The Flower Courts

One.

It had been the coldest winter Paris had ever seen, the last time we visited. My breath had fluttered around me in swirling clouds of smoke. The streets had been concealed underneath a glittering blanket of snow and glass-like icicles hung from the bridges like crystal pendants. Madame Perla had bemoaned the fact that her velour shoes would be 'completely roo-eend' and worried that she would be burnt from the glare of the sun against the pristine white. I had grabbed a fistful of snow and pressed it into a hard lump that I threw at Clarissa. The snow stuck in her hair and caught in her fur-lined hood and Madame Perla had screeched at me for inappropriate behaviour.

The warm June sun baked the pavement and the rivers ran like twinkling streets when we returned the following summer.

"Deez is how Paris should be," Madame Perla said. She smiled up at the afternoon sun before extending her azure parasol and shielding herself from the heat. She looked over her shoulder, into the train carriage. "Come now girls. We must make to zee Sainte-Chapel quickly. Monsieur Phillipe does not like to be kept waiting."

"No man likes to be kept waiting," Clarissa whispered in my ear.

"Nor should they have to," I replied, stepping from the carriage and into the thick humidity. I turned and did my best Madame Perla impression, cocking my hip and pursing my lips. "Zay are zee epitome of importance, no?"

Clarissa swatted my arm, rolled her eyes and slid her sunglasses up her nose. "One of these days she's going to hear you."

I flicked my thumb over my shoulder at Madame Perla standing a few feet away. "And yet, she's still oblivious."

"Come, come come," she said, waving her hands. "Clarissa, Olivia, move out zee way so I can count you all."

There were only ten of us yet she acted like she was responsible for dozens and dozens of girls whom she may lose at any second.

"Abigail, darling, put on your sunglasses. Shield your eyes from zee sun. We don't want any wrinkles now, do we? Danica, your hair is coming loose from zee left clip. Fix it, my love. Marjory, you need a dash more leepstick. Just a dash, sweetheart." She bustled and hurried around the rest of the girls, touching and preening at them with her delicate fingers. She smoothed dresses, fixed hair and perfected make-up in a dizzying haze of floral patterns and lavender perfume.

The train doors closed with a gentle whoosh of air that sent my hair wafting down my back. I grabbed a handful and pulled it forward again, tucking one side behind my ear.

"Olivia!" Madame Perla marched over, heels clicking against the concrete. She snatched the hair from behind my ear and twisted it into a neat curl draping down my chest. "What have I told you about zee hair touching?"

"That I'm not to do it."

"And why do I tell you deez things?"

"Because I don't suit having my hair behind my ears."

"Exactly." She frowned. "Your ears, zay are far too big."

She spun, perfectly coiffed hair never moving an inch, and paraded away. I resisted every urge telling me to tuck my hair away again.

"Those ears. Far too big, Liv. When will you learn?" Clarissa grinned at me from behind her scarlet framed sunglasses.

I sniffed. "If we all had perfectly tiny ears then we would all be the same and that would be horrendously boring."

"Keep telling yourself that," she replied, prodding me with her parasol.

"Listening girls, listening," Madame Perla called, clicking her fingers in the air. It always baffled me that she managed to do so with her false talon-shaped nails. "Now, we are going to head down to zee station entrance where our transport waits to take us to Sainte-Chapel. I should not have to remind you to be on your best behaviour." She sent a look directed only at me. "There will no doubt be zee cameras and spectators wanting to catch a glimpse of you and I don't want any embarrassments. You may smile, and wave, but do not say a word. You understand, yes?"