Free Ma Folie Française (My French Folly) by Marisa Raoul Page A

hesitation, began to recount his other worldly ‘findings’.
    â€˜This house possesses a friendly presence within its ancient walls. You mustn’t fear this presence, Marisa , as it means you no harm. It wants you to feel safe and protected and will never do anything to frighten you again.’ He halted, as I gasped in amazement. ‘There is more,’ he continued. This house was dearly loved by one who has passed over, and when I was in the garden, I encountered the image of a small child. A little girl, in fact, who tended her burgeoning potager and herb garden, in the company of her beloved grand-père . I now see this same, little girl crying for her loss and in much pain. She must be allowed to return to the garden as she feels such a strong affinity to it. Does any of this mean anything to you, Marisa ?’
    I stared into space, astonished by his words.
    â€˜It does … it all makes sense to me.’
    â€˜Go on, please,’ he insisted.
    â€˜Well, as far as the little girl … we purchased our home from a kind family of women. All had lost their husbands, generation after generation. The little girl is a great-great daughter and her name is Samantha . She told me the story of her precious Pappy (Grandpa) and how they would spend countless, happy hours growing flowers and vegetables from seed. It was, as she put it, their jardin secret (secret garden). When her Pappy passed away she was distraught and would visit the garden in an attempt to feel his presence. She spent hours alone crying over her great loss. She asked Jean and I if we minded her returning from time to time, so she could talk to her Pappy in their special place. Of course, we obliged gladly.’
    â€˜What a lovely story. I feel her sadness and I’m sure she feels great relief knowing that she is still welcome to visit. Now what about the other part of my story Marisa ?’
    â€˜You mean the part about the friendly presence?’
    â€˜Yes, you know exactly what I mean, don’t you?’ he asked knowingly.
    â€˜Well, yes. I suppose I do … now. I experienced something not so long ago. One evening, when I was home alone. I was petrified. The dog never even barked.’
    â€˜I see. Go on.’
    â€˜Well it’s embarrassing actually. Everyone made so much fun of me. I thought I was going slightly mad,’ I laughed.
    â€˜Let me assure you, you’re perfectly sane. You say you were frightened. Did this feeling last very long?’
    â€˜A few hours, I suppose. I eventually calmed down but what I found strange was the force I felt seemed to diminish once I screamed out.’
    â€˜You see, it never meant to frighten you at all. As soon as it understood your distress, it left you alone. Am I right?’
    â€˜I suppose so and it definitely hasn’t happened since.’
    â€˜And I can assure it will never happen again, not unless you want it to. You have no reason to feel anything other than perfect peace. Your home is your haven, rest assured. There is nothing malevolent within these walls.’
    â€˜I can’t tell you how pleased and relieved I am. Thank you so much. I can hardly wait to tell Jean that I haven’t lost my mind. Well not quite yet!’ I grinned.
    â€˜Now what about another coffee? Will you shout at me?’ he asked smiling.
    â€˜Never. I laughed, but I will “shout you” a coffee.’
    â€˜ Très bien ,’ he grinned. ‘Shout me, shout me.’
    We returned to the breakfast room, both smiling widely. I winked at Jean as I mouthed a message to him above the heads of the morning assembly.
    â€˜I’m not mad and I’ll tell you why later.’
    He smiled and shook his head. ‘I can’t wait for this one,’ he replied smirking.

CHAPTER 7
Cosy Winters à la Corrèzienne
    Alleluia and praise the Lord, the bitter winds of winter have arrived.
    Glacial winters, deep in the low mountains of