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Authors: Philippa Carr
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others.”
“I am sure you have lots of friends.”
“Annabelinda is not going to…” They both looked at me in horror as I stammered, “…not going…to the…”
Jean Pascal laughed. “ Mon Dieu , non , non , non ,” he cried. “She will be all right. She just needs quiet and rest and attention, which she can get at Bourdon. When you see her in the summer it will be the old Annabelinda whom you knew.”
“I have been worried.”
“Of course you have, dear child. But there is no need. We’re going to nurse her to health. You will be amazed when you see her. In the meantime you must work hard and please Madame Rochère, who gives you quite a good report, I might tell you. And…just don’t talk too much about Annabelinda. She doesn’t like being ill. Nobody does, and when she comes back she won’t want people to think of her as an invalid.”
“I understand.”
“I knew you would. Bless you, my dear. I am so looking forward to seeing you in the summer.”
“I, too, my dear,” said the Princesse .
That afternoon they left, taking Annabelinda with them.
I missed her very much. I always felt an emptiness when she was out of my life. I missed the skirmishes, her scorn, her contempt, for I knew that beneath it all there was a certain affection.
I wondered how she was progressing and I was delighted when I received a letter from her:
Dear Lucinda,
How are you getting on at school without me? My mother came to Bourdon. They have all decided that I must stay here for a while. They say the climate is so much better for me than it is at home. I shall be all right in time, they tell me. Grandpère has a lot of influence here and knows all the people who can be of use. He suggests you come here before you go home in the summer. He’s confident that I shall be completely recovered by then. But I may need a little rest, so I’m to stay on here until I’m ready to go back home.
I wish you were here. I will look forward to your coming when school finishes at the end of July for the long summer break. Don’t say you must hurry home to see your parents and that brother of yours. You must come and be with me first.
Annabelinda
She sounded more like herself. I wrote and told her that I would stay for two weeks at the Château Bourdon before going home, if that were agreeable. That was long enough, I stressed, for I was longing to see my parents after the long term away.
School went on as usual. There was a midnight feast. Caroline had brought a cake with icing on the top when she came back from the Christmas holidays and this was a great treat. But nothing seemed quite the same without Annabelinda.
“What’s wrong with her?” asked Caroline.
“Some awful illness which takes months to cure,” I replied.
“Consumption, I suppose,” said Caroline wisely.
“I don’t think so.”
“People do go into declines.”
“She hasn’t looked well for some time. So perhaps it is that.”
“They usually go to Switzerland for a cure,” said Helga. “It’s the mountain air or something.”
Switzerland? I thought. Carl Zimmerman came from there.
I was thinking more and more of Carl Zimmerman. The illness had started after he had left. It was pining for him which had brought it on.
I started to wonder about him; I would walk about the grounds remembering our encounter with him. I went to look at the cottages, one of which had been occupied by him.
There seemed to be someone in one of them. I studied it. It was clearly inhabited. I strolled around and then went back to the house.
And the next afternoon I found myself wandering that way again.
I walked around to the back of the cottages. They had gardens there, and in one of them was a woman hanging out washing.
She called good afternoon to me and added, “You’re from the school. I’ve seen you round here before.”
“Yes,” I said. “I suppose you work for the school?”
“Not me. My husband does. He works in the gardens. There’s plenty
“I am sure you have lots of friends.”
“Annabelinda is not going to…” They both looked at me in horror as I stammered, “…not going…to the…”
Jean Pascal laughed. “ Mon Dieu , non , non , non ,” he cried. “She will be all right. She just needs quiet and rest and attention, which she can get at Bourdon. When you see her in the summer it will be the old Annabelinda whom you knew.”
“I have been worried.”
“Of course you have, dear child. But there is no need. We’re going to nurse her to health. You will be amazed when you see her. In the meantime you must work hard and please Madame Rochère, who gives you quite a good report, I might tell you. And…just don’t talk too much about Annabelinda. She doesn’t like being ill. Nobody does, and when she comes back she won’t want people to think of her as an invalid.”
“I understand.”
“I knew you would. Bless you, my dear. I am so looking forward to seeing you in the summer.”
“I, too, my dear,” said the Princesse .
That afternoon they left, taking Annabelinda with them.
I missed her very much. I always felt an emptiness when she was out of my life. I missed the skirmishes, her scorn, her contempt, for I knew that beneath it all there was a certain affection.
I wondered how she was progressing and I was delighted when I received a letter from her:
Dear Lucinda,
How are you getting on at school without me? My mother came to Bourdon. They have all decided that I must stay here for a while. They say the climate is so much better for me than it is at home. I shall be all right in time, they tell me. Grandpère has a lot of influence here and knows all the people who can be of use. He suggests you come here before you go home in the summer. He’s confident that I shall be completely recovered by then. But I may need a little rest, so I’m to stay on here until I’m ready to go back home.
I wish you were here. I will look forward to your coming when school finishes at the end of July for the long summer break. Don’t say you must hurry home to see your parents and that brother of yours. You must come and be with me first.
Annabelinda
She sounded more like herself. I wrote and told her that I would stay for two weeks at the Château Bourdon before going home, if that were agreeable. That was long enough, I stressed, for I was longing to see my parents after the long term away.
School went on as usual. There was a midnight feast. Caroline had brought a cake with icing on the top when she came back from the Christmas holidays and this was a great treat. But nothing seemed quite the same without Annabelinda.
“What’s wrong with her?” asked Caroline.
“Some awful illness which takes months to cure,” I replied.
“Consumption, I suppose,” said Caroline wisely.
“I don’t think so.”
“People do go into declines.”
“She hasn’t looked well for some time. So perhaps it is that.”
“They usually go to Switzerland for a cure,” said Helga. “It’s the mountain air or something.”
Switzerland? I thought. Carl Zimmerman came from there.
I was thinking more and more of Carl Zimmerman. The illness had started after he had left. It was pining for him which had brought it on.
I started to wonder about him; I would walk about the grounds remembering our encounter with him. I went to look at the cottages, one of which had been occupied by him.
There seemed to be someone in one of them. I studied it. It was clearly inhabited. I strolled around and then went back to the house.
And the next afternoon I found myself wandering that way again.
I walked around to the back of the cottages. They had gardens there, and in one of them was a woman hanging out washing.
She called good afternoon to me and added, “You’re from the school. I’ve seen you round here before.”
“Yes,” I said. “I suppose you work for the school?”
“Not me. My husband does. He works in the gardens. There’s plenty
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