I have made a conscious effort not to read my book ahead of each part I post, otherwise I think I'd lose the nerve to publish it. Yes, it's cringe worthy at times, but hey - I was a young lass when I wrote it! That's my excuse, anyway...
Now last week, Sherrie's mother, Elizabeth and her lover, Adam got a little...sexy. *cringes* Anhooo....this week you'll be glad to note that I've injected a little more of the French language in to the text. I recall using an old book of French at the time. You'll find a lot of the phrases are useful for travellers and people who want to shop in France. Think of this week's instalment as a form of entertainment and a chance to learn the language of love.
If you need to catch up on the story so far, just scroll down on the RHS of my homepage and you'll find some links under a pic of ballet slippers where you can read the story to date.
Ok. Deep breath. Here we go... (oh, and remember - I'm putting my comments on my story in [red brackets like this]). ;)
THE DANCE OF REVENGE
Sherrie woke to see the sun streaking through the window. A very fine day. She turned to look at the clock and noticed it was eight-thirty. She was late! She would have to get up for ballet lessons.
Saturdays were the most loved days of Sherrie's life. [Lucky Sherrie. Saturdays for me involve kid's sport, cleaning, running around like a lunatic...the usual. Although, I do get to dance sometimes. That is, in the kitchen whilst I'm sweeping or the like.] She loved to get ready in her warm-ups for ballet class. Every Saturday was like a ritual. Awake [she's awake!], have breakfast, shower, dress and then catch the local train to her class.
This morning Sherrie got up reluctantly because she knew she would have to face Adam. He always stayed on Friday nights. She placed on her dressing gown and made her way to the kitchen. Last night had not been good. Nor had yesterday. Memories brought back her horrible ordeal with Adam.
When she opened the door to the kitchen, there sat Adam at the head of the table, her mother at the other. They both looked at her immediately.
"Bonjour!" Sherrie's mother and Mr Brair greeted. Sherrie hated him speaking their language.
"Bonjour," she replied quietly. She did not look at Mr Brair for fear of being sick.
"Que voulez-vous boire?" What do you want to drink? her mother asked. Sherrie shrugged.
"Froid du lait." Cold milk. Elizabeth fetched the milk from the refrigerator and placed [it] near Sherrie's bowl of porridge. When Sherrie had finished, she was about to leave for her shower. [and... I could have worded that differently, I think!] Elizabeth turned to look at her empty bowel. [Wow - did she have x-ray vision or something? Oh. I get it. She looked at Sherrie's empty bowl. Riiight.]
"Would you like some more, Sherrie?"
"Non, merci. J'ai eu suffisamment." No, thank you. I have had enough. [I really ought to check this French with Hubby, seeing that he can speak it. Although, then I'd have to let him read this story. Nup. That aint gonna happen.] Sherrie returned her plate and glass to the sink and rinsed them quickly before showering. [Presumably, she went to the bathroom to shower, and didn't try to shower at the kitchen sink.] When she was finally in the shower, she let the water trickle down her body so that she could relax. Soon she was dressed and ready for her lessons. She raced to her mother and gave her a hasty kiss on the cheek.
"Goodbye, mother. I'll see you at twelve." Sherrie ran from the house before her mother could complain that she had not said goodbye to Mr Brair.
Sherrie sat down at the train station and waited for the first train to arrive. [I had no concept about how to catch a train. When I wrote, 'the first train' I was talking about the first scheduled train, which would have had a time, of course.] At exactly nine the train arrived. [That is, nine o'clock. There you go - it was the 9am train! Also, it's still a mystery exactly where in France Sherrie lived. I had no idea of any place other than Paris at the time, hence I left this information out. ;) ] Sherrie boarded the train and paid her small fare. She found a seat towards the back near the window, and hurried to retrieve it. Once seated, she could let her mind wander.
She thought about her ballet teacher, Madam Du Busson. [I wonder where I got that name from? No idea.] The woman was strict and old, but a very fine teacher. [Once again, borrowing cliches to fill my story. Ballet teachers, in my mind back then, were always 'old' and 'strict'. I'd never had a ballet lesson in my life, so I only knew what I had seen on tv or read in books.] Sherrie stared out the window to see the country speed past her. Then came her most horrid part of the ride. [I think I meant 'her most dreaded part of the ride' or something similar.] A long bridge above water was necessary for the train to pass over, and she hated it because you could not see the tracks. Just miles and miles of water. She held her breath whilst crossing the thin bridge. Once the train was over the other side, she relaxed. Not far to go now, she thought.
When the train finally reached her stop, she hurried so as not to miss her class. She walked one block from the station until she came to a very large building with an arch as the entrance. She opened the glass doors and walked straight to the elevator. Once inside the elevator, she pushed the button for the third floor. The elevator opened to reveal a long hall down to a single door. [A bit 'Alice in Wonderland' inspired, no doubt.] She half walked, half ran to it and hurried inside. Madame was warming at the barre.
"Ah, Sherrie. Comment allez-vous?" How are you? asked Madame Du Busson.
"Ca va, je vous remercie, et vous, ca va tojours bien?" Very well thank you, and you are keeping well?
"Oui!" Madame replied. "Merci, Sherrie." She looked at Sherrie proudly. "As my star pupil Sherrie, I hoe that you can change in less than five minutes. All the other girls are nearly ready." Sherrie shrieked with alarm. She hurried in to the change room to put on her warm-ups. [Hold on...wasn't she wearing her warm-ups at home earlier? Continuity, Jodie...continuity!] Inside the change room, she met up with her friend, Aliza.
"Hi Aliza. Comment allez-vous?" Sherrie asked.
"Tres bien, merci. Et vous?" Very well, thanks. And you?"
"Pas mal non plus." Not bad either. They made small talk whilst Sherrie dressed. Then they hurried out to the floor to sit with Madame. Another session had begun.
Phew. Chapter Two is COMPLETE! Stay tuned next week. Just flicking through the next few pages of my carefully type-written, blue-coloured pages I have here in front of me, I see there's a few ballet moves coming up next week, and an introduction to Sherrie's grandmother.