The next morning wasn’t much different. Alice and I cycled to the shop, raced in and bought the bread, and then raced back out to see if the boy was in the garden.
Before I even saw him, I knew he was there, because Alice had that dreamy look on her face again, and she was fixing her hair so much that I thought she had turned into Melissa.
I looked past her, and saw the boy sitting exactly where he had been the day before. He was reading again, but he was too far away for me to see what book he had. Today he was wearing a really cool striped shirt, and denim jeans. He looked like a movie star.
Alice shrugged.
‘I don’t know, do I?’
‘Well we can’t just stand here for the day, can we?’
Alice sighed.
‘Why not? I’d be happy to stand here forever, just looking at him.’
‘Alice O’Rourke, get over yourself,’ I said.
‘Must I?’ she said in a dreamy voice that was starting to annoy me.
Just then the boy looked up from his book, and stared right at us.
‘Quick. Say something,’ said Alice.
‘But he’s French. What can I say? I can’t ask him what kind of music he likes, or what’s his favourite sport. Do you think he’d like to hear me say gateau or chateau?’
The boy stood up, which made Alice panic.
‘He’s going. Quickly, Meg, think of something.’
‘Er, bonjour,’ I said.
‘He didn’t hear you. Say it again.’
So I said it again – a bit louder than I’d intended.
‘BONJOUR.’
The poor boy actually jumped. Then he said a real quick ‘bonjour’, and practically ran into the back of the baker’s shop.
Alice sighed.
‘I think I’m in love,’ she said.
‘Hey,’ I said. ‘What about me? Can I love him too?’
Alice shook her head.
‘Sorry, Meg, I saw him first.’
‘But that’s not fair,’ I protested.
Alice laughed.
‘No, I suppose it isn’t. Anyway, what does it matter? It’s not like one of us is going to ever go out with him or anything. We’ve got six more days – that’s six more “bonjours”. We can take turns.’
‘OK,’ I said, climbing on to my bike. ‘Now let’s go. Last one home gets extra lentil stew for dinner.’
* * *
Later that day, Mum walked in to the village to buy stuff for dinner. When she came back, she came out to the garden to where Alice and I were lying in the shade of a tree, playing Scrabble.
‘I have great news for you two girls,’ she said.
‘You found the porridge?’ said Alice, winking at me.
‘Don’t be cheeky, young lady,’ said Mum, but I could see she wasn’t really cross.
‘What’s the great news?’ I asked. I’d known Mum for long enough to know that stuff she thought was great news, usually turned out to be totally boring. Still, Alice was beating me at Scrabble, and I had all vowels, so I was glad of the distraction.
‘Well,’ said Mum, putting down her shopping bags, and throwing herself on to the grass next to them. ‘I got chatting to the lady in the baker’s shop – she speaks very good English – and she said that she has a son about your age.’
Alice and I sat up very quickly. This was starting to sound interesting.
Just then an ant crawled onto Mum, and she became absorbed in watching it crawl down her leg. (Mum doesn’t believe in shaving her legs, so the poor ant must have thought it was lost in a forest.)
‘And?’ I said to Mum, trying to remind her that she was supposed to be giving us good news. ‘What about the baker’s son?’
The ant escaped from the forest, and Mum turned back to us.
‘Oh, yes, the baker’s son. His name is … let me see … what did she say his name was?’
‘His name doesn’t matter,’ said Alice. ‘What else did she say about him?’
Mum wasn’t giving up though.
‘It began with “B”. Now what was it again? Bernard? Bertrand? No, it wasn’t any of them. Now, let me think …’
Mum was fiddling with her hair, like she always does when she’s trying to think of something. Alice gave me a look that was easy to understand – can’t you make her get on with it?
I shook my head. We’d get no more information until Mum remembered the boy’s name.
‘Ben? Bill? Barry? Bonaparte?’ I said helpfully.
Mum shook her head. Then she suddenly clapped her hands (always a good sign.)
‘Bruno,’ she said happily. ‘That’s it. He’s called Bruno.’
Alice gave a sudden giggle.
‘My granny used have a dog called Bruno,’ she said. ‘He could do loads of tricks. He used to go to the shop every morning, and carry the paper all the way home. He––’
‘Oh, sorry,’ said Alice. ‘You were saying, Sheila?’
‘Well,’ said Mum. ‘As I said, Bruno is about your age, and he’s learning English at school, and he’d like to practise it.’
I gave a big smile.
‘He can practise on us any day.’
‘Well, I’m glad to hear you say that,’ said Mum. ‘These days I’m never quite sure how you’re going to react. I was half afraid you’d say you wouldn’t want to wander around the village with some French boy.’
Alice smiled.
‘Oh, don’t worry,’ she said. ‘Wandering around the village with some French boy is exactly our idea of fun.’
‘Well I’m glad to see you’re being mature about it, Alice dear,’ said Mum. ‘Because his mother said she’ll send Bruno over tomorrow morning at eleven, and he can show you around the village. Now, I can’t stay here chatting, I’d better get started on the dinner.’
She picked up her shopping bags, and went in to the house.
Alice ran her hand across the Scrabble board, sweeping all the letters on to the grass.
‘What did you do that for?’ I asked, before I remembered that I had all vowels, and was losing the game anyway.
Alice looked at me like I was crazy.
‘We don’t have time for Scrabble,’ she said. ‘We have much more important things to do now. We’ve only got …’ She looked at her watch and then continued, ‘We’ve only got eighteen and a half hours to get ready for Bruno.’