Writing for Fun
April 2018
The Immigrant - Sue Barker
The door swung open with a bang, the roar of laughter filled the cafe. Seven pairs of eyes swivelled towards the door. Into the cafe came a middle aged couple and immediately the atmosphere changed, instead of the sound of merriment there was a heavy silence. The couple looked around and the woman's smile died on her face.
There were only a few seats free and only two together; they moved towards the table. Before they could ask if they could sit there the elderly patrons put their bags and sticks on the available chairs. Four men sat glaring at the couple. They had already decided not to make them feel welcome, because quite frankly they weren't welcome. This was not going to be easy the pair soon came to understand; they clearly were not wanted here. The men turned their chairs just slightly so they blocked the aisle between the tables.
The couple looked at each other and conveyed their discomfort, did they try to pass or would it be better to leave. Well, they thought, we've got to start somewhere and here and now seemed to be the time. They smiled weakly at an elderly lady and pointed at the empty seat; the lady met their quizzical look and matched it with a glacial glare. They hesitated unsure what to do, finally unable to get any attention and with no chance of service, in defeat they left the cafe and went home.
When they arrived at the apartment they put the light on and slumped forlornly onto the sofa. This adventure wasn't going to plan; their dream of a happy future was fading away. When they moved into the village a couple of weeks ago they thought their new lives would be full of joy, anticipation and hope. They looked forward to making new friends. Of course the language barrier would have to be overcome and they now realised they should have tried to learn the language before they moved.
In desperation they went and spoke to their neighbours, who came from the same country as they did; it seemed they weren't the only ones receiving the silent treatment. To get through this tough time they came to rely on each other for help and comradeship.
Months later, things hadn't improved. Fortunately the apartments where they lived were filling up with their fellow countrymen so friendships were starting to be forged. The new residents started up their own social clubs and found there were opportunities to make money. Some entrepreneurs opened shops and restaurants; which were so popular with the new residents that the tills were ringing: and so they made their own community. Over time they no longer had any need to mix or integrate; never venturing into the cafe that snubbed them when they moved in.
The villagers knew this time would come; it had been the only topic of conversation for several weeks. If these interlopers had been the only ones it wouldn't have been so bad was the consensus of opinion but of course they never came in small numbers. Once it started there would be a deluge of people arriving. The locals had protest meetings but nothing had come of them. The local newspaper was full of stories of how immigrants had almost taken over the town ten miles away and now all the locals wanted to move out. These people didn't learn the language; they didn't try to learn about what it meant to be a local.
The new residents noticed that several of the locals had started to put their properties on the market and some had already moved out making the community even more antagonistic towards them. Posters began appearing in the local windows and although the newcomers didn't understand the language very well the intent was obvious. They were being ostracised. But the villagers couldn't win; they knew that the floodgates were open and there was nothing they could do to stop the influx of these unwelcome people. With venom on their lips and hatred in their hearts they loathed these British interlopers. After all they were the ones who voted for Brexit and now they had settled here in Normandy. Didn't the British realise that France didn't want them living here? The British arrogance was not to be encouraged; and Sacre Bleu how hard was it to learn French?