The Girl, the Dog and the Writer in Provence chapter sampler

plays and books and poems. Now Maman lives in Paris and works in a place called the Moulin Rouge, where she dances all night, so I live here with Grand- Mère because little boys should not be left alone at night in Paris or anywhere else for that matter and I miss Maman terribly, but she will come home for a little holiday soon, and then I will hug her and kiss her and tell her how much I love her.’ ‘I’m so sorry,’ sighed Freja. She knew how bad it felt when things went wrong with mothers. Pippin, however, did not seem too concerned, despite his words. He’d just noticed that his shirt was crooked, buttoned into the wrong holes, and was fixing things up. Tobias pulled a key out from beneath a potted geranium and dangled it in the air. ‘Time to explore our new home, old chap!’ He unlocked the door, ducked to avoid the low lintel and dived inside. ‘Our boxes have arrived from Rome!’ Tobias’ voice drifted out into the street. ‘They’re all here, safe and sound, stacked into a tower —’ There was a thump and a yelp. Tobias hopped past the window, clutching his foot in his hands. ‘Boof!’ snapped Finnegan, and he bounded inside. Freja turned to Pippin, expecting him to deliver a breathy and long-winded farewell. Instead, he slipped his chubby, little hand into hers and escorted her inside. ‘I know this house well!’ cried Pippin. ‘Grand-Mère used to clean for Monsieur Martin. He was a chef in a fancy restaurant in Fayence.’ He dropped Freja’s hand

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