{ELEMENTISTS OF WILLOW FOREST BOOK V} The Journey Across Water

Auntie Romane (Or: Burn, Baby Burn)

8: Auntie Romane (Or: Burn, Baby Burn)

With Les Serpents Rouges, they sleep between four tents. There's the command tent, that's Rex and Cléante's, one for the 2nd and 4th, another for the 6th,8th and 10th, and the last for the rest of the guys (that's the 5th, 7th and 9th).

If you're awake, you'll have hopefully realised that the girls share tents and the boys share tents. I was hoping to be able to join Julliet, Talia and Minuitte, as so far it seemed like they'd make the best roommates, but there was more space in the other girls' tent.

So, yippee, I got to spend the night with Seraphine, who promptly moved her sleeping bag right to the other side of the tent. I moved mine to the other side, so Avril branched the gap between us protectively.

I was expecting everyone to stay up all night chatting, but, disappointedly, both Avril and Seraphine started snoring soundly without a word. In a few hours' time, I discovered why, though. The moment the first light of dawn began to peep under the canvas of the tent, all ten were straight up, out of bed, restarting the fire to cook breakfast.

I didn't complain, though. Like most small children, I liked to get out of bed as soon as possible and avoid getting back in it for as long as possible too.

Anyway, it was Caspar and someone else's duty to do breakfast each morning. I'm taking it the Someone Else was Seraphine, because for some reason breakfast failed to appear in front of me.

I remember trying very hard not to make my presence too obvious, because, as much as I liked attention, If they remembered I was there, they'd remember I shouldn't be there, and remember they were supposed to dump me on my Auntie Romane. I didn't want them to remember, because I wanted to stay with them forever and ever and ever and ever and ever, because they were the bestest and spectaclularest and brilliantest people ever.

(Heck, I'm just trying to tell this form my point of view when I was a kid.)

"Good." Olivia retorted. "I'd be slightly concerned if you still thought you could make any word into its superlative by simply adding 'est'.

"I'm not that dumb!" Sasha protested. "And, uh, just to recap, what's a superlative?"

Olivia paused for a second. "No. You're not dumb. You're clever, just not knowledgeable."

Sasha wasn't completely sure what the difference was, but then she wasn't some stupid brainiac like Olivia. Uncertain of what to say next, she just decided to keep telling her story.

"Frustratingly, it wasn't long before they switched to English and started answering questions about where I was from and where I was going.

'I came from my Gran who was an idiot so she died.' I said. 'So then this social worker who was an idiot drove me to Dover, and then we went on this awful ferry thing to Calais. Then I dumped him at the port because he was stupid and then I found you.'

Avril smiled kindly. 'And why were you coming here? Or, rather, why was your social worker bringing you here?'

'I'm supposed to be going to meet my Auntie Romane.' I retorted, 'But I've never met her and don't really want to. Can I just live with you instead?'

Seraphine squeaked in a bad imitation of my voice: 'Can we just break the ancient rules you've all sworn to follow instead?'

Rex frowned. 'We have already discussed this. It is a privilege and honour for you to see us, let alone spend the night with us. You can visit us for one night only, we take you to wherever you are meant to be in the morning, and you will never see or hear of us again.'

But I wanted to see them again.

'What is the full name of your Auntie Romane?' Cléante enquired.

I sighed in despair, and gave it to them.

Both Rex and Cléante disappeared into the command tent, then re-emerged moments later.

'It is five blocks away.' Rex announced. 'The 7th and 10th will take you now.'

Sadly, I wandered to the corner where I had joyfully discarded my suitcase in a pile of mud the night before, and dragged it over to an already impatient Minuitte and Frédéric.

*

I ran with the two of them to a strange looking door on a strange looking townhouse on a strange looking street. I turned round to say goodbye, but both Frédéric and Minuitte had already dissolved into the shadows.

So this was it.

My new life.

I hated it already.

Just to confuse me, there were two doorbells. One of them had a yellow postick note attatched, but I didn't know French at that point, so I couldn't tell if it read 'Use this one' or 'Don't use this one'. Exasperated, I knocked on the door. When nobody came instantly, I started punching it and kicking it.

A rather angry woman, yelling in French, I could hear pacing up the hallway. She opened the door on a chain, in case she thought I was a burglar or something.

As she opened the door wider, I got see a very nice china statue of a dog on a shelf. Huh. Maybe that might find its way into my room later.

The woman had the same pale complexion and 78% Cocoa hair as my mother had, but hers was cut short just above her shoulders.

'Hello.' I muttered to the paving stones. 'I'm Sasha Brunner. Jane's daughter. I'm supposed to live with you. Let me in.'

As I kicked a leg forwards to step inside, Auntie Romane screeched 'Non! Non!' and pushed me back out again.

I repeated my previous statement. She stared at me blankly.

Oh no. She did understand me, didn't she?

'HELLO.' I said very loudly. 'DO YOU SPEAK ENGLISH?'

...Apparently not.

Oh great.

I unzipped a pocket of my suitcase, and rummaged around in there until I managed to produce my passport, which I shoved under her nose whilst pointing at myself.

'Ah, oui!'

Finally, she let me in, and slammed the door.

When I was about to celebrate that we'd got somewhere, Romane started yelling at me in French again. Obviously, I didn't understand what she was yelling about, but I guess it was something along the lines of 'Why are you a day late? Why are you alone? Where's the social worker with all the paperwork? Why are you treading mud into my rug?'

So nice to be welcomed in such a way.

Romane let out a frustrated 'ARGH!' At least we could understand each other with that, despite me only speaking English and her only French. 'ARGH!' is generally the same in both languages.

She plonked me down in the kitchen, and started making phone calls that went on and on and on. How many people were there to phone? Couldn't she at least show me my bedroom, or say hello?

More desperate, angry phone calls.

Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Twenty.

Her kitchen was horrible. It was all white and shiny and bland.

Half an hour. That was THIRTY-ONE MINUTES of stupid phone calls and ignoring me.

I jumped off the stool, and started rummaging in the cupboards for something tasty (and preferably chocolatey) but she smacked my hand and beckoned for me to sit down.

And hour.

I was angry. I felt very, very, very angry.

I shut my eyes. I felt a rush of red. I opened my eyes. The house was on fire.

That was the fourth fire I've ever been in.