Escape to the French Farmhouse

by Jo Thomas

  Just then Ralph spots the dogs roaming around and lurches forward, knocking Cora’s knees as he goes. In slow motion, she teeters on the edge of the riverbank. No one moves. Her arms start to swing. The banner goes in first with a splash. She turns to reach for it too late. Her friends put their hands to their mouths and noses as she topples forward, down the riverbank, one arm out to save herself, and plunges into the water. Her friends freeze. My mouth drops open. She stands in the knee-high water, spluttering and cursing and shaking a green plant off her wet arms and hands. She is furious. Ralph, though, is thrilled at this new game and launches himself into the river, with a huge splash, adding insult to injury. And although I want to call him out of the water, I can’t speak. I’m worried that the only sound to come out of my mouth will be nervous laughter.

  I turn quickly to the hut, unlock it, take the big pan in and put it on the side. Outside I hear, ‘Get me out! You won’t hear the last of this! This is why you’re not wanted here!’

  I can hear a kerfuffle and a cheer, just like when they got the blue settee out of the river, and I can’t help but think that just desserts have been served at the riverside clearing tonight, along with my lemon and lavender chicken.

  Later, as the sun is setting, we take the empty pans back to Le Petit Mas. The plates and cutlery have been washed up and cleared away into the hut. Our diners have thanked us and the honesty box is full. Rhi is still at the hospital with Henri, and Lou is taking another stroll along the riverbank with Alain, who wants to show her the bats. She promises she’ll be back soon. ‘Alain will walk me home, don’t worry,’ she says.

  JB, Stephanie and Tomas walk with Fabien, Ralph and me, Fabien insisting on helping to carry things back to the farmhouse, and although we could have managed without him, I don’t want him to leave, not yet.

  Stephanie and JB put Tomas to bed, and suddenly it’s just me, Fabien and a bottle of rosé, looking out over the valley to the setting sun. The smell of the pines and the lavender are all around us, and the cicadas are chirping in the trees. I don’t think there is anywhere I’d rather be right now, or anyone else I’d rather be with. I’m nervous, yet it’s just Fabien, I tell myself.

  ‘How’s Carine?’ I ask, trying to make conversation.

  ‘Fine. Busy.’ He moves his head from side to side. ‘She has an active social life. Actually,’ he twists the stem of his wine glass, ‘she’s pregnant.’

  At those words my heart almost misses a beat, but not quite. Not like when I used to hear friends had become pregnant, that they had joined a club of which I couldn’t become a member, when people became embarrassed to tell Ollie and me. Now my thoughts have shifted: I’m not thinking about me and what I can’t have; I’m thinking about Carine.

  ‘Who … who’s the father?’ The words catch in my throat.

  Fabien shakes his head, clearly unhappy. ‘Monsieur le maire,’ he replies flatly.

  ‘The mayor! But isn’t he …?’

  Fabien nods. ‘Married.’

  ‘And is he …’ I swallow, thinking of Ollie and his new family ‘… planning on leaving his wife?’

  Fabien again shakes his head. ‘He would never do that.’

  ‘What’s she going to do?’ I ask.

  He shrugs. ‘It’s early days. She’s … thinking through her options.’ He takes a big sip of wine and looks out over the half-planted lavender field. ‘I’ll drop off more plants tomorrow,’ he says, changing the subject. And I wonder what’s going through his mind. He turns back to me. ‘So … about that kiss.’ He grabs the elephant in the room and puts it between us.

  ‘It was Stephanie. She’d developed this crush on you and I didn’t want her to think I was muscling in. I didn’t want her not to be able to trust me.’

  A smile is tugging at the corners of his mouth. ‘And now?’

  ‘Um …’ I flush.

  ‘Was it really such a silly kiss?’

  I look at his green eyes, with dark circles around the irises, and I want his lips on mine so much. There is a longing in me that I haven’t felt for years. A pull, a draw, a yearning to make love. I can’t remember the last time I made love that didn’t involve trying for a baby. Lovemaking between me and Ollie stopped a long time ago. We had sex, we had charts, injections, scans, more sex, but that was what it became … just sex. A means to an end and an end that became a closed-off route to us. What I want more than anything right now is to be made love to. It’s not about wanting a baby, it’s about wanting this man, with a longing I can barely hide. I look at Fabien, so much younger than me. I can’t let myself fall for him.

  ‘Do you think Cora will manage to close us down, at the riverside clearing?’ I say quickly, trying to distract myself and him. ‘She clearly doesn’t want us here!’

  ‘Ignore her! I want you here. I want you here very much!’

  ‘Here?’ Butterflies, like the bats flying in front of us now, flutter in my stomach.

  ‘Not here …’

  ‘Not here?’ I say. I’m flirting! I haven’t flirted and felt its buzz for so long. Is it wrong to feel wanted and to want someone, no matter what the age difference? To want them for them. It’s not about getting pregnant: it’s about wanting to be with him.

  I bite my bottom lip.

  ‘No.’ He moves closer towards me, and his lips are finally on mine, kissing me. And I’m kissing him back. It is the most amazing kiss I have ever had.

  ‘How was that?’ He smiles as he pulls away.

  My nerve endings are standing to attention and I just want more.

  ‘Now, will you please let me take you to bed?’ he asks, and I’m taken aback, but what’s wrong with saying what you really want instead of pretending?

  I stare at him, the air between us as electric as the buzzing from the cicadas on this hot night.

  And then I drop my head. ‘I can’t,’ I say quietly, trying to rein in my overexcited hormones.

  ‘Why not?’ he says. ‘Is it your husband?’

  ‘Soon-to-be-ex-husband,’ I say. ‘Who is having a baby with his lover.’

  ‘Is it that?’ He doesn’t look shocked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why? We both want this. We are both free to be together. And Stephanie won’t be unhappy any more.’

  ‘Because …’ I don’t know that I can even say this. I look up at his beautiful face. ‘Because I’m worried I might fall in love with you,’ I say, so quietly I barely know if I’ve said it out loud.

  He reaches for my cheek and stands up, offering me his hand. ‘Let’s take the risk, shall we?’ he says. ‘There is always risk in life. You coming here, staying here. It was a risk, but you made it happen, because you are you. Taking the risk is just the start of the journey, the first step.’ He smiles, his hand still outstretched. ‘It has to be worth the risk, doesn’t it?’

  My heart is pounding, my stomach fizzing with excitement.

  He’s right. I took the risk the first day I stayed here and I have never been happier. I look at his hand and slowly, ever so slowly, put mine into his and let him lead me up to bed.

  FORTY-FIVE

  The following morning, as the sun creeps back over the horizon, the birds start to sing, not a loud cacophony, but allowing each other to be heard, apart from the cockerel in the distance, as we make love again. And, yes, it really does feel like making love, being loved and loving someone else. I actually think I’m in love. Finally, and although neither of us wants the night to end, Fabien kisses me gently on the lips, then on the nose, smiles and slides from between the sheets to make sure he is out of the house before anyone else gets up, in particular Stephanie and Tomas. We’ll take our time, we agree. For now, this is our secret, and it feels like the best secret ever. As he dresses, he picks up his phone, holds his face beside mine and photographs us.

  ‘I’ve sent it to you!’ he whispers. ‘So you can think of us together.’

  ‘I’ll look terrible!’ I laugh.

  ‘You look beautiful – here!�
�� He shows me the picture. I’m stunned. Is that really me? I look … lovely.

  ‘Now you see yourself as I see you, beautiful and amazing. Look at what you’ve done here, the people you’ve helped. Liking yourself is the first step to others falling in love with you.’ He kisses me again, then tiptoes out of the room, his shoes in his hand, leaving his smell on the pillows, which I hug to me, and move into the space where he was last night, feeling him still close.

  The smile on my face refuses to go away as I open the shutters and look out at the sun’s rays reaching over the valley, through the big balls of mistletoe in the copse of trees. A mist rolls up from the river as the dew begins to burn off the field, and my lavender plants, on this warm mid-August morning, and I try to imagine what it will be like when the whole field is covered with them. I breathe in deeply. The smell of this place just makes me feel alive. The gentle breeze brings the scent of newly turned soil and lavender, doused in dew, rising up to meet me as I think over what just happened, replaying last night in my head, like a special memory I want to imprint there and keep for ever. I have no idea where this is going: it’s as if I’ve stepped on to a rollercoaster, with no clue as to whether it’s going to be the best or worst experience of my life. ‘But it’s worth taking the risk.’ I hear his words, feel the touch of his hand, and remember the longing in his eyes. Longing for me. I look in the mirror and raise a hand to my face. ‘Now you can see what I see.’ I hear his words. And smile.

  ‘Hello, you!’ I say, as if I’ve welcomed back an old friend. And the friend in the mirror smiles at me warmly and I like it. I like what I see and smile back at her.

  I shower, dress and make my way downstairs. It’s not until I reach the kitchen that I realize I’m humming. Stephanie turns when she hears me come in and I stop humming, but the smile doesn’t leave my lips.

  ‘Someone’s happy,’ she says.

  ‘Thrilled that Henri is on the mend and on his way home,’ I say quickly. ‘Everything is going back to how it was.’

  ‘Not quite how it was,’ she says, and I’m not sure if she’s talking about her and JB or something else. I give a little cough and clear my throat, and see she has already made a start on the morning’s bakes. Tomas is helping her and JB is pulling on his jacket, kissing Stephanie goodbye, then Tomas, then going off to work with Fabien at the brocante. I reach down and pat Ralph, who Fabien instructed to stay downstairs last night with his little dog Mimi. We didn’t hear a peep out of him.

  ‘Where do you want me?’ I ask.

  ‘You’re fine,’ she says. ‘You go to the bistro. I have everything in hand here.’

  And she does. She doesn’t need me. She has everything under control, her and Tomas. ‘I’ll see you at the bistro, then.’ I smile even wider.

  ‘Oui, à bientôt!’ she says, opening the oven and putting in her first tray of bakes.

  ‘Touche pas!’ she tells Tomas.

  ‘Touche pas!’ he repeats, waving a finger at me, making me laugh.

  ‘À toute à l’heure,’ I call, as I pick up my bag, leaving Stephanie and Tomas to cook and heading down the drive to the metal gates and on to the road towards the riverbank. The smell of wild thyme, rosemary and pine gives way to the sounds of the riverbank, as I head towards town with a smile on my lips and the sun on my face. I watch the flash of blue and yellow as a pair of kingfishers dip in and out of the river and the long grasses there, fat bumblebees buzz around the wisteria hanging over a fallen fence, and a weeping willow draping its branches in the clear, slow-flowing water, all as relaxed and carefree as I feel.

  As I reach the riverside clearing, I slow down. Two men in suits are there, with the mayor, looking around the site.

  ‘Bonjour,’ I say, and they acknowledge me, the mayor smiling politely.

  What’s going on? Clearly something is, and I’m suddenly worried.

  I think about Carine. I have plenty of time before I should start preparing for lunch at the bistro. I want to see how she is. Maybe she’ll have time for coffee before work. Maybe she’ll know what’s going on at the clearing. Has Cora got her way?

  FORTY-SIX

  ‘Carine?’ I say tentatively as I push open the glass door and step into the cool air-conditioned estate agency, out of the morning sun. Carine has her back to me and may be wiping away a few tears with a tissue. She turns to me, her nose red and her eyes a little puffy. She sniffs, then smiles.

  ‘Del, how are you?’ she says, stepping forward and kissing me on each cheek. ‘I hear you are doing a wonderful job at Henri’s – Stephanie too.’ She gives her nose a quick wipe, then puts her tissue into her handbag on her neat, tidy, minimalistic desk, with its clear plastic chair, everything in its place, ordered.

  ‘Je suis très bien!’ I smile, then try to rein it in a bit. I’m not ready to share my news about Fabien with anyone. I’m enjoying the delicious memory of last night and keeping it to myself just as we agreed. Take things slowly.

  ‘You look well,’ she says. ‘Clearly life in Provence and at the bistro suits you.’

  I catch sight of myself in the mirror on the wall and, again, feel happy to see the old me back again. I’m hoping Carine doesn’t detect another reason for my rosy glow.

  ‘I just wondered if you had time for coffee, before starting work. I’m early. Stephanie is handling all the baking at the house, so I thought …’ I tip my head to one side, seeing her eyes fill with tears again.

  She pulls out her tissue. ‘Oh, stupid hay fever,’ she says, and blows her nose in a noisy, very un-Carine way. Then she puts away the tissue and looks at me. ‘I’d love to come for coffee but …’ she pauses ‘… I have an appointment. Somewhere I need to be.’ She glances at her watch.

  ‘A work appointment?’ I ask.

  She shakes her head. ‘The doctor,’ she says.

  I bite my bottom lip, wondering how much more I should say or ask. ‘Talking of doctors,’ I break the awkward silence, ‘it’s great news on Henri, eh?’

  ‘It’s wonderful! The best. He’s a good man,’ she says, and tries to smile, attempting to put on lipstick using a small compact mirror.

  ‘I, er, I hear you have some news of your own,’ I say softly.

  ‘Ah.’ She puts down the mirror and the lipstick. ‘Fabien told you?’

  I nod, not wanting to tell her it was just before he took me to bed last night. ‘Yes.’

  ‘I haven’t seen much of him. I’d ask him to come with me this morning, but I haven’t been able to get in touch with him. I think he’s avoiding me.’

  ‘I’m sure he’s not.’ I don’t want her to think that but neither do I want to give him or me away. ‘I’m sure he was just … busy.’

  For once Carine’s sharp, shrewd mind seems not to have read between the lines. Usually she doesn’t miss a thing. She’s really not herself.

  ‘Like I say, I wanted him to come with me to the doctor. Sort of hold my hand. But maybe he’s worried the doctor will think it’s his.’ She looks down at her flat belly.

  ‘And it’s not?’ I find myself wanting to double-check.

  ‘No, no. Definitely not. Like I say, Fabien and I are friends and always will be … I hope. But at the moment, he’s avoiding me. He doesn’t know what to say to me. I think he’s cross with me for getting myself into this position.’

  ‘Why? Surely he’d be a great support.’

  ‘I have to decide whether to keep the baby,’ she says, and I go cold. ‘Fabien doesn’t approve of my indecision. That I have “options”.’ She sighs. ‘Will you come to the doctor with me?’ she asks. ‘If you have time, will you come with me?’

  What can I say? I can’t abandon her now when she needs someone.

  ‘Please!’ she says. ‘Just walk with me and sit with me.’

  This woman was kindness itself when I decided to stay here. I can’t turn my back on her now. But neither can I think about her ‘options’. I’ll just walk and sit with her. That’s all. There’s no way I can discuss her ‘options
’ with her. Not when getting pregnant was the one thing I wanted for so long. For others, it seems so easy, just not for me. And that dream is over for me. I know that now. I have everything I need in life. My heart is as full as it could be. But I also know Carine has to do the right thing for her. I think of Stephanie and how proud she makes me, being a mother and now starting again in life. I think of Tomas and how hard Stephanie has had to work to keep him with her, to prove to herself she can be a good mum.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ I say. ‘I’ll come with you.’ A lump in my throat.

  We walk through town, neither of us really talking, lost in our own thoughts.

  We go up to what looks like a house. Inside, it’s a doctor’s surgery, with reception desk and waiting area. Carine lets the receptionist know she’s here, then sits beside me on a hard plastic chair in the waiting area.

  ‘You never had children, Del?’ she asks, straight to the point.

  The lump rises and falls in my throat. ‘We couldn’t have them,’ I say, having said this many times before. ‘Actually,’ I swallow, saying this for the first time, ‘I couldn’t have them. My husband, my ex, he’s about to have a child.’

  ‘That was quick work,’ she says.

  ‘I think his lover, partner,’ I correct myself, not knowing what the proper terminology is, ‘the mother of his child was pregnant before we came here. I think he ran away here when he found out she was. And when he went home, and I didn’t, I think he finally accepted his responsibilities.’

  ‘Well, that’s good in some ways. At least he did the decent thing.’

  ‘What about the father of your baby, Carine? Does he know?’

  She shakes her head. ‘It wouldn’t be fair. He has a wife and a family. I don’t want to ruin that for him. I thought I had everything sorted, in its place, but now this is chaos! This is not what was meant to happen.’

  It seems an odd way of showing your affection for someone, I think, but clearly, in her eyes, that’s what it is.