“Do you still fish out on the cove?” she asked, running her hand along the countertop. She stopped when her fingers met a pad of paper, flipping it around to face her. It had Sophie’s name on the front.
She opened it, idly leafing through the pages as I brewedthe coffee. I was vaguely aware of Chloe’s foot jiggling against the table in my peripheral vision, but it was Valerie’s voice that pulled my attention.
“Maxime, have you read this?”
I added hot milk to Valerie’s cup. “What is it?”
She stared at me as if I should know. “I’m asking myself the same thing, but I suspect it’s Sophie’s English essay for her scholarship. We agreed she’d work on it with the nanny. YourEnglish-speakingnanny.”
She turned to Chloe. “Is this what you came up with?”
I leaned in, took the book, and read aloud from the same page Valerie had scanned.
“It was then she showd me the stars in herbukcet that I reelised the moon had risien.”
I fudged over the spelling errors, but Valerie had already seen them.
“What does that even mean?” she asked, turning to Chloe.
“They’re probably just notes,”I said.
Valerie scoffed and flipped through the rest of the book. “Maxime, you need to look. There’s barely a cohesive sentence in here.” Her gaze drilled into mine. “I can’t believe Sophie wrote this. The handwriting is appalling. It looks more like someone plugged a few French words into Google Translate and hoped for the best.”
A rush of something prickled over my skin, matching the rapid tap of Chloe’s foot against the table leg.
Choe had helped Sophie with her project—I’d found her working on it the other day in my room. She hadn’t wanted to show me. She’d hidden the notepad away right about the same time as she hooked her foot around the back of my neck and sent my thoughts into a whole other world.
I turned to face her.
She was pale,nibbling at her lip with a line etched between her brows.
“Did you write this?” Valerie asked, standing beside me.
“Sorry?” Chloe whispered.
“Is this Sophie’s work? For the Programme Polaris? I can’t believe she’d make these mistakes.”
“I helped her. She gave me some research tasks and I…”
“So, theseareyour words?”
Chloe nodded, and I swallowed. She looked wide-eyed and pallid.
“The two of them have been working together,” I said. Valerie stared at me like I had two heads.
She moved to stand next to Chloe at the table, taking the book with her for good measure. “And you thought this research—this word salad—was good enough to give to my daughter?”
Chloe leaned back in her chair, but Valerie continued. “You thought this would add to her submission for what is possibly the most consequential opportunity she’s ever had?” Valerie spun to face me. “Maxime, you assured me the nanny would speak good English. I assumed that meant she could write in English,too.”
“That’s enough.” My voice came out too low at first, but it stopped Valerie in her tracks. I straightened, keeping my eyes on her. “You’ve made your point. But I won’t allow you to talk to Chloe like this. Not in my house.”
Valerie raised an eyebrow, but before she could speak, Chloe stood, scraping her chair against the tiles. She’d brought her hands into fists and two pink patches had formed on her cheeks.
“I’ll admit I struggle a little with reading and writing. Not surprisingly, I don’t go around with a badge on my chest to let everyone know. But I get by.”
Valerie pushed her gaze heavenward before running her hands through her hair. “I’m sure you do, but that doesn’t mean my daughter has to just ‘get by’.”
“I was trying to help,” Chloe murmured, staring at the page.
