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1927
‘This is ridiculous – it makes no sense,’ cried Elodie. In front of her was a full chalkboard of verbs and tenses. She had no problem with those, but it was the words – the hundreds of seemingly identical words that were the same, but meant different things.
‘How can you have so many words that are so like each other – through, thorough, tough – why didn’t anyone think of these things?’
Mrs Hammond sighed. ‘I know. It’s maddening. It’s time for a break, anyway, but buck up. You might not see it, but your English is improving.’
Elodie blew out her cheeks. It was improving – because they were working on it around the clock. She didn’t have lessons on anything else. It was why she had started now rather than in September, she’d discovered, so that she could learn the language before she joined the others in the new school year. She wasn’t even going to get to go to Provence for the whole summer, as a result. She would be going in August only, and continuing her private lessons with Mrs Hammond until then. When she’d found that out it had been like a blow to her chest. But she focused on the shimmering mirage that was August, like a precious jewel.
After three months, Elodie was able to communicate well enough to have a good sense of what everyone was saying. After six she could hold her own in most conversations. Being young and treated to daily exposure had helped, as well as the resolute will to fit in and not be made to feel like so much of an outsider. The other girls had come around a lot more, and now Elodie counted Kitty and two other girls as friends.
A month before she was due to leave for Provence, her half-brother, Freddie, came by to visit, to see how she was getting along. She found that she liked her older brother. He was handsome, and caused quite a stir when the other girls saw him from the windows making his way across the grounds.
Freddie suggested they go for a walk, perhaps to get away from the many pairs of eyes that had suddenly been turned on him as soon as he’d entered the school. Kitty and the other girls had peered at him from the stairwell as soon as he’d been shown into the visitors’ lounge just off the stairwell.
They walked in the school gardens and he seemed impressed by her grasp of English. ‘Remarkable, Elodie, you sound almost English – I had to pause for a moment when I remembered it was you. You’ve come on swimmingly.’
When August came at last, Elodie found that she was so excited to go back to Provence she barely slept – and it was the most excited she’d ever been to see Jacob Bell, the chauffeur, who was amazed to find the young girl he’d met over a year ago now so changed.
When at last they arrived outside the old farmhouse, bordered by vineyards on one side and tall cypress trees on the other, Elodie jumped out of the car, thanking the driver profusely, and then ran towards Grand-mère who stood waiting for her in the late-summer sun.
As the old woman held her close, Elodie breathed in the scent of flour and lilacs, and closed her eyes in relief.
She was home.
