JANE

JANE Part Four: Lessons

Chapter Four

Lessons

The next morning I slept in.

When I walked out of my bedroom to introduce myself to my English student, Sophie was sitting at the top of the stairs. She wore her pyjamas and those spongy, brightly coloured curlers, in her hair. She had a smile on her adorable face that lit up the overcast morning and spoke in a sweet voice, 'Bonjour! Je m'appelle Sophie.

Comment allez – vous?'

'Je vais bien, merci. You must be Sophie,' I said and smiled, 'I am Jane Eyre.'

She dragged me into my room as I explained to her in French that we should try to speak mostly English together from now on. Sophie asked me if I had a present and I gave her a colouring set I'd bought for her at the station. She seemed pleased with this.

'Merci. Thank you,' she said hesitantly.

I explained to Sophie that if we worked well together this week, we would go into the village for a cream tea and movie on Saturday afternoon. This seemed to excite her. The girl of six was now seated at the end of my bed. She pulled out an apple from her pocket and began to eat it.

'This is my breakfast,' the child said in a French accent. 'Leah also made me cereal.' Leah helped in the kitchen and organised the catering. I was told she lived nearby but sometimes she stayed at the estate when there was a large house party.

As we walked down the stairs together, there seemed to me to be little to do except speak to Sophie in English and entertain her. Slowly, we made plans for the day. Her schedule went something like this: swimming, breakfast, morning English lesson, lunch, and a walk around the farm or into town, riding lessons, painting, dinner. After dinner we read or watched television and played music. Our days began to fall into different variations of this routine from the first week I arrived.

By the second week, Sophie would bound into my room before breakfast and request that I take her swimming.

'Bonjour, maintenant!' she would whisper loudly in my ear.

'Not now, Sophie, soon. And remember we are speaking in English.' It was a challenge for her but she became fluent very quickly.

If Sophie, who was an early riser, woke me too early, I pulled the pillow over my face in protest.

'Wake up!' Sophie giggled as she took my hand and pulled me out of bed the next morning.

Our days quickly fell into a routine.

In the morning if I woke first, I got Sophie and helped her choose an outfit for the day. We'd go to the kitchen where Leah or Merida, the other kitchen hand, would have eggs cooking and various grooms and workmen were gathered around the kitchen table eating hungrily.

Some mornings Sophie and I had porridge with brown sugar, honey and bananas. On other occasions we had toast and poached eggs or fruit.

Sometimes, I'd read the paper that was delivered from the village - or just the headlines - because Sophie would distract me or be keen to go outside. She often played with her dolls after breakfast while I read. I was trying to finish my reading list for the start of the university year. I intended to study literature but I was still waiting to hear the final result of my scholarship interviews.

We always started our school work by nine in the morning. In the play room upstairs, an ancient desk had been cleared and set aside for homework. It was the same room used by generations of Rochesters for a similar purpose. No one ever told me who Sophie's parents were and I assumed it was impolite to ask unless someone offered an explanation.