A Hundred Words For Butterfly

By Sophie Masson

It was meant to be the experience of a lifetime, for Australian twin sisters Helen and Alex Dorian, to walk the famous Camino from Saint Jean Pied de Port in the French Basque country, to Santiago del Compostella in Spain. But Helen injures her leg on the very day they arrive in Saint Jean and has to stay behind in the town while Alex goes on al

• Language: English
• Publisher: Spineless Wonders Publishing Pty Ltd
• Release date: Aug 26, 2021
• ISBN: 9781925052718

Sophie Masson

Sophie Masson was born in Indonesia of French parents and was brought up in France and Australia. A bilingual French and English speaker, she has a master's degree in French and English literature. Sophie is the prolific and award-winning author of more than fifty novels for children, young adults and children, many of which have been published internationally. Her most recent novels with Random House Australia are the YA fairytale novels Moonlight And Ashes, Scarlet in the Snow and The Crystal Heart. She has also written under the pen-names Isabelle Merlin and Jenna Austen. Sophie is Chair of the Australian Society of Authors, Chair of the New England Writers' Centre, President of the New England and North West sub-branch of the Children's Book Council of Australia, and has served on the Literature Board of the Australia Council and the Book Industry Collaborative Council. She is also currently a writer ambassador for Room to Read Australia.More books from Sophie Masson are available at: http://ReAnimus.com/store/?author=Sophie%20Masson

Book preview

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A Hundred words for butterfly

A Novella

by

Sophie masson

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Epilogue

Author’s note

Copyright Information

Chapter One

St Jean Pied de Port, French Basque country, May 2017

Thirty years. That’s how long it had taken. Back when they were nineteen, Helen and Alex had promised each other this adventure. But life had got in the way. For thirty years. Now, here they were at last, on this sunny afternoon, about to get off the little mountain train that had brought them from Bayonne. Over the last hour it had climbed up through postcard-perfect, spectacularly green hills, past pretty villages with tongue-twister Basque names, the countryside dotted with sheep and red and white farmhouses.

Helen and Alex had been travelling most of the day since getting the TGV train in Paris early that morning and were still jetlagged from the flight from Australia two days ago. At least, Helen was. She surveyed her sister affectionately. Alex looked as bright and energetic as though she’d had the best sleep in the world. But then, she always did, no matter what. She boasted of only needing five hours’ sleep a night, claiming that those five hours were like other people’s seven or eight. Clear your mind before you go to sleep, and learn to sleep anywhere, that’s the simple key to it, she’d say. Helen, who’d once been a good sleeper but had suffered from occasional insomnia since Daniel had died three years ago, knew not to take it personally. Alex didn’t mean to be insensitive or patronising. She was just—well, she was just Alex.

The train slowed to a stop. The sign on the short platform read Saint Jean Pied de Port, and underneath, its Basque equivalent: Donibane Garazi. Funny that the Basque name for the town looked less complicated than the French one, Helen thought. Mind you, she had no idea how to pronounce it, whereas her schoolgirl French was still reasonably good. She’d looked up the name once. The French referred to Saint John at the foot of the pass, while the Basque called it Saint John of the Garazi valley. At least they both agreed on Saint John.

‘Google claims it’s a 10-minute walk to the hotel,’ Alex said, as they took their rucksacks from the luggage racks. ‘You still okay with doing that?’

Helen smiled. ‘Of course. Wouldn’t be much good starting the trip not wanting to walk! Plus I want to get a feel for this place before we go tomorrow morning.’ Originally, Alex had wanted to spend only a couple of hours in the town, long enough to grab a coffee and pastry and collect a so-called ‘pilgrim passport’ before setting off on the first leg of the Camino. But train timetables and Helen’s protests had convinced her they needed to stay overnight. At least they’d have a few hours to sightsee.

Hoisting her rucksack on her shoulders, Alex said, ‘Do you feel like we’ve stepped back in time?’

‘Sure do,’ said Helen, arranging her own rucksack more comfortably. ‘But you can’t take a wheelie bag on the Camino after all. And these are way better than the smelly old things we took back in the day.’

They grinned at each other, remembering. No, they hadn’t made it as far as here, back then. But they had travelled around quite a bit of Europe together, in between finishing uni, starting their first real jobs and getting sucked into the whirlwind of adult life. And the op-shop rucksacks they’d bought for that trip had gone along with them every step of the journey, only to be unceremoniously thrown out by their mother once they’d finally made their tired but elated way home. ‘Smelly old things,’ she’d said. ‘Bin’s best place for them now.’

The rucksacks they had today were brand new and lightweight, built for comfort, unlike the old ones that had bruised their shoulders, especially after being crammed with the junk they’d picked up along their travels. Back then, too, the sisters had simply rocked up to places, not bothering to book, and they’d certainly not kept to pre-determined plans. But that was then, and this is now, Helen thought, as they stepped off the train and trudged up the platform. Several other people got off as well, including a young couple also equipped with rucksacks, but most seemed to be returning locals or ordinary visitors, being met at the station by family or friends. All disappeared in cars, except for the young couple, who, after a brief collegial nod to Helen and Alex, strode off up the road, the Japanese flags sewn on their rucksacks flashing in the sun.

The two women followed more slowly, taking in the look of the neat streets. Even here, on the modern outskirts of the old town, there were quite a few Basque-style houses with their whitewashed walls and red woodwork. Some featured the full deal of half-timbers and gables as well as shutters and doors in the same deep red, others just had the red shutters and doors, and occasionally one boasted green instead of red woodwork.

It was quiet, with just a few cars passing, but once, as they walked past a kindergarten, the sounds of children playing gave Helen a pang. It hardly seemed any time at all since Amber and Jake had played like that, and yet now, they had both grown up and left home. Their leaving had hit her harder than she’d imagined. She’d scoffed at the idea of the ‘empty nest syndrome’. She’d thought she’d mentally prepared herself well for it, even with their beloved father no longer there to help her through it. And maybe it wouldn’t have been so hard if her career hadn’t also hit a roadblock around the same time, with picture book commissions starting to dry up. Her agent said it was just a ‘hiccup’. Helen wasn’t so sure. She had the uneasy feeling that perhaps she had run out of inspiration, and that publishers sensed that. Maybe she should have been bolder in the past, taken more risks, rather than staying on the hamster wheel of sensible ‘career maintenance’. Her children leaving home had simply exacerbated the feeling of being left behind. And that had been the main reason why she’d agreed to this trip, when Alex had proposed it just three short weeks ago.

Alex had turned up in her usual whirlwind way, saying, ‘Okay, Nell, it’s now or never!’ She’d pulled out her tablet and scrolled through umpteen photos, brochures, travel guides and walking routes. That was exactly Alex’s style: to look as though she acted first and foremost on impulse but actually to have everything planned down to the last detail. She had clearly expected some resistance from her sister and looked momentarily shocked when Helen said yes, almost straight away. At least I can still surprise her, Helen thought, now, smiling to herself as they headed towards the ancient stone gate leading to the old town.

Sisters do the Camino

A blog by the Dorian Sisters

What’s the blog about?

It’s about documenting in words and pictures our adventure on the Camino, as we do the pilgrimage from Saint Jean Pied de Port in France to Santiago de Compostella in Spain. The blog is aimed at family and friends but anyone else who happens across it is welcome to check it out. (Sorry, but we’ve disabled the comments facility—you’re welcome to drop us a contact email however).Yes, we know we’re not the first to do it—walk it and blog it—but hey, this is our adventure, and we’ll do what we like!

Who are we?

Helen and Alex (short for Alexandra—but never call me that!) Dorian. That’s Helen on the left and Alex on the right. We’re twins. Fraternal not identical. Alex is the older one. By four minutes 😊 We were born in a little country town in northern New South Wales, Australia, but grew up mainly in Sydney. Helen is an illustrator of children’s books and still lives in Sydney. She has two children (grown up). Alex is a business consultant and lives in Melbourne now. She has a niece and a nephew (they’re Helen’s kids, she doesn’t have any other siblings).

Why are we doing this?

What? The walk, or the blog? Well, with the walk, these days people do it for lots of reasons: religious (the original motive, back in the day), spiritual, health, challenge, adventure. In our case, it’s because we dreamed of doing this, a long time ago, but never got around to it. Life just kept getting in the way. Now, we’ve decided to tell life just who’s boss. No more dreaming. Just the two of us sisters, walking the walk (and talking it too, haha!) Also—we’re getting to one of those significant birthdays in a few months. Okay, enough about that bit. We’re doing it because we’re doing it. Full stop. And the blog? Because you need a record of something like the Camino! You could keep a diary. But who wants to do that? (Not