To dawdle

I have spread a quilt upon the golden sand of Calais beach. It is a beautiful day at the end of June 1900. The children are still at school, there are very few people around. A gentle sun warms both bodies and hearts, and a wide shimmering path seems either to come from or lead towards the sun, giving a certain transparency to this stretch of water between France and England. I dawdle, parasol in hand. I am waiting for Léonie, Samuel Bourgeois’s eldest daughter. He has become my official tailor. She is bringing me her father’s latest creations. He takes my old clothes and gives certain pieces a new life. Today I am wearing a light cream-coloured dress; the neckline, collar and sleeves are adorned with fine lace, while the petticoats are made of light cotton. I move about, searching for a more comfortable position in which to bask lazily. No, I shall not take out a book, nor anything to write with! I am wandering, idling without guilt… or almost.

I catch sight of Léonie and wave to her. She is sixteen now, a young woman. She walks quickly and soon reaches me with a smile on her face. She is carrying a large parcel carefully wrapped and tied. I invite her to sit beside me. She hands me the package; she knows that I settled the bill during the last fitting. Her father is a perfectionist. He had to sew back a loose button and reposition a ribbon that was not centred correctly on the collar. Mere trifles! I have brought lemonade and a few little treats. She gladly accepts and delights in these sweets which surely do not often appear on her parents’ table. Sitting down, she stretches her legs, leans back, places her hands behind her upon the blanket and lets her head rest freely. Her bun comes undone and her hair spreads across the sand, but she does not care, she feels good. She lifts her face towards the heavenly sun and savours the moment.

The moment is short-lived. In a single movement she straightens up, and within moments her hairstyle is fixed once more. Catherine, her mother, is waiting for her. They still have work to do. She thanks me for this moment and leaves as quickly as she had arrived.

I stand up, put everything back into my basket and walk towards the promenade. I shall once again stroll along this path, slowly and peacefully.

Léonie Augustine Louise Bourgeois (1884–1962) was my great-aunt.