The Impressionist of Provence
By Ray Drayton
The Impressionist of Provence... what a wonderful story, so many twists and turns starting during the occupation of France through to the early ninety nineties. There is romance, drama, death and so much more.
Synopsis:
Dedication to ‘Baptiste Dubois.’
The greatest art impressionist of our era in wartime France.
Thank you for saving my life.
I am sorry that I could not save yours.
– The Protagonist.
1944 – RAF Bomber Command. Elsham Wolds Aerodrome Lincolnshire.
The young Flight Lieutenant brakes to a halt on his ancient bicycle. In his mind male voices continue singing around a piano in the officer’s mess.
Twelve Halifax heavy bombers stand silent and menacing, looking like huge prehistoric crows in soft light of approaching dawn.
“What is the correct name for a flight of crows?” Robbie Robson asks himself.
He stands under a bombers’ 32 meter wingspan housing four Bristol Hercules radial engines, imbibing in a sense of lethal power directly above his head. Power waiting to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting enemy over an unseen horizon in the darkness. “ That’s it!” He exclaims, ”a murder of crows!” He decides the term is indeed appropriate.
The officer turns slowly to a sound of a rifle bolt being cocked…
“Amelie’s subconscious mind has shut out the terrifying experience she has endured. We have placed her in Van Gogh’s former room. I think it is important she pursues her love of art, just like her grandfather did.” The Mother Superior of the hospice asylum in Saint Remy smiles, “ you may see her now, Monsieur.”
Robbie holds Amelie Dubois firmly, stroking her hair, waiting for her to instigate the next move. “It is good for you as a fellow artist to sleep in the room of a brilliant impressionist of the post renaissance period here in Provence.”
“Oui Robbie, I like living in Van Gogh’s room and partake of his brilliance.” A haunted look overshadows her eyes. “Don’t you see?? I also live in the fractured mind of a master. I partake in his genius and I partake in his madness.” She laughs scornfully, “I am as insane as he was!” She now begins to sob loudly. ”The madness helps – the madness is the key to replicating the magic of Provence.”
“Oui.Tre bien.” He grasps her shoulders. “You must share their madness and share their brilliance.” Robbie decides that now is the time to pose the question.
Will Amelie comply or will she retreat further into the darkness of insanity???
She turns to Robbie when he doesn’t reply. Fleur’s heart gives a start as panic sets in. Then she realizes the old war warrior is only sleeping. His chest continues to rise and fall gently. ‘Don’t you dare leave me yet.’ Fleur intones.
The elderly highly decorated RAF officer allows a gentle smile to spread across his face. In his mind, male voices singing around a piano in the officer’s mess tell him it is indeed a long, long way to Tipperary.
Fleur expresses a silent sigh. He is right, of course. They had to make this journey to the Allied war cemetery in the Reichswald Forest of North Germany. If only to bring him some peace at last, knowing where some of his crew were buried after that fateful night when he ditched his bomber in the Rhone river near Arles, France.
Flight Lieutenant Robbie Robson, DFC,DFM and DSO is not concerned in the least. He is too engrossed riding his bicycle in the dark along the aerodrome runway amongst ‘a murder of crows.’
In his sleep, he decides it all is rather appropriate really…
The greatest art impressionist of our era in wartime France.
Thank you for saving my life.
I am sorry that I could not save yours.
– The Protagonist.
1944 – RAF Bomber Command. Elsham Wolds Aerodrome Lincolnshire.
The young Flight Lieutenant brakes to a halt on his ancient bicycle. In his mind male voices continue singing around a piano in the officer’s mess.
Twelve Halifax heavy bombers stand silent and menacing, looking like huge prehistoric crows in soft light of approaching dawn.
“What is the correct name for a flight of crows?” Robbie Robson asks himself.
He stands under a bombers’ 32 meter wingspan housing four Bristol Hercules radial engines, imbibing in a sense of lethal power directly above his head. Power waiting to be unleashed upon an unsuspecting enemy over an unseen horizon in the darkness. “ That’s it!” He exclaims, ”a murder of crows!” He decides the term is indeed appropriate.
The officer turns slowly to a sound of a rifle bolt being cocked…
“Amelie’s subconscious mind has shut out the terrifying experience she has endured. We have placed her in Van Gogh’s former room. I think it is important she pursues her love of art, just like her grandfather did.” The Mother Superior of the hospice asylum in Saint Remy smiles, “ you may see her now, Monsieur.”
Robbie holds Amelie Dubois firmly, stroking her hair, waiting for her to instigate the next move. “It is good for you as a fellow artist to sleep in the room of a brilliant impressionist of the post renaissance period here in Provence.”
“Oui Robbie, I like living in Van Gogh’s room and partake of his brilliance.” A haunted look overshadows her eyes. “Don’t you see?? I also live in the fractured mind of a master. I partake in his genius and I partake in his madness.” She laughs scornfully, “I am as insane as he was!” She now begins to sob loudly. ”The madness helps – the madness is the key to replicating the magic of Provence.”
“Oui.Tre bien.” He grasps her shoulders. “You must share their madness and share their brilliance.” Robbie decides that now is the time to pose the question.
Will Amelie comply or will she retreat further into the darkness of insanity???
She turns to Robbie when he doesn’t reply. Fleur’s heart gives a start as panic sets in. Then she realizes the old war warrior is only sleeping. His chest continues to rise and fall gently. ‘Don’t you dare leave me yet.’ Fleur intones.
The elderly highly decorated RAF officer allows a gentle smile to spread across his face. In his mind, male voices singing around a piano in the officer’s mess tell him it is indeed a long, long way to Tipperary.
Fleur expresses a silent sigh. He is right, of course. They had to make this journey to the Allied war cemetery in the Reichswald Forest of North Germany. If only to bring him some peace at last, knowing where some of his crew were buried after that fateful night when he ditched his bomber in the Rhone river near Arles, France.
Flight Lieutenant Robbie Robson, DFC,DFM and DSO is not concerned in the least. He is too engrossed riding his bicycle in the dark along the aerodrome runway amongst ‘a murder of crows.’
In his sleep, he decides it all is rather appropriate really…