Chapter 21
21
The following Tuesday, I’m late getting home having stopped off to my catch up with my publishing pal Fleur, who informed me her publishing director was now keen to interview me for an editorial job. It took me all of one minute to say thanks but no thanks. I’m not sure why I was so definite about it. I’m still processing the reason. Perhaps I’m learning to listen to my intuition rather than calculate all the pros and cons of any given situation. It didn’t appeal any more, so I declined. Simple.
I only hope I don’t regret that later. This new version of me enjoys working at the bookshop and that’s enough for now.
With my key in the lock, I hear her before I see her.
Eloise is in floods of tears, leaning against my diminutive maman like her heart is truly breaking.
‘ Bonsoir ,’ Maman says. ‘I’ve suggested Eloise take a nice warm bath.’ She turns to my daughter. ‘ Oui?’
Eloise nods and, without greeting me, she goes to the bathroom. ‘Problems at school?’ I ask.
Maman nods. ‘Apparently she can handle it, though.’
‘She clearly needs support. I’m going to have to intervene. ’
‘Can you call them without letting Eloise know? I’m not sure she can handle any more right now.’
We agreed never to lie, but in this case what choice do I have? If I tell her I plan on having a quiet word with the principal, she’ll go mad. While I don’t like breaking promises to my daughter, occasionally it must be done, otherwise I fear this situation will never be resolved.
After the bath, Eloise settles in the bedroom, noise cancelling headphones on. I give her a hug but she pushes me away. ‘I want to be alone.’
‘OK. If you change your mind let me know.’
When I return to the kitchen, Maman has made coffee. I sit opposite her and cradle my chin with a hand.
‘You’re doing the right thing,’ she says softly. ‘What if their behaviour gets worse?’
I gulp back the sour taste of duplicity. Being a mum is all about making those tough choices, and it’s not easy.
‘That’s what I’m worried about. While her moods always fluctuate, this has been intense, which leads me to believe it’s a lot worse than what she’s telling us. From a safety standpoint alone, I need to talk to the principal.’
‘I’m worried you’re both homesick, and we’re going to lose you to London again.’ Her voice cracks with emotion. We loved living in London; who wouldn’t? It’s a vibrant, bustling city, but I always missed my parents and worried about the time they were missing out with Eloise, despite her regularly visiting them on school holidays. They weren’t there for a lot of milestones and I’ve always felt guilty about that.
‘It won’t happen, Maman. I promise you. We’re here to stay. I just need to make another plan for our future and work towards it.’
‘A ten-year plan?’
I grin. ‘Ha. All that forward planning, all that strategizing about the future, didn’t exactly pan out. I’m beginning to wonder if putting undue pressure on myself was worth it.’ My mind goes back to the epiphany I had about London Field Publishing never really being my dream. Sure, I got caught up in it, but my love is for the manuscripts themselves, and the authors who I work with. The collaborative process of bringing a book to life. Why can’t my dreams be smaller, more manageable? More fun!
‘All you have to do is follow your passion; the rest will come.’
‘Step one is to take care of my daughter’s happiness, then I can get serious about the rest of it.’
‘And we’ll be here to cheer you on every step of the way.’
‘Now you’re just trying to make me cry.’
‘I’m so happy to have mes belles filles back. Life is better with you both here, and we’ll do anything in our power to help.’
‘ Maman .’ I’m not a crier by nature; I don’t like the loss of control over my bodily functions, but my maman has the unique ability to make me ugly cry just by being nice to me. ‘It’s probably getting close to the time to search for a pied-a-terre of our own. That might help cement the fact this is permanent and also give Eloise her own space.’
‘This apartment is too small, especially for Eloise, but I’ll be sad to see you go when you do move. I hope you’ll stay close.’
‘Of course we will. I’ll crunch some numbers and see where I’m at with what I’ve saved so far.’ I’m fully aware of my savings down to the very last cent, but I’d like to run the figures and make sure I’ve got a small amount for emergencies that I can continue to build on.
‘Dad and I have savings; we’d be more than happy to help.’
‘ Non, merci, Maman.’ It’s not just pride that stops me, it’s the determination that I can sort out this mess myself. They’re already doing so much for us. ‘If you’re happy having us then I’d rather do it myself.’
‘We love having you both.’
The next morning, I call Valérie and let her know I’ll be a little late to work. When Dad takes Eloise to school, I take the opportunity to call the school from the privacy of the apartment. The call goes to the switchboard and I ask to speak to the principal. When I’m put through, I say, ‘Bonjour, I’m Coco Chevallier. My daughter Eloise started there recently.’
‘Bonjour , Coco. It’s lovely to hear from you. You’ll be delighted to hear that Eloise’s teachers have reported she’s settling in well and her schoolwork has been of a good standard.’
‘Well, that’s not entirely true.’ I go into detail about Léa and the taunts and how I promised Eloise I’d let her handle it herself but that she’s not coping. ‘If we could handle this sensitively that would be best.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I spoke to Eloise myself just yesterday and she expressed to me that she was adjusting well and enjoying her classes. I’m aware though that students don’t often report this sort of behaviour.’
‘Yes, that’s why I’ve been hesitant to get involved. She really doesn’t want them to get in trouble in case it makes it worse. Eloise did mention that Léa is recently bereaved so perhaps her behaviour is connected to that? Acting out, in her grief? Maybe the school therapist?—’
‘Sorry, I’ll stop you there, Coco. While I can’t share personal details about any of our students, I do think you’ve been misinformed. I’m sure it’s acceptable for me to say that as far as I know, Léa isn’t recently bereaved.’
‘Oh.’ That stops me in my tracks. Eloise must have misunderstood, or perhaps the child who told her about it meant a different student? If Léa’s not grieving, then what excuse does she have? ‘There must have been a mix up, a…’ I’d had this all figured out. Léa would get counselling and support and lay off Eloise. Now I’m not sure what the way forward is.
‘It’s OK, these things happen. I understand Eloise wishes to keep things private so as not to provoke them, but we do have a bullying policy in place as we discussed on the school tour. With your permission I’d like to call Léa and the other girls into the office and have a chat with them. That way we can follow our policy and take actionable steps to help Eloise.’
‘I understand you must follow protocol but I’m not sure that will help, especially if Lea’s not… bereaved. I’d presumed that was a catalyst for it.’
‘I hear your concerns. Even if I did pull Léa in without mentioning Eloise’s name, they’d know it was her. They’re rather shrewd at this age. It often helps to let them know we’re apprised of the situation so they remember their manners and understand that we’re keeping a close eye on the situation.’
I’m torn between keeping my promise to my daughter and making a good parenting decision. Eloise’s safety is my number one concern so while she’s not going to like it, it’s probably for the best. Still, my gut roils at the thought.
‘OK, if you’re sure.’
‘I’m sure we can sort this out. I’ll keep you informed, and please call me if you have any other concerns. We want to make sure Eloise feels safe and happy at school.’
When I hang up, I flop against the bed. What have I done?