Leap of Faith (8 page)

I rolled my eyes. Typical Ramsbottom, always trying to take something fun and insert a bit of deathly dull into it.

‘So you should probably make a few notes while you’re there and perhaps try not to burn anything down.’

‘It’s certainly a nice suggestion, Mrs W, I’ll bear it in mind.’

But she’d gone back to her forgery.

FRIDAY 18TH MAY

I ought to be skipping about making sure I’ve packed enough bracelets and nail varnish, instead I’m feeling rubbish.

It’s as if someone is taking the mickey out of my plans to be a super good friend. My bestie isn’t talking to me and I don’t know how I’m supposed to make new friends in France when I’ve got to live with my worst enemy for a week.

If it was happening to someone else it might be funny.

LATER

Although, when you think about it, it is happening to someone else; it’s happening to Icky. She must be really annoyed that she’s got to share a house with me.

That idea has cheered me up a bit.

It’s like Granny says, it’s an ill wind that doesn’t blow some idiot away.

LATERER

Just got a text from Megs. It says, ‘Have a good time you big pig.’ I welled up when I read it. That girl has got a wonderful way with words. It’s a talent I share so I sent one back saying ‘Thanks you toad.’

I hope this means she loves me again.

SATURDAY 19TH MAY

This morning Dad drove me to school. I expected to see Miss Ramsbottom skulking back from a night’s hunting, but it was just the French teachers flapping about. Madame Badeau was looking particularly stressed for someone about to go on holiday.

I said to Dad, ‘Thanks for the lift. I’m off to embark on my jet-set lifestyle. From Paris I might just head straight to Madrid. Then I’ll probably be invited to the Cannes film festival. If I get spotted by a Hollywood producer I’ll send you a postcard before I set off for the States, but whatever happens, don’t let Mum turn my bedroom into a permanent granny flat.’

Dad nodded slowly. ‘Yes, of course.’ He put a hand on my shoulder. ‘Right, now we’ve covered what’s happening in your imagination, let’s have a quick think about what might be happening in the real world.’

I pulled a face.

‘I’ll keep it brief. First of all, be really polite with your host family. You know how you are with me and Mum? Just do the exact opposite.’

‘Seriously, Dad, obviously I don’t treat other people like I treat you! Not unless I really don’t like them.’

‘I see.’

‘What else did you want to say?’

He took a deep breath. ‘No fighting, no fires, no disappearing, no driving, no smoking, no drinking, no imprisoning anyone even if they have stolen your pencil case—’

‘Dad! That was years ago.’

‘No explosions, no knives, no digging holes unless that’s exactly what you’ve been asked to do, no swimming anywhere with a big sign that says “no swimming”, no extreme sports, no eloping, no joining a religious cult, and absolutely no sparking any kind of diplomatic incident. I don’t want to be conscripted into the army to fight a war that you’ve started.’

He was panting a bit. He really ought to think about doing some cardio.

‘Is that it?’ I asked. ‘Because you honestly don’t need to worry, I was only really thinking about doing one of those things. Three or four at the most.’

He crossed his eyes. ‘Every time you think of doing anything just picture my face.’

‘I can’t think of your face the whole time! How will I keep my food down?’ Then I took pity on him and gave him a squeeze. ‘Don’t worry about me, you fried egg! I promise to keep the delicate balance of having a good time and not incurring any expensive damages for you to pay for.’

‘I suppose that will have to do.’

I got my cases out of the boot and signed in with Madame Badeau.

When it was time to go Dad said, ‘One more thing, Faith.’

‘Yes?’

‘Have fun.’

I let him kiss me on the cheek.

LATER

Finally, we were on our way. The journey was pretty dull. I think I’ll recommend to Miss Ramsbottom that future school trips use more high-end transport like jets and limousines. I passed a bit of time by imagining what Josette’s chateau would look like. I was thinking something
Beauty and the Beast
-ish. Preferably including the talking clock butler and the dancing crockery.

After that I tried to calm Angharad’s nerves by listening to her fears whilst eating all her sweets. Poor old Ang really is quite fretty about the whole thing.

She bit her lip. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t have come. I’m missing a maths tutoring session and now my Year Sevens will fall behind.’

‘No they won’t. You’ve taught them so well they could probably do their GCSE now.’

‘What if Louise doesn’t like me?’

‘Everybody likes you. A million people told you to have a nice trip yesterday. I didn’t even recognise some of them. You’re the most likeable person I know.’

‘What if Louise’s parents don’t like me?’

I wasn’t having that. ‘Ang, you’re clean and polite and you enjoy doing homework. Parents adore you. You’d better be careful they don’t try and swap you for their own rubbishy French offspring.’ She managed to smile at that, but I’m going to have to keep an eye on her. When I’m sad I always manage to reach out and let people know. Usually, by sobbing nosily or expressing my feelings by painting them on walls, but Ang tends to keep it quiet. I could tell she was still bothered because there was a big crease between her eyebrows and she was staring off into space. She’s scared of meeting new people.

I rummaged around in my bag and pulled out Scruffy the dog, my exam mascot.

‘Here,’ I said, handing him to Ang. ‘I want you to look after him.’

Angharad gasped like I’d just handed her a diamond necklace (which, by the way, is what I had actually asked for when my Mum said that she’d buy me something to take into exams with me).

‘I can’t take Scruffy! He’s your good luck charm.’

‘I want you to. This way if you get really miserable and it’s too late at night to text me then you can give Scruffy a squeeze and remember that it’s only for nine days and I’ll be waiting to cheer you up in the morning.’

‘Thanks Faith, that’s real—’

‘That’s alright. Now, you don’t mind if I have this last packet of wine gums, do you?’

I settled back to enjoy some scenery, but roads are pretty dull wherever you’re looking at them. Ang had brought a few books to read so I flicked open a Tintin but it was all in French.

‘I’ve picked up loads of vocabulary from that one,’ she said. ‘
Saperlipopette
!’

‘Bless you.’

‘No, it’s French.
Saperlipopette
.’

‘What does it mean?’

‘You say it when you’re surprised. It’s like goodness gracious! or something like that.’

Personally, I think being able to say ‘
Trois tranches de gateau, s’il vous plait
’ is going to be far more helpful than ‘
saperlipopette
’, but it seemed to be calming to Ang to tell me words that French grannies might find useful so I let her witter on.

We eventually arrived at Josette’s school. It looks a lot like our school (i.e. large and horrible and easily confused with a prison). As soon as I got off the coach I was almost knocked flying by a bellowing girl.

‘It is you!’ And she threw an arm around me and started dragging me sideways.

‘Josette?’

‘Yes, and you are Faith.’

‘I know. It’s really nice to meet you. Journey was a bit of a nightmare. It looks like a little skip on the map, doesn’t it?’

Josette nodded enthusiastically and then burst into peels of laugh. I wasn’t sure if she hadn’t understood what I said or if she was just bubbling over with the joy of meeting me. Which is understandable.

‘I like your boots,’ I said.

She was wearing some hefty looking lace up clompers like the kind of thing that builders wear to protect their toes from falling bits of house.

‘Ah, these boots they are good for the kicking and the . . .’ she mimed grinding something underfoot.

‘Squishing?’

‘Yes.’

‘So we’re going to your house next? Listen, there’s something I’ve got to tell you about Delphine’s partner.’

‘Delphine?’ She looked over at a girl with the same shiny black hair she had, talking to Icky.

‘Yes, her English girl. She’s not my friend. She’s my enemy. And she’s not nice.
Pas de tout
.’

‘Josette’s eyes widened. ‘Ohhh, this girl, she is bad?’

‘Really bad. Rude, mean, wears perfume that smells like one of those freshener things that hang over the edge of the loo seat.’

‘Delphine will not let her be bad.’

‘Really?’

‘Delphine she is my twin. She knows what to do with the bad girls.’

Before we went off in Josette’s mum’s car I decided it would be a good idea to have a little word with Angharad’s exchange girl. When I located Ang she was standing shyly with a beautiful French girl with bouncing chestnut hair.

‘Ang,’ I said, ‘this is Josette.’ Then I left Josette to babble on to her while I drew Lovely Locks to one side.

‘Hi,’ I said. ‘I’m Faith, Angharad’s friend.’

‘’Allo, my name is Louise.’

‘So the thing is Lou, I need you to take extra good care of Angharad. She’s very smart and cool, but she does worry about things and she was really nervous about this trip so I just need to know that you’re going to look after her.’

Louise seemed confused.

‘I will ‘elp her with her French, yes?’

‘To be honest, that’s not really what she needs the help with. She’s super-deluxe at French. In fact she’s an intellectual giant, it’s just that she’s got the voice of a mouse. A lovely mouse. A kind, cheerful, generous cheese-sharing sort of a mouse, but one that everyone should be very kind to. Otherwise, her big ratty mate will duff them up.’

Even though I think in future I will avoid comparing myself to a rat, I felt that I’d made my point.

Louise seemed less clear. ‘What is this mouse?’ she asked.

‘Just be kind to Angharad. Please.’

‘Of course. I like Angharad. Of course I will be kind.’

And she turned away.

She’d better keep her word or I might upgrade myself from a rat to one of those bitey little dogs.

LATER STILL

I’m very tired. It’s hard work not understanding a word people are saying. I wonder how Angharad is doing. She’ll be missing her mum. I might just send her a supportive little text.

Josette seems really nice. She doesn’t live in a chateau, just a middle-sized house, but fortunately she does at least have her own bedroom, which may help cut down the chances of Icky strangling me in my sleep. Or vice versa.

SUNDAY 20TH MAY

Today we went on a hike. Josette said we were going up a hill. That was the word she used. It was not a hill. It was definitely a mountain. The problem is that I can’t really blame her for inaccurate language because I am having similar problems communicating in French.

This morning I thought that Mrs Josette was looking particularly fetching with her hair in a chignon (which is exactly the kind of tidy hairstyle I’m always suggesting to my mum but she prefers to let her hair run wild and free and end up in the butter). Anyway, just to prove Icky wrong when she said that I don’t know any French, I thought I’d try a little conversation, so I said to Mrs Josette, ‘
J’aime votre cheval
.’

Mrs J’s eyes widened. She looked over her shoulder and then she started firing questions at Josette.

It turns out that I had complimented her horse (
cheval
) instead of her hair (
cheveux
). Josette also explained that she did once try to keep a baby goat in her room without telling her mum so I could see why my remark might make her nervous. In fact we had to spend the rest of breakfast reassuring her that there absolutely was not a horse in the house. Or a pig. Or a cow.

I hope we do animals in French when I get back to school because I’ve learnt some good ones.

Anyway, as soon as Josette and I had settled in our bus seats behind Angharad and Louise I leant round and whispered to Ang, ‘How’s it going?’

She smiled. ‘Pretty good,’ she whispered back. ‘They’re really nice. And they can understand me when I speak French!’

I beamed back at her. I knew she’d be fine.

When we arrived at the foot of the mountain Angharad looked even happier. ‘Isn’t it lovely?’ she said. ‘It’s got a really French feel, hasn’t it?’

I was pretty unimpressed with the view until a really fit boy with his hair in cornrows cheered up all the nature stuff by standing in my eye line.

‘Who’s that?’ I asked Josette.

Rather than giving me the low down on Mr Fit in a nice discrete whisper Josette made a noise. A very loud French noise.

‘
Eurrrp
!’ she said.

The boy turned around.

Josette waved him over.

‘Philippe,
mon amie
, Faith.’

Philippe gave me a long look. I looked him long right back.

His full-lipped French mouth broke into a wide grin.

‘Are you walking?’ he asked. ‘Walk with me.’

I felt a little more enthusiastic about the whole walking business.

The teacher gave some sort of signal and we all set off in little groups. Josette walked with us, but occasionally stopped to point at things and exclaim loudly. While she was getting excited about a rock that looked like a dog, I snuck a look at Philippe. ‘So . . .’ I said. ‘You’re friends with Josette?’

‘Ah, Josette. All the world, they know Josette.’

I wasn’t surprised to hear this. People like Josette can’t help being noticed. Well, they could help it if they didn’t stand in the middle of a bus full of teenagers and shout ‘Guess what I have in my socks?’ but where would be the fun in that? (Obviously, I couldn’t entirely understand what she had said about her socks at first, but I can tell you that all the pointing and foot waggling was pretty attention-grabbing even in French.) It reminded me of that time I lost my voice and Miss Ramsbottom accused me of smuggling jelly beans in my shoes and I had to defend my honour using the power of mime. Josette and I are actually a bit similar. I suppose that some people in life are wagglers and some are not.