IN THE HOURS BETWEEN • TC

28. Pardon my French

Timmy gasps, laughing in outrage and slapping Frank's arm. "You are so horrible," he chuckles, and Frank grins, steering the two of them round a bin.

(Timmy has been leading them on a wild goose chase facilitated by Google Maps for the past ten minutes, and Una is starting to get a little agitated.

The two boys take up so much room on the pavement, there's hardly any space for her. She had managed it with good grace for a while, making a game of walking along the curb, only any time there was a car mirror or a lamppost in the way, she had had to duck into the road or fall into step behind them.

It sucked.

So she had tried her best to keep up with the conversation, only it was hard when half her attention was on trying not to fall off the curb. Eventually, she gave up and started walking behind them in earnest, resigning herself to her fate.)

Una scrunches her hands up in her gloves and tries to walk closer to them, so she can be in on the conversation, but somehow the boys get further away. Plus, it's all in French, so she couldn't understand anything if she tried.

"What did you say?" she asks Frank, and the two boys turn their heads around like they've only just noticed she's there.

"Don't worry," Frank shakes his head, which irritates Una. She's obviously worried. Otherwise she wouldn't have fucking asked.

"Frank says that the woman at the employment interview was a...I don't know how to translate this. But it was a word, um, not very nice," Timmy explains, and then turns back around.

"Job interview," Frank corrects, and Timmy hums.

Una carries on in silence for a couple of minutes, listening to Timmy and Franks' conversation. Una tries desperately to understand, but receives about one word in twenty. She feels like a fool, but there's a Chinese proverb she remembers her mum telling her when she was little.

He who asks a question is a fool for five minutes; he who does not ask a question remains a fool forever.

Also, her year five teacher used to have it on a laminated sheet on the wall of the classroom. Una remembers staring at it during carpet time.

She asks for a translation again, and Timmy cranes his neck around to translate haltingly, although he seems a little hesitant to give her a direct translation.

"A minute remaining!" Timmy grins as he looks up from his phone, and Una smiles to herself, hiding it in the bundle of her scarf. For the last sixty seconds of her journey, she squeezes herself between Timmy and Frank as they walk, shoulder to shoulder, the two of them talking over her.

"Oh my God," Frank says, when they arrive at their destination. "I haven't been to one of these in ages! D'you remember when we used to come here with mum?" he asks, and Una looks at the line of marquees on either side of her, selling honey, chutneys, cheese, little keyrings, jewellery, postcards, paintings. There are even some Christmas stalls up, decorated with sprigs of ivy and red ribbons, selling hand-printed wrapping paper, homemade cards, hot chocolates with marshmallows. She turns to agree with Frank, but he and Timmy are already walking over to a nearby stall, Frank linking his arm with Timmy's.

Una looks down at the row of stalls and wonders if it's going to be like this the entire afternoon.

—

It gets busier within fifteen minutes, and suddenly there is a small crowd for them to navigate. Una follows along behind Frank and Timmy, listening to them talk softly to each other, wishing she could understand. She asks for translations, but Timmy seems hesitant to give them and Frank is always irritated when she interrupts.