‘Bonsoir, Rue and Wren,’ Felix said. When they stood up, he leaned down and kissed them on both cheeks, just like he’d done at the Brasserie. The girls giggled.
‘I brought you gifts,’ he smiled, and they both grinned so hard it must have hurt. ‘But first I thought we could makele goûter.’
I looked at the girls and pulled a confused face. They both laughed.
‘Translation?’ I turned to Felix.
‘Le goûter. Hmm … Usually, children eat it as a snack, after school.Goûtermeans “to taste” in French.’ Felix walked to the little kitchen and took out a baguette, a tin of what looked like hot chocolate and a bottle of milk. ‘You want to try?’ He turned back to us.
My stomach groaned in assent. ‘We want to try,’ I answered for everyone.
It turned out thatle goûtercould be any sort of after-school snack. But for Felix, it was buttered baguette and a bowl of hot chocolate. Felix explained that he used to dip his baguette into the hot chocolate.
‘That’s disgusting!’ Rue shouted, and Wren agreed. But they tried it anyway and took back their words.
‘You are ready to say that I am right? That it is good?’ Felix teased them.
‘You were right,’ Wren admitted.
He had such an easy way with them. Rue didn’t relax for just anybody. There was a comfortable rhythm, like he’d been part of our lives forever.
After we ate, Felix reached for his bag again. The girls were silent in anticipation.
‘First, for Wren.’ Felix passed a tin to her.
‘Colouring pencils,’ she said gratefully.
‘They are from an art shop near my home. Do you like to draw?’ he asked, and Wren smiled to herself before looking up at him. ‘I love to draw. Thank you so much, Felix.’ Wren turned bright red as she examined her pencils. Felix couldn’t have known she adored drawing. It was the perfect present.
When he mentioned home, it all came back to me. His bedroom. His bed. The smell of his skin. The way I felt when he held me. Safe. Wanted. And now, looking at how my sisters were gazing at him made me see him in a different light. Like his gentle, steady presence was felt by all of us.
‘And for Rue.’ Felix reached into his bag again, pulled out a book and handed it to Rue. ‘Le Petit Prince. It is very special in France; every child reads it. But this one, it has both English and French.’
Rue was already looking through the pages, more carefully than I’ve ever seen her touch anything.
‘I love it, Felix. I love it so much, thank you.’ Rue hugged her book.
We watchedMiraculous, a French cartoon, until Rue’s and Wren’s eyes began to close.
‘I think you two should go to bed now.’
‘No,’ complained Rue, while Wren was already sleepily getting up.
‘Come on, Rue,’ said Wren.
Rue shook her head. ‘Only if Felix reads us a story.’
Felix looked at me and I whispered, ‘Only if you want to.’
‘You would like to hear some ofLe Petit Prince?’ he asked. ‘I will bring it in when you are ready.’
Rue and Wren disappeared and when they did, Felixreached for his bag again. He pulled out a small jar filled with little pieces of coloured glass, tied with a blue ribbon.
‘And for you.’ He handed it to me.
It was beautiful. Even in the artificial light, the colours sparkled.
‘Sea glass,’ he explained. ‘I used to collect it from the beach. I always liked how the broken pieces become something so beautiful.’
