Since James
was fluent in French hav
ing been to school in Paris when his father was posted there, he applied to work as an orthopaaedic surgeon in France for a year. We were excited to be going from Leeds to live in Grenoble in the Isère region. At that time we had two very young children – a one-year-old baby and a two-year-old toddler, so our luggage included large items like a double buggy, a travel cot, and of course, James’s double bass. All of it plus passengers wouldn’t fit in a single car, so we had to travel in two. Without really thinking things through, the decision was that James would go ahead in the front car with the passports, map, money, and his double bass, and I would follow behind with the babies and most of the luggage. We envisaged an idyllic meander through rural French countryside. However, because this was before mobile phones, the internet or even the Euro, it was a hare-brained plan.
Our ferry crossing from Dover to Calais encountered stormy gales and blew us off course. We finally docked many hours later not in France, but in Belgium. I’m not a great sailor at the best of times, but because I was one of the designated drivers I could not take any anti-nausea medication because it makes you sleepy. Of course I was seasick. In fact I was so ill that I lay on the floor of the heaving vessel thinking I was about to die! When we finally docked at the port of Zeebrugge it was dark and raining, the the fresh air made me feel better. As the port officials started to wave vehicles off the ferry, James bundled the babies into my car, While I groggily turned on the engine he stuck his head through the window and told me to follow him off the ferry, keep on his tail, and stay on the right! I remember looking up and seeing the rear-lights of his car disappearing into the stormy darkness. There was nothing for it but for me to drive and try to keep up.
Predictably, we very quickly we lost each other in the darkness and pouring rain, but I drove gamely on, following the road and keeping my eyes on the car lights ahead of me, hoping James knew where he was going. After a few miles that car, which I had assumed was James’s, sped away in the distance, and I lost sight of it. I began to panic. Where was James? He had our passports, all our French Francs and the map – I stupidly had nothing useful with me, and there were two tired kids wailing on the back seat. Why on earth was I was driving on a dark road in a foreign country with no clear idea of where I was? Realising the danger I tearfully stopped in next lay-by. Tears soon gave way to anger – how dare my husband drive off into the night and leave me in this predicament, I seethed! Traffic whizzed past me in the darkness. The kids stayed ominously silent in the back.
Suddenly a car screeched to a halt right behind me in the lay-by. The driver opened his door and walked towards me in then pouring rain. He motioned me to wind down my steamed-up window, and I saw a very worried but very relieved James. “Thank God! I’ve found you!” he said, “I thought you were following me, but when I turned off the motorway in the direction of France the car behind me shot past and I realised you hadn’t been on my tail. It’s a miracle we’ve actually found each other and that we’re all safe!”
Well, all I can say is that the poor man stood there in the dark , getting soaked while I gave him quite an earful! He had the grace to be contrite. When I finally got rid of all my pent-up indignation I got out of the car and we hugged one another . God was indeed looking out for us that day, and we had learned a valuable lesson.
o
