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A couple of older men at the back still shuffled around, but the room had mostly quieted. I had their attention, and my voice stopped squeaking.
“Alors, listen carefully.” I tried to catch the eye of some of Michel’s bored-looking pals and turned up the volume. “I’m standing here tonight, as an ordinary young Frenchman, to remind you of this: impossible is not French!”
Thank you, Napoleon Bonaparte. Not only did the guy have some killer uniforms, but he also had a bunch of cracking one-liners, and this one hit a nerve with just about every proud Frenchman lined up in front of me. So I followed it up with another.
“Until we spread our wings, we have no idea how far we can fly.” A few nods filled the pause while my words sunk in. “And I’m going to show you how to spread them wide.” I opened my arms to demonstrate. “Because united, we can be as strong a company as any. Small, maybe, but together, like a flock of seagulls, and still produce the best salt in the whole of France!”
Jerome’s facial contortions suggested I might be overdoing it a tad. Tant pis, I was going big or going home. Another of Marcus’s favourite expressions, according to Charles. Before anyone had a chance to ask the bloke next to him if sections of my oratory sounded familiar, I flipped over the first page of my paper chart. Technologically, we were still in the dark ages, but if I had my way, that was going to change. And over the next twenty minutes I outlined how. All of Charles’s graphs, simplified and drawn out in thick black marker. Page after page of them. Showing how we could make it work, how we could expand, consolidate, profit, secure our futures. Maintain our heritage, safekeep our ecological sites.
You could have heard a fucking pin drop when I’d finished. Mind you, the sound of whirring brain cogs chugging around and around might have drowned it out, because in the few seconds that followed, I reckoned I had the votes of every single man in that room sitting in the palm of my hand.
Until old Frederic, who’d spent all his wages at the bookies that week, but still wasn’t quite old enough to draw his pension, yelled, “Oi, Flora! Your fancy charts are all well and good. But what’s in it for me?”
I could have thrown a fucking sack of salt at him. And a whole cartload at his mate Claude, who added his cents worth by waving around the Selco bid summary sheet and reminded all the old-timers of the tidy sum they could have in their bank accounts by the end of the year if they signed along the dotted line today. Jerome clutched his head in his hands, and I didn’t dare meet the eye of his fucking father. People twisted in their seats and started talking to their neighbours.
Emotion, that was what Charles had said. Put some emotion in it. Speak to their hearts. Speak to Michel’s heart especially. Get him onside and the rest will follow. You can do it, Florian, I know you can. Trust in yourself.
This was my last chance, and I banged the table hard with the flat of my hand.
“I have one more thing to say,” I shouted above the noise. “Please let me say one more thing and then I’ll be quiet, and we’ll put it to the vote.”
“Make it snappy, Flora,” hollered a voice from the back. “My dinner’s waiting for me at home.”
Connard. With a big gulp of air, I steeled myself for a last-ditch effort.
“There are men in here who hate each other’s guts. You know who you are. Men who have fallen out with their neighbours, their brothers, even their own sons. That is the nature of a small community and generations of families, whether we like it or not.”
Quiet again. Some dropped their gazes to the floor, others exchanged knowing glances. Our island history stretched back to Napoleon and beyond; some legendary fallouts and grudges had passed down through several generations.
“And some of you don’t care what happens in the future, because your line will end with you. And that’s fine. My own might even end with me. Although I hope it doesn’t, because my family have farmed our patch of land for as long as any of you.”
“Better change teams then, hadn’t you, Flora?” quipped someone. Oh, fucking merde this Flora thing was going to stick. Although, to be fair, the man had a point. I did want kids one day, but unless I found a guy who wanted them too, then it was unlikely to happen.
“So let me finish on this,” I continued, as if I wasn’t being name-called as though we were back in the school playground. “Some of you will want to pass on a legacy to your children. Children who are still young, or, like mine, not even born yet. And I hope you vote accordingly.”
I waited, praying I’d struck a chord amongst a few of the younger men. Jerome for one was nodding as though his head was about to drop off.
“But some of you have children disinterested in your business. Who are already grown and have moved away from the island or taken up different careers. Or who have their own patches of land and don’t need to inherit yours. And you know what? That’s okay too.”
A few men chuntered, checking the time on watches or phones. I had about ten seconds left before I lost the entire room.
“So let’s forget about leaving stuff to children. Because I have a feeling we will never agree on the value of that. But ask yourselves this: what comes after your children? How would you like to be remembered by future generations? As the foolish Frenchman who lost his land? As the ancestor who sold out so he could buy a luxury car, or take a Caribbean cruise? Or threw it away on the horses?”
I halted, to focus my gaze on Michel. And then swept it across to old Claude and to Frederic. I had their attention now, at least, and fought the urge to squeeze my hands into tight fists, letting out a long slow breath before carrying on.
“My papi started this cooperative. He was just a young man at the time, younger than me. Over sixty years ago now. In this very room, with his wife and a couple of friends. The majority of you know him, of course. I’ve lived with him most of my life, helped him work the land since I was a small boy. He was the father I never had.”
And never missed, because Papi had been all the father I’d ever needed.
“He’s old now. And a little forgetful. Sometimes very forgetful. And not always great company. His wife, my grandmother, is dead, and some days I think he is waiting to join her. Because she was the love of his life.”
This hadn’t been in the script. For the very good reason that a huge lump filled my throat and threatened to spill over into tears. Trust the only fucking gay in the room to get all emotional. From the second row, I sensed Jerome imploring me to hold it together. Sniffing, I counted to ten again and blinked a few times. No way would they get the satisfaction of seeing me fall apart. Later, in the privacy of my own home, maybe. But not here. I cleared my throat.
“And you are probably wondering what this has to do with salt. And the answer is: not very much. Yet, at the same time, everything. Because, when my papi dies, my abiding memories of him won’t be as a difficult old man who asks me the same question every morning and forgets his route back from the supermarket. Nor as a man who chats to his dead wife every day, as if she’s watching telly in the next room. But as a wonderful father and grandfather who worked to give me this: my very own piece of this precious island, a piece of this island’s history. And I’ll tell you this much: greedy rich companies like Selco will come and go. But no matter how rich they are, they don’t have what we have. They don’t have the rich history families like ours share between us. They don’t have the salt waters of our island flowing through their veins. They have never experienced the simple joy of witnessing the sun drop behind our crystal lakes, night after night after night, like it has done for hundreds of years. So, let me tell you this: if Selco want my patch of land? It will be over my dead body.”
I stared straight at Michel as I finished. “Be like my Papi. Please. If nothing else, hold onto your land for your grandchildren and great-grandchildren, so that in years to come, they may remember you as the proud, canny Frenchman who secured their futures. Let them remember you with pride, fondness, and love.”
CHAPTER 26
