Suddenly the winter cold came and jumped down like a great white tiger holding the Limousin in its teeth. Flowers & vegetation died, trees were stripped & the countryside looked like a condemned cheese board. I was on my final week assignment and looking forward to returning home for the Christmas holidays.

In the small Auberge, which was thankfully warm & cosy, there were just two other guests …one fellow fussily came & went with little more than a bonjour or bonne nuit.

The other chap had only just arrived. That evening he & I chatted over a bottle of Bergerac. He told me he was married adding ‘I’m having a few days break from the wife … business trip’ he said winking you know what mean.’ With that he said ‘sleep tight’ and went up to his room. I read a magazine then went to mine Next morning he joined me for breakfast.

He didn’t look good. He’d had a bad night he said. ‘Why?’ I asked. ‘Something very strange in my room.’ ‘What’ I replied. ‘I was just dropping off when I heard this kind of creaking & sighing, he said. ‘So I switched on the bedside light and looked around believing there was something or somebody in the room … then I saw what it was.’ ‘Saw what?’ I asked with noticeable intrigue.

‘It was the armoire by the window … creaking & sighing like you’d never believe … It was spooky I never slept all night … looked inside it more than once, nothing there … walked around the room, went back to bed … tried to read but couldn’t.’ ‘Look’ he said, ‘I’m not the sort of guy who imagines things … I’m a man of the world … but it was spooky’ Why don’t you change your room?’ I asked. ‘What, I’m not going to be made a fool of by a bloody piece of furniture’, he barked back. After another coffee and seemingly half asleep he left.

I had a dinner engagement elsewhere that evening so didn’t see him again that day. The following morning at breakfast he shuffled in grey faced, unshaven & with bloodshot eyes looking like a man who’d had a personal encounter with the devil. He joined me at my table. Clutching tightly the hem of the tablecloth with one hand & my left hand with his other, so much so the whites of his knuckles stood clear, barely audible he said, ‘last night I picked up this gorgeous girl & brought her back to my room … we had a few drinks, chatted a bit, then started getting amorous … immediately the armoire started sighing & creaking again and with a huge groan came down on the bed … the girl screamed & ran off out the room … I got hold of the armoire & kicked it violently upon which it squealed as if in pain … I tell you I’m getting out of this place now.’ With that he stood up, let go my hand with his trembling own, bid me farewell & tottered off without having any breakfast.

I didn’t see him again. When I checked out I asked the Proprietaire if there was anything special about the armoire in room 3 … ‘No, it’s just an ordinary armoire … I bought it when they refurbished the old convent in Montmorillon!’