by A.D. Winch
Chapter 4 - The Competition Entries
Within three days of the competition being published the first entry arrived. It had been sent from Portugal and arrived in a manila envelope with looping handwriting on the front. Attached to the entry was a letter praising the puzzle and offering, it claimed, an even more challenging version. The solution was wrong. Andrea filed it carefully in the paper recycling bin and opened the second envelope.
Andrea was working in a windowless office in the Meyer’s Parisian apartment. It was hot and stuffy in the room due to the large number of sacks full of entries. They were piled up high and blocked the vent leading to the central air-ventilation shaft, which ran through the building from the basement to the roof. Amongst the sacks, and almost hidden, was a laptop with a special scanner attached. Andrea was sitting in front of it.
The process was simple. First she would open the envelope, with a well-manicured fingernail, and place the solution under the scanner. She would wait zero point five seven seconds for the laptop to declare if the solution were correct and then file the entry. Winners were placed in a wire mesh tray, losers in the recycling bin. It was a laborious and mechanical task, but she didn’t mind. She had been asked to do it and she would.
For four days, she worked tirelessly through the entries one-by-one. By the morning of the fifth day she had handled, and the computer had scanned 404,210 entries. Some were only slightly wrong and contained only one or two errors. Others were not even close. A huge number of people had blatantly filled in the puzzle randomly and hoped they would win. Over a thousand people sent begging letters and seventeen more sent threats. Only twenty-eight entries were correct and, of these, only four contained alternate puzzles that worked.
On the fifth day, Andrea took the winning entries from the tray and looked them over in detail. The first winner was from Finland. Her name was Aamu Kuusi and she was twenty-six years of age. She would receive the prize money, but she was not a suitable ‘friend’ for Eric. Jose Moreno from Spain was in his eighties. Eliisabet Raudsepp from Estonia was fifteen and ‘Fraser’ from Scotland did not give his age but claimed he was, “no spring chicken.” Even though they were all winners, none of them fitted the criteria she had been given. Mr. and Mrs Meyer would not be happy. Instead, she picked up a headset attached to the laptop and used it to call Serge.
Serge had managed the Post-Office for seventeen years where the Meyer’s PO Box was based. Not only did he work in the Post-Office but he also lived there. Serge was scared of the randomness of the outside world, the dangers it possessed and the people it housed. He was sitting in his office when the phone rang, admiring stamps and reflecting on the predictability of letters. They were written, sent, arrived and read, altogether a very straightforward routine.
He answered in a gruff voice and spoke as if he wanted to be off the phone before he had even picked up, “Bonjour.”
“Serge, it is Andrea Duna,” she said in French.
At the sound of Andrea’s voice, Serge relaxed, and his voice mellowed. He did not like people, but he had warmed to Andrea because, like letters, she was predictable and followed routines.
“Andrea, what can I do for you?”
She explained that the competition was over, and the PO Box could be closed. Serge looked around his office; he was drowning in sacks of entries.
“What shall I do with the remaining ones?”
“Recycle them,” answered Andrea.
“I would be delighted.”
Serge already knew the postal employees who were to have the pleasure of this task.
“Shall I bring in the empty sacks for you?” Andrea asked.
“You can keep them. There is no need.”
Serge knew the post office would not miss one or two empty post sacks.
“There are two hundred and fifty-three, Serge.”
For a moment, Serge reflected on the cost of all these sacks.
“In that case you had better return them. The post office closes at seven this evening, please come anytime before then.”
Andrea promised she would be there and then ended the call. She would now have to face the Meyers and break the bad news.
The Meyer’s living room had been hoovered, swept and brushed since Eric had destroyed the chandelier. In its place now hung what looked like a giant ice-cube with a spinning fan below it. It was a light completely out of character with the room, and Eric could not decide if that made it better or worse.
Since he had been told about the competition, he had kept tabs on Andrea and monitored her every movement. From the arrival of the first post bag four days ago to the phone call earlier that morning, Eric knew exactly what was happening. During the call he had been hiding in the ventilation shaft, perched on a narrow ledge five floors above the basement and listening to every word.
When Andrea put the phone down, he tiptoed around the ledge and snuck through the loose air vent back into his room. He crept silently through the hallway, into the living room and hid on the floor behind the chaise longue. His parents were sat upon it reading. Eric heard Andrea enter and followed her footsteps with his ears as she approached the expensive sofa. She greeted his parents, sat down on an Edwardian armchair next to the mantelpiece and told Eric’s parents what had happened.
Mrs Meyer brushed the news away as if it was really of no importance at all. This was a reaction she had perfected at beauty contests, and she used it whenever events did not go the way she had hoped. Her husband showed no reaction, his face and body language were impossible to read, which was not surprising from an experienced poker player. They sat in silence wondering what to do next until Andrea asked if she should re-advertise the puzzle in children’s magazines. Her suggestion was declined on the basis that Eric never read them so a suitable ‘friend’ would not be found there either.
“Maybe we should do what we have talked about for a long time and send him to boarding school,” said Mrs Meyer, banging her fist smartly on the sofa arm to make her point.
Hidden behind the chaise longue, Eric shook his head and mouthed, “No!”
He would much rather be left alone than go to boarding school and lose all his freedom. The idea of having to share a dorm room with other boys his age, and having all his time scheduled by teachers, he found terrifying.
“You are correct my darling,” agreed Mr Meyer. “Miss Duna, please contact the best boarding schools in England and Svitzerland. Make a decision and enrol Eric in one you feel vill best suit him. Thank you.”
Andrea replied that she would start the task once she had returned the sacks to the post office and that Eric would be enrolled in the best boarding school by the end of the following day. She left purposefully through the same door she had entered from. Eric slithered out of the room on his belly like an army commando. He was biting his tongue so hard that he could taste blood.
Granddad Benjamin was lying on his bed not feeling well. During the night while asleep, he had knocked all his medicines from the bedside table onto the floor. This would not have been a problem but before sunrise Mémé had decided to clean. Not wanting to disturb her husband, who was deaf while asleep, but woke at the slightest change in light, she had vacuumed in the dark. Her ancient beast of a hoover had greedily sucked up his multi-coloured tablets. He had, therefore, missed his morning medication and his lunchtime tablets too.
Ursula had left for the pharmacy after breakfast, but it was now almost four in the afternoon, and she had still not returned. A frown began to sketch across Granddad Benjamin’s face. He was in pain. His pills were not the best, but they did help. The frown stretched further as he thought about the puzzle competition. They should have heard by now that Ursula had won. Maybe his wife had been right when she said that the chances of winning were hopeless. However, if she had really felt this then she wouldn’t have posted the entry.
After forty-nine years of marriage, he knew that she also had dre
ams and most, like his, were for Ursula. If she could do anything to achieve these for her granddaughter, she would. He was convinced Ursula had won and decided he just had to wait patiently to be told. Pushing his head back into the pillow, he tried to relax and focus his thoughts on something else.
The high-ceilinged post office was not busy. A few elderly women queued up in front of glass counters, moaning about the hot weather while they waited. The automatic doors opened, and Andrea entered clutching twelve blue and yellow postal bags. Each of these bags was stuffed full of more bags. She strode to the front of the queue and asked to see the manager. The post office clerk phoned Serge and then directed Andrea towards the office door. The gossiping quickly stopped, and all eyes turned to Andrea. Nobody ever saw the manager. Nobody had seen the manager since his arrival many years before. Nobody could even remember what he looked like. The chattering began again as Andrea moved away from the queue towards a plain, grey door. This time the subject of conversation was her. The ladies shuffled their positions so they could watch but made sure they would not lose their place in the queue.
There was a creak as the door moved slightly on its hinges followed by shh-ing from the women in the queue. The door squeaked more as it opened, and gingerly Serge stepped into the doorway. A stunned silence fell over the room. His head bent down, and he looked over the grey tiled floor to make sure there was no obvious danger. Reassured by the lack of water, or other slippery liquid, he stepped cautiously out of his office.
Serge was an average sized man with prematurely thinning hair which failed to cover his bald patch. Conscious of this fact, he tried to brush the hair with his fingers, so it rested more evenly over his head. Feeling more confident in his appearance, he moved towards Andrea and greeted her with a hesitant kiss on both cheeks. Andrea thanked Serge for all his help and placed the sacks she was carrying by the door against the wall. She kissed him back on both cheeks, apologized for the short visit and left the post office to gasps from the watching women.
Serge watched her leave; his head sunk and he turned to the pile of sacks that Andrea had delivered. Keeping his back straight, to avoid pulling anything he shouldn’t, he bent down, picked up a sack and promptly dropped it again. It was far heavier than he had expected, and he did not want to risk any injury. The sack swayed, before falling onto its side and spilling out the contents onto the clean floor. The old ladies laughed, and Serge silenced them with a glare. Sacks now littered the area outside his office, and he knelt down to pick them up. As he picked up the first bag, he noticed a glimmer of white. He walked forward and picked up a small crumpled envelope with a Parisian postmark. It had been used more than once and written above the crossed out writing was the competition address. Serge stood up and carefully walked across the foyer to the post office’s doors. He would have run, but he was bound to slip on the polished tiles and had no desire to go to the hospital. However, he wanted to catch Andrea before she drove away, and he knew this would mean leaving the safety of the post office. In front of him, the automatic glass doors opened and closed in time with Serge’s quickening breath. He clenched his fists and walked through.
Outside it was noisy, busy and muggy after the calm and the cool of the post office. Cars rushed down rue Paul Baudry, zooming in front of Serge’s eyes, but none contained Andrea. Turning his head steadily, he surveyed the road but he could not see her. Disappointed, he turned to go inside when he saw a silver Range Rover indicate and pull out from behind a butcher’s van. Serge was relieved to see that Andrea was driving, and she was heading in his direction. As wary as a deer he stepped into the road, between two parked scooters, and waved to the Range Rover as it approached. He did not want to step out too far in case he was hit by a car and had to be taken to the hospital. The Range Rover slowed down and came to a stop beside him. The passenger window hummed as it opened, and Andrea leant across towards it.
“Serge, is there a problem?” Andrea asked. It was abnormal for him to leave the safety of the post office.
“I’m, er, fine,” replied Serge and moved towards the window. He produced the letter. “I found this.”
He dropped it through the window.
“Merci,” said Andrea, taking the envelope and opening it.
She scanned the puzzle solution completed in neat, childish writing, glanced at the written puzzle, looked at the age of the entry and smiled. The entry would have to be checked back at the apartment, but she knew it was correct.
Serge withdrew his hand from the window. Andrea closed it, waved goodbye and drove away. Delighted with his achievement Serge turned around carefully, admired his post office, stepped forward and disappeared down an open drain. Three old ladies rescued him, and an ambulance arrived to take him to the hospital twenty minutes later.
Agent Hoover stopped laughing at the man who fell down the gutter when he saw Ursula skip past the ambulance. With an energy that he normally reserved for tracking bank robbers, he took note of the street name, rue Paul Baudry, and scanned his computer database for drug stores on that street. The computer gave him two matches. From watching Ursula for several weeks, he knew that she had already been to the Pharmacie Europa, but she had yet to visit the newly opened Pharmacie Baudry nearby. With more speed than his fat fingers seemed capable of, he typed the name into his computer, found the pharmacy’s telephone number and used the computer to call.
A Frenchman with a bass drum voice answered, “Bonjour.”
“Hello,” he drawled, “you gotta a kid coming into your drug store in a minute and she’s gonna swipe some of your drugs. I’m just warning ya.”
The pharmacist was confused, “excusez-moi, mais je ne comprend pas. I... er... not... understand.”
Agent Hoover leant forward into his chair, moved his hands in the air to make his point and tried to make the pharmacist understand.
“YOU GOTTA A KID COMING INTO YOUR CHEMIST AND SHE’S GONNA SWIPE SOME OF YOUR MEDICINE! YOU UNDERSTAND NOW?”
Demonstrating a remarkable amount of patience the pharmacist replied, “Non, no.”
“Geez, buddy it’s about time you got with the program and learnt some English. Let me spell it out for you. Black girl, thin, thief, medicines, okay?”
“Okay,” replied the pharmacist.
“Understand?”
“Er... yes... thief... take medicaments.”
“Whatever you say bud,” and Agent Hoover ended the call.
For once he was alone in the large, dark room and had decided to have a well-earned break by catching this thieving punk instead of his usual search. His fingers sprang to life over the keyboard again. Within a few seconds, live feed from the Pharmacie Baudry security camera appeared on one of the countless screens in front of him. The black and white footage showed a well-built man in square glasses and a white coat standing behind a counter covered in medicine. Behind him were white shelves and drawers full of more tablets, creams and sachets. In front of him, the pharmacy’s door opened and Ursula entered.
On her first step into the pharmacy, Ursula had located the medicine her Granddad needed behind the counter. By the second step, she had spotted the most difficult to reach tablets and sized up the agility of the pharmacist. On the third step she had to fight back the urge to flee and convince herself that what she was doing was for the best, even though she knew it was wrong. Before she reached the counter, she had to perfect her most innocent and helpless look. She managed all of these and stood facing the full figure of the pharmacist. Pointing high above his left shoulder, she asked if she could have the Anusol cream in the blue and white box, in the corner of the top shelf.
The pharmacist moved away from the counter, but his movements were slow and looked too deliberate. Ursula instantly felt that something was wrong. As the pharmacist reached up, Ursula’s hand darted forwards. Silently she grabbed the medicine she needed and moved them under her white vest and into her jean’s pocket. She follow
ed this by announcing loudly that she had left something in the shop next door, and she would be back in a minute. As she twisted around towards the exit, she saw the police car pulling up in front of the pharmacy. It stopped her dead and then she sprang for the door. She sped out at the same time as two policemen left the car. The taller of the two put out an arm to stop her, but she ducked underneath and broke into a sprint. Her heart was racing.
Officer le Blanc was young, fit and only three weeks out of the National Police Institute. During this training, he had shaved three seconds off the Police Force four hundred metres record. He felt confident that he could afford to give the girl a fifty metres head start.
“Follow in the car,” he told his fellow officer and began the chase on foot.
The girl was slightly further than fifty metres ahead by this time, but he was sure that she wouldn’t pose a problem. There were only a few pedestrians on the pavement, and he knew they would move as he began his pursuit.
As she wove around a woman with a pram, Ursula shot a glance over her shoulder. The police car was pulling away, and a tall, shaven-headed officer was chasing after her. High above the hot sun beat down, but Ursula’s perspiration was not due to the heat. She saw a side road about three hundred metres ahead, dug her heels in and accelerated up rue Paul Baudry. As she sprinted the police car pulled up beside her and shadowed her while the Officer followed.
It had taken her five hours to find a suitable pharmacy that she had not stolen from before. According to the speed she walked, Ursula thought that she was probably about fifteen kilometres from home.
“Fifteen kilometres!” she exclaimed to herself between breaths. She couldn’t run for fifteen kilometres!
Slaloming through families, she reached the side road and turned down it. The police car followed but was forced to stop as Ursula sprinted across the road in front of it and down the opposite pavement. Behind the police car, a driver distracted by a loose chicken in his Renault 6, shunted into the rear. Ursula breathed a short sigh of relief. She had lost the police car. Unfortunately, the policeman was just crossing the road, having narrowly avoided becoming part of the smash.
Cutting down a grubby alleyway behind some shops, Ursula slipped on some mushy fruit. She just managed to retain her footing and skidded away. The alley was long and littered with old food, cardboard boxes, plastic bags and packaging. In the distance, she could see the end of the alley and glimpses of the Avenue de Champs Elysées. If she could get there, she knew she would be safe. She sprinted over the rubbish, striding over the small bits and expertly hurdling the larger pieces. About halfway along, a black cat strolled out in front of her looking for affection. Ursula jumped. Her right foot missed the cat by a whisker and sent it scampering away towards the policeman. At the end of the alleyway, she reached the busy Champs Elysées. Skidding out from the dirty, she bumped into a well-padded German tourist with a handlebar moustache, bounced off him and shot into the crowds.
Officer le Blanc smacked into the already flustered German and scanned the area. He was stunned. A girl of about ten years of age had just outrun him and then disappeared. Admittedly the alley had not been wide and the car crash, plus the cat, had slowed him down. However, he should have still caught her. There was no real excuse, and he would be a laughing stock back at the station when the other officers found out.
Thirty minutes later the police car, which now had two smashed rear lights, pulled up beside him and he jumped in. Before he could say what had happened his colleague spoke.
“We have been given some information. Unsurprisingly it looks as if she is heading for les banlieues, near the Stade de France at Saint-Denis. We will drive over there and see if she shows up.”
Le Blanc nodded his approval, and they drove off.
Dark black clouds had formed in the sky by the time Ursula saw the square of apartment blocks which she called home. Her heart slowed down, and she began to relax as large drops of rain started to fall. She ran down the road towards the path that led to her apartment block. On the street opposite, parked between a silver Range Rover and a faded bronze Peugeot 205, was the same police car. It was parked underneath a graffiti covered cigarette advert, and the two policemen were still inside. They waited until Ursula was a safe distance away and then left their vehicle to follow her. Ursula was so happy to be home that she didn’t even notice they were there.
The path that she took to her apartment block was one she normally avoided. Dog poo, broken bottles and syringes covered the cracked paving stones. Despite appearances, Ursula felt safe. The door to her block was always open, after somebody had accidentally broken it, so she entered easily and skipped up the seven floors to her grandparents’ flat. After four knocks on the door it was opened by Mémé who scolded her for being late, reminded her to remove her shoes and then let her in. Ursula made straight for her bedroom, laydown on her bed and closed her eyes. The moment she did this she heard urgent knocking on the front door, followed by the sound of Mémé opening it.
“Bonjour Madame, I am Officer Massot and this is Officer le Blanc. We are looking for a thin girl aged approximately ten. Would you be able to help us?”
Clutching hold of Fred, fear gripped Ursula like a vice and a deafening clap of thunder did not help her mood. Mémé had always told her that lying was wrong, she would tell the policemen the truth, get Ursula from her room and hand her over. Before Ursula did anything, she waited to hear what her Grandmother said.
“I’m very sorry but I think you have the wrong apartment. It’s only me and my husband who live here, and he is very sick. You will have to excuse me as I was just looking after him when you knocked. Au revoir.”
She shut the door shakily. Ursula breathed a sigh of relief; she was out of the frying pan but into the fire. She heard her Granddad get up and shuffle into the hall.
“Who was that, Marie-Thérèse?” he asked.
“Nothing for you to worry about, Jerome. Go back to bed and relax. It was nothing important.”
Granddad Benjamin did what he was told, but his wife’s words did not convince him.
Footsteps approached Ursula’s room, and she watched as her door handle turned. Before it was pushed fully open, there was another knock at the front door, and Ursula’s door was slammed shut.
On opening the front door, Mémé was greeted by a slight woman wearing leather trousers, a leather jacket and a T-shirt upon which was written ‘Pixies.’
“Bonjour,” greeted Andrea and continued in perfect French, “I’m looking for Ursula Benjamin.”
Looking Andrea squarely in the eye and without batting an eyelid, Mémé said, “I’m sorry, madame, but there is no one of that name who lives here. You must be mistaken. Au revoir.”
Calmly and politely she shut the door. Andrea knocked once more. At first Mémé ignored it, but the persistent tapping forced her to open the door yet again.
“I’m sorry, but I think you have the wrong apartment,” she said holding back her temper.
Before Mémé could close the door, Andrea placed her foot up against it.
“Madame Benjamin, I am not the police or a detective. This is a fact. However, there is a police car parked in the road, and I passed two policemen on the stairs coming up,” she said calmly.
The words seemed to reassure Mémé who stopped pushing the door against Andrea’s foot. Andrea continued speaking now that she felt she was not going to be shut out again.
“My name is Andrea Duna and I represent the Meyer foundation. I am here about the competition.”
From the bedroom, there was a loud thump as Granddad Benjamin fell out of bed; a desperate shout followed.
“For God’s sake Marie-Thérèse, let her in!”
The three Benjamins sat attentively on the itchy sofa. In the centre, and slightly elevated due to the weight of her grandparents on either side of her, was Ursula. She sat motionless, more worried about the trouble she was
in and whether she would go to prison, than the puzzle competition she had won. Her Grandmother had not invited Ursula to the living room; she had summoned her. Likewise, she had been told to sit down rather than asked. As they sat there, Ursula felt that the usual warmth she received from Mémé had been replaced by a very cold shoulder. Granddad Benjamin knew something had happened, but he had no idea what. Experience had taught him not to ask questions in these situations if he didn’t want to get caught in the middle. Also, after hearing the words ‘Meyer’ he had stopped caring about what may have happened anyway.
Andrea sat opposite them on one of the white, Formica seats. She had finished explaining that Ursula had won the competition, would receive ten thousand Euros and was about to share the other news.
“I have been asked to inform you of another competition that you have also won which was not advertised in the newspapers along with the puzzle.”
Granddad Benjamin’s ears pricked up, and he leaned forward while trying to contain his excitement.
“Another competition?” he asked.
Surprised that she needed to confirm this, Andrea simply nodded her head. She proceeded to explain that the Meyer Foundation wished to offer a scholarship for an exclusive school in Prague - a scholarship which would cover Ursula’s education until she was eighteen. During the explanation, Andrea mentioned that this was the same school that the Meyer’s own son also attended. She did not say that it was hoped that Ursula would be a companion, and hopefully, a friend for Eric while his parents toured around the world on their yacht.
The Benjamins had heard of the word scholarship but as it had never applied to them before they did not fully understand what it meant. They asked for an explanation.
“To put it simply,” explained Andrea, “we would fly Ursula to Prague, house her, clothe her, feed and water her, supply her with pocket money and pay for her to attend the Prague Anglo International School.”
“That sounds great,” announced Granddad Benjamin genuinely, “what a superb opportunity! It is what we have always dreamed of for Ursula.”
He looked at his wife.
Mémé had started to fidget, and Ursula sensed that the cold shoulder was thawing quickly.
Trying to keep her voice steady Mémé added, “Jerome is right. We always wanted Ursula to have opportunities that we never had, but I never imagined they would be in another country. She will be able to come home every weekend, won’t she? Prague is not that far away, is it?”
Her hand moved to Ursula’s knee and held on as if she were about to fall. Ursula relaxed slightly and felt that it was only the police she had to worry about now. She looked at Andrea and waited for her answer.
“This would not be possible,” Andrea replied.
The Benjamin’s faces dropped.
“But she would be back during the holidays. This is not a question of money. It is about doing the best for Ursula. Travelling between Prague and Paris, every weekend would exhaust her.”
Faking a look of comprehension Mémé nodded unconvincingly. She and her husband had arrived in France on a boat and taken a steam train to Paris. They had never been in an aeroplane and had not visited even an airport. The closest they had come to a plane was watching them in the sky above their apartment. In other words, she did not understand. Over Ursula’s head Mémé looked desperately at her husband. After so many years together he knew the look and took over the conversation.
“It would not be easy for us to lose Ursula,” he said.
Andrea shook her head slowly and managed a brief smile.
“I understand but you would not be losing her. We will insist she stays in contact with you, and we will set up a video phone, and pay for all your calls, so you can see her when you speak to her. There is no obligation for you to say yes and no obligation for Ursula to go. Think about it this way, we are just providing Ursula with a better school to go to and because it is far away we will take care of her as well.”
During the adult’s discussion, Ursula had sat silently. She did not know what to say. She did not want to leave her grandparents, but she did want to escape the police. She did want to explore new places, but she was scared of not knowing somewhere new. She wanted to learn more, but she found her present school boring. Her silence was caused by her confusion. Over the years, her grandmother had taught her that if she didn’t know what to say it was best to say nothing at all. Unfortunately, Ursula was unable to stay silent because Andrea then asked her what she wanted to do. Another one of Mémé lessons had been that it was rude to ignore questions. Therefore, Ursula was forced to answer. Not knowing what to say, she avoided speaking and shrugged her shoulders.
Pushing her seat back towards the table, Andrea stood up. The Benjamins obviously had to discuss this, and she decided it was best if she left them to do so.
“You do not need to make a decision today. I would like one by tomorrow evening,” Andrea requested.
The three Benjamins politely stood up and nodded like a small Mexican wave. Together they followed Andrea to the hallway. At the front door, Andrea handed over her telephone number on a small playing card to Mémé. Granddad Benjamin opened the front door in a gentlemanly fashion and Andrea, followed by his wife, stepped outside into the passageway. Indoors, Granddad Benjamin placed his arms around Ursula and held her close to him like a precious stone. Outside Mémé pointed at the two of them.
“You can see it is not easy,” she sighed.
A tear formed in her eye at the thought of losing Ursula. Delicately she wiped it away, and as she did so, she saw the two policemen, poking their heads around the stairwell, at the end of the passageway. The moment they saw Mémé they hid. They disappeared quickly behind the peeling walls and badly spelled graffiti like rabbits down a hole. It was their not-so-secret spying that prompted Mémé to invite Andrea back into the house.
Once they had returned to the living room and were sitting relatively comfortably again, Mémé cleared her throat.
“I can see it would a great opportunity for Ursula, as my husband told you, but as I said it would not be easy to let her go. I don’t know a lot, but I do believe that Ursula does not stand a good chance of a good life if she stays here. She will be denied it only because of where she is from.”
She paused, choosing her next words carefully.
“But I need to know that she will stand a better chance of a good life somewhere else, even if we are not there.”
A feeling of loss started to eat away at Ursula. They had talked as a family about their dreams, but the reality was very different.
Andrea replied, “Mrs Benjamin, I would like to stress that we are not taking your Granddaughter away from you. She will always come back to you and you will have as much contact with her as you want through the use of modern technology.”
Placing his arm tenderly around Ursula’s shoulder Granddad Benjamin began to speak, but his words had difficulty leaving his throat.
“I think really,” he coughed, “it is Ursula’s decision.”
Up to this point, Ursula had been content with the adults talking about her as she still did not know what she wanted to do. Suddenly this changed, and all eyes were upon her.
After an initial shrug of her shoulders, she whispered, “I think it would be good and...,” There was a long pause and then she spoke from the heart, “...if I didn’t love my grandparents so much I would go.”
Granddad Benjamin took her right hand, looked her in the eyes and said gently, “That’s no reason to say no. Love can travel over long distances and survive over periods of time.”
Taking her left hand Mémé continued, “And Miss Andrea said you could write to us and do that phideo vone thing.”
Ursula felt her heart rise and fall at the same time. Tears were welling up in her eyes, but she tried to ignore them.
“When you are older you won’t regret the things you did,” said Granddad Benjamin, “only those yo
u didn’t.”
Tears filled Ursula’s eyes and were slowly meandering down her cheeks. Nobody spoke until Andrea broke the silence.
“If you do want to do this, then we will leave Paris in two days.” Her tone was functional as she continued, “Ursula will need a suitcase of clothes, anything else she wants to bring and her passport.”
Ursula’s grandparents looked at each other. On their faces, more wrinkles had appeared at Andrea’s last request. Andrea looked at Granddad Benjamin, who began to talk.
“Ursula does not have a passport. None of us do. We...,”
“...had a fire,” Mémé interrupted. “We lost them all in a fire. We lost everything including the passports and we never felt we needed new ones.”
“That is fine,” replied Andrea unconcerned. “We can get a new one. All I need is a birth certificate.”
Looking down at his feet Granddad Benjamin uttered quietly, “We don’t have it, as my wife said we lost everything.”
Andrea tried to reassure them, “That makes it more difficult but I know someone who can help. When I give him the name of Ursula Benjamin, he will be able to provide us with a new birth certificate from the existing records.”
Granddad Benjamin was still looking at his feet.
“I don’t think he will be able to help either as we...” he paused and pressed his fingers into his forehead as he did so, “...never registered her.”
“Not that it was our job to do it,” Mémé was keen to explain. She spoke very quickly and babbled, “Obviously it was Ursula’s parent’s responsibility but they went away shortly after the birth, rock climbing, and when they didn’t come back it was hard and then Ursula was with us, and we thought they had done it but they hadn’t and we had other things to do and then, soon after, we had the fire and we lost everything, well nearly everything, all the important things anyway and it was a very difficult time and...”
Andrea interrupted, “I am sure it was. Do not worry, no problem is unsolvable. Ursula has already proved that by winning the competition. I’m sure we can solve it.”
After checking her watch, Andrea excused herself and stood up. Before she left she made the Benjamins agree that they would phone her if they had any problems or decided not to accept. At the front door, she told them that she would see them in two days if they did not change their minds, and walked off towards the staircase. As she turned onto the stairwell, she stood on Officer Le Blanc’s hand. He was lying on the floor spying. While he rolled around in agony, his partner asked her if there was a young girl in the apartment that Andrea had just left.
“No,” she replied and continued walking down the stairs.
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