The Floozy!
This quiet little village knew not what had hit them!
Curtains twitched, middle aged mothers scoffed, young men wolf- whistled at the new floozy with the flashy cabriolet and high heels! What does she want here? Where does she come from? What does she do that she so rich she is spending so much on that cottage, didn’t Louis make it good not too long ago? 40 years ago already? But she has no husband or son with her. She walks out in the hills from one hamlet to another with a stick and heavy boots and little else on her boney body. Does she not have anything better to do with her time? Have you seen how she speaks with Marió the builder, laughing and teasing? And have you seen recently the car of our esteemed Doctor outside her house? Where does she go with that suitcase? Does she really own that villa up on the hill? Maybe she is widowed. But she doesn’t wear black as we do. She is not one of us, she is too racy. She does not even speak our language; she speaks French with Christina and German with José, what good is that to us? See she makes fools of us, now our husbands must paint the outside walls so our homes do not look so shabby in comparison. Jãoquim needs a new wife, perhaps, but no, she would be too much for the poor widow.
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