‘This is like in the book Edith read to us last year –The Secret Garden,’ Fleur said. ‘Do you remember it?’
Colette wrinkled her nose. She was not very good at English and consequently never very interested in what her English governess read. She had a vague recollection of the book and was fairly sure the garden in that was larger and more impressive than a scrub of land that had been ignored for years.
‘Only a little.’
‘Well, this can be our secret garden,’ Fleur said decisively. ‘Just for the two of us. We can come here whenever we want, and nobody will ever find us. Look, there’s even somewhere to keep things. We could keep books, paper to draw or write on,bonbons…’
She crawled on her hands and knees to a cold frame that was still mainly intact and opened it. Half a dozen spiders scuttled out in protest at being disturbed and Fleur hastily closed the lid with the tips of her fingers and wiped her hands down her skirt.
‘Maybe notbonbons.’
Colette giggled at her dislike. Insects had never bothered her. She caught a spider and watched it dangle on its thread from her fingertips. ‘In a tin they would be fine, and I don’t think spiders would eat them.’
Fleur lay down with her head close to Colette’s and her feet pointing in the opposite direction, like two hands of the clock pointing to twelve and six. They linked hands, giggling.
‘This is our own world. Just you and I. Sisters together,’ Colette said dreamily. She frowned. ‘I wish we truly were sisters. Wouldn’t that be perfect? Then we could play together as much as we liked.’
‘I know,’ Fleur said.
Colette sat up. ‘You don’t have a papa. Perhaps you could say that my papa is also your papa.’
Fleur rolled onto her belly, picturing Monsieur Nadon. A tired-looking man in a suit who came home late in the evening from his factory, he was always kind to her, more so than Colette’s mother, who was only concerned with her friends and Colette.
‘I did have a papa but he died of thegrippe espagnolebefore I was even born.TanteAgnes told me he was very brave. He was her brother.’
Colette thought for a minute. ‘Then we will have to declare ourselves sisters. Perhaps your papa would’ve been as rich as my father and you might have lived in the apartment next door, with the same entrance archway.’
Fleur said nothing. At eleven years old she hadn’t met many people as wealthy as Colette’s father. Certainly not any with a grand house and a housekeeper; Fleur’sTanteAgnes.
A shrill voice punctuated her contemplation.
‘Colette, where are you?’
The girls rolled their eyes at each other. It was Edith.
‘What does she want? I have done all my lessons today,’ Colette said with a frown.
‘I don’t know. You’d better go and find out,’ Fleur answered.
Colette lay back down and popped another strawberry into her mouth. ‘I’ll just stay here until she goes away.’
‘She won’t go away, and if you don’t go then she might come through the rhododendrons and see the doorway. Then our secret will be discovered as soon as we have found it. You can’t avoid going.’
Colette rolled over reluctantly. ‘You’re right.’
‘Colette, answer me at once!’ Edith’s voice came again.
The girls squeezed through the door. Together they pushed it shut before pulling some of the ivy back down across it. From a distance it was as if it had never been touched. They crawled through the rhododendron bushes onto the neatly mown grass where a fountain stood in a raised pool, then sat side by side behind it, facing away from the house. When Edith called for the third time both girls raised their hands.
‘Here we are!’ they called in unison.
Edith marched across the lawn towards them; immaculate as always in a pretty, green cotton dress, but with pink cheeks, a fierce expression and the manner of a Général d’armée.
‘Where have you been, girls? I have been calling for you,’ she said in flawless French. She folded her arms and glared at them. The girls weren’t exactly sure of her background, but she had apparently attended one of the best schools in England, which was renowned for producing women who were indomitable. Educating Colette was a temporary step for her until her parents found her a husband she could mould to her satisfaction.
‘We know.’ Colette gave her a mischievous smile. ‘I thought it would be fun for you to find us.’
‘Fun for you, perhaps,’ Edith said. ‘Madame is waiting to see you.’ Suddenly, she let out a shriek. ‘What have you been doing?’