Gwenn's POV

Eastbourne, December 8th, 1941

I am in no mood for writing right now.

Yesterday the Japanese launched an air strike on our naval base of Pearl Harbour. They didn't even declare war until after the attack, unbelievable.

There are casualties, we still don't know how many.

There is currently a Congress in session. I am curious to know how President Roosevelt will put it but it is obvious that we will declare war. Britain has done so already.

I would like to be able to write. I know it would bring some solace but today I simply cannot.

OOO

Eastbourne, December 23rd, 1941

It will be a sad Christmas for so many of us.

There were thousands casualties in Pearl Harbour, including firefighters who had nothing to do with the war. Leningrad is still besieged. How long?

I'm glad that I will have my daughter at home for Christmas.

"And now let's go on with writing. I need to think about something else.

OOO

"Gwenn, there is a favour I would like to ask of you" said my cousin Jean-Baptiste one day in late 1878.

"Go ahead"

"Could you please give me some English lessons? I could use some English in the shop because there are many British and American clients"

I was slightly taken aback by this request.

"I can gladly do that but I don't know if I am good enough" I replied.

"But I need nothing special. I only need to talk about fabric, prices, little things like that"

On the very same day I began teaching English to Jean-Baptiste. Céline, living in the same house, decided to attend as well. At first I was wary but soon I felt at ease and started actually enjoying it. In a few months my cousin was able to exchange some sentences with his clients, even though the British customers complained about his American accent.

"Teaching was fun, I am sorry that it is over" I told my father some time later, during a walk in the Jardins de Luxembourg.

"Well, I suppose there are other potential pupils in Paris" he replied with a smile "A friend of Julienne is looking for a violin teacher for her little son and Julienne asked me. I don't have time to do it but you could"

My father didn't oppose my desire to teach. On the contrary, although he was a generally a tolerant person he found laziness an unforgivable flaw. He often repeated that idleness weakened intellect and morals and that one needed to have a purpose in life. That is the reason why to this day I cannot stay still, by the way.

I applied for those violin lessons and I found out that I liked teaching violin even more than teaching English. It was rewarding to see my young pupils, who weren't even able to hold a violin before, make the first simple melodies out of their instrument. Some of them learned violin because they had to, without particular passion. Some of them, on the opposite side, were quite musical. I loved their joy as they started to master some music.

I gave my last violin lessons when my grandsons were children, and always with greatest pleasure.

OOO

During my years in Paris I made another startling discovery: men existed.

Of course I knew that men existed even before but that had never bothered me. Suddenly, I started noticing that some boys were attractive and others were less attractive, that some of them were fascinating and others less fascinating. I didn't think about having suitors or something like that yet. At the same time I wasn't a child anymore. I wanted my hair to be longer and to look good. I liked to wear colours that suited me.

One evening, my great-aunt Annig approached the subject with my father.

"Why aren't you attending a ball?" she asked.

He looked up from his plate with some surprise.

"You know that I dislike that kind of social meetings" he explained.

My aunt rolled her eyes. "Gael, your daughter is seventeen. How is she supposed to find a husband someday if you don't attend some society?"

First of all she doesn't have to marry now. Besides she isn't locked up at home. We take walks, go to the theatre, visit museums, and have guests at home"

"Yes, and you expect a young man to approach her while you are standing at her side? Glaring like you do anytime somebody looks at her? Definitely going to happen!" she said with a sarcastic tone.

My father was at a loss for words but she wasn't done yet.

"And pray tell us, where did you meet your late wife?"

"At a ball I didn't even want to attend" said my father, looking defeated. My great-aunt looked triumphant.

My father looked at Fabrice and shook his head knowingly.

"Being married taught me one thing: it is pointless to argue with a women once they have decided. You are still young, Gwenn, but one day one man will say the exact same thing about you"

He was definitely right.

OOO

In the following months I took dancing lessons and attended some balls. I liked dancing as much as I liked music but I also felt uneasy.

People attended balls to have fun, yes, but also to find a match. They wore their most elegant dresses and tried to show their best side only. The young men who asked to dance with me wanted to impress me, to let me think that they shared my interests and my views. The whole situation lacked spontaneity and I doubted that I was going to find a future husband there.

"You don't have to. You can simply dance" my father commented when I shared my point of view with him. I took his advice and I kept attending balls until we left for London some years later. Even if I started wishing to fall in love, however, it never happened there or elsewhere. I dismissed that idea, thinking that I would've fallen in love sooner or later.

OOO

During the eight years we spent in Paris, my father's essays were translated into English and published in Britain. In 1880, he was offered a place as chairman for a new British magazine, the Contemporary. As its very name tells, the Contemporary focused on the newest cultural themes, scientific discoveries, art works and so on. Ethnology and anthropology were regularly discussed.

My father thought about this offer for several months and discussed it with me. He was going to turn sixty on the following spring. He didn't want to work full time anymore but he still needed something to do. Eventually he decided to accept. London was not far away from Paris and we could spend our vacations with Fabrice's family or in Douarnenez as usual. Besides we already knew somebody in London since Margaret and her family were living there.

Fabrice wasn't surprised when my father informed him. On the contrary, he was surprised that it hadn't happened before, that my father had stayed so long in Paris without a change.

After our usual summer vacation in Brittany we moved to London. My father took an apartment in Baker Street because his magazine's office was in Crawford Street and he could walk there.

My first impression of London in September 1880 was ambivalent. The city was beautiful, full of museums, concert houses, parks.

The people, however, were very different from what I was used to. Nobility was completely separated from the other people and the separation between different social classes was clear. In the Western part of the United States where I grew up there was nothing of the sort. Yes, there were rich people and poor people but the rich ones often were farmers and miners who had made money. The "upper class" consisted in a few doctors, teachers, lawyers and of course nobility didn't even exist. My father often was the only available doctor and he couldn't choose his own clients. There weren't many children and I played with other girls regardless of who their parents were.

In Boston and Paris it was different but still, the US and France were a Republic. I couldn't understand why nobility was at a superior level than me. I couldn't understand why aristocrats had to look down on other people since their only special merit was that they were born into a certain lineage. And after growing up in a country that was about 100 years old, I couldn't understand the concept of "old families". It was a huge cultural shock and on some aspects it still is: even if I have been living in Britain for decades now, I consider myself American and French but not British.

But London was too beautiful and interesting to be resisted and I spent my first weeks exploring it with my father and with Margaret's family.

OOO

The Byrnes were overjoyed when we moved to London. She and her family lived in Kensington, not far away from us, and we started meeting regularly. Benedict and Margaret, who had known my mother, developed a deep affection for me. Benedict and my father had great respect for each other since their youth and they formed a close friendship. Benedict was one of the two or three persons outside family that my father addressed with his given name. I, on the other hand, became very close with the three Byrne children, especially with Mary Anne, who was a year younger than me.

Mary Anne was not very talkative and it was hard to get to know her. She had however a quick wit and we shared a love for music and long walks. We didn't need much time to get along very well and to become friends.

Edwin had become an attractive young man and had inherited his father's blond hair. He was the perfect companion for the long walks I took with his two sisters: he was funny, cheerful and really enjoyed everything. When we proposed a walk in the park, a visit to some church or monument and even if we needed to shop, he was always eager to accompany us and had fun. He was his little sister Agatha's hero.

On the few occasions when we found ourselves alone together he was somewhat different. He was always cheerful and funny but more serious and calm. We rarely spent more than a couple of days without talking to each other.

"Gwenn, there is something that I really have to ask you" said my father one evening, sitting beside me on the sofa. It was May and we were going to travel back to France in a week.

"Yes?"

"Do you like Edwin?" he looked quite serious. The meaning of his question was quite clear.

The question startled me. I had never thought about it. I had never imagined Edwin as a possible suitor.

"Not in the sense that you probably mean" I answered after a moment "He is Mary Anne's brother and a nice person but that is all"

"I am under the impression that he, however, likes you very much" he went on in a cautious voice.

"Really? But he's said nothing to me"

My father smiled: "Believe me, Gwenn. I can tell whether a young man is in love with my daughter or not. At first I didn't want to approach this subject. I was almost sure, however, that you didn't reciprocate. You should..." he searched for the right words "You see, a young person who is in love can see encouragement where there is none. He may think that you have noticed his attentions and he may assume that you are accepting them. If you are not in love, you should prevent him from becoming even more involved. The relationship between the Byrnes and us could become quite awkward if he proposed"

I spent sleepless hours thinking about Edwin that night. Yes, he was a good person with many qualities, it was nice to spend time with him, I knew his family. But I couldn't bring myself to feel something more for him. I didn't know how to handle the situation: since our families met very often, it was difficult to talk to him directly. After all he hadn't proposed or declared his feelings. Eventually I decided to talk to Mary Anne.

"Do you think that your brother likes me?" I asked her on the following day.

"Yes" she replied earnestly "but I also think that you don't"

My expression was quite meaningful and she sighed.

"I am sorry" I said.

"You shouldn't be. Yes, it would have been great, my parents and I would have been overjoyed to have you in our family. But you cannot force yourself to fall in love"

We talked about it for quite a while and we eventually agreed that Mary Anne would talk to him.

On the day before our departure for France we visited the Byrnes to say goodbye. Edwin was there and although he was polite as usual he was also very serious and couldn't hold my gaze.

Upon returning back from Brittany in September, we learned that Edwin had left to spend some months in the United States. Officially, the reason was that he wanted to visit his grandparents and his other living relatives but Mary Anne soon admitted to me that the reason was another. She thought it was a good idea for him to travel for some time since our families met so often.

During the following weeks the visits to the Byrnes were awkward for me. They were happy to see me again and they never mentioned that Edwin's absence was due to me, although they certainly knew that. In a short time, however, my unease faded and I felt part of their family just like before.

Edwin came back after more than a year, in October 1882.

When we met he smiled openly and friendly and I understood that his feelings for me were fading. Some years later he married and went back to the United States with his wife. He came back to London to his parents every now and then but his absence never really upset me

From that moment on I became more aware of men's attentions towards me. I expected to fall in love as well sooner or later but months and years went on and it didn't happen. Until...

Well, I've written more than enough for today. Let's do some Christmas decoration.

Author's note: the magazine "The contemporary" doesn't exist as far as I know.