Amie Bernstein; Chapter 4

 

Amie Bernstein; Chapter 4

© 2022 by Amber Wright

FRENCH, FOOD AND FUN!

Date: Winter 1901

Place: London, England

“Arrét, Amie! Je veux un autre regard sur l’horloge de Big Ben et—”

Amie stopped in front of him, a scowl covering her flushed face. They had walked, rode in the jerky carriage between stops and carefully chosen gifts all afternoon. Now they were tired. And he kept forgetting to speak English.

“If I have to listen to all that French chatter, I’ll—” Amie closed her eyes and blew out her breath. “I’ll just die!”

“I’m sorry, Amie.” Kitt chewed onto the strings of his red wool scarf. “I’ll talk English.”

“Merci!” Amie then began to study him until she burst into a giggle. “I mean, thank you—in proper English!”

“Why you not like me speak French?” Kitt felt his eyebrows knitting tightly together. I thought she said she was a French girl.

“I don’t fully understand French.” Amie worked her mouth into a smile. “I lived here all my life, remember?”

“Yes, but don’t you have French tutor?”

“He’s horrible! He never explains a thing, only keeps rattling off French like I knew it all.” Amie let out her breath. “And I don’t know it all—surprisingly.” She grinned.

“You don’t have to know it all. Just learn one word at a time.” Kitt returned her grin. “Then you learn!”

“Will you teach me then?” Her silly face looked funny to him as she wrinkled her nose.

He nodded. “Yes, I’ll teach you French. Or, at least, I’ll try.”

“Remember the birdhouse you tried making?”

Her giggle almost irritated him but he answered coolly, “Don’t remind me, thank you.”

Kitt felt his face flush. Never had he felt that he had wasted so much time and money as then. Then Amie had cheerfully dubbed it “The Asian Birdhouse” and he felt better. But it still had not been a proper French or even an English birdhouse.

He craned his neck up another time to look at the top of the huge Big Ben clock a few streets away. “What a magnificent clock, eh?”

“Yes, it is.”

“I wonder how long it took for them to build it.”

The silence that followed was split when the Big Ben Clock clanged loudly, five times. He brought his head back to normal position and saw a little band of poor Russian Jews marching on the opposite street, one playing an accordion and the rest singing. Some were on-tune; others were off-key. He blinked. It was already five o’clock.

“Come on, Kitt. We don’t have all day,” Amie grabbed his hand and dragged him along the sidewalk. “We only have one more shop to go in and then we can go home.”

“Where?”

“The bakery, yes!”

“I’m hungry too. What we eat there?”

“Nothing.” Amie walked briskly as she followed her words. “We eat when we get home. I think we’re having lamb and latkes, mm…”

“I’m starving—hurry up!” Kitt began racing down the sidewalk, dragging Amie with him. “Then today is the First Day of Hanukkah. Happy Hanukkah, everyone!”



Amie felt her black boots slide over the thin layer of snow on the sidewalk and her mitts dig into Kitt’s hand. “Arrét, Kitt!”

Kitt stopped, a smile flashing across his face. “Ha-ha, no French, eh?”

“Well, no hard words, please.” Amie stopped to catch her breath and looked up under her bright red wool tam to read the shop’s sign. “Smitt’s Bakery. We have arrived! I hope he has everything Mamma ordered. I don’t feel like waiting.”

“Me neither.”

The bells above the door jingled merrily as Amie led the way into the shop. Immediately, her nose sank into the aromas of warm cinnamon, crisp lemon, sugary fruits and multiple chocolates. Her glance around the bustling bakery told her that the shelves were well stocked with loaves of bread, buttery rolls, cakes of all sorts, fruity tarts and round cookies—all freshly baked and looked as if they were waiting to be eaten. The scents and sights made her stomach grumble with complaint as she stood in line with the other customers.

As Amie tore her gaze away from the loaded shelves, she watched as a poor woman took her baked chicken from Mr. Smitt at the counter. Here the poor always had their meat cooked by the baker, since they had no ovens of their own. The woman walked from the counter with a cheerful smile on her tired-looking face.

Amie suddenly dug into her coat pocket where a little pile of coins weighed heavily upon her conscience. She thrust a shilling into the poor woman’s empty hand impulsively. “Hello, ma’am.” She smiled, feeling pleased with herself.

“No, I couldn’t—”

“No, please.” Amie pulled her hands back. “It’s a gift. Happy Hanukkah!”

“Bless you.” The woman blinked and her expression thanked her beyond words. She walked away.

Amie felt Kitt's stare before she saw him, gaping, looking amazed, swallowing. “Stop staring at me, Kitt.” She wrinkled her nose at him in an embarrassed sort of way. “It makes me nervous.”

Amie watched Kitt turn his head and his eyes grow entranced when he saw a huge white platter of chocolate muffins drizzled with fudge topping. He licked his lips and she heard his stomach growl loudly. She giggled. Kitt looked so entranced.

Kitt crossed his arms tightly and glanced around under dark lashes and a bright red face. “Hurry, my stomach’s talking!”

“Talking or barking?” Amie's mischievous smile made him frown.

“Barking!”

Amie drew a relieved breath as she saw the line of customers dwindling. Her turn was next. They had better hurry before Kitt’s stomach turned the whole bakery into one noisy growl. Not that it would actually do that, I don’t think… Shortly after, they climbed into the waiting carriage for the final time as the footman shut the door behind him.



When Amie and Kitt reached the Bernstein house minutes later, the driveway was crowded as usual with buggies on Hanukkah. Since they were Christian Jews, they had all of their family, neighbors and friends over for the Hanukkah/Christmas season.

“We’re home!” Amie pounded on the door for the footman to open it.

The second the door opened, Amie jumped from the carriage and her feet slipped over slushy snow on the drive. She felt an electricity bolt through her.

“Slow down a mite, missy.” The footman growled out as he caught her by the arm. “I have a job looking after yous—so don’t make me pay with me job.”

“Aye, aye!” Amie stood upright, then stomped her right boot like they did in the army. “Kitt, coming? Food!”

She was on her way to doing a salute when her armful of bakery boxes began toppling. With a high-pitched shriek, she steadied herself nicely. “Almost,” She glanced up and gave her big, wonderful house an admiring stare. Houses did not just make themselves. This one was a beauty. Whoever had built it was a real artist, she thought.

“Yes, I come.” Kitt made a jumping noise behind her.

“What a beautiful sight!” Amie murmured dreamily, taking a deep breath of fresh cold air. “Blankets of snow making everything look so nice and clean. And best of all is our Menorah candlestick in the dining room window with the hollies and ivy around it—so terribly dashing!”

“Yes, but the most beautiful thing is—the food!” Kitt shuffled his feet along the walkway towards the side of the house where the kitchen was. “Come. I starve, I die!”

French/English translation:

merci…………………… thank you

arrêt…………………… stop

Je veux un autre regard sur……… I want another look at

l’horloge de Big Ben et---……… the Big Ben clock and---