Chapter 7

Lauren woke with a start. The room eventually registered in her mind and she turned to look at the glowing radio alarm clock. It said 04:12. She tried to work out what that really meant in Swiss time and struggled to arrive at something close to noon. A reasonable hour to wake up. Her mouth was dry and she was pleased as she realised that she wouldn't have to debate whether to stay in bed and die of thirst or get up and die of cold. The room was warm and she pushed back the covers to leave just a sheet in place.

She was annoyed about the pyjamas. Very annoyed. They were surely what had made her so warm, and, moreover, the stupid label stuck in the back of her neck every time she turned. She swung out of bed and felt the warm carpet under her feet as she wandered into the little lounge. A small TV sat in the corner. A sturdy shelf held books in many different languages along the wall, probably left by previous au pairs. She passed through into the bathroom and sat on the toilet. She had a bath with a shower attachment, a wash basin, a shaver point and big bath towels on a small shelf over the bath. Wiping herself absently, she flushed the toilet and filled a glass with cold water.

The little lounge also had a two-seater sofa facing the TV, and as she explored the stand underneath she found a stereo system that clearly went with the speakers stuck on the wall. She smirked to herself as she discovered the wrapper from a condom shoved between a pile of books beneath the TV. No doubt a souvenir of an earlier evening of pleasure for a previous au pair. She flopped down on the sofa and wondered about Emma. Part of her understood how difficult it was for her at that time in life. She herself had wanted to do physical damage to her mother on several occasions. But Lauren also felt that Emma hadn't had much attention during her childhood, and maybe had few friends as a result. Plus being a million miles from anyone didn't help.

Lauren crawled over to the TV and switched it on. Snow filled the screen and a loud hiss came from the speakers. She frantically pushed buttons to turn the thing down, finding the volume control that was marked by a triangle on its side. There was precious little on the five channels available, although she did watch a quiz show for about half an hour before giving up with the language and deciding that she could live without discovering who won the ancient portable radio. She crawled back into bed and slept. Until just after ten.

Bounding out of bed, she threw her dressing gown round her and hurriedly pulled on some socks. She brushed her hair in front of the dressing table mirror and slowly opened the door to her room, looking left, then right towards the lounge. Gingerly, she padded towards the voices coming from the dining room or kitchen. She rounded the corner and saw Emma talking to a tanned, old woman who was obviously cleaning the room. Emma stood by the sink, watching the old woman as she bent down. They both looked up as Lauren entered, and Emma burst out laughing.

Lauren smiled. "What's wrong?"

"Where did you get those clothes? You'll die in those!" squealed Emma, delighted at the sight.

"Why?, They may not be fashionable but they are practical. Anyway, I don't know who I'm going to meet."

"Nobody, I'd say!" and she laughed again with the cleaning lady. Lauren looked at the little girl as she stood there in a T-Shirt that barely covered her knickers. She had no shoes and socks on, and on further inspection, no bra. Even the cleaning lady smiled sympathetically. Lauren made coffee and looked out of the window.

"Come on. I'll show you round!" said Emma, helping her put her coffee on the breakfast table and taking her arm. "Want to get changed first?"

"No, I'll be fine" said Lauren defiantly, relieved to have established the beginnings of a working relationship with the girl. They wandered out through the kitchen into a utility room that contained the washing and drying machines, plus a very large sink for oversized things.

"This is the maids room. Servants only. We don't go in there."

"What, someone lives in there?"

"No, we just let them keep it how they want. They have lunch in there. Snooze, you know. And through here is the way out to the patio. Come on, I'll show you!" she giggled, bounding out through the French doors and onto the cobbled ground. "And right here..." she said, pulling here across a flower bed "is the pool! Oh go on, say you can swim!"

"Well, not very well, I don't like getting my ears wet. But it's certainly a lovely pool, even with a shallow end. That'll do me fine." Lauren noticed that the garden ran down for a long way past the pool, with small fruit trees in the distance and bushes surrounding what she thought was the perimeter. She recognised roses growing against the wall of the house, but most of the other plants, though beautiful, were new to her. Emma explained that they had horses down at the end of the garden which she hated.

"My brother rides them with my father, about twice a year" said Emma, almost spitefully. "The rest of the time they just stay there, eat food and have babies. And smell. They really smell sometimes."

She scuffed the grass with her feet, trudging into the ground as though trying to wear it out. The change shocked Lauren. She tried to categorise the young girl, to compare her to people she knew back in Switzerland and thereby maybe understand what made her tick. The peaks and troughs of her mood swings were worrying. Mother's words echoed.

"Come on!" said Lauren happily, "Let's have breakfast!"

"It's lunch time for me!" she replied coolly, absorbing little of Lauren's enthusiasm. They returned indoors and Lauren changed into her jeans and T-Shirt, still provoking laughter from Emma who considered her over-dressed.

"Hey, in the afternoon when the servants have gone we sunbathe without anything on."

"What, all the time?"

"Well, sometimes." replied Emma, looking Lauren straight in the eye.

"Don't you mind if people see you?"

"There isn't anyone. After lunch they go home for their siesta and that's the end of their day. Great, eh?"

"Who's 'we'" asked Lauren.

"Just me normally." she responded glumly. "Nobody really lives this end of town. Nobody even visits."

Lauren gradually understood what an idyllic life the children had and how she had been fortunate to have found a position that really required little effort on her part except being there when required. Lauren determined that if she could take the car and look around, wander about on the beach and get to know the local customs and habits that she would have the time of her life. Even if she did have to spank the precocious little minx now and again. And so, that afternoon as the sun lost it's midday power, the two girls jumped into the car and set off for Boquette.

Emma showed her the small, noisy marketplace where Lauren bought a wide-brimmed hat for the equivalent of two francs that would scarcely have bought her a coffee back home. They stopped at the post office next (where she changed some money), and the railway station and then down past her past rows of dilapidated houses that marked the way to the quay and harbour where they parked and walked. Heads turned and conversations died as they passed tiny, white-washed houses. Their route took them all the way along the quay to a wooden jetty that struck out optimistically into the sea. They leaned against the big battered posts at the end and chatted for over an hour, watching the gulls overhead following the small fishing boats as they returned to the harbour.