Free Cupid's Arrow by Isabelle Merlin Page A

helpfully, as we looked blank. 'I came to see if everything was okay and if you needed anything.'
    'Oh, I see,' said Mum. 'No, no, we don't need anything. Thank you. We have everything we – But, Madame Clary! It was your stew and cake we just ate, wasn't it?'
    'I hope it was satisfactory,' said the woman, with a little smile.
    'It was excellent. Delicious. Wonderful. Wasn't it, Fleur?' I nodded. Mum went on. 'Madame, we were just about to have a cup of coffee. Would you, perhaps like to –'
    'Thank you, yes, Madame Griffon,' said Marie Clary, briskly coming in. She'd obviously hoped to be asked.
    'Please. My name is Anne.'
    'And mine is Marie. I heard you are from Australia. You speak very good French. No trace of an accent.'
    'I was born in France. My parents are French. They went to live in Australia when I was a small child.'
    'Ah. That explains it. You are bilingual then. How marvellous. Your daughter must speak French well then too?'
    'No,' I said, blushing, 'I understand just about everything, but I do not speak well. I–I am too slow when I speak.'
    'You do not speak too badly at all,' she said judiciously, 'and if you practise you will speak even better. You must make friends here. You will soon learn to be quite fluent,' said Marie Clary, sitting down at the table with a decided air. 'I will introduce you to –'
    'Fleur has met someone already,' said Mum, ignoring my glare. 'A boy called Remy, and his dog. Does he live in the village?'
    Behind her big glasses, Marie Clary's blue eyes swivelled to me. She said, 'No. Remy Gomert does not live in the village.' There was an odd expression in her eyes. 'He and his mother, Valerie, live in the woods. She is, well, they don't mix very much with the rest of us.'
    'I see,' said Mum, who clearly didn't.
    'She's an artist. An illustrator. She used to do work sometimes for Monsieur Dulac,' said Marie Clary, sipping on her coffee. 'She has a thing about the world outside this little valley, though. Won't go anywhere else, hardly even to Avallon. Remy does the shopping for her. She is, you might say, a hermit. But then, poor thing ...' She paused. 'When you have a face like that –'
    'Like what?' said Mum, wide-eyed. She can never resist a good gossip. Well, not many people can. Certainly not me. I was all ears, just like Mum.
    'A terrible thing happened to her back in Quebec, in Canada, where she comes from, originally. Someone set fire to her house and she got badly burnt. She got over it, but one side of her poor face – well, it didn't heal up really well, you see.'
    'My God, that's awful!'
    'Even worse, her husband and her brother died in that fire. Remy was a baby when it happened, thank the Lord he wasn't in the house, he was at her sister's, that's why he was okay. That's what I heard, anyway,' said Marie Clary, leaning forward. 'If you meet her, just remember not to ask any questions.' She looked at me. 'And if you see Remy again, don't tell him you know. He's a good sort of boy, but a bit strange, if you know what I mean. Spends too much time by himself in those woods with that dog. He's seventeen, but he's never gone to school. I mean, his mother teaches him. Very clever she is, apparently, and he has done well in his studies, I believe, but still, is it right, I ask you? And they don't have electricity or TV or anything like that at their house. I think you shouldn't try to live outside your own time, it's not natural. And how will he cope, out in the real world, once his mother, well... ?'
    Mum shook her head. 'I suppose he will, somehow. Young people are very adaptable.'
    'Perhaps you are right,' said Marie Clary. 'Still, Fleur,' she said, turning to me, 'I think we can introduce you to other young people as well, yes? Julien and I don't have children, sadly, but my sister Angele, she has twin girls and a boy, very nice they are, I am sure they would like to meet you. An Australian! Well! They will want to ask you a million questions. Many young people in