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in. She walked confidently into the classroom, delighted to find her name above a coat
hook especially for her. Despite speaking no French she settled in remarkably smoothly.
The smooth entry was not to last. On the fourth day, as we arrived at school, she started
sobbing inconsolably but bravely went into the classroom despite tears pouring down her
little cheeks. I choked back my tears as I got back into the car, anxious not to upset Ellie
who was strapped into her car seat in the back. Sophia was a courageous little character.
Given the start she had it was no wonder.
That night, worrying about her having too much change to cope with at such a young age,
I overdosed on stress-buster chocolate. Still bleary-eyed from my bad night, I took her to
school the next day expecting another difficult morning. As we arrived, a brave voice in
the back of the car declared, 'I am not going to cry today.'
Sophia was handling a new country, new language and school for the first time in her life
while I wasn't coping with a mouldy shower, mice and a leaking roof. At least the roof was
about to be fixed.
'Quelle vue,' (What a view) said the roofer, looking over the terrace that wrapped around
most of the house. The late summer sun glowed down on the hillside, highlighting the con-
tours of the vine rows. The Dordogne River, meandering towards Bordeaux, twinkled in
the distance.
He climbed the ladder and ranged across the roof like a mountain goat while we waited
anxiously below. After pushing a few tiles into position he leapt expertly off the ladder.
'It's fixed. You need to realign the tiles when they get out of line.' He quickly showed Sean
how to do it and wouldn't take any payment. 'It will need to be completely renovated in
time. You can probably get away with it like this for another couple of years,' he added as
he left.
It was a gesture of unexpected generosity that left me grateful and humble but I couldn't
help my mind racing ahead to consider the costs required in a year or two. Through my
roof-budgeting haze I heard Sophia shouting, 'Ellie's got that! Ellie's got that!' I ran to find
Ellie chewing on the toilet-cleaning brush. I was failing as a mother. I couldn't find my way
to the supermarket without getting lost, opening a tin of paint was a serious challenge and I
missed my work and my friends. I said a prayer asking God to protect Ellie from the germs
of the toilet bowl, moved the toilet brush out of her reach and told myself to get a grip.
Some small but significant successes helped me do that. Two weeks of constant harassing
brought France Telecom to their senses and they agreed to connect our phone line based
on a certificate of residence provided by our mayor. Having a telephone and access to the
Internet was like stepping out of the dark ages.
The mice were proving more stubborn. I was on the brink of moving out when they met
their match. The local one-man hardware store sold the world's most sensitive mousetraps.
At 95 cents each they were the cheapest remedy so far and they took the entire hoard of ro-
dents down. Sean was my hero. He valiantly removed the dead bodies as they succumbed,
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