‘Yeah, maybe. At first, I was angry but I put myself in TJ’s shoes and I know without a doubt he’d hate to see us fall out for good. He’d hate that so much. So no matter what, I’m going to try and make things right.’
‘Remember though, it’s a two-way street.’
With a long sigh I say, ‘I know. Anyway, get ready and I’ll see what I can do with the pacifist about driving to Bordeaux.’
She grins. ‘I’ll have a shower now, and hope that a bit of a freshen-up will fool my body that all is well.’
I groan. ‘I’ll tell him you’re being stubborn.’
‘You’re a gem, Aria.’
Chapter 18
Blois, Loire Valley
‘Where are you rushing off to?’ Like my shadow, Tori is never far behind.
‘Have you seen Max?’ I ask.
She waggles her brow, insinuating something untoward. ‘He’s inside his van.’
‘Is there something wrong with your face?’
‘What?’
‘Oh, nothing, it just looked as though you lost control with that eyebrow wibble-wobble …’ Urgh, I hate how she implies things, as if Max would take one look at her.
‘It wasn’t a wibble-wobble!’
‘My mistake. Max!’ I bash on his van door.
‘Come in, Aria.’ I do and shut the door with a bang, happily closing out Tori’s surprised face.
I find him in a yoga pose, looking deeply relaxed. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey, what’s up?’
It’s hard to reconcile big, tough Max as a yoga devotee. It seems so incongruous that he can shift his hulking body into such poses but he manages somehow. He’s such an enigma, poor man gets judged on sight by his looks alone, but it doesn’t take long to realize Max is a lot more than just a pretty face. And now he’s to be a dad. My heart melts just thinking of Rosie and Max as parents. She’s chosen well.
‘Hey, Daddio. So Rosie’s sent me here to browbeat you into submission.’
He shakes his head, his mane of hair catching in the prisms of soft sunlight streaming in. ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea. Do you?’
‘Bordeaux is what, about four hours or so away?’
‘Yeah, give or take. I’m worried about all that driving and the baby.’
I lean against the doorjamb. ‘Did she check with the doctor?’ I ask and I damn well know Rosie would have had a notebook full of questions at her second appointment yesterday. The doctor would’ve needed a stiff drink after that kind of interrogation.
Max gives me a look that suggests I’m correct in my assumption. ‘He said she’d be fine, it’s not like we’re driving in a jungle or anything, but still.’
‘Aww, your protective daddy instincts have already kicked in. But if I go back and tell Rosie her new plan is off, I’m not going to hear the end of it. You can bet she’s already made a new schedule including various baby doctors along the way.’
He sighs. ‘She made it last night. I was sitting with her when she stalked them all online.’
I grin. ‘So … she’s not going to take any risks, that’s not in her DNA. I think we should listen to the baby mama and let her lead us depending on how she’s feeling. We know Rosie is not a risk taker. If anything, she’s the exact opposite.’
He scrubs at his face. ‘Right. It’s just … I never thought I’d say this, but I have this overwhelming urge to fly us back to the UK and set up house. I know it’ll pass, I know if I did that I’d feel like a caged animal before long, but it’s just this all suddenly feels risky.’
‘Because it’s new.’
‘Yeah.’ He un-pretzels himself and stands, blocking out the filmy rays of sunlight. ‘OK, if Rosie is keen and you are too then we can try for Bordeaux. We also don’t want to let you down all the time if things change.’
I wave him away. ‘I can sell books anywhere, and she’s my best friend, Max.’
‘OK. But it’s still generous of you.’
‘Yeah, well don’t get too soppy on me now, Max. You’ve got a reputation to uphold.’
‘I feel like you two are going to gang up on me a lot going forward.’
I pretend to be outraged. ‘What!’
‘She sent you over.’
I smile. ‘True. Look she’s got an influx of the hormones. Let’s just do as she says.’
We laugh. ‘It’ll be easier in the long run. Hey, thanks for looking after Rosie the other week when Jonathan visited after his author talk. I’m certain he was disappointed he didn’t get to have those drinks with you.’
I frown. ‘No, he said he had drinks all planned with you.’
Max gives me a vacant look. ‘Oh … he did? I must’ve forgotten.’
‘You’ve got a mind like a steel trap, Max, from all that gingko biloba memory vitamin you’re always preaching about, so don’t try that with me.’
‘Yeah, then you’ve got to ask yourself why he said such a thing …’
I fold my arms. ‘Max, don’t speak in riddles. Did you or did you not invite him for beers that night?’
He shrugs. ‘Not that night. I wonder if the man might be smitten, is all?’
Was Jonathan nervous I’d say no to a drink after the event? I remember feeling stupid that I’d assumed he wanted to walk me home when really he’d organized a few beers with Max, and now Max is saying that’s not the case? What is actually going on then? Jonathan probably didn’t know how to act that night after the way I behaved at his author talk and then the subsequent walk home – to say I was all over the place would be an understatement.
Whatever it is gives me a nice warm feeling as if I’m not as invisible as I once thought. But of course, I can’t tell Max that. ‘Probably a bookworm thing.’
Back inside Poppy, I give a refreshed Rosie the news about Bordeaux. ‘Thank you! We were at loggerheads.’ She takes her notebook from her desk and grabs a pen, a to-do list of epic proportions coming this way!
‘He’s looking out for the baby.’
‘Isn’t he the best? Sometimes I think I’m going to wake up and find this is all a dream.’ She writes the heading: MIDWIVES SHORTLIST PROS AND CONS.
‘It’s real life, Rosie and it’s only going to get better.’
She casts her dreamy eyes to the window. ‘I feel like I’ve been asleep for weeks. What’s been going with you lately?’
I sit on the edge of her bed. ‘We’ve toured the Loire Valley and visited every chateau known to personkind. I really want my own chateau one day … I’ve read a tonne of historical books on the area and I’m currently in love with a very suave man who resides in London but of course travels the French countryside when the mood takes him.’
The pen falls to the floor as she slaps a hand to her mouth. ‘I knew it! Max told me that Jonathan is head over heels for you, but I wasn’t to mention it. Did you see him again since the author talk? You said you’d made friends online but I didn’t realize things had progressed so fast!’
I double blink. ‘What …?’
She searches my face and then realization hits. ‘Oh … god! You meant you’re in love with the guy in the book you’re reading, didn’t you? Don’t tell Max or Jon that I told you! Bloody hell, I must have that affliction they call baby brain already!’
I bite down on my lip unsure of what to say. ‘Did he really say that?’
Her eyes glaze and she stiffens. ‘I … don’t … know …’
Laughter gets the better of me. ‘Don’t turn robot, Rosie. It’s OK, truly. I’m just a bit bamboozled by it and I wonder if he meant someone else. If you ask Tori, she says he was giving her signals.’
She scoffs. ‘No, Max was quite clear about it. Jonathan is madly in love with our resident bookworm but he suspects you’re not ready for love and he doesn’t want to rush things. And as for Tori, Max told me she was one step away from throwing herself on the poor guy. Looks like you’ve got a competitor.’
My pulse speeds up. Probably because deep down I’m competitive, there’s no other
explanation for it. ‘Well, I’m not saying this out of spite, but he and Tori are not a good match. They just aren’t.’
‘Could it be the green-eyed monster talking?’
I make a show of being offended by such a suggestion. ‘I hardly think so.’
‘Mm-hmm.’
‘What does that even mean?’
‘I’ve lost my train of thought,’ Rosie says, zoning out for a second. ‘Can you fall in love with the dreamboat so we can have a double wedding, already?’
I let out a scoff but can bet that Rosie has got a notebook stashed round here with double wedding plans, just in case. ‘No, I bloody well cannot. Are you getting married?’
‘Not until you are.’
I giggle. ‘So that’s a never then.’
‘Never say never.’
‘Never.’
‘Troublemaker.’
‘I am so too.’
‘Please don’t tell Max I told you! He’ll never tell me another secret again!’
‘Lips are sealed. I still think Jonathan might have been referring to someone else.’ I don’t know what it is that makes me say these things, maybe it’s that same need to hide, to run, so I don’t have to make any scary decisions.
‘Yeah.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Because there’s a million Arias out there. This is your typical slow-burn romcom trope and I’m just waiting for you to recognize what’s right in front of you.’
‘Oh, you’re using my own lines against me now?’ I say, grinning. ‘And you’re right in front of me …’
She waves me away laughing. ‘Not literally right in front of you.’ She catches the sarcasm late. ‘Oh, you minx. You’ll do anything to try and distract me when we talk about Jonathan. Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing.’
‘Moi?’
She throws a cushion at me. ‘You’re the worst. Now pick that up so I don’t have to.’
I laugh and place the pink cushion back in the centre of her bed.
Back in my van I take the little diary and pull a rug over my legs. I need to reconnect with my husband, because no matter what I tell myself it stills feels strange to have these pangs of worry that I’m doing something wrong just thinking about Jonathan in such a way.
We found out the terrible news today. There’s no hope, you could see that reflected in the doctor’s eyes, in his sad smile. Imagine having to be the bearer of such news? I felt for him. My shock set in and I didn’t know what to say to Aria as she sat silently next to me, her hands shaking. I never imagined it would be cancer, or maybe some part of me did and I knew instinctively it wasn’t fixable … That explains the strange dreams, the sudden necessity to write the diary. How can I leave this darling girl? Already I wonder who she’ll be without me. Will she remarry, will she have someone else’s children? I know she must start over, my girl is a hopeless romantic and needs love like she needs air to breathe. It’s impossible to accept this is my fate. But I must gather all my courage and help her for the tough roads ahead. I never want to leave her …
What kind of man finds out he’s dying and thinks only of his wife and what the rest of her life might entail? He was so adamant about planning what came next for me. It must have broken his heart into a million tiny pieces. Just reading this breaks mine all over again. Maybe the old adage is true: that some people are just too good for this world?
I’m suddenly glad for the pop-up roadside stall we’ve got planned for this afternoon. I’ll be too busy to think. I’m still lying on my sliver of bed when Laurent knocks on the door with a bang and wanders in.
‘Ooh la la, were you sleeping?’ He raises his hands in apology for barging in, but we all do the same thing. If you want privacy as a Van Lifer, you lock the door!
I sit up. ‘No, no, I was just chilling out.’
‘We’re going to check out Château de Cheverny before we set up for the roadside stall. Do you want to come with us in Violetta’s van?’
‘NABC,’ we say at the time and laugh. ‘What’s one more to add to the list?’
I give the diary a quick kiss and place it back in the drawer, glad to be focusing on Violetta’s nail-biting driving skills instead of my heavy heart.
Chapter 19
Blois to Bordeaux
I awake to a Facebook message from Jonathan:
My pleasure, and in no way was I ever assuming you were like Madame Bovary I chose the book on scent alone, even if that makes me sound like I have some kind of weird book-sniffing fetish (which I don’t!). Well of course, I do sniff books, but doesn’t everyone? What if you don’t though, then you won’t understand, and now I’ve gone too deeply into this and next minute you’re going to dub me some weird name … Book-Sniffer Weirdo, or BSW for short. It’s OK, I get it. Anyway, I’m rambling. Glad you liked it. J x
I clutch the phone to my chest and laugh. I am a book sniffer from way back so I totally get it, but he doesn’t need to know that just yet.
You sniff books? WTF! From this moment on you shall be called WBSD (Weird book-sniffer dude) and I’m going to have to warn people to hide their books when you’re around … A x
The drive from Blois to Bordeaux is a pretty one, green and lush as far as the eye can see. As we get closer to the town itself, vineyards point the way. They’re so graceful, the vines in their neat symmetrical rows.
Me and the other Van Lifers spend the next couple of days playing tourist, taking it in turns to sit with Rosie as she does her best to hang on to her sanity, not liking it one little bit that she’s a hostage of the tiny little being inside of her who is wreaking havoc with her health. She had to share her news with the nomads because there was no hiding the fact that she hadn’t been well and we were way behind our proposed schedule.
Whenever I return I go straight to her van and show her photos of the magnificent sights we’ve seen like Place de le Bourse and the water mirror, the world’s largest reflective pool, stunning at night with the Palais de la Bourse mirrored on the water.
I tag along with Violetta and Laurent and visit the Quincoces Square in the centre of Bordeaux, a twelve-hectare garden where many festivals are held over the year. Rosie sends me on a culinary mission to find Bordeaux famous Canelés, a small pastry filled with rum and vanilla custard centre, and a thick caramelized outside crust. I take a box back from the patisserie for her when they assure me they’re safe for pregnancy, that the rum is cooked away in the baking process. Rosie is pink-cheeked with joy as she tastes the delectable treat.
Bordeaux is a vibrant city, and we could spend weeks exploring, but work calls. While we made decent money at the fete and the small roadside stalls along the way, most of us Van Lifers are haemorrhaging through it with all the campsite costs, entry fees, long lunches, French wine and cheese and fuel and transport. Rosie isn’t able to work so I want to make sure I have extra in case she needs it, even though I’d have to battle her to accept it. Max is working longer hours for the same reason but neither of us mention it, we just stash away what we can so we have a buffer when it’s needed.
Back in my van I take some arty pics of books to sell and upload them on social media. I wonder if I can include some of Laurent’s poems as a bundle deal with a book and also help him in the process. Isn’t life all about unique selling points? I make a mental note to find him later and ask. Before I close the laptop down I decide to reply to TJ’s mum having spent a few weeks considering what I’ll say …
Dear Mary,
I know you’re heartbroken and the world will never be the same without TJ in it. I know this, because I feel the very same as you. If you need someone to blame, then go ahead and blame me. I have strong shoulders and I’ll willingly wear that burden so I don’t tarnish TJ’s memory and argue with his beloved mum. But before I let it all go, I wanted to tell you how your actions made me feel, as you pointed out how mine made you feel.
Yes, I drove TJ off into the sunset, as per his wishes. Yes, I agreed when he said he didn’t want any more medical intervention aside f
rom pain relief – what could I do, Mary? I railed, I screamed, I begged, but all that did was steal the light from his eyes, so I had to do what he wanted. And I’d do it again too.
And yes, if he was asleep when you or anyone called, I didn’t rouse him. You didn’t either when we came home. You said he needed the rest. We both knew he had no fight left.
If anything, Mary, you should be happy that he had a wife who loved him as much as I did and who, despite my own wishes for him, went along with his. It was his life, his choice, and what could I do but allow him to choose how it would end?
It broke my heart when he refused more treatment. It almost killed me knowing there was no hope, but for TJ’s sake I reined it in so his last memories of his time on earth weren’t all of me sobbing and shouting at the sky, pleading with a god I don’t know to let my husband stay. I would have swapped places with TJ in a second. He was bound to do great things here and I still can’t understand why. Why him? He had so much to give.
After he left, you cut me from your life as if I was nothing to you. You were like a mother to me so you can imagine how devastated I felt. Suddenly the phone went unanswered, the front door remained closed. Of course, I escaped. Who wouldn’t? What was left for me there, but sadness?
So, excuse me, Mary if I ask for your forgiveness in exchange for mine but I think I’m damn well owed it. Don’t you? Don’t forget I lost the love of my life, my entire reason for being too.
Aria xxx
***
We’ve come up with a plan. Aria’s bought this rusty old van and we’re off to the Lake District. I’ve always wanted to see it and if I don’t go now there will be no time left. This thing is aggressive and there’s nothing they can do. My family have insisted I start treatment, begged, cajoled and pleaded. But the treatment won’t kill it, so what’s the point? It’ll make me ill and reduce the quality time I have with Aria so I’ve said no, much to their disappointment. But Aria understands. She knows I have to do this my way. End my life on my terms. So off we go … in a little campervan where we can cuddle in the cool nights before I have to let her go …
Aria's Travelling Book Shop Page 14