“I can do it myself. Don’t worry.”
“It’s going to pour,” said Toddy, thinking of her horses out in the field.
“I suggest you stay in the house tonight and move into the cottage tomorrow. You don’t have so much as a bottle of milk in the fridge, so you’d better eat with me. You can take my car into town on Monday and buy everything you need. Fred the milkman comes during the week with dairy products and the papers, Ned the breadman comes three days a week to deliver bread and buns. I have an account with both. Please feel free to order whatever you require.”
At the sight of the cottage Jean-Paul’s face widened into a broad smile. “It is adorable,” he said, striding towards it. “I will be happy here, for sure.”
Toddy nudged Ava. “Won’t be going home then,” she hissed with a chuckle.
“Or to live with you,” Ava replied. “Bad luck!”
They joined him as the first drops of rain began to fall. Ava fished in her trouser pocket for the key. “It’s rather old and rusty, but it works.” The door opened with a whine and they walked inside. The children remained outside, watching the rain create patterns on the water.
Inside it was warmer. The air was perfumed with wood polish, wax and pine-scented floor cleaner. Upstairs the windows were still open. A draft hurtled down the stairs. They took off their boots. Ava ran upstairs to shut out the rain, Jean-Paul and Toddy went into the sitting room. Bernie lay outside against the door, watching the children.
As Ava closed the window, she caught sight of the children on the bridge. Archie and the twins were ragging around, while Poppy and Angus were pointing at something in the water. Suddenly the sky opened, throwing out buckets of rain. They squealed like startled mice and scampered off in the direction of the hollow tree. Then, in the midst of the rain, the clouds parted and the sun unexpectedly shone through, setting the sky alight with the most beautiful rainbow. The sunshine flooded her spirit with joy and she was at once gripped with the need to share it. She ran downstairs.
“Hurry, outside!” she yelled, her voice quivering with excitement.
Toddy and Jean-Paul appeared in the hall. “What’s going on?” Toddy demanded, her thoughts turning immediately to her children. She had a vision of them drowning in the river.
“A rainbow!” Ava replied, opening the door. “You’ve got to see it.” She struggled into her boots and dashed outside. Bernie leapt to his feet, catching her sense of exhilaration.
Ava could feel the rain dripping down her neck but she didn’t mind. It was worth it. She had never seen a rainbow so clear that she could pick out every color, even the elusive pink which sits between green and turquoise and is usually so blurred as to be hidden altogether.
She looked at Jean-Paul, and caught him looking at her. She smiled, masking the unease she felt beneath the intensity of his stare.
Ava folded her arms and for once she shivered in her shirtsleeves.
“Wow! That’s impressive!” Toddy exclaimed, wrapping her coat tightly about her. “Can we go back inside now?”
“You go. Take Jean-Paul with you. I want to stay out until it goes,” Ava replied.
Toddy hurried back to the cottage and Jean-Paul was left no option but to follow.
Ava walked over to the bridge where she stood in the rain, now falling in a light drizzle. She was glad to be alone. She wished Toddy would go home and Jean-Paul would disappear. The sooner he moved into the cottage the better. She wasn’t good at being around people all the time. She was beginning to feel trapped, unable to breathe. There on the bridge, alone with the elements, she felt better. She could hear the gentle trickle of the stream and the wind rustling through the trees, but no voices. It was quiet.
Finally, the rainbow faded. The clouds closed to hide the sun, like curtains on a magnificent stage. Ava was once again faced with having to perform. Toddy and Jean-Paul emerged and she turned to smile at them. “I think a cup of tea would warm us all up, don’t you, Ava?” said Toddy stridently, setting off towards the house.
“I wonder where the children ran off to?”
“They’ll be soaking wet, I should imagine,” said Toddy. “We should put them all in a hot bath!”
“I bet they hid in the hollow tree. They’re probably as dry as little moles.” She was right. They saw the grown-ups approaching and peeped out excitedly.
“My God! They’re packed in there like sardines,” Toddy exclaimed. “Are they all alive?” Poppy spilled out and ran to her mother.
“Did you see the rainbow?” she cried. “It was enormous!” Ava took her hand. It was cold and wet.
“Did you see pink?”
“Yes!” And she listed the colors one by one. “Pink and green go together, don’t they, Mummy?”
“You’re right, darling. Pink and green go together. They are my favorite colors.” She turned to Jean-Paul. “Next time, look out for pink. It’s there, but you have to really look for it.”
“Like beauty,” he said. “Beauty is in everything if you really look for it.”
“That’s open to debate,” interjected Toddy. “I look for it every morning in the mirror but it still eludes me.”
“I think your children see it every time they look at you,” said Jean-Paul. Toddy looked embarrassed. “Your own beauty is not yours to find,” he continued.
Ava walked on, holding her daughter’s hand. She was certain that Jean-Paul had found his own beauty in the mirror a long time ago.
That night Ava laid two places for dinner at the kitchen table. She busied herself cooking a lasagna so that she didn’t have to look at them. Those two placements made her feel anxious, as if she were on a first date. It was years since she had eaten alone with a strange man. It didn’t feel right. Had Jean-Paul been plain or gauche, it wouldn’t have mattered. The fact was, he was handsome. Worse, he was predatory. Her stomach twisted with nerves. What on earth was she going to talk about? She decided not to have pudding. That way dinner would be short and she could leave him in the sitting room watching Dallas and go to bed. She contemplated keeping Archie up, but that might look odd. She didn’t want to behave like an inexperienced twenty-year-old. Good God, she was a married mother of thirty-seven. Finally, she put the place settings on trays and decided they could both eat in front of the telly.
To her surprise, Jean-Paul left straight after he had eaten. He said he was tired, and thanked her for a magical day. “I have already learned a lot,” he told her. Then with a smile that made Ava regret her churlishness, he added, “I have learned to look out for pink. Next time I see a rainbow I will look harder.” With that, he took her hand and brought it to his lips in the same formal way with which he had greeted her the day before.
X
The taste of warm wine, the smell of burning fields, the last of summer sunshine
The following day Ava took the children to church. Jean-Paul moved into the cottage. She didn’t see him all day. Hidden away on the other side of the river he kept to himself, though he did borrow her old Morris Minor to drive into town. He said he wanted to take a look around. Explore the neighborhood. Ava didn’t think he’d be too impressed. It was a universe away from Paris.
She didn’t have time to miss Phillip. Besides, she was used to his long absences. In an old pair of jeans and shirt, her hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen, she pottered about the garden while the children played on the lawn. It was a warm October day. Unusually warm. The sun shone brightly as if it were June, the temperature rising to sixty-eight degrees. Poppy discarded her clothes and ran about in her pants. The boys dragged all the terrace cushions out of the shed and made a castle on the grass, which they destroyed by jumping on it before rebuilding, only to do the same all over again. With her secateurs and wheelbarrow, Ava was as contented as a bee in summer, humming quietly to herself in the bushes.
Bernie lay under an apple tree, sleeping through the whoops of laughter echoing across the lawn. He awoke a few minutes before Phillip’s car c
ould be heard coming up the drive. Ears pricked, he sat up, then galloped down the lawn to the archway cut into the hedge and bounded to the front of the house. The children followed excitedly, pursued by Ava wielding a trowel.
By the time Ava reached him, Phillip was holding Poppy in his arms, patting Bernie and listening to his sons’ breathless chatter. He saw her standing in the archway, laughing at him. “Hello, Shrub!”
“Hello there, you!” she replied, looking at him coquettishly.
“I’ve brought back a brace of pheasants.”
“Wonderful. Jean-Paul has moved into the cottage.”
“Well, ask him to join us. More the merrier.” Ava was disappointed. She had hoped they could enjoy a quiet dinner together.
“I haven’t seen him all day. I think we should leave him in peace,” she replied. No sooner had she uttered those words than Jean-Paul came striding up the field in a pair of brand-new Wellington boots.
“Jean-Paul!” Phillip greeted him warmly. “I see you have moved into the château!”
Jean-Paul grinned. “I had to buy boots to get there. That little shop by the church has everything,” he replied. Ava’s heart sank. She knew Phillip would ask him for dinner and that he would accept.
“Would you like to join us for dinner?” he asked. “I’ve brought back a brace of pheasants. Ava’s a splendid cook.” Poppy wriggled down and followed her brothers back onto the lawn. “We could almost eat outside.”
“I would love to, thank you,” Jean-Paul replied.
Ava bit her tongue. Infuriated by her husband’s lack of sensitivity, she turned on her heel and followed the children, leaving Jean-Paul and Phillip talking like two old friends.
That night Phillip confronted her in the bedroom. “What’s wrong, Shrub? You’ve been in a sulk all evening.”
“I’m fine,” she replied, walking into the bathroom to run a bath. Phillip followed her.
“You barely said a word all dinner.”
“I’m just tired. I’ve been entertaining people all weekend.” She poured oil into the water, filling the room with the scent of gardenia.
“Jean-Paul?”
“Toddy came yesterday with the boys. I thought it would be nice for us to have dinner together. I didn’t want to see anyone else. I’m tired of performing. I just want to relax and not have to make an effort.”
He put his arms around her. “I’m sorry,” he said, breathing into her neck. He kissed the tender skin below her hairline. “I didn’t think.”
“Next time,” she replied with a sigh.
He swung her around and curled a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Is he very hard work?”
“Jean-Paul? No. He’s perfectly nice. He’s even nicer when he’s in the cottage and out of my hair.”
“You’re doing me a huge favor having him here. I really appreciate it. Henri will be grateful.”
“I know. Grateful and helpful. You’d better reward me.”
“I’ll reward you in plants.”
“I showed Jean-Paul the place I want to plant a cottage garden. He was interested.”
“Really?” Phillip wasn’t sure whether or not she was being sarcastic.
“Oh yes, he took it all in. If he had had a pen and pad he would have taken notes.”
“Good.”
She looked at him askance. “He doesn’t have a clue, Phillip. I’m going to be dragging him around like an unwanted sack.”
“That’s rather harsh. Get him to do all the dirty work for you. Like digging and clearing up.”
“I will. He won’t like it and he’ll leave to the sound of doors slamming the length and breadth of France.” She laughed.
“That’s better. You were horribly sullen.”
“You’d better treat me a little better then, or I’ll have a permanent potato face.”
“I will. I hate the potato face.” He went back into the bedroom. “Everyone sends their love, by the way. They all missed you.” Ava ignored him and sank into the bath, feeling her irritation ebb away.
The following day Ava introduced Jean-Paul to Hector. She was relieved to see he was dressed appropriately in a pair of faded jeans and country shirt in muted colors. He had rolled up the sleeves to reveal brown arms glistening with a light covering of hair. On his feet were his new Wellington boots.
Hector was in his sixties, dressed in the same tweed cap and waistcoat he had worn for as long as Ava had known him. His face was gnarled like an old tree, his eyes bright as new conkers. He spoke with a strong Dorset drawl, curling his Rs as tight as pigs’ tails. “Could do with a little help in the garden,” he said, unsmiling. Hector rarely smiled. “Especially as them leaves are coming down quicker than I can rake them up.” Jean-Paul was dismayed to be handed a rake and taken off to sweep. By the look on his face Ava was certain he had been expecting to do more interesting things. His obvious disappointment made her feel bad in spite of her happiness at being left alone to do the herbaceous border. It amused her to think of those two endeavoring to hold a conversation. She couldn’t imagine what they had in common. If Jean-Paul managed to understand half of what Hector said it would be a miracle.
Jean-Paul spent all day clearing the grounds. Raking leaves, mowing the grass with the old Dennis mower, cutting down a dead pear tree, generally clearing away the debris of a plentiful summer. He had stopped only to eat the sandwiches he had made himself and drink a can of beer from Ava’s fridge. He looked done in.
“I think it would be a good idea to work with Hector this week. Get to know the place a bit,” Ava suggested.
Jean-Paul was not amused. His face clouded but he made no complaint. “Bon,” he said briskly. “If that is what you want.”
“I do,” she replied. “It’s not all creative.”
“So I see.”
“You’ll get very fit.”
“I’m already fit.” He spat the words, flashing his eyes at her angrily from under his eyelashes. “I’m going to light the bonfire. I was wondering whether the children are home. They might like to help me.”
“I’m going to pick them up now. They’d love to help.”
“Good. I will wait.”
“Have a cup of tea in the kitchen. You’ve worked hard all day. Have a rest.”
He shook his head. “No. I have a few more loads to take to the fire.”
“I’ll send the children up with marshmallows.”
“Marshmallows?”
“You don’t know what they are?” He shook his head. “Then it will be a surprise. They’ll love showing you.” His features softened. She smiled at him, but he did not return the smile.
She drove to school, debating her actions, justifying the jobs she had made Jean-Paul do with Hector. He wasn’t here on holiday. It wasn’t meant to be a picnic. What did he expect? At least the weather was good. If he was sulky in sunshine, what in God’s name was he going to be like in rain and snow? She consoled herself that he would soon be gone. He wouldn’t last until winter. She’d never know what he was like in snow and he would never see the wonder of her garden in summer.
The children were thrilled at the prospect of showing Jean-Paul how to roast marshmallows. Poppy waved a picture of a sunflower in front of her face. “Darling, not while I’m driving. I don’t care whether you’re Gauguin or Matisse. Let’s get home alive, shall we?”
The boys compared stickers they had swapped in the playground. “Robert told me that we can write to Asterix and they’ll send us a whole box of stickers,” said Angus.
“A whole box?” replied Archie breathlessly, looking down at his handful of Esso tigers.
Ava listened to them in amusement. This week stickers, last week conkers, next week something else.
Back at home they ran to the vegetable garden where Hector and Jean-Paul were standing in front of an enormous mountain of leaves and cardboard boxes. The sky had clouded over and it was getting cold. Ava followed with the bag of marshmallows.
“I want to show him!” cr
ied Poppy, skipping up to her mother. “Please, can I!”
Ava opened the packet and handed her daughter a pink marshmallow and stick. “All right, but let me help you,” she said, taking her hand.
Jean-Paul had regained his color. He no longer looked angry. He watched the boys take a handful of marshmallows each and give one to him.
“You have to put it on a stick,” said Archie importantly. “Otherwise you’ll burn your fingers.”
“Thank you,” said Jean-Paul. “I would not want to burn my fingers.”
“I burned my finger once,” volunteered Angus, holding it up. “But Mummy put a bandage on it and it got better.”
“Your mother is very clever,” said Jean-Paul seriously.
“Watch!” Poppy shouted, holding her marshmallow in a bright yellow flame until it caught a little flame of its own. “See!” she hissed excitedly, standing stone still as if she held a poisonous snake on the end of her stick.
“Right, you can take it out now,” said Ava.
“Blow, Mummy!” Ava brought it to her mouth and blew. It had melted into a sticky sugary ball. “Can I eat it now?” she asked. Ava tested it on her lips, blew again, then handed it to her daughter. Poppy pulled it off and popped the marshmallow into her mouth. She smiled in delight. “Yummy!” she exclaimed.
“Have a go,” Ava said to Jean-Paul. “Consider this your initiation into the garden. If you pass this, you can be a member of our club, can’t he, Hector?”
Hector nodded. He leaned on his pitchfork, watching the children contentedly.
Jean-Paul held his marshmallow over the fire while the boys shouted instructions at him. The Frenchman indulged them, doing as he was told, asking questions to make them feel important. Ava noticed how sweet he was with the children and how much they enjoyed having him around, especially the boys. He was someone new to show off to. Inside him there was a boyishness they were drawn to.
The marshmallow event drew them all together. The sun went down behind the garden wall, setting the tops of the trees ablaze with a bright golden light. The sky darkened, the air grew moist, the wind turned cold. But they were hot in front of the fire. The mountain diminished into a low mound of embers, glowing like molten copper each time a gust of wind swept over them. They ate all the marshmallows.
The French Gardener Page 11