The Boy from France by Hilary Freeman Read Free Book Online

do you think of Camden Market?’
    ‘I like,’ she says, without looking up from her coffee. That’s it. Then she turns to Xavier and starts gabbling to him in French.
    I glance over at Sky and raise my eyebrows. She smiles back at me, sweetly. So she hasn’t noticed how ‘off’ Manon is being with me? Surely I’m not imagining it? Or could
there be another explanation? Could I be . . . jealous? It’s not a feeling I recognise. Or one that I like. And it’s irrational: Xavier isn’t my boyfriend, or anywhere near it.
He’s just a guy who’s randomly staying in my house. We’re getting on really well, but I’ve known him for less than twenty-four hours. So why do I feel so anxious and annoyed
every time he talks to Manon?

re you OK, Xavier?’ I can’t help noticing that he seems bored. Not in a rude, huffing and puffing way
– he’s trotting around with us, patiently waiting while we try on clothes and jewellery – but I can tell that he’s not really enjoying himself any more. I don’t think
boys
get
shopping, especially clothes shopping, not unless they need to buy something.
    ‘Of course,’ he says. ‘No problem.’
    ‘It’s just . . . I mean, would you rather go somewhere else? I guess it must be a bit rubbish for you, hanging out with girls all day, looking at dresses and stuff. Even I get bored
sometimes.’
    He shrugs. ‘No, zees is not a problem. I have seesters. It’s nor-mal.’
    ‘But there must be something you’d like to see. Something you’d prefer to do? Isn’t there?’
    He hesitates for a moment, as if he’s not sure whether I’m serious, then smiles. ‘Er, Veecks, do you know what it eez zat I would like very much to do?’
    I don’t know
, I think, gazing at his dimples.
Kiss me?
    Oh my goodness! Where did that come from? That crazy thought has popped into my mind from absolutely nowhere and, try as I might, I can’t get it out. I jerk my head, as though it will help
to dislodge the idea and stop my cheeks from burning up. Of course that’s not what he’s going to say. As if! Here, in the middle of the market, with all our friends around us and, more
to the point, when he doesn’t fancy me anyway? He’s more likely to say ‘rob a bank’.
    ‘I . . . don’t . . . know,’ I say, hesitantly. ‘Tell me . . .’ I wait, not daring to breathe, just in case a genie suddenly decides to leap out of a nearby fairy
tale and grant my wish. As they do.
    ‘I’d like to go to zee ’ouse of zee singair, Amy Wine’ouse. She leeved in Camden, no?’
    My fantasy genie evaporates. ‘Oh, OK, right, sure. Yes, she did.’ I know it’s stupid, but I can’t help but sound disappointed. I clear my throat. ‘OK, cool. I can
show you where it is.’
    He smiles. ‘Excellont. Zis is what I want to see most in all of Camden Town.’
    ‘Really? I’m surprised. So you’re a fan, then?’
    ‘Ah,
oui
. I love Amy Wine’ouse.’
    ‘Yeah? I didn’t know she was big in France. Me too. I’m a huge fan.’ This is the truth, although I can’t help thinking that I’d probably have said it anyway,
just to please him. Which means I’m officially turning into the sort of girl I claim to hate. ‘Actually, I used to see her around Camden sometimes. She seemed nice, friendly.’
    ‘Wow! You knew Amy Wine’ouse!’ He glances around him, expectantly, as if he’s about to announce this exciting news to everybody else. Luckily, they’re all out of
earshot.
    ‘Not exactly,’ I say. ‘Kind of. Sort of. A bit. We weren’t exactly friends. Just neighbours. Distant neighbours. Anyway . . .’
    He grins. ‘Then we go now? Eet’s OK? Eet’s far from ’ere?’
    ‘Not too far. Hold on. Let me tell my friends.’ I look around for the others. Sky is rifling through a box of vinyl, probably so she can buy something for her DJ half-sister. Rosie
and Manon have ventured a little further into the stalls and appear to be showing each other some plaited leather belts. I hesitate.