Edouard. He came over, carrying a plate of chips, and sat down opposite Jess without looking at her. Once he was settled, she said, ‘Edouard – this is my friend Flora, and my boyfriend, Fred.’
Edouard shook hands with them, said, ‘’Allo!’ and gave a tight little smile. Aaaah ! thought Jess. Bless! He’s being so brave! She was starting to like him, as one might grow fond of a field mouse or pet canary. Jess hoped the discovery that Fred was her ‘boyfriend’ would cure Edouard of his crush. Although maybe he had got over it the moment he saw the real Jess, in daylight.
‘I hear you’re going to be an engineer,’ said Fred in a strange, posh voice like a headmaster. Edouard frowned and clearly panicked. Conversation in English seemed beyond him. He turned to Marie-Louise and said something in French.
Marie-Louise translated for him, and he smiled back at Fred and unleashed a torrent of French.
‘He says he is very interested in ze bridges,’ said Marie-Louise. ‘To build ze bridges and ze tunnels and so on.’
‘Well, if we ever need a bridge built, we’ll come to you!’ said Fred. He turned to Jess. ‘Do we need a bridge, wife? Possibly between the sofa and the fridge?’ Everybody laughed. Marie-Louise translated for Edouard, who grinned, but in a slightly defensive way, as if he thought Fred was making fun of him.
‘Right, then,’ said Fred. ‘I’m going to eat my own weight in baked beans, and then I’m going to enjoy a brief spell of wife-beating before maths.’
‘Don’t bother to translate that,’ said Jess to Marie-Louise. ‘Fred’s just being silly.’ She was beginning to feel safe now. Fred was, in his own ludicrous way, pretending to be her boyfriend. She could relax. It was working – sort of.
‘So,’ said Marie-Louise, ‘how long ’ave you two been going out togezzer?’
‘Oh, for years,’ said Jess.
‘Oh, since last Sunday,’ said Fred – the idiot. Jess blushed. It seemed a bit early to relax after all.
‘Never believe a word Fred says about anything,’ she said. ‘He’s just trying to make me look a fool.’
‘You can do that yourself, sweetie,’ said Fred, ‘without any help from me.’
‘So,’ said Marie-Louise, ‘tell me all about it. ’Ow you met, ’ow you got togezzer . . . ?’
Jess took a huge breath. She was going to have to dig deep. She kicked Fred under the table, as a sign he should shut up. But would he?
‘We met at playgroup,’ she said. ‘We were about three years old or something. We had a fight over an inflatable bus.’
‘So . . .’ Marie-Louise said, ‘you ’ave been togezzer since kindergarten?’
‘Yes,’ said Jess, surprised to discover just how long she had known Fred. The bit about the playgroup was all true. ‘But Fred’s still three years old in some ways.’
‘I still hurl sand about and dribble gravy down my shirt,’ admitted Fred.
‘And do your parents get on wiz each other?’ asked Marie-Louise. She was beginning to be a bit tedious. What was she, a pre-marriage guidance counsellor?
‘Oh, my mum hates Fred,’ said Jess. ‘She can’t stand the way he spits when he talks. And she would have preferred me to have a sporty boyfriend. Joe Collins, the rugby captain, or something.’
‘Ah!’ said Marie-Louise, clapping her hands. ‘I adore ze rugby!’
‘Oh yes!’ said Flora. ‘The French rugby team is brilliant. I know cos my dad watches it on TV all the time. Maybe we could all go to a match together this weekend?’
‘Great idea!’ said Jodie, barging in rugby-style. ‘Do you like rugby, Gerard?’
‘ Bof?! ’ said Gerard, and shrugged.
‘We’ll take that as a no , then,’ said Fred. ‘Anyway, there aren’t any rugby matches this weekend. It’s almost the end of the season.’
‘It would be nice, though, to go somewhere, all of us together,’ said Flora thoughtfully.
Too right , thought Jess. Apparently there wasn’t anything special laid on for the French kids
Edouard shook hands with them, said, ‘’Allo!’ and gave a tight little smile. Aaaah ! thought Jess. Bless! He’s being so brave! She was starting to like him, as one might grow fond of a field mouse or pet canary. Jess hoped the discovery that Fred was her ‘boyfriend’ would cure Edouard of his crush. Although maybe he had got over it the moment he saw the real Jess, in daylight.
‘I hear you’re going to be an engineer,’ said Fred in a strange, posh voice like a headmaster. Edouard frowned and clearly panicked. Conversation in English seemed beyond him. He turned to Marie-Louise and said something in French.
Marie-Louise translated for him, and he smiled back at Fred and unleashed a torrent of French.
‘He says he is very interested in ze bridges,’ said Marie-Louise. ‘To build ze bridges and ze tunnels and so on.’
‘Well, if we ever need a bridge built, we’ll come to you!’ said Fred. He turned to Jess. ‘Do we need a bridge, wife? Possibly between the sofa and the fridge?’ Everybody laughed. Marie-Louise translated for Edouard, who grinned, but in a slightly defensive way, as if he thought Fred was making fun of him.
‘Right, then,’ said Fred. ‘I’m going to eat my own weight in baked beans, and then I’m going to enjoy a brief spell of wife-beating before maths.’
‘Don’t bother to translate that,’ said Jess to Marie-Louise. ‘Fred’s just being silly.’ She was beginning to feel safe now. Fred was, in his own ludicrous way, pretending to be her boyfriend. She could relax. It was working – sort of.
‘So,’ said Marie-Louise, ‘how long ’ave you two been going out togezzer?’
‘Oh, for years,’ said Jess.
‘Oh, since last Sunday,’ said Fred – the idiot. Jess blushed. It seemed a bit early to relax after all.
‘Never believe a word Fred says about anything,’ she said. ‘He’s just trying to make me look a fool.’
‘You can do that yourself, sweetie,’ said Fred, ‘without any help from me.’
‘So,’ said Marie-Louise, ‘tell me all about it. ’Ow you met, ’ow you got togezzer . . . ?’
Jess took a huge breath. She was going to have to dig deep. She kicked Fred under the table, as a sign he should shut up. But would he?
‘We met at playgroup,’ she said. ‘We were about three years old or something. We had a fight over an inflatable bus.’
‘So . . .’ Marie-Louise said, ‘you ’ave been togezzer since kindergarten?’
‘Yes,’ said Jess, surprised to discover just how long she had known Fred. The bit about the playgroup was all true. ‘But Fred’s still three years old in some ways.’
‘I still hurl sand about and dribble gravy down my shirt,’ admitted Fred.
‘And do your parents get on wiz each other?’ asked Marie-Louise. She was beginning to be a bit tedious. What was she, a pre-marriage guidance counsellor?
‘Oh, my mum hates Fred,’ said Jess. ‘She can’t stand the way he spits when he talks. And she would have preferred me to have a sporty boyfriend. Joe Collins, the rugby captain, or something.’
‘Ah!’ said Marie-Louise, clapping her hands. ‘I adore ze rugby!’
‘Oh yes!’ said Flora. ‘The French rugby team is brilliant. I know cos my dad watches it on TV all the time. Maybe we could all go to a match together this weekend?’
‘Great idea!’ said Jodie, barging in rugby-style. ‘Do you like rugby, Gerard?’
‘ Bof?! ’ said Gerard, and shrugged.
‘We’ll take that as a no , then,’ said Fred. ‘Anyway, there aren’t any rugby matches this weekend. It’s almost the end of the season.’
‘It would be nice, though, to go somewhere, all of us together,’ said Flora thoughtfully.
Too right , thought Jess. Apparently there wasn’t anything special laid on for the French kids
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