The French Girl by Felicia Donovan Page B

back to Stone Cottage and Giselle glanced at the clock in the kitchen. “You must be hungry…and perhaps tired, non ?”
    “A little, but…”
    “We will eat a quick lunch and you can take a nap or a bath if you like.”
    “But Giselle?”
    Giselle pulled out a wrapped bag of cheese from the refrigerator and some tomatoes and some leftover bread. “Yes, Cherie ?” she said as she took out a pan and melted butter in it.
    “You said you would tell me about Anais today.”
    Giselle sliced the cheese and tomatoes onto the bread and placed them very gently into the pan.
    “So I did,” she said without a pause, “but today is not over yet and there is still much work to be done.  We must make sure you are ready for tomorrow morning.”
    “But Giselle…” I protested.
    “ Vitement. Quickly,” she said, “run upstairs and wash your hands and your face and I will have lunch ready for you when you come down.  Oh dear,” she said looking around.  “We will need to pack your lunch for tomorrow.”
    “I could just buy lunch in the cafeteria,” I said.
    “Hmph!” Giselle said, “I will not hear of you eating that food.”
    “But I am sure it is better than the food in Cote Nouveau.  The school looks much newer and…”
    “I will not hear of it.  You will take a good lunch, a healthy lunch with you.  Remember what Eppy said, you must gain some weight.”
    “Giselle?”
    “Yes?” she said as she took a spatula and turned the slices over revealing a golden brown side.
    I wanted to tell her what Maman had called me.  I wanted to ask her if she knew why Maman would have said such a thing, but somehow I felt like I would be getting Maman in trouble. I didn’t know if it was possible to get dead people in trouble or if it mattered or not, but when I went to say it, the words would not come out.
    “What is it, Cherie ?” Giselle asked, studying me.
    “Can I use my special soap?” I could not think of what else to say.
    Giselle crinkled her eyes. “Of course. You do not have to ask for that.”
    After lunch, Giselle came up to my room and together we went through all of the clothes hanging in the closet.
    “How about this?” she asked pulling out a pink blouse and pink floral skirt.
    I shrugged my shoulders. “I guess.”
    “Too much pink for the first day,” she said making a small clicking sound in her mouth.  “What about this?” she said grabbing a white blouse and a plaid blue and tan skirt.
    “Fine.”
    She grabbed the clothes.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I am going to iron them,” she said.
    “Why?”
    “Because you must look neat and presentable for your first day. And while we are at it,” she said as she reached behind me and pulled my hair back, “I have an idea.”  She led me to the mirror over the dresser. “How would you feel about a quick trim?  Nothing too drastic, just a little off the ends to get rid of some of those tangles.”
    “But there will not be time,” I said.  “Surely the beauty parlor is not open this late and it would be expensive.”
    Giselle laughed. “ Cherie , this beauty parlor is always open. Come with me.”
    Giselle wet my hair in the big kitchen sink, then sat me down on a tall stool while she took out a pair of scissors and a comb.
    “You have done this before, yes?” I asked nervously.
    She laughed. “Of course. Who do you think cuts mine and Jean’s hair?”
    “You cut Jean’s hair?” I wasn’t so sure this was such a good idea anymore.
    “Yes, but she likes it short.  I will not make yours short,” she said.
    “Can you tell me about Anais while you are cutting?” I asked.
    She stopped and put her finger to my chin.
    “Would you like me to concentrate on your hair so I don’t make any mistakes or would you like to talk about Anais and come out looking like un coq fatigué , a tired rooster?”
    I could not help but laugh.
    Giselle cut my hair with the same intensity as when she cooked or set the table. She studied my face