Aurélie

Chapter Three

Aurélie was woken with a start as a thunder clap broke overhead and rain slashed against the attic room's window panes. Pulling a pea-green hoodie on over her vest she dashed across the room to pull the shutters in and close the windows she had left open before bed to air the room out. Her feet suddenly cold as she felt the rain-soaked rug squelching beneath her. "Damn, I hope this dries before Lena notices," she murmured to no-one in particular. Looking at her watch it was still only 5.15am, still some time before Lena would be waking up. Aurélie slipped back under the warm eiderdown with her hoodie adding extra squish-value and felt her body sink into the mattress each sigh as her dreams claimed her once again.

A rapping on the door pulled Aurélie out of her slumber and Lena's head appeared around the side of the oak door.

"Morning mon petit!" Her godmother was wearing a gold silk headscarf wrapped around her head and secured above her right ear, fastened with an emerald dragonfly brooch much like Sophia Loren. How could she look so glamorous so early on in the day? Aurélie's own hair was channeling more Medusa than goddess Sophia, dramatic but perhaps she should start sleeping with her hair in a silk scarf. Aurélie had read in Vogue that it helped keep your hair shiny, but then life's a bit too short to be fiddling around with pashminas, a hair bobble from Superdrug would do.

"Relie, we have a ton of work to do today, I hope you're feeling strong, we need to clear the rooms downstairs, I've got to dash to the bank, if you can make a start I'll be quick as I can. Orange juice is on the table, yoghurt's in the fridge - au revoir!" Lena trilled over her shoulder.

Seriously? Where did she get her energy from? Aurélie thought. Lena was the complete opposite of her mother who wouldn't dream of rising before 10am on a weekend and probably wouldn't dash anywhere unless it was to queue up outside a Karen Millen sample sale.

Throwing the windows and shutters open to let the sunlight in, Aurélie took in her view for the first time. The rug was still damp from the night-time deluge so she hung it out of the window to air it. The cobbled street outside had a beautiful gloss to it where the rain had washed it clean. To the left she could see the Seine and the glistening spire of Notre Dame. To the right the street curved around a tight corner, winding further into the Latin Quarter of Paris. The townhouse on the other side of the street already had its windows open, and an elderly man in a stained blue flannel shirt, brown corduroys and a tufty white head was talking to a young woman who was carrying a plastic crate of fresh food on the front step. Flower boxes lined the windows, and Aurélie thought she could have probably picked one of the swollen pink flowers, the street was so narrow. Images of herself as an eight year old and her cousin Tabitha shouting at each other through yoghurt pots married with string brought a smile to her face, she wondered if her neighbours would be up for yoghurt pot communications.

She splashed cold water on her face and brushed her teeth in the basin before filling it with hot water to freshen up. Pulling on leggings and an old smock top she'd had from her mother's years living in St. Ives, Cornwall, she stuffed her feet into a pair of red trainers. Aurélie hopped up the two steps and remembered just in time to duck her head on the landing to avoid the swooning ceiling before heading down the rickety stairs to the kitchen. She rinsed her glass from the night before and slurped the fresh orange juice greedily. Wiping her mouth on her sleeve she grabbed a banana off the side and wandered into the living room to have a look around. The room looked bigger in the daylight and the mirror above the mantelpiece had ornate gold detailing, a fleur de lys that repeated on each corner and joined in the centre of the frame where a proud eagle spread its wings.

Dumping the banana skin in the kitchen bin, Aurélie jogged downstairs to make a start on the ground floor rooms. She should be able to move quite a bit before Lena got back - three years of weekly yoga sessions would have made her arms stronger, surely? Ok to be fair, the plank was not her best skill but she definitely wasn't the weakest in the class. Pushing the door open of the ground floor, Aurélie looked in wonder at the stacks of cardboard boxes. It looked like it would have to be Operation Rubix Cube. They would have to move all the stuff from one room to the other, Aurélie thought that if she could get all the boxes on the ground floor into the front room - which was by far the biggest if the living room and her bedroom were any clues - then they could clean and paint the other rooms and then unpack everything, leaving the front room to then be emptied, cleaned and painted. No biggy. A breeze, DIY SOS made everything look so easy, Aurélie tried to reassure herself. Three weeks. Paying guests were arriving in three weeks. Bloody hell.