by Candy Harper
Before we went off in Josette’s mum’s car I decided it would be a good idea to have a little word with Angharad’s exchange girl. When I located Ang she was standing shyly with a beautiful French girl with bouncing chestnut hair.
‘Ang,’ I said, ‘this is Josette.’ Then I left Josette to babble on to her while I drew Lovely Locks to one side.
‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I’m Faith, Angharad’s friend.’
‘’Allo, my name is Louise.’
‘So the thing is Lou, I need you to take extra good care of Angharad. She’s very smart and cool, but she does worry about things and she was really nervous about this trip so I just need to know that you’re going to look after her.’
Louise seemed confused.
‘I will ‘elp her with her French, yes?’
‘To be honest, that’s not really what she needs the help with. She’s super-deluxe at French. In fact she’s an intellectual giant, it’s just that she’s got the voice of a mouse. A lovely mouse. A kind, cheerful, generous cheese-sharing sort of a mouse, but one that everyone should be very kind to. Otherwise, her big ratty mate will duff them up.’
Even though I think in future I will avoid comparing myself to a rat, I felt that I’d made my point.
Louise seemed less clear. ‘What is this mouse?’ she asked.
‘Just be kind to Angharad. Please.’
‘Of course. I like Angharad. Of course I will be kind.’
And she turned away.
She’d better keep her word or I might upgrade myself from a rat to one of those bitey little dogs.
LATER STILL
I’m very tired. It’s hard work not understanding a word people are saying. I wonder how Angharad is doing. She’ll be missing her mum. I might just send her a supportive little text.
Josette seems really nice. She doesn’t live in a chateau, just a middle-sized house, but fortunately she does at least have her own bedroom, which may help cut down the chances of Icky strangling me in my sleep. Or vice versa.
SUNDAY 20TH MAY
Today we went on a hike. Josette said we were going up a hill. That was the word she used. It was not a hill. It was definitely a mountain. The problem is that I can’t really blame her for inaccurate language because I am having similar problems communicating in French.
This morning I thought that Mrs Josette was looking particularly fetching with her hair in a chignon (which is exactly the kind of tidy hairstyle I’m always suggesting to my mum but she prefers to let her hair run wild and free and end up in the butter). Anyway, just to prove Icky wrong when she said that I don’t know any French, I thought I’d try a little conversation, so I said to Mrs Josette, ‘J’aime votre cheval.’
Mrs J’s eyes widened. She looked over her shoulder and then she started firing questions at Josette.
It turns out that I had complimented her horse (cheval) instead of her hair (cheveux). Josette also explained that she did once try to keep a baby goat in her room without telling her mum so I could see why my remark might make her nervous. In fact we had to spend the rest of breakfast reassuring her that there absolutely was not a horse in the house. Or a pig. Or a cow.
I hope we do animals in French when I get back to school because I’ve learnt some good ones.
Anyway, as soon as Josette and I had settled in our bus seats behind Angharad and Louise I leant round and whispered to Ang, ‘How’s it going?’
She smiled. ‘Pretty good,’ she whispered back. ‘They’re really nice. And they can understand me when I speak French!’
I beamed back at her. I knew she’d be fine.
When we arrived at the foot of the mountain Angharad looked even happier. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ she said. ‘It’s got a really French feel, hasn’t it?’
I was pretty unimpressed with the view until a really fit boy with his hair in cornrows cheered up all the nature stuff by standing in my eye line.
‘Who’s that?’ I asked Josette.
Rather than giving me the low down on Mr Fit in a nice discrete whisper Josette made a noise. A very loud French noise.
‘Eurrrp!’ she said.
The boy turned around.
Josette waved him over.
‘Philippe, mon amie, Faith.’
Philippe gave me a long look. I looked him long right back.
His full-lipped French mouth broke into a wide grin.
‘Are you walking?’ he asked. ‘Walk with me.’
I felt a little more enthusiastic about the whole walking business.
The teacher gave some sort of signal and we all set off in little groups. Josette walked with us, but occasionally stopped to point at things and exclaim loudly. While she was getting excited about a rock that looked like a dog, I snuck a look at Philippe. ‘So . . .’ I said. ‘You’re friends with Josette?’
‘Ah, Josette. All the world, they know Josette.’
I wasn’t surprised to hear this. People like Josette can’t help being noticed. Well, they could help it if they didn’t stand in the middle of a bus full of teenagers and shout ‘Guess what I have in my socks?’ but where would be the fun in that? (Obviously, I couldn’t entirely understand what she had said about her socks at first, but I can tell you that all the pointing and foot waggling was pretty attention-grabbing even in French.) It reminded me of that time I lost my voice and Miss Ramsbottom accused me of smuggling jelly beans in my shoes and I had to defend my honour using the power of mime. Josette and I are actually a bit similar. I suppose that some people in life are wagglers and some are not.
At first, the mountain wasn’t that annoying. The incline wasn’t too bad; there was a clear path along the grass and Philippe was telling funny stories about all the crazy things Josette has done and I was telling him some stories about crazy things I’ve done (or sometimes, when the things were a bit embarrassing, I said that Megs had done them). After a while, I had to be a bit less colourful with the descriptions because I was starting to get out of breath. And then I had to focus hard on just walking.
Eventually, Philippe said, ‘There is the top.’
When he said ‘there’ I assumed that he meant ‘there’ right in front of us. It turned out that he was pointing to a place still very far away. If I had known it was that far away at the beginning I would have cried.
I kept my head down and plodded on.
I walked and walked.
When I finally looked up the top had gotten further away. I’m not kidding you. After that I kept my eye on it. Even so, I started to feel like you do when you try and run up an escalator that’s going down, I was practically jogging just to stand still.
I walked some more.
It became obvious that I was going to end my days trying to get to the top of this stupid mountain, so I said a silent prayer for my parents and Sam; I could only imagine how empty a life without me would be. I envisioned my own funeral and hoped that Megs would remember that I’ve said I don’t want a fuss and that just the glass carriage with the horses wearing those black feathers, and the giant sculpture of me in flowers would be quite enough of a send-off, unless people really insisted on fireworks and closing all the schools. Then I started thinking about Megs and I wished she was here. And not just because I needed a piggy-back. Philippe interrupted my thoughts of Megs’s dear old ugly mug to say, ‘It is the top.’
And it was.
‘It’s nice, yes?’ Philippe asked.
I didn’t have enough breath to tell him that although it was lovely I was now pantingly aware that I could have bought a postcard and then enjoyed the view and adequate amounts of oxygen at the same time, so I just nodded.
While I was still puffing the teachers unpacked a picnic that someone somewhere had made. There was a lot of it, which is one of my favourite things in a picnic and a lot of the food was made with cheese or cream (but not both) which is the other thing I really value in picnic items. So overall it was quite good.
I was so exhausted that I ate my share lying down. Fortunately, A
ngharad volunteered to ferry more cakes to me as the need arose. I was glad to see that she was still looking cheerful. Louise gave me a bit of an odd look, but she seemed pally with Ang, so I didn’t make any violent animal gestures in her direction.
‘So you’re having a good time, then?’ I asked Ang.
‘Well, at first I was so nervous that I could hardly speak. But Louise is lovely and her family are great. They’re really helping with my pronunciation. Last night they put on a play for me!’
She seemed pleased about watching some mad Frenches act for her so I smiled creamily.
‘I think my vocabulary has improved already. The French are brilliant aren’t they?’
I looked across the grass at where Philippe was talking to his exchange partner, Ollie. ‘Yep. Brilliant.’
My four helpings of cake had stopped me feeling so dizzy and I was starting to think that if I could get hold of a note letting me off PE for the rest of my life, and a helper monkey to assist me with any heavy lifting, my lungs might one day recover.
Then the teacher said it was time to go back down the mountain.
Angharad and Louise bounded off immediately. I groaned. My legs had seized up and I wasn’t sure if I could even stand up gracefully let alone saunter down a mountain in an attractive fashion. Josette had pulled a worm out of the ground and was now running after Delphine with it. Actually running; I didn’t think I’d ever run again.
‘We will go?’ Philippe asked.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I might just stay here a little longer.’ I tried to get to my feet. ‘In fact, I might just not bother going back at all.’
Philippe’s forehead wrinkled. ‘You are going to stay here?’
I nodded my head.
‘’ow long for?’
‘Well . . . this seems as good a place as any to settle down. Nice view.’ I pointed at the stream. ‘En-suite swimming facilities.’
He looked at me as if I’d suggested moving into the worm’s hole, but living my life out on top of a mountain seemed preferable to attempting to bend my knees again.
‘’Ere, let me help you.’
And he took hold of my hand. Strangely, after that I found myself much more able to get along.
Although I might need one of those mobility scooters to get through the rest of the week.
LATER
I’m pleased to say that so far Josette seems pleasingly mad and affectionate. I can’t understand half of what she’s saying but she has given me three hugs, one Chinese burn and a packet of chocolate drops. These seem like friendly actions. I’ve replied with several squeezes, one wallop and a Curly Wurly I found in Angharad’s coat pocket.
International relations aren’t nearly as difficult as people make out.
LATER STILL
Icky, on the other hand, does not improve when you move her to another country. In fact, I suspect that even if you whisked Icky away to a magical land of unicorns and rainbows, and a banquet cooked by the fairy folk, she would still scrunch up her weasely little face and say, ‘I don’t like looking at mythical creatures of great beauty and drinking dew from a crystal goblet. I want a Heat magazine and a Diet Coke.’ Which is mostly what she’s been saying every time Josette’s parents feed us or suggest something for us to do. Except she only says it behind their backs. To their faces she’s all smarm and smirk – she is such a fake.
MONDAY 21ST MAY
You would think that taking something horrible (school) and adding something incomprehensible (French) would result in a pretty awful day, but actually going to school with Josette wasn’t that bad. The constant hum of people speaking rapid French really acts as a sort of anaesthetic.
It was pretty obvious by the bulging eyes and screechy voices that the teachers were saying the same sort of drivel that they do in English schools, but it’s even easier to let it wash over you when you can’t tell whether they’re saying, ‘You’re an irresponsible idiot!’ or, ‘How many times have I told you not to poke people in the eye with that?’. I did actually pick up some useful French in the science lab this afternoon: Josette’s Chemistry teacher taught me how to say, ‘Stop! Stop! You’ll burn the whole place down!’ by patiently repeating it every time Josette and I got creative and tried a few experiments that weren’t in the textbook. I don’t know why they don’t teach us French like that at home. You know, phrases that are relevant and can be used in everyday life.
I was pleased to discover that Philippe is in quite a few of Josette’s classes. He is very nice looking and from the way the teachers were practically doing twirls every time he answered a question he seems clever too.
I don’t know why my dad always says it would be a bad idea for me to go to a school with boys; I found that it was perfectly possible to eye up Philippe, and ignore the teacher just as well as I do back home.
I hunted Angharad out at lunchtime. She seems to be having a great time. ‘Last night, Louise and her brothers took it in turns to point to things in the room and I had to tell them the French word for them. They got faster and faster, till I could hardly get the words out and then I forgot the word for mantelpiece . . .’
My brain nearly melted at this point at the thought that anyone anywhere ever knew the French word for mantelpiece.
‘. . . so I said ‘Saperlipopette!’ and now Louise says it every time we see a mantelpiece. It’s so funny!’
It was nice to see her happy. ‘Josette and I did something similar,’ I said. ‘I pointed to things I wanted to eat and she told me if they were worth bothering with or not.’
‘So you learnt some French vocabulary?’
‘Not exactly. But I can make a vomiting sound in a French accent.’
Ang laughed. ‘I’m super glad I came, aren’t you? Tomorrow Louise’s parents are taking us to a museum and they’re going to let me buy the tickets! In French!’
Blimey. I’m pleased she’s having a good time, but what with the ticket buying and the pointing, how will Ang ever go back to our humdrum existence after all this glamour?
LATER
The only problem with this little holiday is Icky. For starters, it is quite revolting watching her suck up to Josette’s parents and then say rude things about them when they’re out of the room.
Secondly, she has been showing me up at Josette’s school because she has been speaking French more than me. This is because she has totally cheated and learnt a load of useful words and phrases. You’d think the teachers would appreciate my more inventive approach to communication, which involves a wide range of skills like drawing little pictures, miming and the occasional bit of expressive dance.
Thirdly, she takes any opportunity to whisper something nasty in my ear. Tonight at dinner she leant over and said, ‘If you eat anymore pastry you’ll need two coach seats on the way home.’ No one could expect me to refrain from getting violent under this sort of duress. Surely even Miss Ramsbottom would understand if I gave her a quick karate chop to the neck, as long as I leave it out of my report.
LATER STILL
I should probably start making some notes for that stupid report. I brought a notebook along especially, but so far all I’ve managed is to make a list of cheeses that I want Mum to have imported when I get home.
TUESDAY 22ND MAY
Icky Blundell has stooped to new depths. I knew she was a snake but it seems that she’s a double snake with slugs on top.
When Josette, Delphine, Icky and I got back from school today Mrs Josette greeted us at the door and asked, ‘What is this?’
Only of course she said ‘Theez’ because she is French and therefore a bit dramatic. I thought she was going to produce a severed head the way her eyes were bulging. Half a finger at the least. But then she held up a packet of cigarettes. Megs says I am prone to thinking that everyone is always looking at me, but there was no mistaking the fact that the question was directed my way.
‘They aren’t mine!’ I said.
Mrs J narrowed her eyes.
&n
bsp; ‘I don’t smoke.’
‘They were in your bed.’
I wondered who on earth they did belong to and what the hell they would be doing in my bed. Then I caught sight of Icky’s gleeful face and I knew exactly what had happened.
I gave Icky a very hard stare.
Delphine said something in French about how none of us smoked, but Mrs J shook Delphine’s hand off her arm and said to me, ‘This is very bad.’
I tried my hardest to look innocent. I mean, I am innocent, but I haven’t had much practice at it so I’m not sure I did a very good job. ‘I don’t know who they belong to,’ I insisted and then I trod on Icky’s foot to find out if she’s more honest with a broken toe.
She’s not.
‘I promise they’re not mine,’ I said.
Mrs J was still glaring at me. I thought she might send me home right there.
‘They are mine,’ Josette said.
I knew that wasn’t true. I tried to give Icky a filthy look, but she had busied herself admiring her shirt buttons.
Mrs J switched her glaring on to Josette and told Delphine to take the rest of us to the park.
Delphine grabbed Icky and me by the hand. I had the sense that she and Josette had seen their mum like this before. I tried to say, ‘Josette doesn’t smoke, they’re not hers either.’ But Delphine gave me a little shove down the drive.
We walked along the road in silence. When we got to the edge of some woods Delphine sat down on a log and gave a big sigh.
‘Your mum’s really cross,’ Icky said.
I turned on her. ‘She’s cross because she thinks Josette is smoking and the reason she thinks that is because you’re a complete cow and you hid those cigarettes in my bed because you wanted to get me into trouble because you’re jealous of me.’
Delphine’s eyes widened. ‘It was you?’ she asked Icky.
Icky smirked. ‘I don’t know what she’s talking about.’
‘That’s just your problem isn’t it? It’s your complete lack of understanding of what an utter witch you are that makes you think it’s okay to get other people into trouble. What’s Josette ever done to you?’