Chapter 2 - Worry

I got used to people talking about me. I also found that it was true that if you immersed yourself in the culture you learnt the language a lot faster. In seven years of school in Australia I'd learnt less French than I learnt in the first two weeks of living in Fontaine Nouveau. The things that I had learnt came back to me quickly even though I hadn't practised them since I left primary school five years before. To try and learn French more quickly, I became a bit of a bookworm and movie buff, reading everything I could get my hands on in French and watching every movie I could find that had been dubbed.

This however got me the reputation of being 'weird' and antisocial, which was completely wrong but I really didn't care because I was beginning to find that the people in the village were completely backwards in their thinking, almost to the point of being stuck in the middle ages. The worst of them all was the idiot, Gaston. Everyone was enamoured with his jock-like looks and arrogant air, everyone except me. He actually seemed surprised when I turned down his invitation to join him at the local bar. Apart from the fact that I didn't drink at that stage, having come from Australia where the legal drinking age is 18 and I was only 17, I didn't find the prospect of spending an evening in a drunk Gaston's company particularly appealing, especially since his obvious moves on me were bad enough when he was sober.

It was quite obvious that he wasn't used to being refused and I found that after the weekend was over my reputation had gone from being simply antisocial to weird and insane for not wanting to be groped by Gaston. The only person in town whose company I found I enjoyed was that of Monsieur Falegnarme, who apart from being the resident English teacher and only fluent English speaker in the village, was someone with whom I could talk about almost anything.

In the eyes of the villagers, my character was fixed as the most bizarre girl in the known universe who enjoyed books, movies and the company of the English teacher instead of Gaston LeReoux and the town pastime, gossiping. So life went on and eventually my father and I settled into the mundane way of life that was the village. But I still missed my old life, the bustle of the town that I'd lived in in Australia and my friends, and I wanted nothing more than to go back to what I considered home. There was no possibility of that however as my father's Australian visa had expired just after my mother's death and he had no desire to return to a country that brought back painful memories. And Papa had gone and made me a French citizen.

About a year after we first moved to the village Papa went to work and didn't return. As usual he left just before I went to school, leaving me to lock up and make my own way around for the day. He said that he would be late home so I didn't particularly worry, although I was a bit worried that he would have to travel through the forest at night. I made it through the day without much hassle, most of the villagers now contented themselves with whispering behind my back and Gaston had backed off a little since the bar episode. I let myself into the house in the afternoon with a sigh and the thought of writing a letter to my best friend who would doubtless be wondering why on earth I hadn't replied to the letter she sent me a few weeks back. I threw my bag down on the kitchen table and grabbed the bread and jam from the pantry to make myself a sandwich. A few minutes later I settled down at the table with a plate and pulled my books out of my bag, knowing I should finish my homework before I started on a letter to Ella. The afternoon changed to evening and the evening changed to night, by ten o'clock I was getting tired and a little worried that Papa hadn't come home yet. I went to bed hoping that he would be home by morning.

Morning arrived and I went into Papa's room to see if he was home. His bed was untouched, making my heart beat a little faster as I raced downstairs to see if he'd collapsed on the couch, praying to God that he had simply been too tired to walk up the stairs. There was no sign of him in the lounge room or anywhere else in the house for that matter. I became frantic, running out to the garage to see if his motorbike was there; it wasn't.

"Ok Bel, calm down," I ordered myself, running my hands through my hair. I racked my brains for a way to get in contact with him, cursing the lack of reception in the village and its environs, which had made Papa doubt the usefulness of a mobile phone. The best I could come up with was to call his office and see if he'd actually left the night before; there was a small chance that he'd thought it too dangerous to come back through the forest so late at night. With shaking hands I dialled the number, swearing when I got an answering machine. With a sigh I realised that I would have to rely on the village for help; and I did not hold high hopes for my warm reception. I had a quick shower, pulled some clothes on, grabbed my key and wallet and ran down to the village. The village was still quiet when I got there, the market hadn't opened yet and the villagers were probably still having breakfast. I got to the square and stopped; I didn't know how to explain my predicament to the police as it was doubtful that they understood much English. After a moment's indecision I doubled back and made my way to Monsieur Falegnarme's apartment. He answered my urgent knocking in a dressing gown with a piece of toast in his hand.

"Bel?" he asked bewilderedly.

"Monsieur I need your help," I said, pleading with my voice. He moved away from the door.

"Come in, come in. What is wrong?" he asked in English, noting my obviously agitated state.

"My Papa, he didn't come home last night. I tried calling his office but I only got an answering machine. I'm sure he would have answered if he'd been there." Monsieur Falegnarme's expression changed to one of worry.

"Alright, let me change and I will take you to the police station." He disappeared into another room for a few minutes, leaving me to pace his living area. Finally he returned and we walked to the police station.

Just as I expected the police did not seem very troubled by my father's disappearance. They asked me questions through Monsieur Falegnarme, my French had deserted me in my agitation, but I could see that they weren't really interested. Finally they said something to Monsieur Falegnarme who turned to me and translated,

"They said that they will send someone to look through the forest but they think it is likely that he merely stayed the night with someone from his work."

"He would have called me if that were the case," I said in English, frustrated that the police were not taking this seriously, but I could see that I was going to get nowhere. I sighed, "Thankyou for your time," I said in French to the two officers. I glanced towards Monsieur Falegnarme and turned on my heel. I heard him murmur something to the two men and come after me. Out in the square I turned to face him.

"Thankyou for helping me," I said in a resigned voice, "Would you understand if I didn't come to school today?"

"Of course," he replied, looking at me with concern, "Just don't do anything silly." I smiled, anything silly… well that depends on whose point of view you are looking from. I said goodbye and made my way back home, determined that if the police weren't going to do anything then I would.

A/N - well how was that? sorry I didn't update sooner but exams and my sister stealing my laptop have prevented me from actually finishing this. Thankyou to all my reviewers... you guilt-tripped me into finishing this but it's a good thing seeing as it seems to have gotten me over my writer's block.

Trudi Rose - thanks for that email... i appreciate your suggestions but i'm not really gonna focus on gaston that much... he's just a bit of side entertainment for the less interesting first part. As for the French question there may be but i don't actually speak French so i don't know; i just thought it sounded a bit ruder... the original way was supposed to be the formal way of saying it (i think... don't hold it against me if i'm wrong). I thought it may be a bit worse but that's only going from my knowledge of Italian where if you speak to a stranger in the informal way you get a slap across the face.

Bella - sorry if i confused you with the French... if you really wanna know what it says then you can use this translator http/ it's what I used to actually write it but the meaning isn't actually that important to the whole story line.

Shortstef - i hope this update lives up to your expectations... i doubt it but here's hoping

Lotte Rose 37 - thanks! I hope i justify your apparent faith in me. i'm not sure how original it's going to be but hopefully it won't be boring.

Epalladino - not exactly sure where it's going yet... i never think that far ahead so it's open to suggestion. also, you have the same name as me (the one you signed on your review)! is yours shortened or is that your real name? sorry if that seems weird but it's not often i come across someone with the same name.

pupsrneat - my aim in using French wasn't to confuse people... although i realise now i should probably have made that a bit clearer. i was trying to get across her isolation (damn english now i'm analysing my own work). but now i'm feeling lazy and i'm just gonna say if she's speaking English or French (plus she understands most of it now so it doesn't matter).

well anyway... it's almost midnight and mum probably has heaps of chores for me to do tomorrow. i'll try and update faster but next week i'm babysitting my cousins pulls face, whose computer doesn't work then it's straight into year 12 (the last year for those who don't know the australian school system). keep reviewing please... for the most part they make me smile... and guilt-trip me into updating

ta, charlie