Back Naughty in Nice
Chapters (40)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. Chapter 32
  36. Chapter 33
  37. Chapter 34
  38. Chapter 35
  39. Historical Note
  40. Click here for more books by this author

“And Maude shouldn’t fall behind in her lessons either,” Ducky said. “Not if she’s to get into a top school. We have her down for Roedean, you know.”

“Then I’m afraid I’d be hopeless,” I said. “I only know how to walk around with a book on my head.”

“You speak French,” Fig said. “You could teach the children that.”

She was determined that somehow I was going to earn my keep. I glanced down at her, thinking what an unpleasant person she was. I had observed several murders in my life. Hers, I believe, would be justified.

To show willingness to a point I gave both children a half hour’s drilling in French. I rather wished I knew more naughty words. I’d have taught them those—especially Maude. Lunch was even grimmer than dinner and breakfast had been. A small square of cheese was placed in the middle of the table with more bread, some tomatoes and olives.

“We like to eat lightly at lunchtime,” Ducky said. “Healthy for the digestion.”

After lunch they went for a siesta. I put on my least unfashionable frock, applied a touch of rouge and lipstick and set off for the Villa Marguerite. I had been told it was too far to walk, but there was no hope of finding a taxicab closer than the seafront. It was a delightfully warm afternoon, and the beach looked so inviting—with its gay changing cubicles, lines of wicker chaises, topped with bright blue cushions, and bright blue umbrellas. I was a little disappointed to find that the beach was made of stones, not sand, but nobody else seemed to mind. People in bathing suits were sunning themselves. I observed them, amazed at the daring nature of the bathing suits. Many of the women’s suits were absolutely backless and the men wore what could only be described as black underpants. Nanny would have swooned on the spot.

Not too many of the bathers dared to put more than a toe in the ocean, I noticed. The brave ones were nearly all children. There was one particular little boy with a mop of dark curls who ran fearlessly into the waves, then ran out again, screaming, as a bigger wave approached.