Day four since her father had left for a faire, and Belle had run out of things to do. She'd darned his socks and cleaned his bedroom (not that he'd asked her to, but she liked to ensure he was well looked after). She'd spent some of her pin money on a ham that was soaking in the larder. The chickens were fed, but they didn't make conversation, and they didn't seem to care for Belle's thoughts on her latest book. Just as well, really, because there was always room at the asylum. But that didn't seem like much use to Belle as she rattled around the silent house, full of thoughts and opinions to no end.
Shutting the front door behind her and making the short walk into town, Belle contemplated the morning's beauty. That early-morning haze the sun burned through, did it make the sky a peachy colour, or was it more gold? The sweet smell on the air, was it barley or fresh grass? Pausing on the bridge to look down into the water, she saw the reflection was so clear she could make silly faces at herself. Why not, with nobody around to react to it? This amused her for a moment but that was short-lived – mostly because there was nobody around to react to it.
If I see Eric the butcher, or Claude the blacksmith, Belle thought to herself, I'll stop and talk. Ask them about their day rather than being wrapped up in my own thoughts.
This was something she'd resolved to do – involve herself with the townsfolk more, try to be interested rather than relying on her storybooks for excitement. She was aware of how easily she could run her mouth at times.
Then you might not be so lonely, came a new thought: a rogue thought, like the lock of hair that sometimes fell across her eye – an accidental thing, something that wasn't meant to be, something she could tidy up and forget about just as quickly. There was nothing wrong with a young lady being alone for a few days – some enjoyable peace and quiet, plus the opportunity to get so much reading done!
Belle saw the baker hurrying along with his tray, and she waved to him. She resolved to stop him for a chat. He was a jolly great ball of a man, with bushy whiskers and a red nose almost as broad as his smile. Everybody in the town knew him for their daily bread; he was a friend to everyone.
" Good morning, monsieur!" Belle said. Widen your smile, she told herself.
"Oh, hello Belle," he said. He set his tray down. "Fancy seeing you in town."
Belle was stumped. What did she say now? "What are you doing this morning?"
"Baking," he said. He was friendly but – and maybe this was Belle being paranoid – he also seemed a little amused, perhaps by the naivete of the question. Somebody from the tavern walked past and nudged the baker on his back – they exchanged some good-natured insults. It seemed so effortless! "And what are you doing today, Belle?" he said, once the taverner had wandered off laughing.
"I wanted to get a new book in town," Belle said. The baker was counting loaves on his tray. It seemed like an important job. But she continued: "I've read all my old ones this week. I think I've read enough romances for now; I want something with a little action-"
"That's nice," the baker said. He'd stopped paying attention.
Belle shrugged and bade him farewell. She walked away with a smile on her face. Happy girls, happy uncomplicated girls. Everybody likes the happy girls.
The bookshop was closed. Of course it was; it was Wednesday. Belle saw Claude the blacksmith and she resolved to speak to him, but this was another difficult conversation – he seemed impatient, full of nervous energy. He didn't really say much to her as she jabbered away; even when she asked him questions about himself, he answered as briefly and curtly as possible. He seemed to be relieved when she let him go.
So Belle decided to go home; the chickens would hear about this mess of a day. She was heading out of town, reading her book so as not to make awkward eye-contact with anyone, when she noticed in her periphery a blur of silken colour: the hem of a dress.
"Bonjour." A girlish voice, vaguely familiar...
One of the Bimbettes, Belle thought. What does she want from me? I don't want to take Gaston off you. Leave me alone!
But Belle had been raised to be polite, so she smiled and curtsied at the Bimbette. They really do look exactly the same, she thought as her mind grasped...
"Oh," she said, "good morning... Paula?"
The Bimbette shook her head.
"I'm sorry... Claudia?" Suddenly, Belle was wondering if there was a dungeon somewhere she could crawl into and be left alone.
"Laura," the Bimbette said.
"Sorry Laura, I'm-"
Laura was smiling. She seemed to be amused rather than offended. "It's okay. Everybody does it. I'm the youngest so people always get to me last."
Belle felt she had to say something, so she said, "where are your sisters today?"
"The rest of the Bimbettes? Don't worry, I know what everyone in town calls us. I can see why... they're at the Tavern. Sometimes you need to get away from people though, don't you?"
"Definitely," Belle said. She was beginning to wonder if this was some sort of trap – if the other two were lying in wait to pull some prank that would make Belle less attractive to Gaston.
"I hope you don't mind me bothering you like this," Laura said, and Belle realised now that the girl was looking at the floor, was playing with her long blonde hair: she was nervous. Nervous of Belle! "But I know you like to read, and I was wondering, well... if you'd let me read with you some time?"
Now Belle was convinced this was a trap.
"You want to read with me?" she said. "You must know what people say about me reading. You know Gaston doesn't like it."
"I know," Laura said. "Neither do my sisters. Or my family. But that's okay. I think it would be nice to have somebody to swap books with, don't you?"
There was something in Laura's demeanour that Belle had never seen before: previously, she'd spent most of her days swooning over Gaston with her older sisters; there didn't seem to be much about her other than her fairy-princess haircut and her scandalous dress (Belle, who considered herself a woman of the world after reading so much about it, would never be seen dead displaying her shoulders and ankles the way the Bimbettes did). But there was an intelligence in her voice. A determination. Belle was intrigued.
"What do you like to read?" Belle asked.
"Oh, anything," Laura said. "I don't really mind. I've been wanting to go to the bookshop to see what they have, but I never had the courage to go on my own... until I saw you reading."
Belle smiled. Laura smiled back and laughed nervously.
"I'd love to read with you," Belle said. "But aren't you worried people will think you're odd?"
"You're not odd, Belle," said Laura. "I think you're just fine. And if you are odd, we can be odd together."
"I'd like that," said Belle.
The two girls linked arms and walked back to Belle's cottage, where Belle would show Laura the meadows that looked out onto the great wild somewhere, out into a world of adventure. As they walked together, caring not in the slighest that Le Fou was pointing and laughing at them, Laura said to Belle, "I just want more than they've got planned for me. Is that a weird thing to understand?"
Belle laughed. "No, Laura. Not at all!"
