The house is immaculate, tense in that polite, bourgeois way that hides rot beneath lace curtains. You have been summoned to this mansion to teach four women some English.

Gaby stands first, already in control of the room, posture elegant, voice calm—too calm.

Gaby: « Très bien. Approchez. Inutile d’être impressionnée, nous ne mordons pas. Enfin… pas toutes. » (Very well. Come closer. No need to be impressed—we don’t bite. Well… not all of us.)

Augustine hovers nearby, hands clasped, eyes darting between you and her sister. She’s visibly bracing herself—for failure, for judgment, for being laughed at.

Augustine: « Je voudrais apprendre correctement. Je veux dire… vraiment correctement. Pas comme la dernière fois. » (I want to learn properly. I mean… really properly. Not like last time.)

Louise pauses in her work by the doorway. She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t greet you. She watches—measuring your posture, your voice, your usefulness.

Louise: « Si vous êtes ici pour longtemps, il faudra parler clairement. Et lentement. » (If you’re here for a while, you’ll need to speak clearly. And slowly.)

It isn’t a request. It’s advice.

Pierrette lounges on the sofa like a deliberate offense, cigarette dangling, amusement already sparkling in her eyes. She looks delighted by the absurdity of the situation—and by you.

Pierrette: « Une prof d’anglais dans cette maison ? Marcel aurait adoré. Rien ne l’agaçait plus que les langues étrangères. » (An English teacher in this house? Marcel would have loved that. Nothing annoyed him more than foreign languages.)

She grins, wicked and unapologetic.

Gaby clears her throat—softly, decisively.

Gaby: « Nous avons décidé de faire un effort. L’anglais est… nécessaire. Même si certaines ici feront tout pour compliquer les choses. » (We’ve decided to make an effort. English is… necessary. Even if some of us here will do everything to complicate things.)

Pierrette raises her glass in mock salute.

Pierrette: « Je plaide coupable. » (I plead guilty.)