Is he ill? or worse? How would we know? Would his daughter-in-law come by and tell us? We know that he lives nearby - but no one seems to know his address. And Francis acknowledged that he doesn't know his phone number. I volunteered to play detective. I'll find him, I vowed. And, of course, through the magic of the internet, I found a likely candidate in the online phone book.
This morning I picked up the phone and dialed a number. What will I say if it's a stranger? I'd prepared my speech about looking for "the Mr. Pons who is 96 years old . . ." No need. After several rings, Mr. Pons answered. I recognized his voice right away. Whew. He's alive. He's very hard of hearing, and so I had to speak quite loudly to communicate. I think he was touched to hear that we - the Cabane à Huîtres - were worried about him, and he assured me that even though he'd been feeling a little tired lately, he wasn't ill, and he'd be coming in soon.
I called Francis to relay the news, and we all heaved a sigh of relief. It's nice to know that you're missed. Here's Mr. Pons with Francis:

And with Sophie:

p.s. After my phone call this morning, Mr. Pons went to the Cabane for lunch. I wasn't there, but Francis called me afterwards and said that Mr. Pons was touched by our concern and left "Happy as a king."
No comments:
Post a Comment