eyes still on the shelves, head held to the side so that she can read the spines more easily. A quick glance to me as she approaches and one side of her mouth lifts. She is now an arm’s length away, so close I can make out the small, neat mole on the nape of her neck where she has swept her hair aside, the stiff white collar of her shirt in stark contrast to the peachy softness of her skin, the pale pink of her cheek. In the shafts of dusty half-light she looks like she has emerged from the pages of a romance novel. An arm’s length and yet a world away … could I pull her towards me?
Catching me staring, she points a finger at the shelf and asks, ‘Anything good?’ in a half-whisper.
I shrug quickly, heat surging to the ends of my fingers, pulling out a book at random; it slips in my hands so I have to save it, then turn it the right way up.
She appears over my shoulder as I read the first page. Her breath is on my neck and her body is centimetres from mine. I freeze, muscles tense, not wanting this moment to end. She smells of soap and roses. My eyes remain still, the first line repeated again and again until I hear her say quietly, ‘Sounds far too depressing.’And she has broken the spell, sidled away from me, still looking at the books in regimented lines. I breathe out in a rush, roll my eyes at myself and seize two more of the nearest books, hastening back to the table to trawl through them.
TRISTAN
The rough fabric of my grey shorts itches and Luc runs ahead of me as I stop to adjust them for the fourth time that morning. I call to him but he says he can’t stop because he is being the wind. If Maman was here she’d tell me off for dawdling. She often joins us in the morning but today she is looking after Dimitri who has been in bed with the flu for forever, so it is just us and I am in charge because I am the oldest. I think that means I have to hold his hand when we cross roads and things but there is only one road between our new house and the school so I’m not sure it is entirely necessary here.
Luc’s favourite part of the walk is around the next bend – a field on our left of brown cows, today all lying down in the shade of the trees. He tells me to hurry up. I think I’m still waiting for a cyclist to race around the bend, or to hear the sound of crowds walking to work, or a lot of cars beeping as I cross the road, but there is nothing. The long grass on the side of the road is curling into itself it’s so hot, and there is no breeze so the trees are all still.
It feels good to be out of the house. We lived at the Villiers’ home forever but last month we moved into the nearby village, called Oradour. Our new house still smells like the cellar did in Paris. Apparently the couple who lived there won’t be needing it for the time being; they have gone abroad somewhere as they don’t like the ‘political climate’, which is different from not liking the weather (I knew that but still Eléonore had to point it out to me). Anyway, clearly no one had lived in it for a while as we had to take lots of sheets off the furniture and all the dust in the air made us cough and cough and blink it all out of our eyes. Maman set us all to work scrubbing every surface like Clarisse used to do. I see now why she used to complain about her back hurting as Dimitri and I were set to work cleaning the bathroom and after an hour or so of trying to get orangey streaks off the bath we had to sit down for a rest. It’s like the workhouse. Maman says not to complain and that we’re lucky we have a house at all but I think she is being silly because everyone has a house.
Father goes into Limoges a lot as he has banking business there and Maman says he is talking to Monsieur Villiers about new opportunities. Maman isn’t alone though – a girl from the village has come to help her. She is called Claudette and she has two very big front teeth and sometimes when she speaks a little whistle comes out. She talks
Catching me staring, she points a finger at the shelf and asks, ‘Anything good?’ in a half-whisper.
I shrug quickly, heat surging to the ends of my fingers, pulling out a book at random; it slips in my hands so I have to save it, then turn it the right way up.
She appears over my shoulder as I read the first page. Her breath is on my neck and her body is centimetres from mine. I freeze, muscles tense, not wanting this moment to end. She smells of soap and roses. My eyes remain still, the first line repeated again and again until I hear her say quietly, ‘Sounds far too depressing.’And she has broken the spell, sidled away from me, still looking at the books in regimented lines. I breathe out in a rush, roll my eyes at myself and seize two more of the nearest books, hastening back to the table to trawl through them.
TRISTAN
The rough fabric of my grey shorts itches and Luc runs ahead of me as I stop to adjust them for the fourth time that morning. I call to him but he says he can’t stop because he is being the wind. If Maman was here she’d tell me off for dawdling. She often joins us in the morning but today she is looking after Dimitri who has been in bed with the flu for forever, so it is just us and I am in charge because I am the oldest. I think that means I have to hold his hand when we cross roads and things but there is only one road between our new house and the school so I’m not sure it is entirely necessary here.
Luc’s favourite part of the walk is around the next bend – a field on our left of brown cows, today all lying down in the shade of the trees. He tells me to hurry up. I think I’m still waiting for a cyclist to race around the bend, or to hear the sound of crowds walking to work, or a lot of cars beeping as I cross the road, but there is nothing. The long grass on the side of the road is curling into itself it’s so hot, and there is no breeze so the trees are all still.
It feels good to be out of the house. We lived at the Villiers’ home forever but last month we moved into the nearby village, called Oradour. Our new house still smells like the cellar did in Paris. Apparently the couple who lived there won’t be needing it for the time being; they have gone abroad somewhere as they don’t like the ‘political climate’, which is different from not liking the weather (I knew that but still Eléonore had to point it out to me). Anyway, clearly no one had lived in it for a while as we had to take lots of sheets off the furniture and all the dust in the air made us cough and cough and blink it all out of our eyes. Maman set us all to work scrubbing every surface like Clarisse used to do. I see now why she used to complain about her back hurting as Dimitri and I were set to work cleaning the bathroom and after an hour or so of trying to get orangey streaks off the bath we had to sit down for a rest. It’s like the workhouse. Maman says not to complain and that we’re lucky we have a house at all but I think she is being silly because everyone has a house.
Father goes into Limoges a lot as he has banking business there and Maman says he is talking to Monsieur Villiers about new opportunities. Maman isn’t alone though – a girl from the village has come to help her. She is called Claudette and she has two very big front teeth and sometimes when she speaks a little whistle comes out. She talks
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