The French Retreat (Falling for France Book 1)

by Fortin, Sue

  The sound of more movement, this time behind her, made Marcie jump and she gave a small scream. The spun round and let out a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

  ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,’ said Will. ‘I was just coming to tell you not to stay out here too long in those wet clothes.’

  ‘I’ll come in now. All that talk of ghosts has got the better of me,’ said Marcie.

  ‘Just stories,’ said Will. He whistled to Poppy who came scampering back through the hedge. ‘There’s no-one out here.’

  Chapter Four

  The following week trundled along in the gentle French style Marcie was accustomed to. She could feel herself beginning to relax and the stresses of her London life slowly, but surely, slipping away.

  She had been out on a walk with Will several times over the week, only declining on one occasion so her and Lisa could take a day trip down to the coastal town of Vannes for a bit of shopping, lunch and girly chat. Even that was at the typically laid back pace of the French, lunch being a leisurely affair of nearly two hours.

  Marcie wasn’t convinced about the French fashion but managed to find a couple of bargains. With Christmas on its way and no job, she would have to be careful with her money. She’d start seriously looking for work when she could face going back to the UK. Her friend, Emily, had said there might be a job coming up at her place of work but Marcie wasn’t over excited at the prospect of another admin job. At least Marcie’s employer, make that former employer, had the decency to give her three months’ notice on the flat. She had until the new year to find somewhere else to live.

  When Marcie awoke one morning, the relaxed feeling that had taken hold of her, seemed to have moved up a gear. For the first time since all the trouble back in London and since she had been here in France, she actually had the urge to play her flute.

  The black case had rested accusingly on top of the chest of drawers since her arrival. Walking over to it, Marcie unclipped the silver catches and looked at the instrument snuggled in the black folds of the fabric. Her fingers tingled and automatically moved up and down as if playing the scales. She closed the lid and took a quick shower. It was too early to play the flute in the house but the wood store would make an excellent music room, far enough away from the house not to be heard.

  With her hair still damp from the shower, Marcie headed for the wood store, her booted feet cutting a trail through the dew laden grass. She gave a shiver, wishing she had put on a thicker jumper. Winter had well and truly arrived here in the Breton countryside.

  It was dark in the wood store, with only a small battery lantern to cast any light in the place. Resting the case on top of the logs, Marcie took out the flute and pushing the pieces together, she lifted it to her lips. She didn’t need sheet music to play Edelweiss, it was one of her favourite pieces; she had been playing it since the age of twelve.

  Marcie swayed gently in time with the music, closing her eyes, losing herself in the simplicity and beauty of the tune. As she played it for a second time, something broke the moment. Still playing, she glanced around the building. As her eyes swept the length of the wall opposite, reaching the small rectangular window, a dark head bobbed down from the other side.

  Marcie caught her breath, interrupting the flow of the music. There was definitely someone out there. She wondered if it was Will spying on her. Maybe he was playing a trick on her after that ghost story the other week. She gave a small smile. Well, if he thought he was going to scare her, he could think again.

  Lifting the flute back to her mouth, Marcie carried on where she had left off. She pretended to close her eyes, but peered discreetly through her lowered lashes.

  It didn’t take long before she heard a noise outside. As she resumed her swaying, this time a conscious movement, she kept an eye on the window. There it was again. Dark hair. But it wasn’t Will’s. As they face came into view, she could see it was, in fact, a child.

  Two big brown eyes peered through the glass. Marcie opened her eyes fully and looked at the little boy, his face only half illuminated by the lantern. It was still a little dark outside, daybreak not quite upon them. As she made eye contact, the boy, who looked about eight or nine from what Marcie could tell, ducked down again but within a few moments was peering back through the glass, transfixed by the music.

  Marcie controlled her breathing and continued to play to the end of the song. Then lowering the flute she gave a smile to the boy. He looked timid but his fascination was getting the better of him.

  Marcie wiggled her fingers at him and smiled broadly. She gave a little tip of her head and began playing Strauss’s Blue Danube. She started off swaying and then seeing she had the lad’s attention, she began to waltz around the small space of the wood store, rising and falling in time with the music. As she twirled she looked back at the window, the boy was now smiling. Marcie played faster and twirled quicker to keep pace with the tempo. Encouraged by his smile, she went even faster. She could see the delight on his face, which urged her on even more. She span round and round, playing the tune so much faster than it was ever intended.

  As Marcie spun round on yet another lap, the door to the wood store opened. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dawn sky was Will.

  Marcie stopped so abruptly that she lost her balance, stumbled and, overcome with dizziness, fell onto the earth floor.

  Will let out a laugh but quickly caught hold of himself.

  ‘Shit. Are you okay?’ he said, striding over to her and crouching down.

  She looked flustered as she sat up. ‘My flute!’ she said looking around her.

  ‘It’s here.’ Will passed it over.

  ‘I can’t see properly in this light,’ she said, examining the instrument closely. ‘I hope I haven’t damaged it. Why did you creep up on me like that?’

  ‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Will. ‘Here, let me help you up.’ He stood up and held out his hand to her. As she accepted his gesture, he couldn’t help noticing how soft her hands were. It had been a long time since he had held anyone’s hand. For a moment his mind went blank as he looked down at her.

  She wiggled her hand free, breaking the trance and despite the dim morning light, Will noticed a small blush to her face. He gave himself a mental shake. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened there.

  ‘Have you hurt yourself?’ he said, taking both a mental and physical step back.

  ‘No, I’m fine,’ said Marcie. Then she swung round to the window. ‘He’s gone.’

  Will followed her gaze. ‘Who?’

  ‘The boy. There was a little lad at the window,’ said Marcie. She rushed over to the glass and peered out into the garden. ‘Didn’t you see him when you came out?’

  Will shook his head. ‘Are you sure he was there?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Marcie. Brushing by Will with her flute still in her hand, she hurried out into the garden.

  Will followed. ‘There’s no-one there,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you saw the ghost the locals keep talking about.’ His grin was met with a frown.

  ‘I didn’t imagine it.’

  ‘I wasn’t saying that.’ He followed her round the wood store to the window.

  ‘What are you doing out here anyway?’ said Marcie.

  ‘Actually, Ben asked me to come and find you,’ said Will. He had got totally distracted by the sound of the music, he’d forgotten the reason for finding her.

  ‘Why does Ben want me?’

  ‘Lisa’s had a call from England. Her mum’s taken a fall. She’s okay but in hospital. Broken hip.’

  ‘Oh, no. Poor Lisa,’ said Marcie.

  ‘Ben and Lisa are getting the ten o’clock ferry from St Malo. I’m going to drive them up there. Lisa’s dad is meeting them in Portsmouth,’ explained Will. ‘We’re leaving in about half an hour.’

  ‘I’ll come too’ said Marcie. ‘Moral support and to keep you company. It’s a bit of a long drive there and back on your own.’

  ‘Okay, t
hat’ll be good,’ said Will, finding himself more pleased at this thought than he anticipated.

  A few hours later the MPV pulled up at the ferry port in St Malo.

  Will helped unload the two suitcases, passing them to Ben. ‘Don’t worry about anything. I’ll look after things.’

  ‘Cheers, mate,’ said Ben, shaking hands with Will. ‘I appreciate that.’ He turned to Marcie. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’

  ‘No. I’ll be fine,’ said Marcie. She gave her brother and sister-in-law a hug each. ‘Besides, someone needs to look after Will.’

  Will raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so?’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure I can look after myself. I think it’s more a case of me looking after you. Saving you from all those ghosts.’

  This remark earned him a playful whack on the arm from Marcie.

  They watched Ben and Lisa head off to the departures lounge and then climbed back in to the car and drove out towards the motorway.

  ‘Homeward bound,’ said Will, accelerating as they joined the motorway traffic.

  The sun was making a valiant effort to warm the cold November morning and as they headed further south into Brittany, it broke free from the clouds.

  ‘Do you fancy stopping somewhere on the way home for some lunch?’ said Marcie. ‘We could do a bit of sightseeing.’

  Will went to decline but stopped himself. For some reason he didn’t want to disappoint Marcie. He glanced over at her, an expectant look on her face. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Did you have anywhere in mind.’

  ‘What about Rochefort-en-Terre? It’s a really quaint, traditional village and they have a wonderful chocolatier there. Or they did the last time I visited.’

  ‘Woe betide a man getting in a girl’s way of chocolate,’ said Will.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Marcie.

  ‘Programme the Satnav, then,’ said Will. He pushed a CD into the player and turned up the volume as drum and bass music pounded out of the speakers.

  Marcie clasped her hands to her ears. ‘Oh, no!’ she said raising her voice to be heard over the heavy bass. She reached across and turned the volume down.

  ‘Not this again,’ said Will. ‘I do believe it’s my turn to choose the soundtrack. I have a distinct memory of the Hallelujah Chorus last time we did this journey.’

  ‘I know but can’t we come to a compromise?’

  ‘Nope. Anyway, you might actually like it. Being the lover of music that you are, you should tune your ear in and appreciate just what goes into putting a track like this together.’

  ‘I’m not convinced,’ said Marcie.

  Will twiddled the volume dial and took it down a level. ‘To be fair, you’re not listening to it the best way. You need a really high-tech sound system that can deal with low frequency drum beats.’

  ‘I can live without the experience,’ said Marcie. ‘It just sounds so aggressive. There’s nothing nice about it.’

  ‘Don’t think of it as aggression. Think of it as power,’ said Will. ‘Look, I’m no expert in classical music, but think of something like the Flight of the Valkyries. A great piece which you can interpret as aggressive but really it’s powerful. Power wins over aggression any time.’

  ‘Like in war?’

  Will paused, surprised by her analogy. She wasn’t the dizzy blonde at all that Ben made her out to be. He, himself, had probably underestimated her too. Not a good thing in the soldier’s hand book. He nodded. ‘Yeah, like in war.’

  ‘There’s just no beauty, though,’ said Marcie. She winced as the bass dropped. ‘Certainly not in war.’

  ‘I agree with you on that point. However, in terms of music, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Or ear, as the case may be,’ said Will. ‘You know drum and bass’s early influence was jungle and breakbeat, it took the rhythmic elements from one and the melodic elements of the other. It’s since gone on to influence a whole load of other subgenres, such as, hip-hop, step, house and many more.’

  ‘You actually know quite a lot about music,’ said Marcie. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘So, you’re going to listen and appreciate it?’ said Will. He gave a laugh at her horrified expression.

  ‘I wouldn’t go as far as saying that. However, I’ll listen to it, seeing as you listened to my choice last time. Although, I might need an antidote later and play my flute.’

  The thought was actually quite appealing, although he wasn’t going to admit that to Marcie. There had been something quite captivating earlier that morning when he had watched her for a moment, as she danced around the wood store playing her flute. It had a natural organic feel to it, as if she was totally at one with the world.

  Arriving at Rochefort-en-Terre, Will parked in the car park and on foot they headed into the car free centre of the village. The cobbled streets and old buildings were enchanting and Will could easily understand how it gained its accolade as one of France’s most beautiful villages.

  ‘I’ve only been here in the summertime,’ said Marcie. ‘Usually, there are geraniums everywhere. I was hoping the Christmas decorations would be up.’

  ‘It’s still a bit early for that, isn’t it?’ said Will. ‘I don’t think the French are quite as consumed by the festive season as we are.’

  ‘You’ll have to bring me back nearer Christmas,’ said Marcie.

  ‘You planning on being around that long?’

  ‘Why not? I’ve got nothing to go back to the UK for,’ said Marcie. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and looked down at the ground.

  ‘Hey, it’s not that bad,’ said Will. ‘Don’t let it get to you.’

  ‘I’m just cross with myself,’ said Marcie.

  Will put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her into him as they walked. ‘The first thing you have to do is forgive yourself. Once you’ve done that, you’ll be able to shrug off everything else and get on with your life.’

  ‘You make it sound very easy.’ She nestled into the crook of his shoulder.

  ‘It is for some people,’ he said.

  Marcie stopped walking and wriggled free. She turned to look at him. ‘But not for you?’

  Will could feel his heart jump a beat. He blew out a long breath, stalling for time. What the hell was he supposed to say to that? The truth or his usual patter when confronted with this type of question? He opted for a side step. ‘I thought we were talking about you? Don’t let that idiot of a boyfriend have this sort of hold over you. Forgive yourself for falling for him. Forgive and forget.’ And then, on total impulse, he bent his head and kissed the top of her head.

  Marcie raised her head. ‘You should try it yourself.’ Her hands cupped his face and drew him towards her, where she kissed him on the mouth. Will found his response automatic, his mouth already over hers as he pulled her body into his and wrapped his arms around her. He wasn’t quite sure how long it lasted but eventually they broke away.

  ‘Wow,’ said Marcie, her voice soft.

  ‘Right back atcha,’ said Will. He hadn’t expected that, but by the same token, he wasn’t sorry.

  ‘I’m not sure if that was a good idea or not,’ said Marcie.

  ‘It seemed it at the time,’ said Will. He was aware that Marcie was blushing and he didn’t want to make it any worse for her. Maybe, she had just had a moment of madness when she initiated the kiss. After all, what she saw in him, he had no idea. He was just a down and out ex-soldier trying to get his head together. ‘Let’s just pretend that never happened,’ he said.

  She gave him an odd look and then clearly composing herself, followed up with a curt nod. ‘Okay. Let’s do that,’ she said, pulling her collar up higher. ‘Maybe we should … you know … find that chocolatier.’

  ‘Yeah. Good idea,’ said Will. He could do with the distraction to that kiss.

  Marcie spent the rest of the visit to Rochefort-en-Terre and the journey home pretending she wasn’t bothered by the kiss - that it meant nothing. She had merely acted on impulse and judging by Will’s reaction
, it didn’t mean anything to him either. She cringed inwardly. She had succeeded again in making a fool of herself where men were concerned. She should really just give them up completely.

  They arrived back at The Retreat mid-afternoon but already the winter chill was setting in.

  ‘It’s freezing,’ said Marcie as she stepped inside the farmhouse. ‘We should have lit the fire before we left.’

  ‘I’ll get some logs in and get the fire going,’ said Will. ‘There’s some stew left over from yesterday, we can reheat that for tea.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll do that,’ said Marcie. As Will went out to the wood store, Marcie took the casserole pot from the fridge. Lifting the lid she peered in. There wasn’t much left at all, it didn’t look enough to feed both her and Will. Rummaging in the cupboards and searching the fridge, Marcie couldn’t find anything to put with it or anything else that they could have instead. She knew Lisa tended to shop daily at the village. She said she enjoyed the interaction with the locals and it was much more the French way of doing things.

  While Marcie waited for Will to come back, she made them both a hot drink. Black coffee for him and milky tea for herself.

  ‘There, that should be enough to keep us going for the night,’ said Will as he came back into the farmhouse carrying a log basket filled to the top. He looked over at the hob. ‘Did you find that stew?’

  ‘I did, but there’s not enough,’ said Marcie. ‘Lisa hasn’t got anything else in so I wondered if you wouldn’t mind running me down to the village. I can get us something else.’

  Will put the basket of logs down in front of the fire. ‘Not enough stew?’ he said. ‘There’s only the two of us. How much are you planning on eating?’

  ‘See for yourself,’ said Marcie, lifting the lid from the pot and angling it so he could see the contents.

  ‘That’s odd,’ he said. ‘Lisa said she had left enough for us.’

  ‘She probably wasn’t thinking straight,’ said Marcie. ‘Worrying about her mum this morning.’

  ‘True,’ said Will. ‘I tell you what, you stay here while I nip into the village. It’s getting cold out there now, no point both of us freezing. What do you fancy? Any special requests?’