch behind the hotel was. She smiled, and with a brief sulky glare at Peter said that her son cultivated the plot entirely on his own, and that the green salad and tomatoes we had eaten had come from his garden. He might not, she said, be able to do everything that more successful men could, but he worked diligently and deserved respect for his efforts.
'You and Madame seem to be getting along very well,' Peter commented.
'Polite conversation,' I answered grimly, trapped in the hypocrisy of trying to appease Madame without being insubordinate to Peter. When Georges passed our table carrying some empty cartons through the restaurant, I caught his eye and gave him a reassuring smile.