Best Friends (Nancy Pearl's Book Crush Rediscoveries)

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Best Friends (Nancy Pearl's Book Crush Rediscoveries) Page 3

by Mary Bard

While Suzie divided the picnic, Co Co kept up a steady stream of questions about America. Some of her words were in French, but Suzie found that if she listened carefully, she understood what Co Co meant without any difficulty. Co Co gestured constantly with her hands, and when she was hunting for an English word, she paused, shrugged, and held her head on one side like a robin listening for a worm.

  Co Co’s face reminded Suzie of a Flemish painting she had seen at the art museum. Her eyebrows were like charcoal strokes that tilted up at the corners, her large dark eyes were shadowed with straight dark lashes, she had a wide mouth, a pointed chin with a dimple in the center, and freckles across the bridge of her nose like a sprinkling of black pepper.

  To keep from staring and being rude, Suzie asked, “Have you always gone to a French school?”

  “Oh, mais non! I have never attended school. I have had a—a governess—who supervised my education. Tell me, Suzie, do American girls wear—uh—the pants?” She pointed to Suzie’s jeans.

  “Sure. We always wear them after school and on Saturdays. Don’t you?”

  Co Co threw up her hands. “Mademoiselle would not approve. Not at all. In France well-brought-up young ladies do not wear the pants. But now that I am in America, I, too, will wear them. It is well that you live so near to me. That is your house there, in the trees, is it not?”

  Suzie nodded and swallowed to give her nerve enough to ask the all-important question. “Co Co, how old are you? Not that it makes one bit of difference, I don’t care really, but I just wanted to know.”

  Co Co said, “I have eleven years. And you?”

  “I’m eleven, too. I will be twelve on July first.”

  Co Co clapped her hands. “I, too, will have twelve years July three. So, we are the same age. Excellent! Are you also as tall as me? Let us stand.”

  They stood back to back while Suzie rested a book on the top of their heads. It balanced perfectly.

  They grinned at one another and sat down again. Jet obligingly made room for both of them to lean against him. Co Co said, “I did not know a dog would also make a chair. He is comfortable, are you not, Jet?” She patted him and murmured French endearments, which he seemed to enjoy.

  “Did you always speak French before you came here?” Suzie asked.

  “Yes, with Mademoiselle and the other French people. Papa usually speaks English with me. I speak both of them. With you I will speak both of them together. Suzie, is there another little cake in that basket?” She fished around until she found the last two cookies, offered one to Suzie who refused, and ate both of them with great relish.

  “Have you always lived in France, Co Co?”

  “I think you would say we lived in Paris, but Papa is an engineer and we traveled constantly. We lived in Italy, England, Sweden, Holland, and once in Spain and in Egypt. It was tiresome and sometimes so dirty!”

  “How neat!” Suzie’s eyes were shining. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”

  Co Co shrugged. “It is pleasant to be with Papa, but it is also tiresome. We fly all the time and the airplane makes me sick.”

  “I’ve always wanted to fly. Is it fun to live in France?”

  “Mais oui. All of France is beautiful, but you would love Paris. The puppets and the theaters and the flowers and the parks and the little sidewalk cafes. Paris is so beautiful!”

  Suzie sighed blissfully. “If only social studies were like this.”

  Co Co said, “And what is that—social studies?”

  “Oh, geography and history and government and principal cities and rivers and imports and stuff, and it’s so dull! Promise you won’t laugh at me if I tell you something?”

  Co Co shook her head. “I will not laugh.”

  “I’ve never even been on a train or a plane.”

  “Oh, you are indeed fortunate. You have traveled by boat, perhaps?”

  “Not even by boat. I’ve never been anywhere. I’ve stayed right here all my life in this very same house.”

  “You are indeed fortunate. To live in a house instead of hotels and be with other children. I would like that.”

  Suzie was so astonished she leaned over and peered into Co Co’s face to see if she was teasing, but Co Co looked serious and wistful.

  “Oh, Suzie, I have never been in one city long enough to have a dear friend of my age. Always, except for Mademoiselle and Papa and the children in the hotels, I have been alone. But now, Papa has promised me I will not travel and I may attend school. Is that not wonderful?”

  Again Suzie leaned over to see if Co Co was teasing, and again her face was wistful. “My gosh, that’s the first time I ever heard school called wonderful. Why, in my room . . .” Suzie began her long tale about school and Millicent and the Select Seven and Rich and Ray and Miss Morrison.

  Co Co listened as if it were the most fascinating story she had ever heard. Occasionally she interrupted to ask the meaning of a word, but mostly to say over and over again, “Tell me more—tell me more.”

  Co Co was so understanding that for the first time in her life, Suzie found her real thoughts just tumbling out. How awful it was to have your mother a teacher; how scared she was in school; how much she hated to be called “teacher’s pet”; all the things she had kept bottled up inside of her.

  Co Co nodded sympathetically. “I know, the children at the hotel thought I did not study because I did not attend the school. I had to study all the time—all the time. The only time Mademoiselle does not teach me is when she is asleep!”

  Suzie cheered up so much she began to tell Co Co all the pleasant things she could think of about school. Miss Morrison was just neat, and Rich and Ray were so funny they were just neat, and Marjorie and Sumiko and Barbara were keen girls, they were just neat.

  Co Co interrupted her. “This word ‘neat’—does it not mean orderly?”

  “It does, but when you speak American, you don’t use hardly any words at all. Anything that’s good—I mean really just neat—well, you say ‘neat’ or ‘keen’ and if something is really gruesome, you say ‘grubby’ or ‘droopy’ or ‘ghastly.’ It’s a lot easier.”

  Co Co nodded. “I will remember that. Mademoiselle will not approve but . . .”

  Just then they heard Mademoiselle calling, “Clothilde? Clothilde? Clothilde?”

  “Do you see?” Co Co made a face and leaned over the edge of the platform and called, “Je viens, Mademoiselle.” She started down the ladder and then peered over the edge of the platform and put her finger to her lips. “Mademoiselle will not care for the tree house. We will not speak of it for the present.” She giggled and disappeared.

  Suzie watched her run across the garden, curtsy to Mademoiselle, heard her speaking rapid French and then watched Mademoiselle shake her head and frown and use her scolding voice. “Non, Clothilde, non, non.”

  Co Co stamped her foot and waggled her fingers behind her back at Suzie and continued to argue in French with Mademoiselle. Finally with a last “Non, Clothilde, non, non,” Mademoiselle shrugged and turned and walked into the house.

  Co Co made a hideous face toward Mademoiselle’s retreating back and blew a kiss toward the Lookout. Then her father came out the door and said, “What’s all this, Co Co? What’s all the fuss about?”

  “It is Suzie, Papa. She is not a stranger. She is the daughter of your friends. She lives in the trees there. Mademoiselle forbids me to talk with her. I will not—I will not—” She began waving her arms toward the Lookout and speaking rapid French and stamping her foot until Suzie was worried for fear her father would not let her come back.

  Co Co’s father said quietly, “Calm down, Co Co. Gently—gently. You may play with Suzie. She must be the Wellses’ granddaughter. Please ask her to give my fondest regards to her family and tell her that I will call on them soon.”

  Co Co beamed. “Merci, Papa, merci, merci. I will go and tell Suzie.” Like a flash she ran across the patio and up the ladder. “My papa wishes to send his regards to your family. Mademoisell
e cannot tell me what to do now. I am an American. Tell me more about that marvelous school.”

  “Okay. But first tell me something. Is Mademoiselle your mother or your aunt or something?” Co Co laughed. “Oh, mais non. She is my governess. My mother died when I was little.” She reached down inside of her blouse, pulled out a locket, and opened it. “Here is a picture of my mother.”

  Suzie saw a beautiful young girl’s face, very much like Co Co’s with the same dimpled chin and tilted eyebrows. “My mother was also called Clothilde, but she was very beautiful.” Co Co put the locket back and sighed.

  Suzie said, “I know just how you feel. My father was in the navy and was drowned when I was two years old. I’ll show you his picture when we go to my house.”

  Co Co patted Suzie comfortingly. “The war. So terrible! My father was also gone for a long, long time. But Suzie, I have thought of something. A moment—no, I do not know the English word. When two children are born the same day, from the same mother, what do you say?”

  Suzie thought a moment. “Oh, do you mean when they’re twins?”

  “Oui, oui,” Co Co grinned. “Violà. We are almost twins, are we not?”

  Suddenly a commotion in the patio below interrupted them. They leaned over and watched Mademoiselle obviously arguing with Co Co’s father. She gestured toward the Lookout, waved her hands and shook her head. Co Co’s father’s calm words were like English commas in Mademoiselle’s angry French. “Nonsense, yes, yes, I know it, ridiculous, I gave her permission, nonsense.” But instead of calming down, Mademoiselle became more and more excited.

  Co Co chuckled. “Ha-ha—Mademoiselle is now scolding Papa.”

  They burst out laughing and giggled until their stomachs were sore. Finally Co Co gasped, “Oh, my Suzie, it is indeed marvelous to laugh. Oh, I am so happy. Now tell me more about the marvelous school.”

  Suzie promptly launched into her radio serial version of how mean everyone was to her and how awful Rich and Ray were to Miss Morrison and on and on. But to her astonishment, Co Co, instead of sympathizing, ended each harrowing story with, “Oh, c’est formidable!” which so obviously meant “keen” and “neat” that Suzie began to wonder if school was so awful after all.

  Co Co even clasped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth and demanded more and more tales of Millicent’s behavior. “This Millicent, what a bad girl! Tell me, Suzie, how does this school appear?”

  “Here, I’ll show you.” Suzie unlocked one of her cupboards and took out several sketches of Maple Leaf. She explained the pictures of the large red brick school and showed Co Co where her room was. Each window held spring flowers, children formed rings around Maypoles, children were square dancing in old-fashioned costumes, teachers were standing and smiling beside each ring of children. Suzie had used watercolors in some and colored pencils in others and Co Co was delighted.

  “Maple Leaf is indeed formidable! The pictures, they are excellent. You are indeed an artist, my Suzie, and I would love to see this school.”

  “I know what I’ll do. I’ll ask Mother if it would be all right for you to go to school with me. Mother teaches the fourth grade and Miss Morrison is our teacher. Guess what Miss Morrison is going to do? She is going to marry an old principal!”

  “And what is that—an old principal?”

  “He’s just head of the whole school, that’s all. Mr. Wagner, the principal of our school, is so different from most. He is very strict of course, he has to be, but he’s really just neat! He lets us visit factories and the jail and fire stations and everything and we have programs on all the school holidays and we go to symphonies.”

  “But do you not study arithmetic and grammar and history?”

  “Oh sure, but that’s the dull part.”

  Co Co demanded all the stories about Millicent and the Select Seven over again. They talked and giggled until Co Co’s father’s head appeared over the edge of the platform. “This is a dandy tree house. Ours was right here, too, but it wasn’t half this good. Suzie, I’m awfully glad to see you. Grandmother Wells says we just have time to take you on a tour of our house, and then we are to come straight home for dinner.” He laughed, a deeper and more rumbling version of Co Co’s chuckle. “And if I remember correctly and I certainly do, our hands had better be clean and we’d better not be late. I have driven Mademoiselle back to the hotel, and I need some advice about the house.”

  As they climbed down and walked across the patio, Suzie was so excited she could hardly speak. At last, she was going to see the inside of the Pink House! By the time Co Co’s father opened the front door, her heart was beating so hard she was almost dizzy.

  But when she walked into the hall she nearly cried out with disappointment. It wasn’t light and airy and beautiful. It was dark and gloomy with brown woodwork and stucco walls. The living room was cold and stiff and reminded her of an aquarium with its dull green walls and thin gold chairs. She almost jumped when she saw the big black piano, its keys like bared teeth, crouched in one corner. The dining room was even gloomier, with cross-looking portraits scowling from the walls. The kitchen was white tiled and reminded her of the dentist, and the bedrooms looked cold and unlived in. It was so depressing that Suzie said, “Grandmother’s kitchen is the nicest place in our house. She has a rocking chair and geraniums on the window sills and it looks sunshiny. . . .” She clapped her hands over her mouth for fear she had hurt Co Co and her father’s feelings.

  Co Co’s father ruffled Suzie’s hair. “And at least four cats and a dog and it always smells of cookies when you come home from school. . . .”

  And Co Co said, “Perhaps your grand’mère would help us.”

  Suzie was so relieved that Co Co wasn’t going to live in this dark mournful place that she said quickly, “Oh, she would. And we have bowls of flowers and books and magazines and Grandfather’s pipes. . . .”

  “And it’s the most comfortable house I’ve ever been in,” Co Co’s father added. “We’ll make this one just as comfortable, so don’t worry. Now, we’d better go because it’s almost five-thirty.”

  When they reached the orchard, he said, “Here—each of you take a hand and I’ll show you the shortest way home.” Suzie and Co Co barely touched the ground as he jumped the hedge and took giant steps. Jet barked and ran back and forth and they arrived at the back door breathless with laughter.

  Grandmother opened the door. “Bill Langdon, you have no more sense of time than a cricket.” She reached up and kissed him. Then she put her arms around Co Co and said, “Welcome home, my dear.”

  Grandfather greeted Mr. Langdon as if he were a part of the family, and Suzie’s mother blushed when he said, “I’m sorry I ever called you ‘pest.’”

  As Suzie watched all this kissing and welcoming, she wondered if Grandmother had forgotten that just last night she was kind of mad at Mr. Langdon.

  “Come on in the living room,” Suzie’s mother said. “I’m dying to know what you’ve been doing all these years.”

  Grandmother turned to Co Co, just as if she’d known her all her life, and said, “Now you help Suzie set the table. Dinner is almost ready and I’m hungry as a bear.”

  Co Co smiled. “The bear is an animal. Hungry as a bear—I like that!”

  While the grown people were in the living room talking about all the years Mr. Langdon had been away, Co Co and Suzie talked about America and Co Co’s house and how they could make it more cheerful. While Suzie mashed the strawberries for the ice cream and toasted the angel food cake and made the salad, Co Co followed her around exclaiming, “But Suzie—you are so intelligent! You are a chef! You are so capable!” By the time dinner was ready, Suzie was so proud she was almost bursting.

  During dinner Mr. Langdon entertained them with stories of their life in France and of the many places they had visited. The tales he told were more exciting than any movie Suzie had ever seen, and she listened so hard she forgot to swallow.

  He said that after his wife h
ad died he had been very unhappy and had written none of his old friends in America. Also that he had traveled a good deal of the time and had found it difficult to receive his personal mail. He went on, “You probably thought it strange my not writing to what I have always considered my own family.” He patted Grandmother’s hand. “But I knew you’d understand if I ever got back. I knew our house would be waiting for us, and now that we are going to live in America, Co Co will be going to school here, and Mademoiselle can go back to Paris and resume her teaching there.”

  Suzie swallowed, “But if Mademoiselle goes back to Paris, who will take care of Co Co? She could come and live with us—I have twin beds in my room.”

  Mr. Langdon smiled. “I expect Co Co will spend most of her time here, just as I did. However, Mrs. MacGregor, the daughter of Mother’s housekeeper, is going to keep house for us. She has even offered to stay during the remodeling to see that everything goes well.”

  Meanwhile Co Co, who was calmly eating her third serving of fried chicken and spoon bread and green peas, murmured, “But this is delicious. American food is so delicious.”

  About ten o’clock, after Suzie had taken Co Co over every inch of her house, and Co Co had decided to make their house exactly like it even to the four cats, Mr. Langdon said it was time for them to go back to the hotel or Mademoiselle would scold them.

  Co Co curtsied to the grown-ups and said, “Bonsoir, dear friends of my father, thank you for a delightful evening.” Then she motioned to Suzie and led her over to the corner of the hall, out of earshot of the grown people.

  “Suzie, have you une chère amie—a dear friend?” she asked.

  Suzie said, “Well no, that’s just the trouble. I’ve never had a best friend.”

  Co Co took Suzie’s face tenderly in her hands and kissed her on either cheek. “Good! I will be your best friend, my dear Suzie.”

  Chapter Three

  Saturday

  Saturday had always been Suzie’s favorite day of the week, for it was the only day she could depend upon to have her mother’s undivided attention. If it was sunshiny, they did housework and worked in the garden until lunchtime. If it was raining, they went shopping, had lunch downtown, and spent the afternoon exploring.

 

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