She knew the little everyday things about him, of course: the food he liked, the way he drank his coffee – typically French, black and strong – the clothes he wore, that he adored his mother. There were still some major things they’d not discussed yet, though. Houses and money being two of them. The question of children was another topic they’d never discussed. She knew she wanted at least two, but Ben? Did he want a family eventually? That was a question a sensible woman would have raised before leaping into marriage.
She didn’t really have any idea of Ben’s income either, other than that he never seemed worried about money. His books regularly hit the bestseller lists, which had to be good money-wise, didn’t it?
Looking at the property pictures she began to wonder where they’d live when they did buy something. Their current cottage was rented furnished and had been a typical bachelor’s home until she’d moved in and introduced a few pictures, candles and cushions into the sitting room. Ben, though, had flatly refused to sleep in a bed with pink sheets, her favourite, so she’d bought some pale-blue ones instead.
Impulsively Jodie opened the estate agency’s door and went in. Taking the details home to Ben for his reaction would at least solve two mysteries: the kind of house they both liked and the price range they’d be looking at.
The man at the desk glanced up from some paperwork on his desk, muttered ‘Bonjour’ and then returned to his paperwork. No ‘Can I help you?’ No ‘I’ll be with you in a moment’. Zilch.
In England Jodie would have simply coughed and said loudly, ‘Excuse me, can you help me?’ But here she was lost for words and had to stand there waiting until the man deigned to look up and ask if he could help. At least it gave her time to frame a basic question.
‘S’il vous plaît, la petite maison annoncée dans la fenêtre?’ Jodie said. She had no idea how to continue. How to tell him which particular house she was interested in. The man stared at her, waiting for her to carry on. Getting crosser and crosser with him, her right foot tapping the floor impatiently, she finally found the words she needed. ‘La petite maison pour €350,000.’
The man opened a file on his desk, pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to her.
‘Make a rendezvous for next week if you wish to see it,’ he said in heavily accented English before returning to his paperwork.
Friends had warned her that French customer service could be somewhat lacking, but this was the first time she’d experienced real rudeness first hand.
Jodie took the paper, muttered a sarcastic ‘Thank you’ now she knew the man spoke English and walked out. No way would she be making a viewing appointment with this agency.
Leaving the village behind her she walked along the main road to The Taste of the Countryside. It was further than she thought and she began to regret not driving down from the cottage. Ben had promised to buy her a small runaround but so far he hadn’t found anything he thought she’d like. In the meantime, he’d urged her to use his large 4x4. Only she couldn’t.
It was bigger than anything she’d ever driven before and the thought of having to get used to it while driving on the wrong side of narrow roads terrified her, but it would have to be done and soon. Maybe next time they went out together she’d suggest she drove some of the way.
The Taste of the Countryside was set back from the road and next to a pretty cottage with the name plaque Le Jardin de Dominique. As she pushed open the large shop door and stepped onto a mat, a buzzer buzzed. Jodie smiled as she saw two small children playing on a rug near the till.
‘Bonjour, Madame Delahaye,’ the woman behind the counter said, smiling.
‘Bonjour,’ Jodie replied, surprised. ‘How do you know… sorry, umm… comment savez-vous mon nom?’
‘It’s a small village. I know everyone. It’s too early for tourists so you had to be Ben’s new wife. I’m Nicola Bongars,’ the woman said, holding out her hand for Jodie to shake.
‘Your English is very good.’
‘That’s because I am English,’ Nicola said, laughing. ‘Married to a Frenchman.’
‘Like me!’ Jodie said, judging that Nicola had to be older than her, probably in her late thirties or early forties. ‘Are these your children?’
‘Two of them. I have an older son also. Olivier. I don’t usually bring the twins to work but today I’m standing in for the assistant, who has an emergency.’
‘It’s a very inviting shop,’ Jodie said, looking around at the array of things on offer. Conserves, wine, pottery, apple and other fruit juices, sweets and biscuits, fresh vegetables, flowers and plants. A stand by the door held booklets and pamphlets about the local area. ‘Everything here is made or produced locally?’
Nicola nodded. ‘Within a fifty-kilometre area. Were you looking for anything in particular?’
‘No, I was just curious to see what you sold,’ Jodie said. ‘I’ve just had my second French lesson with Madame Colbert and needed a walk to clear my head. My schoolgirl French is very rusty and Madame Colbert is very strict.’
Nicola laughed. ‘She’s a good teacher though. The main thing you have to do is speak French at every opportunity. Do you and Ben speak French at home?’
‘Not really.’ Knowing her understanding of French was poor, Ben always spoke to her in English.
‘Talk to him in French every day for at least an hour and you’ll be surprised at how quickly you improve.’
‘Mmm. That’s a thought,’ Jodie said, not wanting to say how little she actually saw of Ben at the moment or that, when they were together, she wanted their conversation to flow freely, which, if she was struggling for foreign words, it wouldn’t.
‘I see you’ve met Herve,’ Nicola said, looking at the estate agent details Jodie was holding.
Jodie pulled a face. ‘Isn’t he a ball of fire! Sorry, he’s probably a friend of yours but I found him to be very rude. Maybe it was just me?’
Nicola shook her head. ‘No, not you. He’s like that with everyone.’
The door opened and the buzzer sounded as a couple entered the shop.
‘Bonjour,’ Nicola called out.
‘I’d better get going,’ Jodie said. ‘I’ll be back though.’
‘I’m here three or four mornings a week,’ Nicola said. ‘If I’m not here, I’m usually next door. Le Jardin de Dominique,’ she said, seeing Jodie’s puzzled look. Come for a coffee. It’d be nice to chat to someone in my native language for a change.’
‘Thanks, I’d like that,’ Jodie said.
Later, as Jodie waited for Ben to join her for lunch, she looked at the cottage details again. She loved the photo of the sitting room with its French doors opening out onto a terrace. The views of the distant mountains were beautiful too. Maybe Ben would recognise the cottage and know where it was.
‘I see you’ve met the man who annually wins the title “Grumpiest Villager”,’ Ben said as he pulled out a chair and sat down.
‘Well-deserved title, I think,’ Jodie said. ‘I like the look of this cottage. Do you know where it is?’ She handed him the leaflet.
‘That’s interesting,’ Ben said.
‘You like it?’ Jodie said, hope rising that Ben would feel the way she did. ‘Grumpiest Villager said to make a rendezvous with him if we wanted to see it, but is there another way we can have a look without him?’
‘It’s out to the east of the village, near the Italian border. Quite close to Mama. It’s expensive over that way. It’s a nice cottage but it’s not for us.’ Ben helped himself to half a baguette and a slice of cheese. ‘Besides, it’s too small,’ he continued. ‘It’s only two bedrooms and we need at least three and a study for me. The garden isn’t up to much either. Also, in my opinion, it’s overpriced even for that area.’
‘Oh! That’s a shame, I rather liked the look of it,’ Jodie said, disappointed. ‘Houses here do seem expensive. This was the cheapest one in the window. Do we really need three or four bedrooms?’
‘Mais oui – for the family we s
hall have in the future,’ Ben said.
‘But we could start off with a smaller house and move when we have children,’ Jodie said. ‘That’s what generally happens in England.’
‘Here in France we prefer to find a home where we can grow our families and grow old together, from the beginning. A forever home.’
‘So, why did you say it was interesting?’ Jodie said.
‘I am surprised the owner is selling, that’s all. He’s a friend of Mama’s. It was his family’s holiday cottage for years. He moved back up here last year and I thought he’d planned on living in the area permanently.’
‘What sort of price range are we going to be looking in?’ Jodie asked, hiding her disappointment over the cottage. Knowing the answer to that would at least stop her falling for ones that were too expensive and out of their reach.
‘We can probably afford a bit more than the price of that cottage,’ Ben said. ‘Depends on where we decide to live and what we find – and how well the next book does.’ He stood up. ‘Talking of which. I’ll see you later. Oh, I forgot to tell you… Mama has invited us to supper this evening.’ He gave her a quick kiss and was gone.
Jodie sighed. She’d assumed she and Ben would buy a house somewhere locally, maybe near the village, but perhaps Ben was thinking of moving away? At least she knew the size of house he wanted and had some idea of the price range, but she still didn’t know whether they shared the same taste. Something they still had to discuss. She smiled to herself. At least she knew now that Ben did want children in the future.
Smothering a small sigh Jodie fingered her locket. ‘What d’you think, Mum?’ Talking to her mum when she was worried had become a reflex action. Somehow, holding the locket and voicing her worries out loud helped her. Made her feel her mum was still close.
She could hear Jacqueline’s voice now, telling her to relax. ‘You’re in France and you know everything takes longer here. Once you start looking the right house will turn up, you’ll see. And the answers to all your questions will fall into place.’
Chapter Six
‘Come on, hurry up. You know what a stickler my mama is for punctuality. She forgives anything but lateness.’ Ben was standing by the car, its engine already running.
‘Sorry,’ Jodie said, slamming the cottage door behind her. ‘Tina wanted to chat!’
‘She always does at the weekend,’ Ben said. ‘She needs another flatmate.’
‘That’s why she rang. She’s seeing someone this evening. A friend of a friend. Fingers crossed they’ll get on.’
Automatically Jodie climbed into the passenger seat as Ben held the door open for her and snapped the seatbelt into its lock before remembering she’d planned to suggest she drove at least one way this evening. Too late now, the car was already moving.
‘Is it just us this evening?’ she asked, as Ben turned onto the road leading down to the village.
He shrugged. ‘Mama didn’t say. I guess there might be a couple of neighbours there. I know she has a couple of friends she wants to introduce you to.’
‘Are any of these neighbours likely to speak English? Even a little?’ It would be a long, mainly silent evening for her if they didn’t. Still, at least Ben wasn’t working for once and they were spending time together.
‘Mmm… possibly not,’ Ben said. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll translate for you.’ About to turn left, Ben slammed on the brakes instead. A large orange ‘route barré’ sign had been placed in the middle of the turning.
‘Damn!’ he muttered. ‘Now we are going to be late. Have to go the long way round.’
‘Any idea why the road is closed?’ Jodie asked.
‘Probably a small landslide somewhere. We’ve had a lot of rain this winter, which is always a problem with any unstable rocks.’
The long way round meant Jodie saw parts of the village and surrounding countryside she hadn’t seen before. Ten minutes later, as they drove down an even narrower lane than usual, she saw a small house set back from the road, a for sale notice fixed to its garden gate.
‘Oh, isn’t that the cottage I liked? What a lovely setting. Are you sure we can’t even look at it?’ she asked, as the cottage disappeared from view around a bend in the road and Ben turned onto another lane that led to the rutted driveway of his mother’s house.
‘Why? I’ve told you it’s too small for us.’
‘OK, I admit it. I’m a house-ophile – if there is such a word! I love looking at houses. And that cottage is exactly the kind of house I’m drawn to,’ Jodie said. ‘Are there bigger versions around? And importantly, is it the kind of house you might like?’
‘Oui. We’ll see lots that are very similar when we start serious house-hunting. It’s a traditional design in this area. We just need one with more space.’
Ben drew up alongside a scarlet Range Rover that was parked in front of the house. As they got out of the car Jodie said, ‘Who does that belong to?’ but before Ben could answer, Annette Delahaye had opened her front door and come out to greet them.
‘There you are. Last to arrive.’
As she was enveloped in a tight hug, Jodie fleetingly remembered Tina’s warning. ‘Mothers-in-law can be difficult,’ she’d said. ‘And we all know how close French men are to their mothers. She’ll probably turn out to be the mother-in-law from hell.’
Jodie smiled at the memory as she kissed Annette’s cheek. In the short time she’d known her, Jodie had become very fond of Ben’s widowed mother. A woman of copious energy and somebody you felt instinctively drawn to, she’d wholeheartedly welcomed Ben’s choice of wife into her family. Jodie knew she couldn’t have asked for a better mother-in-law.
‘Désolé,’ Ben said. ‘Rue du Berger was closed.’
‘Ah, my fault then. I forgot to warn you about that,’ Annette said, turning to Jodie and taking her by the hand. ‘Come on in and meet everybody.’
‘Everybody’ included Adele and Bernard, who were nearby neighbours, Thierry Francis, who Annette introduced simply as ‘my friend’ with no further explanation, and, to Jodie’s surprise and delight, Nicola and her husband, Gilles.
As she said, ‘It’s lovely to see you again’ to Nicola, Jodie couldn’t help noticing the scowl that flitted across Ben’s face when he saw Thierry. Mmm… her husband clearly didn’t like his mother’s friend although he was perfectly polite to him, at first.
Too early in the year to eat supper outside, Annette had set the table in the conservatory that ran the length of the house overlooking the garden at the rear. Small lamps placed in strategic places around the room and candles that flickered down the length of the table, interspersed with bowls of flower heads and floating candles, created a gentle ambience.
The food, a simple lamb stew followed by a pomme tarte tatin, was delicious. Conversation, in a mixture of English and French, some of which Jodie was able to join in with, veered from the weather to the number of tourists the village could expect in the summer. And then, over the cheese course, Ben said to Thierry, ‘I see you’ve got your cottage on the market. Bit expensive even for around here.’
Even though he spoke in French, Jodie understood enough and realised with a start that he was talking about the cottage she liked. She saw, too, the quick, worried look Annette gave Ben and the way her shoulders tensed at his provocative tone as he spoke to Thierry.
‘Are you planning on moving back down south?’
Thierry, for his part, regarded Ben steadily. ‘Oui, it’s a possibility, but a lot depends on other things, and other people,’ he said.
An awkward silence followed before Gilles turned to Jodie and started a new conversation, in English, on how vibrant a city London was.
‘So full of energy. I love my visits there. And did you know London is the sixth-largest French city these days? So many of us have crossed the Channel for work. But now, of course, there are the worries over Brexit.’ He shook his head. ‘Things will change, that’s for sure.’
‘There’s a certain
buzz about the place,’ Jodie said. ‘I have to admit I’m looking forward to returning with Ben for the London Book Fair in a few weeks.’ She turned to smile at him. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, which hotel have you booked us into?’
‘Umm…’ Ben bit his lip as he looked at her. A habit of his she already recognised as a sign of nervousness.
‘Or would your agent have done it?’ she asked.
‘Can we talk about this later?’ Ben said. ‘In private.’
‘Of course,’ Jodie said quickly, suddenly aware of the silence around them as everyone tried in vain to ignore their muted voices.
‘Jodie. A drop more wine?’ Thierry asked.
Jodie picked up her glass and held it out. ‘Thank you.’
The mention of London had made her realise just how much she was looking forward to their visit in a couple of weeks. Not just to catch up with Tina and all her news but to take some flowers to her mum’s grave, wander down Oxford Street for some retail therapy, maybe go to the theatre one evening.
Thoughtfully, she looked around the table. The convivial supper party had developed a certain undercurrent of unease due to Ben. What was the matter with her husband this evening? First his barely concealed rudeness to Thierry, and now evading her question about London and hotels.
Surely Ben wasn’t thinking about cancelling their visit to London when he knew how much she was looking forward to it? He wouldn’t – would he?
Chapter Seven
Tina straightened the cream throw she’d placed over the settee and attempted to relax as seven o’clock approached. Telling Maisie she could come and see the flat wasn’t tantamount to saying ‘You can move in’ before they’d even met, was it?
Lots of things needed to be discussed before that stage was reached – if it was reached at all. Some basic house rules would have to be laid down: no smoking, respect each other’s space, no leaving dishes to soak in the sink, a rota set up for the housework. Rules about privacy and bringing people back to the flat would have to be agreed.
A Year of Taking Chances Page 3