RED

 Geraldine's story

RED

 

It just came like that, out of the blue

-       Do you like red ?

-       What do you mean « Do I like red ? »  What a question ! Why this question ?

Julia and her Mum were taking a walk  along a little path leading to the swamp where Julia used to loveto go to and count the frogs : 2 eyes to a frog !  Last year, she had counted 44 eyes and it had taking her a few minutes, with her mother’s help to make out there were at least 22 frogs living in the pond.

A very joyfull little girl, rather tall for her 8 years, her head with a halo of dark brown curly hair, halmond-shaped green eyes  illuminating her pale complexion round  face.  She loved life, playing, jumping, running, learning new things and …chocolate cakes.

Veronica, her Mum was more reserved, only giving out her soul and thoughts to people she really appreciated and felt confident with. She was descreet, spoke in a rather low tone, always very classicly dressed in dark slacks with a variation of coloured tops.  Her hair was fair, her eyes blue and she carried her head high with a very elegant appearance.

-       Well it’s one of my favourite colours, and I was just wondering…

-        

-       Now that you make me think about it, answered Veronica,  it’s a lovely colour, but it has to be used with care and parsimony.  Look at the meadows around us : all that green with just a few red spots made by the poppies : try and imagine the opposite : red meadows all around with a few green spots… You would have to close your eyes from time to time to get away from it all….It would just be too much !

 

-       I think I really love yellow…

 

-       Ah yes !  And do you know why ?

 

-       I think it’s because it’s the colour of the sun and we are all really happier on a sunny day than a rainy one.  And also, look, the first flowers to blossom after winter are mainly yellow : crocusses, daffodils, dandelions, buttercups… They are all out there much earlier than the poppies or the red roses.

 

-       I’d never noticed said her Mum, you’ve really got a great deal of insight and you sure know how to look at nature…

 

-       Yes, when we’re out walking, I always look around and, you see, the next flowers to blossom are usually blue or mauve : the forget-me-nots, the irises, the cornflowers, the blue-bells…

 

-       OK !  what’s the next colour then ?

 

-       Well, we’ve had red, green, yellow and blue.  Maybe orange ?  But I don’t really like orange, except for eating one. Mmm…And oh yes, I do like nasturtiums and marigolds, but not as much as sunflowers…. Back to yellow again !

 

They’d got to the swamp and heard loads of jumping : the frogs were sure there and very difficult to count as they were stirring the water as they hopped around. 

-       Here are my friends said Julia. They’re so cute when sitting on their back legs and springing from one leaf to another !  I wish I could jump like that !

-        

-       Well, sweetheart, you are very good at jumping, but it is much easier when you are given springy hind legs like these frogs.  Oh ! By the way, they are green too !

 

Mother and daughter turned back and started strolling quietly home.  They both loved these shared moments when they could just talk together, watching around, with light heads and good legs.

But Julia was still intrigued by the meaning RED could have.  Very often, there was red in a flag ! she’d have to ask her Mum later why !

And also, the blood flowing in people’s and animal’s bodies was very red.

And she’d heard about passion and RED, but without understanding or remembering what it meant.

As they were reaching home, she risked a last question :

-       Mum, why don’t you ever wear red clothes, not even a blouse or a pair of gloves ?

 

-       Well, when we got married with your Dad, he wore a red carnation on his lapel.  And I had one in my hair.

 

Then, when he left and ever since, I’ve changed to pink !

 

 

 

 

Sarah's story

Red 3 – the tribulations of an inexperienced spy

(02.05.2023)

 

Last year, shortly before my fiftieth birthday, when I had just lost my job, been divorced by my husband and buried my dog, I ran into a friend who said she had a great job possibility for me.  I looked at her hopefully.

"It will involve a few risks," she said, as her handsome Irish setter tugged at the leash, "and you'll have to keep your eyes and ears open.  But it could be exciting."

I didn't even ask her if it paid well.  I was ready for anything.

"Your task will be to contact other spies."

Other spies?  What was I getting into?  "How will I know them?"

"They'll ask you, in some context or other, what colour you prefer.  You answer 'red'.  And if they reply, 'But wouldn't green or blue be better?' then that's your man.  Or woman."

As I was pondering this, the dog gave a sharp pull to the leash and off she went flying down the street.  I wasn't sure if I had any unanswered questions or not, but it seemed I was on my own.

For the next few days I was on the alert for adventure, but nobody ever asked me, in any context whatsoever, which colour I preferred.  Maybe I've got it wrong, I thought; maybe I'm supposed to listen for the word 'red' and then I suggest blue or green.

Almost as if this were an answer to my question, that very afternoon I went on a house tour, for lack of anything better to do, and stopped in the study of one of the houses to exclaim on the incredible quantity of books they had in there.

"Most of them are read," said the house's owner, smiling graciously.  Which was patently untrue—they were of all colours, and to my eye the predominant one was brown.  But I had my cue! 

"Wouldn't it be better if they were blue or green?" I asked archly.

Her smile faded, and she looked at me suspiciously.  "I mean," she said, somewhat tersely, as if she didn't appreciate my humour, "that in this house we do a lot of reading."

"Yes, of course," I mumbled, turning the colour I was supposed to prefer, and hurried into the next room.

The next day, still looking for activities to fill up my time, I went to an amateur sports event.  The runners were all lined up, down on one knee, at the starting line, not far from the man who seemed to be in charge.  "Are you red--" he cried out.

"Blue or green!" I shouted.

The man turned and glared at me, as did all of the competitors and most of the spectators as well.  The man began again, shouting stentoriously, "Are you ready?  Go!"  And off they went.  I slunk away from the sports field, not caring to find out who was going to come in first.

I began to feel I wasn't cut out to be a spy.  And besides, we had never discussed the terms of this engagement.  Maybe I didn't have a job after all.  When at that point I realized we were the fifteenth of July, which is my birthday, my morale plummeted about as far as it could go.  But I have something of a fighting spirit, and I decided to buy myself a present, to pull that morale back up again, by hook or by crook.

I went into a beckoning clothing store, where there were some cashmere sweaters on sale.  Perfect I thought, because they seemed to be just inside my budget bracket.  I was fingering them softly, admiring the striking colours, when the shop assistant came up.

"They're very comfortable," she said, "and they wear well.  Have you made your choice?"

There was one that caught my eye before all the rest, a stunning royal blue.  "That one," I said.

"Not the red one?" she asked.  Shocked, I remembered my mission.  And, indeed, the red one was a marvelous rich scarlet.

"Right!" I said.  "The red one!"

She looked at me curiously.  "Are you sure? Not the blue or the green?"

"No!"  I almost shouted her down.  "The red one, the red one!"

She backed away, eyeing me with distaste and went to the cash-desk to wrap up the garment.  "Cash or credit?" she asked as I followed her.  "No need to shout."

I paid with my credit card, she gave me the parcel and then turned away.  I coughed.  She turned back.  "Yes?"  I looked at her meaningfully; I'm not sure that I didn't wink.  "Well?" she said, impatiently.

I swallowed and smiled apologetically.  "Nothing, nothing." 

As I bowed and retreated she raised her eyebrows slightly and said something that sounded like "potty".

Totally nonplussed, I made my way to the door of the shop.  At least I had my birthday present, however, and in fact it was a very nice colour; which was a consolation.  I walked towards the town park, thinking a stroll around the lake would do me good as well.  Just inside the gates there was a gaily painted tent I had never seen before. 

Always open for new distractions, I went up to it.  The woman standing before the tent flap headed me off. 

"Have you got an invitation?" she asked.

"Ah, no."  Too bad, it might have been fun.

"What colour is it?"

It was my turn to look at her as if she were daft.  "I haven't got one," I repeated.

"Yes, but what colour is it?" she insisted.

"Red?" I replied, as by automatism.

"Wouldn't green or blue be better?" she asked. 

As I was standing there dumb-founded, wondering what the next move was supposed to be, she shoved me through the flap into a dim vestibule and through there into the brightly lit interior of the tent.  A dozen voices shouted "Happy birthday!" and a few firecrackers went off.  As soon as I came to my senses, I saw a crowd of my old friends, a table decorated with flowers and set with a huge cake and diverse other eatables and drinkables.

I won't go into how I broke down and cried.  Suffice it to say that we had a splendid party and that afterwards, that same friend said that she did in fact have a proper job opening to propose to me.  That is where I am working now, and there is a very congenial man who is my colleague.  What's more, Nancy has given me one of her bitch's pups.  I've named him Red.