kissed the Miffy.
A couple of boy ran into the living room as well. The Dubois had a large family. There were seven kids in all, the oldest son being Clémence’s age and the youngest son being seven. There were four boys and three girls in the family. The younger sets seemed to be trouble makers and the older ones were taciturn and snotty. Clémence had only ever talked to Madame Dubois, as she was the most friendly out of the whole bunch.
The oldest son, Arthur, poked his head in. He had his own dog on a leash, a Jack Russell terrier with a red handkerchief tied around its neck.
“Salut,” said Clémence.
Arthur gave her a stiff “Bonjour”.
“Clémence is housesitting for the year,” Madame Dubois said to his son. “So you’ll be seeing a lot of her. Arthur has been the one walking the dogs this week.”
“Thanks so much,” Clémence said.
“No problem.” Arthur backing away. “Well I’m off.”
Arthur was tall and dark haired. He would’ve been handsome if he smiled more and wasn’t a complete snob. He had always rubbed Clémence the wrong way, and she hated his preppy cashmere sweaters that her American friends would’ve probably ridiculed. He wore the sweaters tied around his neck at times like your typical bourgeois guy.
A couple of times when Clémence had come to visit her parents for Sunday brunch, she’d seen Arthur coming out the side of the building with a different girl each time. Good looking girls in tight clothes and heels, doing the walk of shame.
Arthur didn’t bring them home to his parents’ house with all his siblings, of course. He had his own room on the top floor. In these Haussmanian buildings, the servants used to live on the top floor because back then, there were no elevators. The servant rooms had a separate staircase, a harrowing dingy one next to the entrance of the “real” apartments. The staircase took you directly to the top floor, although on each floor, it was connected to the kitchens of the main apartments.
Each apartment came with two or three servants rooms— chambre de bonne as they were called. Some were bigger than others. Most were just a bedroom with a kitchenette. Two toilets were shared between the tenants on the floor, as well as a shower. Some rooms already had a toilet, a shower, or both. It was odd, but that was the way things worked.
Arthur was too old to be living at home, but didn’t want to part with the luxuries of doing so. He and his brother each took a servant’s room, where they were free to commit whatever debauchery they wanted.
The Damours also owned two servant rooms. One was so small and windowless that they thought it was inhuman to allow anyone to live in it, so they used it for storage. Another room was spacious, had a window of the beautiful rooftops of Paris and a tiny shower next to the tiny kitchenette. Tenants changed from time to time, but right now, they had a British guy living there who Clémence hadn’t met yet.
The rent for the rooms were extremely cheap compared to the rent for a proper apartment. The other tenants were nannies, cleaners, or students. The rooms were practically dorm rooms. Arthur, however, had a housekeeper to clean up after him.
Clémence could tell that Madame Dubois wanted Arthur to pay more attention to Clémence. In the past, she had tried to coax Clémence’s mother to set them up, but it wasn’t happening. Clémence and Arthur were like oil and water. She just hoped that he had been good to Miffy while they were away.
“So glad to have you back, girl.” Clémence stroked her ears. She was beyond happy. With Miffy, the big apartment wouldn’t feel so empty.
CHAPTER 4
Somebody was knocking on the kitchen door of the apartment. Clémence had been on the balcony, drinking her tea and having a silent chat with La Tour, when she went back inside the kitchen and heard it.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Ben. From upstairs?”
He
A couple of boy ran into the living room as well. The Dubois had a large family. There were seven kids in all, the oldest son being Clémence’s age and the youngest son being seven. There were four boys and three girls in the family. The younger sets seemed to be trouble makers and the older ones were taciturn and snotty. Clémence had only ever talked to Madame Dubois, as she was the most friendly out of the whole bunch.
The oldest son, Arthur, poked his head in. He had his own dog on a leash, a Jack Russell terrier with a red handkerchief tied around its neck.
“Salut,” said Clémence.
Arthur gave her a stiff “Bonjour”.
“Clémence is housesitting for the year,” Madame Dubois said to his son. “So you’ll be seeing a lot of her. Arthur has been the one walking the dogs this week.”
“Thanks so much,” Clémence said.
“No problem.” Arthur backing away. “Well I’m off.”
Arthur was tall and dark haired. He would’ve been handsome if he smiled more and wasn’t a complete snob. He had always rubbed Clémence the wrong way, and she hated his preppy cashmere sweaters that her American friends would’ve probably ridiculed. He wore the sweaters tied around his neck at times like your typical bourgeois guy.
A couple of times when Clémence had come to visit her parents for Sunday brunch, she’d seen Arthur coming out the side of the building with a different girl each time. Good looking girls in tight clothes and heels, doing the walk of shame.
Arthur didn’t bring them home to his parents’ house with all his siblings, of course. He had his own room on the top floor. In these Haussmanian buildings, the servants used to live on the top floor because back then, there were no elevators. The servant rooms had a separate staircase, a harrowing dingy one next to the entrance of the “real” apartments. The staircase took you directly to the top floor, although on each floor, it was connected to the kitchens of the main apartments.
Each apartment came with two or three servants rooms— chambre de bonne as they were called. Some were bigger than others. Most were just a bedroom with a kitchenette. Two toilets were shared between the tenants on the floor, as well as a shower. Some rooms already had a toilet, a shower, or both. It was odd, but that was the way things worked.
Arthur was too old to be living at home, but didn’t want to part with the luxuries of doing so. He and his brother each took a servant’s room, where they were free to commit whatever debauchery they wanted.
The Damours also owned two servant rooms. One was so small and windowless that they thought it was inhuman to allow anyone to live in it, so they used it for storage. Another room was spacious, had a window of the beautiful rooftops of Paris and a tiny shower next to the tiny kitchenette. Tenants changed from time to time, but right now, they had a British guy living there who Clémence hadn’t met yet.
The rent for the rooms were extremely cheap compared to the rent for a proper apartment. The other tenants were nannies, cleaners, or students. The rooms were practically dorm rooms. Arthur, however, had a housekeeper to clean up after him.
Clémence could tell that Madame Dubois wanted Arthur to pay more attention to Clémence. In the past, she had tried to coax Clémence’s mother to set them up, but it wasn’t happening. Clémence and Arthur were like oil and water. She just hoped that he had been good to Miffy while they were away.
“So glad to have you back, girl.” Clémence stroked her ears. She was beyond happy. With Miffy, the big apartment wouldn’t feel so empty.
CHAPTER 4
Somebody was knocking on the kitchen door of the apartment. Clémence had been on the balcony, drinking her tea and having a silent chat with La Tour, when she went back inside the kitchen and heard it.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Ben. From upstairs?”
He
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