"But you can't learn a language only using dictionaries," Kit tells her, "it would improve your vocabulary if you already knew the language but without some prior knowledge or understanding of its structure it's useless."

Lola's shoulders deflate, "oh, I guess you're right."

She's such an idiot, she really thought— "I can teach you," Kit says, cutting through her thoughts.

Lola straightens and walks over to the sofa to sit down on its arm. "Really?"

Kit chews the inside of his cheek, then says, "yes, I don't mind, if it gets Henri to learn English. I'm fluent, I can teach you enough that you can have some basic conversation with Henri."

Lola's face breaks out into a bright grin. "That would be brilliant! Let's do that!" She glances around at all the books on the coffee table and on the sofa, "can we start now? Are you busy?"

"Yes, we can," Kit says, closing the book in his hand, "and no, I'm not busy, I was doing some annotation. I can continue later—"

"Annotation?" Lola says with a frown.

"Yes. I was making notes on this," Kit shows her the cover of the book he's been reading.

Songs of Innocence and Experience. It looks like one of those old, prissy books Granddad would love and Emmett would pretend to have read.

"What's it about?" Lola's nose scrunches up, "Why are you reading songs?"

Kit lets out a faint chuckle. He says, "it's a collection of twenty-six poems intended to explore the two contrary states of the human soul."

"Contrary?"

"Opposite," Kit says.

"Oh, and what are they?"

"What?"

"The two contrary states of the human soul," Lola says, quite curious now.

"Uh, the innocent, pastoral world of childhood," Kit says, organising the messy books into a neat pile on the table as he says, "against an adult world of corruption and repression."

Lola's eyes narrow. "Sounds...sad mate," she says, placing an elbow on her thigh and leaning forward to look at the other books Kit has on the table. Most of them are in French or Latin with only one or two in English. "Is this all poetry, then?"

Kit nods.

She looks at Kit then, despite how gloomy it is out, daylight still floods into this quiet corner from the huge, arched windows before the sofa. She wasn't close enough before or she didn't look at Kit long enough but she realises Kit's eyes are a warm brown, a little lighter than Lola's.

"Do you want to be a poet or somethin'?" Lola asks, picking up a book by a fella called Rumi.

"I don't have the talent for that," Kit says, "I just...like to read and, well, sometimes translate them sometimes."

"Translate 'em into what?"

"French to English, English to French, Latin to French."

It her turn to look confused. It sounds like torture. "Why?"

"I like it and it's a good way to practice my French and Latin," he says with a shrug. He puts his notebook and Songs of Experience and Innocence onto the coffee table, "I've done enough for today, do you want to start the lessons now?"

Lola grins, "yes, please."

"Great," Kit stands up, "I'm going to grab a few books from downstairs that Kit help and we get it on with it."

Lola throws herself down onto the sofa.

"Sweet," she says, settling into the comfy cushions properly.

Kit teaches her the most basic words and phrases and their proper pronunciation and Lola eagerly leaves the library excited to show Henri his new found skills. She gets the chance to show it off the next day when Henri comes over to her house to work on their homework together.

The door opens. Henri stands on the other side with a sullen expression and his book bag in hand.

"Bienvenue, Henri," she says, remembering Kit's feedback on her enunciation, "comment ça va?"

Henri stares. "Quoi? Tu viens de parler français?"

Something about speaking French.

"Oui, j'apprends le français," she says, talking slowly to make sure she gets the words right. [Yes, I'm learning French.] If this is the headache Henri has to go through every time she tries to speak English, Lola doesn't blame him from resisting to learn.

She takes out the note Kit translated for her in French. She holds a finger out as she unfolds it and starts reading.

"Je — j' apprends parce que je veux te parler," she pauses, convinced he is butchering Henri's language but pushes through, "mais seulement si tu apprends l'anglais aussi." [I'm learning because I want to talk to you but only if you learn English too.]

Henri's smile is luminous as he nods, "oui, d'accord!" [Yes, okay!]

Lola smiles back and for the first time it feels like Henri is really seeing her.

✤

Henri's reaction was so bright, Lola goes looking for Kit at school. She searches the courtyard at lunch the next day. Like always, Emmett is surrounded by his entourage but oddly enough Kit isn't there.

"I don't know where he is," Emmett says when Lola asks him, "he doesn't come out at lunch."

Lola's first guess at Kit's whereabout is correct. He's in the school library, which is really just a small room with four book shelves. He's the only one there, sitting on one of the round tables as he writes in that notebook of his and glances back and forth from the book in his hand. She half-expected Kit to be wearing that knitted jumper but he's back in his usual plain white shirt and grey trousers.

Lola slams her hands on the desk and Kit almost falls out of his chair. He stares at Lola with wide eyes.

"Are you a vampire, mate?" Lola says as Kit picks up the books that fell to the floor, "or one of those mythical creatures that burst into flame if they're not in a certain place?"

Kit piles each book on top of the other. "What?"

"If you're not in a library at least once in the day Kit you burst into flames?" Lola asks with his cheekiest grin, "oh, I know, did you sell your soul for all the knowledge in the world but the devil forget to mention you have to learn it so now you practically live in the library?"

Kit looks at him. He chews the inside of his cheek, a habit Lola has noticed he does when he's not sure what to say, which is often.

"I don't live in the library," Kit says, flicking through the pages of a hefty book filled with weird symbols.

"What's that?" She asks.

"Sumerian," Kit says, tucking a pen behind his ear, "it's the oldest written language in history. It was spoken until 2000 B.C."

"Are you learning another dead language?" Lola asks. After Liam, Kit has to be one of the oddest person she's ever met. "Why?"

Maybe he doesn't want to speak anyone or maybe he wants to talk with the dead but — Kit doesn't look like a witch but aren't witches women?

"If Sumerian is the oldest written language in the world then it would have the oldest written poetry," Kit tells him, "like the Epic of Gilgamesh. It's the earliest surviving great work of literature and I'd like to read it in its original language." He shuts the thick book and glances up at Lola, "did you want something?"

Lola blinks. She had almost forgotten why she even came in the first place. It's such a striking sight whenever Kit speaks about poetry or translation he seems to come alive, his gentle voice becomes firmer and the melancholy look in his brown eyes disappears for a moment.

"Oh, right," he says. "Henri was really happy when I spoke to him in French and I want to keep learning so can you keep teaching me?"

"Uh, sure, we can do it at the library in the Square unless you're still scared of Mrs. Hubert then we can find some—"

"I'm not scared of her," Lola says, "she's a hundred or something stupid like that. She just doesn't like me for some reason." Although she very well knows the reason.

"Okay, then, meet me at the library on Saturday at ten o'clock." Kit pauses, "does Henri want me to teach him English?"

"No, he has an older cousin whose teaching him."

And to be honest, Lola would prefer it was just her and Kit. She can concentrate better.

November

Kit's not bossy or patronising like the teachers at school and he doesn't treat her like an idiot. They agree to meet every Saturday morning in the same reading nook at the library. Kit always wears a knitted jumper, they are always vivid in colour and Kit always looks perfectly content in them. It has Lola wondering where he is getting this infinite supply of jumpers.

"Why do you know Latin?" Lola asks Kit one weekend as they go over French conjugation,"it's a dead language, isn't it? No one speaks it anymore."

"Latin never truly died," Kit says, taking a sip of his tea. Today, Kit wears another knitted jumper, this one is multi-coloured with bright patterns and shapes.

Mrs. Hubert made the tea for him. She offers him the sweetest smile every time he comes in and makes him tea despite his protests. And Lola? She glares at Lola, tells her she's got her eye on him and that one wrong move and she may have Lola banned for life like her best friend. Lola will frown and tell her Liam is not his best friend but it's fruitless. Mrs. Hubert, like the rest of this bloody village, have permanently tied Lola to Liam.

"Latin evolved into French, Italian, Spanish, Portuguese and Romanian," Kit says, "those are known as the Romance languages. To learn Latin is to have an understanding of six languages at once. Plus, it can improve your own English since fifty percent of English words are from latin and..."

"And?" Lola prompts.

Kit throws him that faint smile Lola has grown used to in the last couple of weeks.

"And Eton gave us no choice but to learn it," he says.

Lola spins a pen between her fingers. "So...why'd you leave Eton? Isn't it supposed to be the fanciest school in the country?"

"I had some issues at home. I had to leave."

"What issues?" Lola says, feeling close to solving the quiet mystery around Kit Tailor. There is something about him that feels hidden, an ever shifting puzzle with a thousand possible combinations. If he wasn't Mrs. Tailor's grandson she would know his whole history by now. 

Kit glances away, growing tenser and more uncomfortable with each second. "Let's finish this," he says and points to the list of common verbs for Lola to memorise, "go on."

Lola lets it go for now. She's seeing Henri later and she wonders if she can ask Kit for some insults in French.