At the weekend I spoke to my cousin Marie. She wanted to know everything that had happened with Miss Charlotte. Marie promised she and her dad would be at the last match of the season. Even though they live hours and hours by car away. She was absolutely desperate to see her friend Charlotte again – and to give her back a precious object, she added mysteriously.
Marie admitted that Pauline Pesky had rung her up at home after meeting Miss Charlotte in her office. Luckily Marie had a day off school, so she was the one who picked up the phone. Had her mum or dad answered the call, PP would have discovered she had been had.
Our headmistress was very worried. Not only did Miss Charlotte’s appearance inspire little confidence, but the new coach had said some odd things at their first meeting. When PP had asked her what the secret of success was, she had replied: “Spling!” When Miss Charlotte had left the office, PP looked the word up in her dictionary, only to discover it does not actually exist!
When I spoke to Marie, I explained that PP was not the only one to ask questions about Miss Charlotte. Some parents had seen her having a picnic on the lawn in front of the church, in the middle of town. No one else had ever dared to have a picnic there! And Miss Charlotte had done more than just tuck into a sandwich in the main square. She had spread out a chequered sheet, placed a pretty vase with flowers next to her, lit a few candles and put out various dishes. All the passers-by stopped and stared, but she did not seem to notice.
After lessons on Monday, Billy and I changed into our football kit as quick as a flash and went to the gym. It was raining too hard to play outside. When we opened the door, we heard Miss Charlotte’s voice. I thought she was talking to PP. But when we got nearer we discovered our coach was deep in conversation with… her football!
“Do you think they will understand? Yes, you are right. We just need to give them time.”
Miss Charlotte sighed and stroked her football with her fingertips.
“I love you lots, Anatole,” she added. “But I do miss my beautiful Gertrude…”
I heard some people chuckle behind me. Other pupils had come in and heard Miss Charlotte talking to Anatole. I was embarrassed for her. But Miss Charlotte did not seem to mind a bit.
“I am so happy to see you!” she cried out. “So is Anatole. We were just having a nice chat.”
“A chat with your football?” Fiona asked.
“Of course. It is the best way to get good at the sport,” Miss Charlotte replied.
“Is that so? Well, I happen to think that you have to be completely bonkers to talk to your football,” Fred blurted out scornfully.
It seemed Miss Charlotte had the power to block out any attempts to mock her. She beamed a smile at Fred before announcing: “Today every one of you will get to know your football.”
She opened a big bag and took out dozens of footballs.
“Enjoy!” she shouted with a happy voice.
This time our coach did not train with us. She sat herself down in a corner of the gym and took a book out of her pocket. When I happened to get close to her, I heard her pronounce these strange words: “Ah, how the snow has snowed! My window is a garden…”
That did not make any sense. But Billy, who happened to walk next to me, explained that Miss Charlotte was reciting a poem. By the Canadian poet Émile Nelligan. Billy Bungalow is a such a boffin! And Miss Charlotte is anything but boring!