The French Adventure

by Lucy Coleman

  ‘Sorry, Sam. I hope you didn’t have other plans.’

  He smiles, raising one cheek in a lop-sided grin.

  ‘You and your mother are quite a force to be reckoned with. My mum knows to expect me when she sees me, so no harm done. Besides, Viv is a much better cook but don’t repeat that to anyone.’

  I mull over his words, reflecting that Sam displays a sort of unfiltered honesty at times. In a way, I suppose it’s rather refreshing and I’m wrong to let it annoy me. We set the table and shortly afterwards Mum and Dad appear with trays laden with a mouth watering buffet. I can see Sam is delighted and as Mum plies him with food he’s eager to fill his plate.

  ‘Was it a productive trip?’ Dad asks.

  I screw up my face, nodding my head from side to side in a so-so manner.

  ‘We’re learning a lot about Thomas’ childhood but few have had contact with him since he left the village. Sam’s idea is to try to trace him through the veterinary link and I agree that’s our best bet now, even though I’ve been online and his name just doesn’t come up.’

  Sam seems pleased I’ve acknowledged that and he nods in agreement.

  ‘Oh, I nearly forgot—’ Mum suddenly jumps up from the table and disappears back into the house, returning with a small FedEx parcel in her hands.

  ‘This arrived for you earlier this morning, Anna.’

  As she hands it to me across the table I try not to look flustered when I see the return address staring back at me. It’s from Karl. I put it down on the floor next to my chair.

  ‘Thanks, Mum. Great food, as usual.’ Three pairs of eyes are on me and I feel distinctly uncomfortable.

  ‘Aren’t you going to open it, dear?’ Mum thinks any parcel is bound to contain something exciting and now I feel awkward and uneasy.

  It’s not like it’s my birthday or anything, and I can’t imagine what I left behind that Karl would feel he had to go to the trouble of sending to me. But everyone has finished eating and is looking at me expectantly. Even Sam.

  Reluctantly I stoop over and pick it up, thinking how light it is and hoping it isn’t a bra, or some other item of underwear Karl discovered in his sock drawer. I slide my knife along one edge of the oblong box and tip the contents onto the table. There’s something about eight inches in length wrapped up in tissue paper and a much smaller package wrapped in silver paper. I rip off the packaging around the larger item first, to find it’s a white silk rose. I frown, wondering what’s going on. As the paper falls away from the second package, Mum sucks in a breath as I stare down in horror at a small, white silk padded heart attached to which is the most ostentatious diamond and platinum engagement ring tied with a red bow. Even the birds have fallen silent.

  ‘Um… well. That’s a surprise.’

  Mum and Dad exchange a worried glance as I look across at them.

  ‘Were you expecting this?’ Dad asks, trying his best to sound neutral, despite the look of total shock he’s unable to hide.

  ‘No, of course not. This is ludicrous.’

  Mum squirms in her seat and poor Sam is sitting there watching our discomfort and not sure what to make of it.

  ‘I’m not getting engaged and I wasn’t expecting this, or anything at all from Karl. It’s over and I’ve made that very clear.’

  I know it’s rude, but I stand up and hurry towards the house feeling mortified and foolish. When I get to my room I grab my phone and check my emails. Sure enough, there’s one from Karl and several from ex-colleagues with congratulatory comments in the subject line. I click on the one from Pam Michaels, the friendly lady from accounts who was always grateful to have a little chat. She wasn’t a gossip, but was a very genuine person and we got on rather well.

  So very thrilled to hear the news, Anna! Karl can’t wait until you get back and he’s planning a big party. Enjoy the rest of your holiday and congrats, lovely!

  Best regards, Pam

  There’s another email from Lizzie but the subject line simply reads: Whaaattt???

  Anna – have you seen Karl’s Facebook post? I’m assuming it isn’t true as I know you would have warned me, but it looks so real. Everyone is talking about it. Please reply when you pick this up as I’m worried.

  Lx

  I sink down onto the chair in front of the laptop and click it out of sleep mode. Unbelievably, it seems Karl has blocked me and I can’t access his Facebook page. I call up Pam’s page and sure enough, she’s shared his post.

  Thrilled to announce my engagement to the lovely Anna and can’t wait to plan the party on her return! I’m one lucky man.

  He’s posted a photo of the rose and the ring lying on the silk heart next to it. He hasn’t even tagged me, just used my Christian name so it looks like he has – I assume he blocked me so I can’t deny it. There are already over forty congratulatory comments and nearly twice as many likes. I feel myself crumbling inside, as if the wind has been knocked out of me. I ring Lizzie, willing my hands to stop shaking. She answers almost immediately and launches into a torrent of words.

  ‘What on earth is going on? I couldn’t believe it when I saw the post. Did you have any warning about this? Everyone seems to think it’s true!’ At least she doesn’t sound angry with me.

  ‘I had no idea and absolutely no warning at all. He sent the ring by FedEx this morning and I’ve only just opened it. In the last communication we had I made it very clear we were over. And now he’s blocked me on Facebook so I can’t deny it. What should I do? My parents are shocked and I denied all knowledge, of course, because that’s the truth.’

  Lizzie makes a noise like a grunt, but I’m simply feeling numb and totally confused.

  ‘I don’t think there is anything you can usefully do given the circumstances. In fact, if you do nothing then it’s going to make people start to wonder what’s going on. I can’t be the only one who noticed he didn’t tag you properly and now I understand why. Maybe keep off social media completely until things die down. But what are you going to say to him?’

  As the enormity of what he’s staged is starting to sink in, anger is beginning to rise up. Karl is trying to take over my life again, but this time I’m not there to see what’s going on.

  ‘I don’t know yet. If you hear anything else can you text me? I have an email from someone I used to work with, who I know I can trust. I’ll find out what’s going on in the office and what exactly he’s telling everyone.’

  Lizzie sighs and I’m grateful for her concern, and the fact that she knew there was no truth in this.

  ‘I’m so sorry for you, Anna. He isn’t the man I thought he was and now I can see why your dad took an instant dislike to him. Unlike the rest of us, he saw Karl’s manipulative nature. I’m only angry with myself that I fell for his charismatic charm and let it colour my judgement. Not much of a friend, am I?’

  ‘Nonsense!’ I exclaim, hating the thought that Lizzie thinks she’s let me down in any way at all. ‘He’s good at manipulating people and you have a trusting nature. Remember, I fell for all that too. Just ignore him if he gets in touch while I decide what to do next. I hope this will be old news by the time you come over, so don’t worry.’

  Working as a Team

  When I eventually calm down enough to feel in control, I make my way back downstairs again. Sam has already left. Mum makes us all a cup of tea and I tell them what little I know. We all agree it’s probably best to let things settle and hopefully people will soon realise something isn’t quite right. The fact that I have no voice at all in what’s being said is bound to make people wonder what’s going on.

  When I’m stressed or feeling frustrated with life, my coping mechanism is to bury myself in my work, and that’s precisely what I do. I spend the late afternoon taking photos of the house and gardens, then spirit myself away to my room to begin the makeover of Le Manoir’s website. After a couple of hours Mum appears with a tray of sandwiches and a hot drink.

  ‘I won’t disturb you, darling. Just remember Dad a
nd I are here for you if you feel like talking.’

  ‘Thank you and don’t worry, Mum, the only one who is going to end up looking like a fool is Karl.’

  But as she closes the door behind her I wonder if I’m kidding myself and when it’s time to go back home will all of this really be forgotten?

  *

  ‘Morning, Anna.’ Sam gives me a sheepish look, then turns his back while he sets down some tools on the floor.

  ‘Morning. Sorry about yesterday and walking out on you like that. I did make my way back down to say goodbye and to thank you for taking me to meet Elise Moreau. But coping with anger is best done when one is alone, I find.’

  He straightens and as our eyes meet I see concern etched on his face.

  ‘That was quite something,’ he admits.

  ‘I know. Worst of all it’s all over Facebook, well, that’s what it feels like. I’ve decided to do nothing and see what happens next. The parcel will be on its way back to the UK later this morning.’

  I didn’t add that it had taken me ages to deconstruct the silk flower into a pile of little pieces. I don’t do fake anything and Karl needs to be very clear about that.

  Sam’s jaw drops a little but he doesn’t say a word. He stands there studying my face as he realises I’m just a victim of this nonsense.

  ‘People are bound to wonder why there’s no photo of the happy couple and hopefully notice the absence of any comment from me,’ I explain.

  He nods, pursing his lips and then finally says something.

  ‘I haven’t been on Facebook since… well, for a long time. Social media is great for keeping in touch and sharing stuff, but some bits of life need to be kept behind closed doors. I’m sorry you’ve been put through this and I think you’re handling it rather well. That was one expensive looking ring, though, so maybe it’s only now he’s realising what’s really important to him.’

  Why do people look for the good in the bad, every single time?

  ‘I’m not into playing games, Sam, and that’s what Karl is doing. He had his chance but thankfully I came to my senses just in time. Buying me a flashy ring only goes to show that he doesn’t understand me at all.’

  The frown on Sam’s face doesn’t quite cover the underlying look of confusion. Do men really think that spending a couple of grand on a diamond ring is all that’s needed to get a woman to say, ‘I do’?

  ‘Right, well, guess I’d better start work. There’s a lot to do.’

  ‘I’ll finish off this bottom row of stones and then I’m all yours. I quite fancy starting on the tiling if you show me what to do.’

  He smirks. ‘Tiling? You’re getting adventurous. Maybe that’s something we need to do together, what do you think?’

  ‘Sounds good to me. How long will it take?’

  ‘There’s a bit of cutting to be done, so maybe three or four days. Gérard is coming in to sort the electrics this week, so we might have to work around him. Then it’s skirting boards and architrave, hanging the doors and your next task will be painting. I’ll be plumbing in the bathroom and the kitchen while you do that.’

  That sounds like a lot of work.

  ‘And we’ll get all this done in just three weeks?’

  ‘I’m feeling confident. With a reliable painter doing a passable job, it’s do-able.’ He gives me a meaningful stare. ‘When are your friends arriving?’ His cheeky grin is back.

  ‘Saturday, the first of July.’

  ‘You’d better get your parents moving on that furniture, then. I might even have time to make a start on the second gîte before I go away.’

  And this is the man whose own house is going to take years by the look of it. How can he bear to live in that caravan with no end date in sight?

  *

  Sam is true to his word and although it’s almost seven o’clock on Thursday evening, we’re standing looking at the freshly tiled floor with a sense of satisfaction. It took me a while to get the hang of it but although I was appreciably slower than Sam, he even allowed me to take on some of the cutting.

  ‘Is it okay to step on the floor?’ We spin around to see Mum and Dad standing in the doorway behind us, looking very pleased indeed.

  ‘Yep. It’s all done.’

  They walk through the sitting room area and turn right, into the bedroom.

  ‘It flows nicely considering there’s a lot packed into this space,’ Mum comments.

  ‘Once the doors are hung it will feel a little smaller. The shower room works well, but the kitchen is rather bijou.’

  They saunter back out and walk across the open space to poke their heads into the two small rooms on the other side of the front door.

  ‘I see what you mean, but it is nice to keep it separate from the sitting room and you’ve done wonders, you two.’

  ‘Gérard is coming in tomorrow and we’ll get those electric radiators hung. He’ll be here on Saturday, too, but I won’t be around.’

  I glance at Sam in surprise, as I assumed he’d be working here. Guess I have the whole weekend off, then. Maybe on Saturday I’ll contact some veterinary practices to see if I can track down Thomas.

  Sam and I end up sitting in the secret garden to eat a meal Mum insists on preparing for us. We’re both tired and dirty but very hungry, eating our food far faster than is good for the digestion.

  ‘So, you have plans this weekend? I hope you’re doing something nice and not just more work.’

  Sam doesn’t look up. However, as I say the words he stops spearing pieces of chicken onto his fork.

  ‘It’s an anniversary.’

  There’s a cold tremor in his voice and something tells me not to say any more. He’s picking at his food again but still hasn’t looked up from his plate.

  ‘I thought I’d spend Saturday morning ringing around a few vets’ surgeries and run Thomas’ name past them in case anyone has heard of him. Then I’m going to do some more work on Le Manoir’s website.’

  Sam suddenly goes very quiet and the look on his face is almost morose. As soon as he’s finished eating he bids me goodnight. After three very pleasant days working shoulder to shoulder together, with a lot of laughter and a lot of chatter, suddenly he clams up just like that. Oh, Sam, whatever your problems are if you don’t talk about them the pain will never ease.

  A Purposeful Life

  After breakfast, I head out to start work and am surprised to see that Sam and the electrician are already on site.

  ‘Morning.’

  Both guys are on ladders at either end of the sitting room, yanking at a wire.

  ‘Hi, Anna. This is Gérard. Anna is Monsieur et Madame Lacey’s daughter, she’s been helping out,’ he explains to Gérard.

  Gérard nods in my direction and flashes me a smile before tugging once more on the wire.

  ‘That’s it.’ Sam gestures to Gérard, who mutters something in French that means nothing to me.

  ‘Problems?’ I ask, sensing Sam isn’t happy.

  ‘One of the coils of wire isn’t long enough and it’s going to be a nightmare re-threading a new piece.’

  I think that given it’s already been a hard week, tiredness is adding a little extra pressure to the frustration. Maybe today it’s best if I make myself scarce rather than risk getting in their way.

  ‘I’ll leave you to concentrate on getting the wiring sorted and the radiators up. If you reach a point sometime today when I can start painting, just let me know. Good luck with that.’

  Sam stops what he’s doing and looks down at me.

  ‘Sorry, Anna, but I think that’s maybe the best idea. I think we’d end up being in each other’s way and the air might get a little blue. Gérard’s brother ran the wires for him and now he’s here to do the actual connections, he isn’t happy. I can only hope we don’t end up having to cut out bits of plasterboard to re-site stuff.’

  ‘I hope it doesn’t come to that. See you later.’

  He grimaces and even though I’m not sure Gérard can unders
tand word for word what Sam is saying, he lifts his eyes to the ceiling to endorse his own irritation.

  I check in on Mum to see if there’s anything I can do to help, but she tells me to go and relax, so I head up to my bedroom.

  Checking my emails there’s nothing from Karl, although he will have received his return package by now. I open Pat’s congratulatory email and consider how I’m going to respond. I sit with ‘Hi Pat’ on the blank email in front of me for a good five minutes before my fingers are ready to type again.

  Hi Pat,

  Thank you for your email, so lovely to hear from you. I know you won’t mind if I tell you in confidence that this news came as a huge surprise to me. I’ve had little direct contact with Karl since I left and thoughts of getting engaged couldn’t have been further from my mind.

  I’m trying to find out what’s going on, but as you can imagine that’s rather difficult to do, given that I’m in France for a while. I don’t want to drag you into this, but if you do feel you can give me any information whatsoever about what’s happening with Karl and the work situation at your end, that would really help me decide how best to handle this.

  We were a couple and I think Robert suspected that, but Karl and I are over. When I do get back, I’ll probably move out of the area so I can make a fresh start.

  Anyway, hope things are good with you.

  Best regards

  Anna

  I press send without giving it a second thought. There isn’t any other way to put it and I don’t want to give her the wrong impression, so it’s better to be open and honest.

  Next on the agenda should be the website but instead I search online for some numbers of local veterinary practices. It’s hard making the calls when, invariably, the person on the other end of the phone doesn’t speak much English. Thomas Waverley’s name doesn’t spark any recognition at all from the first three numbers I ring. I widen my search and decide to centre it around the Toulouse area, thinking that maybe he joined a practice local to where he studied. There is quite a long list of practices and pet hospitals within a reasonable distance, so I choose one and dial the number. The receptionist can’t understand my question but she does hand me over to a colleague who speaks nearly perfect English. Then it occurs to me that while he might have been known locally as Waverley, I need to mention both surnames.