The Start of Pierre Lambert 2 (working title). Out in The Fall

Chapter 1

They heaved the piano into place, secured it with heavy straps, jumped to the ground, and reviewed their handiwork. The removal van was now 80% full.

‘The hardest is done; I’ll get coffee.’ Marseille felt his phone vibrate and glanced while confirming orders, ‘Black? Sugar?’ Jacques and Philipe nodded; it was the standard morning cocktail of ‘le travailleur’. For the moment, neither could talk after the effort of that last piece and the pace of the morning’s work since their early start.

Marseille spoke. ‘Okay, 1045. I will be about fifteen; I need to catch up with a call. Until I get back, keep it moving. Fill in any spaces with the lighter boxes remaining. Once I’m back, we can do any final big heavy stuff together. D’accord?’ Again, they nodded.

Marseille walked away reading a text.

Philipe spoke. ‘He’s a mystery, that guy. How the fuck does he do that? He’s a machine. Nothing appears too heavy for him. He never gets out of breath, never sweats. How?’

Jacques considered.

‘No shortcuts. He’s in the gym three times a week doing heavy and functional training, then he sees this job as a bonus workout. Have you noticed how brilliant he is at arranging the boxes and furniture? He scans everything, then with his own algorithm-weight, volume, shape-places it within the van, usually getting it correct first time. Honestly, it is a fucking art form. And him the artist.’ ‘So, he does this five days a week?’

‘No. Monday to Thursday. Friday is with his mother; she’s not well and is in a home. The weekend is, well, his weekend. He’s brilliant, he’s busy, and he can say no to Saturday work. Unlike you and me. Oh, for a Saturday lie-in, a grasse-matinée.’ ‘Well, impressive. Let’s get the infilling done.’ Philipe paused. ‘And his name? Marseille? What’s that about?’ ‘Nobody knows anything about him except that’s where he’s from. He’s not a guy you’re going to query, apart from ensuring you get the immediate task at hand 100% correct.’