Bonjour Alice

by Judi Curtin

  Alice laughed.

  ‘OK, I won’t tell you it’s Melissa, because it isn’t.’

  I relaxed and began to turn around.

  ‘I told you not to look,’ hissed Alice again.

  I grinned.

  ‘OK, I won’t look. But what am I meant to be not looking at?’

  ‘It’s a boy,’ said Alice.

  ‘Oh, a boy,’ I said. ‘That sounds exciting.’

  ‘Be like that,’ said Alice. ‘But it’s not just any boy. It’s the best-looking boy you’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Mum doesn’t let me out much,’ I said. ‘So I haven’t seen many boys. And besides, I haven’t seen this one yet either.’

  Suddenly Alice went all soppy and dreamy.

  ‘OK, so I’ll describe him for you. He’s … he’s tall … or at least I think he is, he’s sitting down, so it’s kind of hard to tell. And he’s got lovely dark brown hair, but the ends are blonde, and it’s so cool. And his eyes, well he’s too far away for me to see them properly, but I bet they’re gorgeous. And he’s wearing this totally cool denim shirt, and he’s––’

  I interrupted her.

  ‘What exactly is he doing, while you’re standing here telling me how gorgeous he is?’

  Alice smiled a dreamy smile.

  ‘He’s reading a book. I bet it’s not one of those stupid war books that the boys in our class read. I bet it’s something totally romantic, like Shakespeare. He’s––’

  Suddenly I realised something.

  ‘If he’s reading a book, then he’s not looking this way, is he? So that means I can look at him.’

  As I spoke, I turned around, but as I did so, the bikes toppled over, and crashed to the ground with a huge clatter. I ignored the bikes, and looked over the wall into the garden. The boy had jumped to his feet, and Alice was right – he was tall, and he was very, very good-looking.

  Now though, he was also looking this way, probably wondering why two embarrassed looking Irish girls were peering over his garden wall.

  Alice smiled.

  ‘Hi … er … that is … I mean … Bon … jour.’

  The boy didn’t smile back at us.

  ‘Bonjour,’ he said. Then he picked up his book, and went in a door at the back of the baker’s shop.

  Alice pretended to faint up against the wall.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ she said. ‘Did you ever hear such a perfect French accent?’

  ‘He is French,’ I replied.

  ‘I know,’ said Alice. ‘But that accent, I think it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard.’

  ‘I think the sweetest sound I ever heard was when you told me the porridge was left behind in Ireland,’ I said, laughing. But I knew what she meant. That boy, whoever he was, was interesting. Very, very interesting.

  ‘I wonder what his name is?’ said Alice dreamily.

  ‘Seamus? Padraig? Rumpelstiltskin?’

  Alice punched me on the arm. Obviously she had recovered from her faint, because the punch hurt.

  ‘Stop messing,’ she said. ‘I bet he has a gorgeous name – maybe Jean, or François––’

  ‘You mean, John, or Francis?’

  Alice tried to punch me again, but I was ready for her this time, and she missed.

  ‘Well they sound better in French,’ she said.

  I sighed.

  ‘Anyway, what does it matter?’ I said. ‘He’s gone. We’re never going to see him again.’

  Alice picked up her bike.

  ‘Maybe you’re never going to see him again, but I intend to. Tomorrow is another day, and guess who’s coming here to buy bread for the breakfast?’

  ‘Us?’

  Alice patted my arm this time.

  ‘Clever girl. Got it in one,’ she said. ‘Now let’s go back, before the bread gets cold, and your Mum starts threatening to make porridge.’

  Chapter Fifteen

  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.

  ‘Now what?’ I said.

  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––’

  ‘Al,’ I said.

  ‘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.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  Next morning I woke to hear Mum calling up the stairs.

  ‘Megan, Alice. Get up. Time to go for the bread.’

  I started to climb out of bed, but Alice leaned over from her bed, and pulled me back.

  ‘Wait. We can’t go to the bakery this morning,’ she said.

  ‘Why not?’ I asked as I pulled my socks on.

  ‘Duh. Because we’ll see Bruno.’

  ‘Duh to you too. Don’t we want to see Bruno?’

  Alice sat up, and looked at me like I was a total idiot.

  ‘Of course we want to see Bruno, but not yet. We’re not ready.’

  I was pulling on my t-shirt by now.

  ‘Speak for yourself,’ I said. ‘I’m nearly ready.’

  Alice sighed.

  ‘No, you’re not. You’re not ready at all. We’ve got to plan our clothes, and shower, and do our hair, and our nails. We’ve got to––’

  I held up my hand to make her stop.

  ‘We’re not going to a ball. We’re only going for a walk around the village. We don’t have to dress up.’

  ‘Whatever,’ said Alice. ‘You do what you like. But I’ve decided that I’m going to make a special effort.’

  That settled it. If Alice was going to look all pampered and pretty for Bruno, there was no way I was going to look like a scarecrow. I called down to Mum.

  ‘We’re feeling a bit lazy this morning. Could you or Dad go for the bread, please?’

  Mum laughed.

  ‘I suppose so. But I hope you’ll have the energy for the walk around the village with Bruno.’

  Alice giggled.

  ‘Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of energy for that.’

  After breakfast, Alice and I both showered. As soon as our hair was dry, I tied Alice’s up in a bun. Then she did a really cool French plait all down the back of my hair. Alice put on a really nice denim skirt and a blue and white striped t-shirt. I looked in my wardrobe, and wasn’t happy with what I saw, but Alice picked out a pair of jeans, and lent me a white shirt to go over them.

  ‘You look lovely,’ she said. ‘Now just our nails, and then we’re ready.’

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Get out the nail varnish then.’

  Alice sighed.

  ‘I didn’t bring any. Did you?’

  I shook my head.

  ‘Didn’t think I’d need it.’

  Alice giggled.

  ‘What about your Mum?’

  I giggled too.

  ‘I think I heard her say she’s just finished her last bottle.’

  ‘We’ll just have to keep our hands in our pockets at all times then,’ said Alice. ‘We can’t have Bruno seeing our un-varnished nails.’

  I gulped.

  Was Alice starting to turn into her mother?

  Then Alice poked me in the arm.

  ‘I’m kidding,’ she said. ‘Now I think we’re ready. Let’s go.’

  We went out to the garden to show Mum and Dad.

  Mum looked at us like we were ghosts.

  ‘Girls, you look …’ she said. Then she couldn’t say any more.

  ‘I hope this Fido is worth it,’ said Dad.

  ‘Behave yourself, Donal,’ said Mum. ‘You know well that his name isn’t Fido.’

  ‘Rover?’ said Dad winking at Alice and me.

  Mum laughed.

  ‘It’s Bruno,’ she said. ‘As if you didn’t know. But I agree with you. I hope he’s worth all the trouble you’ve gone to.’

  ‘Oh he is,’ said Alice.

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Mum puzzled. ‘Have you met him already?’

  Alice went red.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘We don’t actually know that he’s worth it. We just hope that he is. That’s what I meant.’

  Mum was giving her a strange look, but just then the doorbell rang, saving Alice from further explanation.

  No-one moved.

  ‘Are you going to get that, girls?’ said Dad.

  Alice and I looked at each other.

  ‘You get it,’ we both said together.

  Still no-one moved towards the door.

  ‘Why don’t you both go?’ said Mum.

  It seemed like the best idea, so Alice and I walked slowly towards the front door. This was the moment we’d been waiting for, but now that it was here, I felt kind of shy. Looking over a wall at our dream date was one thing – standing face to face with him was going to be much harder.

  We reached the front door.

  ‘This is it,’ whispered Alice, as she reached for the handle and pulled the door open.

  We stood there with our mouths open.

  Where was the beautiful boy with the dark hair tipped with blonde?

  Where was the guy in the totally cool clothes?

  And what was this small, pale, boy with almost-shaved hair, and ugly, shiny, yellow shorts doing on our door-step?

  There was a very long silence.

  Finally Alice spoke.

  ‘What do you want?’ she asked, rather rudely I thought.

  The boy went very red. Even his neck and his ears turned a strange colour a bit like the curtains in Rosie’s bedroom.

  ‘Je … I … I … Bruno,’ he said. ‘I come to demonstrate you the France.’

  ‘Bruno?’ said Alice.

  ‘Bruno?’ I repeated after her like a crazy parrot.

  The boy nodded his still-red head.

  ‘But you can’t be,’ said Alice.

  Now the poor boy looked very puzzled. Even though he clearly wasn’t very good at choosing clothes, or barbers, surely he knew his own name.

  Suddenly I felt sorry for him.<
br />
  ‘Why don’t you wait here?’ I said. ‘While we … while we … while we talk to my mum for a minute.’

  Bruno didn’t say anything, which was good enough for me. So Alice and I left him on the door-step, and ran off.

  ‘Who on earth is that?’ hissed Alice as soon as we were safely in the kitchen, with the door closed behind us.

  ‘He says he’s Bruno,’ I said.

  ‘But it can’t be.’

  ‘But it is.’

  ‘And what about the cool guy in the garden of the bakery?’ asked Alice.

  I shrugged.

  ‘We made a mistake. That wasn’t Bruno. That was someone else who happens to live near the bakery.’

  ‘Not just near the bakery,’ hissed Alice. ‘We saw him go in there, remember? By the back door.’

  I shrugged again.

  ‘So maybe he likes bread. Maybe he’s a good customer, so they let him in the back way. Maybe he works there. Maybe …’

  I couldn’t think of any more maybes, but it didn’t matter anyway. We had no idea where cute-guy was, but dorky-yellow-shorts-guy was waiting on our door-step.

  Just then, Mum came in to the kitchen.

  ‘Where’s Bruno?’ she asked, looking around like we might have hidden him under the table or something.

  ‘He’s out the front,’ I said. ‘But, er, Mum, maybe this tour of the village wasn’t such a good idea, after all.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Mum said. ‘It’ll do you both good to get out, see the village, meet the locals.’

  ‘But we can’t,’ said Alice.

  ‘Why ever not?’ asked Mum.

  ‘Because … because … because he’s a stranger,’ said Alice. ‘And I’m not allowed to go out with strangers.’

  I grinned. Trust Alice to think of the perfect excuse.

  Or not.

  ‘That’s absolutely ridiculous,’ said Mum. ‘He’s not a stranger. I know his mother. Now off you go, and I’ll expect you back for lunch at one.’

  ‘But that’s two hours,’ I said.

  ‘Oh, do you need more time?’ asked Mum. ‘We could have lunch later if you like.’

  I shook my head.

  ‘No. Two hours is plenty.’

  ‘Sure?’ asked Mum.

  ‘We’re very sure,’ said Alice, patting the hair I’d spent ages fixing. ‘Now let’s go, Megan. We don’t want to keep Bruno waiting, do we?’