IC 1 – Day 1 – Pointe Pierre – Laurent
Posted: Mon Feb 22, 2021 11:19 pm
It is coming up for eleven o’clock on Saturday night and Laurent Toussaint is sitting in the narrow light cast by his lantern as he works on a jammed outboard motor. The night sky is pitch black and while he can hear the soft swishing of the sea he can’t see more than a few feet away. Turning his head he can see the faint light of Old Man Samuel’s shop and hear snatches of music; fast, syncopated, dissonant, the unmistakable sound of bepop jazz.
Tearing his attention away from the hypnotic music he concentrates on the engine. Nearby his schoolfriend Pierre Lavigne and Pierre’s father Fabrice watch expectantly. First day of the school holidays and here he is, kneeling on the fishy wooden slats of the pier, trying to fix an unfamiliar motor for free, rather than hanging out at Old Man Samuel’s listening to the latest American and Cuban beats.
Usually Laurent would help his father scratching a living maintaining the small number of vehicles owned by the locals of Dame Marie and fixing the frequent breakdowns of the hulking St. Joseph camions, built like oversize roller-coaster cars, spewing diesel fumes, and wearing such glamorous names as Dieu Protege, Dieu Est Bon, Partout, and Bon Dieu Bon. Since the Azagon Hotel had been built things had become a little more comfortable with their fleet of station wagons and jeeps and now the American George Benson had introduced outboard motors to the fishermen.
But tonight Laurent was doing a favour for Pierre. Well, it wasn’t entirely unselfish, he was angling for an invitation to come back to their house for a drink, maybe to see Pierre’s sister, Marise. A few years older, she was the nicest most beautiful girl in school and Laurent was sweet on her. She used to come and enjoy the music at Pointe Pierre but Laurent hadn’t seen her for a while. Perhaps they would call in to the Sharktooth bar in Dame Marie where Pierre’s mother Florence worked, maybe Marise would be there too.
Laurent opens up the motor and looks inside, it’s clean, and new, precision engineering, nothing like the old engines he’s used to working on. ‘Bèl motè, m’sié’ he says to Mr Lavigne, ‘Let me take a look and see what’s wrong.’
Tearing his attention away from the hypnotic music he concentrates on the engine. Nearby his schoolfriend Pierre Lavigne and Pierre’s father Fabrice watch expectantly. First day of the school holidays and here he is, kneeling on the fishy wooden slats of the pier, trying to fix an unfamiliar motor for free, rather than hanging out at Old Man Samuel’s listening to the latest American and Cuban beats.
Usually Laurent would help his father scratching a living maintaining the small number of vehicles owned by the locals of Dame Marie and fixing the frequent breakdowns of the hulking St. Joseph camions, built like oversize roller-coaster cars, spewing diesel fumes, and wearing such glamorous names as Dieu Protege, Dieu Est Bon, Partout, and Bon Dieu Bon. Since the Azagon Hotel had been built things had become a little more comfortable with their fleet of station wagons and jeeps and now the American George Benson had introduced outboard motors to the fishermen.
But tonight Laurent was doing a favour for Pierre. Well, it wasn’t entirely unselfish, he was angling for an invitation to come back to their house for a drink, maybe to see Pierre’s sister, Marise. A few years older, she was the nicest most beautiful girl in school and Laurent was sweet on her. She used to come and enjoy the music at Pointe Pierre but Laurent hadn’t seen her for a while. Perhaps they would call in to the Sharktooth bar in Dame Marie where Pierre’s mother Florence worked, maybe Marise would be there too.
Laurent opens up the motor and looks inside, it’s clean, and new, precision engineering, nothing like the old engines he’s used to working on. ‘Bèl motè, m’sié’ he says to Mr Lavigne, ‘Let me take a look and see what’s wrong.’