He met her in one of those trendy little cafés in Montmartre, where the waiters were snooty when he tried his bad French on them. He went there some mornings, doing nothing more than watch the world go by. Until today, when the girl slipped and fell on a pavement greasy from the drizzly rain that had begun to fall on sun-drenched stone.

He dabbed her bleeding knee with a fresh linen handkerchief. The one he always carried for such eventualities. Just in case.

As she recovered from the ignominy of the fall, he sat her down for a coffee brought by an even grouchier waiter. Hating the Englishman’s luck with the dark-haired girl he’d had his eye on for weeks.

A child to his right flipped into a meltdown, as kids do in a flash when things don’t go their way. Especially in the humid heat of August in the city.

“Il a un visage longue,” quipped Giles, translating the English idiom for his new friend, who looked at him at first surprised and then puzzled.

“I cannot see that his face is long at all,” she said. Giles began to explain before realising his mistake. The French were very different. He ‘d already learned this since he moved into the tiny garret in the quartier. No sense of humour at all.

The weather closed in even more as they sat there, nursing their cappuccinos; usual small talk. The rain began to pour even harder, cascading off the roof awning of the café onto the street like unleashed fire hoses.

“Comme chats et chiens.” He tried his luck again. But this time, it was too much for her. She collected her things and hobbled off without looking back.

Away from the weird Englishman and the rather odd things he said.

Translations!

Il Ne Pleut Jamais, Mais Il Verse = It Never Rains but it Pours

Il a un visage longue = He Has a Long Face

Comme chats et Chiens = (Raining) Like Cats and Dogs