On the morning after the méchoui on the Esplanade I awoke to a splitting headache, partly the result of dehydration from an excess of the strong local red wine and partly from lack of sleep. Dense nightmares had crowded in one after the other, my subconscious serving up dystopian scenarios whose vivid detail confounded me upon waking.
As I opened my eyes, my stomach lurched. My lifeblood drained away leaving me in a state of dark confusion. A sense of hopelessness replaced the previous evening’s euphoria after the solution of the bakery case. I tried to sit up but my flaccid muscles wouldn’t co-operate, and I flopped back down on the pillows. What had happened to my usual energy and joie de vivre?
I’d gone to bed with my mind filled with vibrant plans for the opening of the brocante, the antiques shop next to our house on the arm of the bay in the little French seaside town of Beaucoup-sur-Mer. Now everything was the color of dishwater. Overnight my world had collapsed in on me blotting out the sun.
I rubbed my eyes and told myself to get a grip. I was Mpenzi Munro, guardian of my two younger brothers, nine-year-old Jimbo and eighteen-year-old Sam. They depended on me to head up the household, manage the trust fund left to us by our father and supervise their education and personal development. My job description precluded falling to pieces on a beautiful summer’s day.
I counted my blessings: a roof over our heads, food in the kitchen, Zig and Zag our two majestic German shepherds, Piffle a cute Dachshund who’d adopted us when his master went to jail, Gwinny our long lost and feckless mother who had turned up unexpectedly the day we arrived in Beaucoup-sur-Mer, our house guest Audrey and her two kids, and the many French and English friends we had made since arriving in our new town three weeks before.
And not forgetting Felix.
My father, Sir Archibald Munro, world famous anthropologist who was presumed dead, possibly eaten by cannibals in the Middle Congo, had sent Felix to be my bodyguard. He’d arrived from Africa as a beautiful Savannah cat, half domestic half serval, but there was more to him than that. Much more. He was the first shape shifter I had ever met. He could morph smoothly from cat to man … or big cat. In his leopard form he’d protected me from the wicked witchdoctor of the Wazini, killed over a hundred rats in our back yard and raced to rescue me from my would-be murderer.
Felix was most definitely a blessing.
But a mixed blessing. Steadfast, loyal, protective he was the ideal bodyguard on the one hand. But on the other, he was oh so beautiful — if one can call a man beautiful. Well over six foot, tawny locks, eyes the color of peridots and with the musculature of a romance hunk refined by his natural feline grace. Oftentimes I caught myself on the verge of fancying him, this strange creature with his unknown history. But Felix was all business towards me. I was his boss as he never ceased to say.
Yes, I could add Felix to my list of blessings. But even the thought of Felix didn’t cheer me up.
So why was I so down? And what could I do to change my mood? Live in the moment. I closed my eyes and gave myself up to the fine Egyptian cotton sheets skimming over my arms and legs, the feather pillows beneath my head and the firm mattress, but sensuality stood off in the corner of my room and laughed at me. All these signs of the care Gwinny had taken in setting up the house for the children she had abandoned when I was eighteen and Jimbo was a toddler did nothing for me. For Jimbo the reappearance of our mother in his life was a blessing although Sam and I still struggled with this new version of her motherhood.
My thoughts were becoming gloomy. I should change them. I looked around my bedroom. More evidence of our absent father’s care for us in providing us with this historically important old house and of our mother’s attention to detail — crisp white walls offset by rich velvet curtains, highly polished oak floor spread with antique oriental rugs, and an impressive armoire and dressing table dating from Napoleon’s time as Emperor of France.
A motor boat sped past across the mouth of the bay, the ron-ron of its engine sliding into my room on the sunbeams glinting through the shutters.
All these wonderful things in my life and yet I couldn’t raise the energy to sit up. Was I ill? I felt my forehead, but it was cool. I counted off my limbs. No pains, no cramp. No stomach ache. So it was nothing physical.
A knock at my door.
Oh no, I couldn’t cope. I turned over and hid my face in my pillows. Maybe whoever it was would go away and leave me in peace to wallow in my misery. I heard the door open. I burrowed deeper into the bedclothes. The floorboards creaked. My unwelcome visitor landed on my feet with a bounce and pulled the sheet away from my face.
Jimbo.
A loud skittering and clattering of claws and the three dogs swung into the room. Zig and Zag jumped up to join Jimbo. Poor little Piffle couldn’t make it. He sat on the rug wagging his tail and keening for attention. Even that didn’t raise a smile. I lolled back and put a pillow over my face.
“Go away, Jimbo. Can’t you see I want to be alone?”
“What’s wrong with you, Penzi? You said we could have a family day today. Drive up the coast and have a picnic. You promised.”
He grabbed hold of the pillow and tried to yank it off while I held on with all my might. He won because I didn’t have the energy to fight back.
I tried to smile at Jimbo but my muscles wouldn’t oblige.
Jimbo threw my pillow on the floor. “Penzi, you look awfully gray and sort of stiff. Are you all right?”
I didn’t want to alarm him. I was Jimbo’s mother figure. He needed to see me confident and happy but the gloom – it wouldn’t go away.
I turned back on my side again. “Please go away, Jimbo.”
“Well, if you feel like that…,” he replied in a tiny voice as he scrambled off my bed.
“And take the circus with you,” I added.
The mattress rebounded as the dogs jumped off my bed to follow Jimbo.
“What’s all this about a circus?” called out a voice from the door, Felix’s deep baritone.
Oh no. I didn’t want him to see me like this — so negative. He’d come to bring me my morning tea, one of the acts of caring he performed for me every day. Perhaps if I stayed hidden beneath the pillow, he would go away.
The mug clunked down on the glass-topped bedside table. I held my breath.
“Penzi?” he asked.
When I didn’t answer he pulled the pillow away from me. I turned my head away and covered my face with my hands but in vain. He walked around to the other side of the bed.
“What is wrong with you?” he asked sitting down beside me and drawing my hands away. “Are you feeling ill? You look terrible. As if you spent the night with a vampire.”
That made me sit up. I wanted to laugh but I couldn’t.
Felix looked deep into my eyes and I scooted back against the headboard to escape his scrutiny.
“Did the witchdoctor come back? Is that it?”
I shook my head unable to voice my feeling of desolation.
Felix took my hands in his and rubbed his thumbs over my skin. “You feel cold and clammy, Penzi.”
I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I sniffed as the tears began to fall. “Let go of me, I can’t wipe my nose,” I said pulling my hands away.
He set them free, but he leaned in close and wiped my tears away with his finger, so gently he made me sob again. I snatched up the sheet to stem the flow, all the time observing myself from afar. This wasn’t me. I wasn’t a crybaby. I was strong, determined, in control — always. So what was going on?
“Oh, you poor baby,” I heard Felix say.
Next moment he swept me up into his arms and hugged me tightly, my tears falling on his clean shirt.
We stayed like that rocking slowly backwards and forwards while he comforted me as I would Jimbo when he hurt himself.
Gwinny appeared in the doorway. I tried to straighten up. I didn’t want her to see me so weak. But Felix wouldn’t let go of me.
Gwinny came into the room and tapped Felix on his shoulder. “What’s going on? Jimbo’s sitting in the kitchen looking miserable. He won’t go and fetch the croissants for breakfast. He says Penzi’s angry with him and he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong.”
I closed my eyes and shook my head.
“Penzi?” Gwinny asked as she sat on the other side of my bed. “Are you poorly?”
I shook my head again. If only everyone would just leave me alone. Couldn’t they see I wasn’t capable of answering their questions?
With an unusual spurt of maternal feeling Gwinny took charge. “What you need is a long hot bath and then a good solid English breakfast.”
Even through my misery I was touched. I couldn’t remember the last time Gwinny had taken care of me.
She turned to Felix. “Why don’t you go to the baker’s with Jimbo? Along the way you can explain that Penzi isn’t angry with him. She’s feeling out of sorts, that’s all.”
Felix patted my thigh and left to follow Gwinny’s suggestion.
Gwinny picked up the mug of tea and placed it in my hands. “Drink this up while I run a bath for you.”
As I sipped my tea, the sounds of the family setting about their daily life filtered up the stairs to me. The dogs barked at the front door anxious not to miss out on a walk to Monsieur Brioche’s bakery to fetch our breakfast, Sam whistled as he set the table and Audrey’s children scampered up and down the stairs. Audrey called out to them to be quiet because Penzi wasn’t well.
All these people caring about me and still I couldn’t shake off my strange mood.
The water stopped running in my bathroom and Gwinny came out. She stripped the covers off me and dragged me to my feet.
“Come along, Penzi. Into the bath with you. I’ll find you some clothes.”
As I stepped into the bath which she’d scented with my favorite fragrance, she put my clothes on the bathroom stool.
“Only fifteen minutes, mind you. Any longer and you will get too maudlin.”
And with that she left me to attempt to wash away my nightmares and prepare to face the new day.

By the time I was bathed and dressed Felix and Jimbo had returned. Felix came leaping up the stairs to check on me.
“You’re looking better, boss. Here, let me dry your hair for you,” he said, taking my towel out of my hands and indicating the chair in front of my dressing table.
I didn’t have the strength of mind to resist and took my place.
Felix wrapped the towel round my head and, moving his hands over my scalp, he scrunched and dried my hair giving me a gentle massage at the same time.
When he removed the damp towel and threw it into the bathroom, he caught my eye in the mirror.
“That’s better. At least you’re clean now. The world always looks better when one’s fresh.”
I scowled at him. “Felix, I have to blow dry my hair and straighten it. It’ll turn frizzy if I don’t.”
“Nonsense. Look,” he snatched up a hair band, swept my hair up and fastened it into a loose pony tail. “Today, feeling the way you do, it’s important to cut out anything unnecessary. You look great au naturel. Now, come downstairs and have the huge breakfast Audrey and Gwinny are cooking up for you.”
I had to admit the smell of frying bacon had been tantalizing my taste buds for a while. My depression couldn’t be that deep if I hadn’t lost my sense of smell. That made me more hopeful as I followed Felix out of the room and down the stairs to our family kitchen. Maybe I could throw off my awful mood.

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