by Judi Curtin
‘What are you on?’ I hissed.
‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she protested. ‘I couldn’t listen to any more of her going on about the fancy hotel, so I made up that stuff about the gateau.’
‘But you do know what “gateau” means?’ I said.
For the first time, Alice looked doubtful.
‘It means castle, doesn’t it?’
I shook my head, laughing.
‘Sorry, you should have paid more attention when Mum was trying to teach us those words during the car journey. “Chateau” is the French word for castle.’
‘Oops,’ laughed Alice. ‘Then what does “gateau” mean?’
I started to giggle.
‘It means cake.’
Now Alice started to giggle too.
‘So I just told Melissa that we’re staying in a hundred-year-old cake?’
I nodded.
‘But it doesn’t matter. Melissa didn’t say anything, so obviously she didn’t see your mistake.’
‘Maybe she was just being polite?’
I laughed again.
‘Melissa? Polite? I don’t think so. Obviously she has no idea what a gateau is, but she’ll never admit it.’
Just then, Melissa’s sister went away, and Melissa gave us all her attention again.
‘So, where were we?’ she said.
Alice looked at her with a serious expression on her face.
‘I was just telling you about the beautiful gateau we’re staying in. All the best people stay in gateaus. I can’t believe you’ve never stayed in one before.’
I smiled to myself. Melissa is a terrible snob, and she would die rather than admit that she hadn’t done something that all ‘the best’ people did.
She flicked her hair over her shoulder.
‘Oh, she said. ‘I’ve stayed in loads of gateaus. Last year we stayed in a huge one. It was one of the finest gateaus in France, according to my dad. It was …’
She stopped talking and put on a superior face.
‘What are you two laughing at?’
Alice and I were practically rolling around the ground we were laughing so much by now.
Melissa tossed her head.
‘Really,’ she said. ‘I’d have thought that now you’re nearly in secondary school, you might be starting to get a bit mature.’
Alice put on a scared face.
‘Mature?’ she said. ‘Not mature. Anything but that.’
And then we laughed some more.
Eventually we recovered, but we couldn’t shake Melissa off. I suppose she had no-one else to hang out with, except for her crazy sister.
At last I looked at my watch.
‘Alice and I have to go now,’ I said. Melissa looked disappointed, and for a second I actually felt sorry for her.
Then she said.
‘Did Mumsy say you had to get back for early beddy-bye-byes?’
I very quickly stopped feeling sorry for her. We said our goodbyes, and began to walk away.
Suddenly Melissa called, and Alice and I stopped and looked back at her.
‘Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast?’
Alice made a face.
‘Not if we see you first,’ she whispered. And then we skipped off to our cabin.
Chapter Eleven
I didn’t sleep very much that night. Alice and I chatted for ages, and then, when we agreed to try to get some sleep, I lay awake for ages, listening to the dull drone of the ship’s engines. It was kind of cosy, lying there in our tiny cabin. Alice and I had agreed that I could have the top bunk this time, and that she could have it on the way home. Our cabin was so small that I could lean over and see out through the tiny round window. Most of the time, all I could see was the sea, which looked black, and kind of scary. Once though, I saw a small far-away boat, looking very lonely in the dark night.
I awoke to hear Mum beating on the cabin door.
‘Get up, girls,’ she was calling. ‘We’re nearly there. Time for breakfast.’
I sat up, groaning. It felt like I’d just fallen asleep. I looked out through the port-hole, and saw land in the distance.
‘Look. Look,’ I said excitedly to Alice. ‘Look out there. It’s France.’
Alice rolled over and rubbed her eyes.
‘What did you expect?’ she asked. ‘Japan?’
I leaned down from my bunk, and tried to hit her with my pillow, but missed.
‘Very funny. Not,’ I said. ‘It’s easy for you to be all cool. It’s different for me. I’ve never been abroad before.’
Alice sat up.
‘Sorry. I am excited. It’s just that I’m tired too, and at the moment, the tired part of me is winning.’
We both got up, and dressed quickly.
‘I’m starving,’ said Alice, when we were ready. ‘Do you smell rashers and sausages?’
I sighed.
‘Yes, I do smell rashers and sausages. It must be coming from the restaurant. But don’t get too excited. I bet Mum has other plans for us. Sorry.’
Suddenly I had a horrible thought. Was I going to spend the entire holiday apologising to Alice for my mum’s crazy ways? Was Alice already sorry that she wasn’t on holidays with Grace and her family?
Alice just grinned happily.
‘I don’t care what your mother’s plans are,’ she said. ‘As long as they involve food. I’m so hungry I could eat a––’
‘––a houmous sandwich?’ I finished for her.
Alice laughed.
‘Yes. Even that.’
We went next-door to Mum and Dad’s cabin. Rosie was so excited, she couldn’t sit still.
‘We’re nearly there. We’re nearly there,’ she kept saying, jumping up and looking out the tiny window.
Dad smiled at Alice and me.
‘Good girls,’ he said. ‘I’m glad you’re ready. We only have fifteen minutes before we have to get to our car.’
‘We’d better hurry on up to the restaurant,’ I said hopefully.
‘Restaurant indeed,’ said Mum. ‘Do you think we’re made of money?’
Suddenly I felt both cross and embarrassed.
‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘I know you’re not made of money. I bet you’re made of stupid, disgusting, organic porridge.’
‘Megan!’ said Dad in his crossest voice.
‘Ignore her,’ said Mum. ‘She’s just trying to impress Alice.’
Impress Alice? I thought. If I really wanted to impress Alice, I’d have left her at home, far away from my mad mother and her revolting food.
Suddenly I felt sorry. It was really nice of Mum and Dad to let me bring Alice on holidays with us. And if Alice wasn’t complaining about the food, why should I? After all, I’d had thirteen years to get used to it.
‘Sorry, Mum,’ I said quietly.
‘That’s OK,’ she said. ‘I forgive you. Now, be a good girl and pass me the flask of porridge.’
I gulped. She had to be joking. Didn’t she? Even Mum wouldn’t travel around Europe with a flask of porridge in her luggage.
Just then Mum burst out laughing.
‘I’m joking,’ she said. ‘And it was worth it to see your face. We’re not having porridge. I’ve brought a lovely bag of muesli, with extra nuts and seeds, and Dad got a carton of milk in the restaurant, so we’re all sorted.’
I tried to smile. After the thought of porridge that was nearly a day old, muesli actually sounded nice.
We ate quickly, and then packed up and got ready to go back to our car. On our way to the car deck, we passed Melissa and her family. I couldn’t help glancing at Mum, who looked her usual messy self. I got ready for Melissa to say something nasty. Melissa surprised me though. She smiled, and said,
‘Bye, Megan. Bye Alice. I hope you have a really nice time at your gateau.’
Alice and I grinned.
‘I hope you have a nice time in your hotel,’ I said.
When they were gone, I turned to Alice.
‘It would be easier to hate Melissa, if she didn’t sometimes surprise me and actually sound nice.’
‘Well,’ said Alice. ‘Don’t worry too much about it. In September she’ll be far away in her fancy boarding school, and we’ll probably never see her again.’
I tried to feel sad about that, but couldn’t manage it.
‘Hurry up, girls,’ said Dad then. ‘If we don’t get a move on the boat will turn around and go back to Ireland with us still on board.’
There was no way we were going to let that happen. So we all hurried up and minutes later we were packed up in our car, ready for our holiday to begin properly.
Chapter Twelve
It took two hours to drive to the village where our cottage was.
Then we spent an hour driving around in circles looking for the right cottage.
We started on what looked like the main street. Mum’s friend had given her an old, crumpled envelope with directions written on it. Mum read aloud.
‘Turn left at the shop,’ she said.
Dad sighed.
‘I know it’s not exactly Paris, but there are quite a few shops here. Which one do you think she means?’
Mum turned over the envelope,
‘Oh, there’s more writing here. “Bread, butter, brussels sprouts” … oh no, I think that must be Lucy’s shopping list. Sorry, Donal, I don’t know which shop she means.’
‘Could we phone her and ask her?’ asked Dad.
Mum shook her head.
‘Sorry. She’s gone on a meditation course for two weeks – no phones allowed.’
Dad gave an even bigger sigh.
‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’ he asked. ‘That means we’ll have to try every turn, until we find the right one.’
He drove past the first shop, and turned left. Mum kept reading from the envelope.
‘Take the next right, then turn left on to the first lane you see. The house should be at the end of the lane.’
Dad did as he was told, and stopped the car when we came to the first lane on the left. It was very narrow and overgrown.
‘What do you think?’ he said.
‘Could be right,’ muttered Mum.
So Dad drove down the lane. It went on for miles and miles. Just when we were about to give up, we turned one last corner. Dad stopped the car again.
‘Wow,’ he said.
‘Wow,’ said Alice.
‘Wow,’ said Rosie.
‘No way,’ I said.
We were in front of a huge, white house. It looked like it had about a hundred rooms, and in front of it was a huge swimming pool.
Mum sighed.
‘Sorry guys,’ she said. ‘This time I have to agree with Megan. I don’t think this could be Lucy’s place.’
‘Should we go in and check?’ asked Dad hopefully.
Just then a man came out of the house, and walked towards us shouting loudly in French.
‘Er … Bon … jour …’ said Dad.
Mum opened her window.
‘Lucy?’ she said.
The man kept shouting.
‘Lucy?’ said Mum again, louder this time.
The man shouted even louder.
Dad turned around to us.
‘Don’t you two girls speak any French?’ he asked.
I shook my head. And even if I did speak French, I wasn’t sure I’d fancy practising it on this crazy Frenchman.
‘I know two French words,’ said Alice helpfully. ‘I can say “cake” and “castle” in French.’
‘Thanks,’ said Dad. ‘But I don’t think either of those words is what we need right now.’
‘Well, I only know about ten words of French,’ said Mum. ‘But even I can understand that this does not appear to be Lucy’s place. Turn the car around, Donal, and let’s get out of here.’
Dad did as he was told, and we drove away. I looked back to see the cross Frenchman waving his fist and still shouting.
We went back to the main street, and tried turning at another shop. This time we ended up driving right into a farm-yard. Ducks and chickens clucked around the car.
‘Oh, listen,’ said Alice. ‘The birds speak the same language as the birds at home.’
Just then, two dogs ran out of a barn.
‘Nice doggies,’ said Rosie, before they bared their teeth and started snarling like they wanted to kill us.
Dad didn’t wait to be told – he revved up the engine, and backed out of the farm-yard at top-speed.
Our third attempt led us to a tumbling-down cottage at the end of the narrowest lane we’d been on yet. There were no dogs, or shouting men, so we all got out of the car and stood in front of the house. If this was our holiday home, I so did not want to be on holidays.
‘What do you think, Sheila?’ asked Dad. ‘Is this it?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Mum. ‘I think Lucy would have mentioned it if her house didn’t actually have a roof.’
We all climbed back into the car. We were getting tired, and this really wasn’t much fun any more.
‘Right,’ said Dad. ‘This has gone beyond a joke. We’ll try one more time, and if we don’t find it, we’re checking in to the nearest hotel for the night.’
‘Yay!’ Alice and I said.
‘Over my dead body,’ Mum said.
So we drove back to the main street, turned at the baker’s shop, turned right, and then left on to a small lane. This time we ended up outside a tiny stone house. It had a sweet little red door, and there were climbing plants all around it. It was like a house from a fairy story book. And even better there wasn’t a dog, or a shouting man in sight.
‘What do you think?’ asked Dad, for what felt like the fiftieth time that morning.
‘One way to find out,’ replied Mum.
She fished in her handbag for the key Lucy had given her, and then she jumped out of the car. She went up to the front door, turned the key, and to our great delight, the door swung open.
‘Yay!’ we all shouted happily, as we tumbled out of the car.
Mum stood at the door of the house,
‘Welcome to your holidays,’ she said, as we all ran past her to explore.
Chapter Thirteen
That evening was so much fun. Alice and I picked a tiny attic bedroom, and we spent ages putting all our clothes into a cute little wardrobe. Then, when everyone was unpacked, Dad drove us to the beach nearby, and we swam for ages, and didn’t even turn blue.
On the way back, we drove to the supermarket, and Mum got so excited by the display of organic chicken, she forgot all about the cans of lentil stew, and the chick peas, so we had an almost normal dinner. When we were finished, Alice sat back and sighed.
‘That’s the nicest dinner I’ve ever eaten,’ she said, and I think she really meant it. Then Mum beamed at her, and Dad hugged Mum, and Rosie hugged Alice, and it looked like maybe this was going to be a fantastic holiday.
Alice and I talked for ages before we went to sleep, so we slept very late in the morning. When we woke up, we could hear Mum downstairs, clattering around in the kitchen.
‘Donal,’ she called. ‘I can’t find the porridge. I know I packed two bags, and I can’t find them anywhere. Have you seen them?’
‘No,’ said Dad.
Then Mum raised her voice.
‘Girls, are you awake? And did either of you unpack the porridge?’
Alice suddenly started to laugh.
‘Why are you laughing?’ I asked. ‘Since when is porridge so funny?’
Alice giggled again.
‘I’m the one who unpacked the porridge.’
‘And? That’s funny because?’
‘Well, let’s just say I did some advance unpacking.’
‘What on earth are you on about?’ I asked.
Alice sat up in bed.
‘I unpacked the porridge before we left Limerick. I sneaked it out of the car, and hid it in your garage when none of you was looking.’
Now I
laughed too.
‘I didn’t know you hated porridge that much,’ I said.
Alice shrugged.
‘I don’t. I quite like it actually – especially with honey on top. But I know how much you hate it, so I thought I’d do you a favour.’
I gave a big, happy smile.
‘Now that was a big favour. Thanks, Al.’
‘Girls,’ called Mum suddenly, and her voice was much closer than before. Suddenly she opened our bedroom door. ‘Good morning. And did you hear me calling? I was wondering if one of you unpacked the porridge.’
I looked at Alice, and Alice looked at me.
‘Sorry, Mum,’ I said. ‘Neither Alice nor I has seen one flake of porridge since we arrived in France.’
It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t really what Mum wanted to know.
Alice smiled at her.
‘Why don’t Megan and I get dressed real quick, and we can cycle down to the baker’s shop and buy some lovely fresh bread for breakfast?’
Mum didn’t seem able to make up her mind.
‘But I was hoping to make some porridge for us all … oh, I suppose it doesn’t matter. We’re in France so we’d better do as the French do.’
Five minutes later, Alice and I were cycling to the baker’s shop, and it was just like I’d pictured our holidays – all warm and happy and fun.
And the very best thing was, the bread was so nice, Mum didn’t mention porridge once more for the entire holiday.
Chapter Fourteen
Next morning, Alice and I offered to go to the baker’s shop again.
‘I am having so much fun,’ she said, as we cycled down the lane.
‘So you’re not sorry you didn’t go to Lanzarote?’
‘No way. This place is really cool,’ she said.
We got to the main street, and propped our bikes up against a garden wall while we went in to the baker’s shop. We came back out, and Alice held the bikes, while I clipped the baguette onto the back of mine. Suddenly Alice grabbed my arm.
‘In the garden …… don’t look now,’ she hissed.
‘Oh no,’ I groaned. ‘Don’t tell me it’s Melissa. I thought she was safe in her super-cool hotel with three swimming pools and five restaurants.’