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habitation. On one, washing hung from a line strung
between masts, on another a family of cats played hide and
seek on deck, and further on, a couple lounged in canvas
chairs, drinks in hand. Beyond were the large luxury
schooners, white and gleaming, chrome wheels catching
the light of the rising moon. The plop of a fish disturbed
the perfect reflections and the white lines wriggled like a
child’s skipping rope. A yacht with a light at the masthead
glided in silently between the two towers at the entrance.
At that moment we fell in love with La Rochelle.
But would I get a job here?
The following morning, I set off for the school which
overlooked an old dock pool, quiet after the animation of
the harbour area. I went in to try to arrange an interview. I
felt fairly confident, after all I had years of general
teaching experience, although admittedly I was a novice in
language teaching, but I had good marks from my course,
an English as a foreign language teaching course I had
taken the previous year, and I had already been offered a
language school job in Normandy. This was on hold while
we considered whether I should accept it. Too far north,
was what we had thought. Half an hour later I emerged,
feeling a little dazed.
Bill greeted me with, “So when’s the interview?”
“No interview… I’ve been offered a job. Just like
that.”
He grinned. “What? Just like that? Good for you. Now
let’s go to one of those bars and enjoy the sun while you
can fill me in with the details.”
A row of pavement bars and restaurants bordered the
harbour, where boats edged in through the towers bustling
busily to their moorings. We chose a café and settled to
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