Chapter 31
31
The next morning, after her usual dog walk to the boulangerie for breakfast croissants and baguettes, Sasha decided she’d spend the day quietly at the cottage and take Mimi and Mitzi for a walk at noon rather than wait until evening, then they could play in the garden. Alice had asked her if she could design and print out a dozen or so posters for the 14 July fete, so she’d spend time working on that. Then, this evening, Jean-Paul was coming for supper. Last night as she’d left the chateau kitchen, Penny had pressed a couple of plastic containers into her hands. ‘For you and Jean-Paul to enjoy’ – so supper was sorted. It felt a bit like cheating, but Sasha consoled herself with the thought that wedding leftovers were a definite step up from anything she could produce.
By midday she’d finished a simple design for the poster and emailed a photo of it to Alice. Clipping the puppies onto their leads, she started to walk down to the stables. There was no sign of Colette, so she made Mimi and Mitzi sit and stay while she stroked Starlight and fed her a carrot before giving both the dogs a small treat for being good.
Sasha strolled out through the main gates and turned right to walk the three hundred metres along the road to reach the back lane. Once she was several metres down the route du galop she let both Mimi and Mitzi off their leads and they raced backwards and forwards. Sasha smiled as she watched Mitzi stop and sniff a cabbage white butterfly resting on a blackberry bush leaf before gracefully flying away.
Sasha spent some of the afternoon pottering in the garden. It was a little breezy, but still warm in the sun. She loved how the two gardens were responding to her and Freddie’s hard work although, to be fair, it was mostly down to Freddie’s gardening experience and knowledge. She’d done little more than pull a few weeds, like she was doing now.
Making herself a cup of tea, she sat down on the terrace and opened the French lesson book she’d ignored for weeks. In truth, it was easier to use the app on her phone when she needed to say something, but she’d try to memorise a few phrases for tonight.
She peeled some potatoes, ready to boil later for mash to accompany the generous portions of boeuf bourguignon that Penny had given her, and she prepared the fresh green beans, ready to steam. She’d remembered to take both the brie and the camembert out of the fridge, and there was a bowl of green salad with olives to go with that course. Dessert – tiramisu – was again courtesy of Penny, and there were two petits fours each to go with coffee.
After her shower, Sasha set the terrace table and smiled to herself as she opened a bottle of red wine to breathe – that was something she’d learnt to do since moving to France.
The boeuf bourguignon was heating through gently in the oven and Sasha had just finished mashing the potatoes when she heard a car arriving. Quickly, she covered the potatoes to keep them warm, put the beans on to steam, and went out to greet Jean-Paul. Climbing out of his classic 2CV car, he greeted her with two cheek kisses and handed her a box of artisan chocolates.
‘ Merci beaucoup ,’ Sasha said. ‘I love your car. It’s such a French icon.’ She realised Jean-Paul was looking at her and shaking his head, puzzled. ‘ J’adore votre voiture ,’ she said slowly and carefully, remembering the word for car.
‘ Ah, merci . It belonged to my papa,’ Jean-Paul said. ‘I restore it.’
They were seated out on the terrace sipping a glass of wine and waiting for the beans to finish cooking when Jean-Paul smiled at her.
‘I see the trompe l’?ils you paint. Tu as vraiment du talent. ’
‘ Merci . I loved painting them. Excuse me, I’ll fetch supper.’
‘I help you,’ Jean-Paul said, instantly on his feet.
Between them, they took the food out to the table and settled down together to enjoy the meal.
‘Freddie, he is not home tonight?’ Jean-Paul asked.
‘ Non . I think he is seeing Maddie, his girlfriend. Do you know Maddie? Or her parents? They live in the village.’
There was a pause. ‘Yes. I know Maddie; she has a little girl, Jade.’
Sasha noticed the pause and waited for him to say more, but he smiled at her and carried on eating. When he didn’t add to the sentence, she decided the pause had been more of a hesitation because he’d spoken the sentence in English. They’d both placed their telephones on the table and Sasha picked hers up. She’d say something in French, Jean-Paul was trying so hard to speak English. She typed the sentence in and then struggled to pronounce one of the French words, so she held her phone out to Jean-Paul.
‘ Avez-vous jamais eu envie de vivre ailleurs qu’en Bretagne ?’
‘Live somewhere else? Non . I am happy here with the life I have on the farm. My parents couldn’t wait to retirement and move to Bordeaux. Peut-être I feel the same when I am old,’ and Jean-Paul laughed.
Sitting there enjoying Jean-Paul’s company with both of them getting to know each other, Sasha realised how much she already liked him. Perhaps this was a friendship that could grow to be so much more.
It was late when Jean-Paul looked at his watch. ‘I have to go. I have some late lambs expected and I need to check all is good.’
Sasha walked out to the car with him.
Jean-Paul turned to her. ‘ Merci. I have a lovely evening with you. Next time I treat you.’ Standing there, he gave her a gentle kiss before murmuring, ‘ Bonne nuit. à bient?t .’
Sasha’s heart skipped a beat. ‘See you soon,’ she said quietly, smiling at him as he got into his car.
About to close the door, he stopped and gave Sasha a serious look. ‘I am sorry, mais I have to say something. I tell you this because I like you and your brother. Maddie is not good for Freddie. Please tell him be careful and not too quick to become involve. “ Il ne serait pas le premier et je doute qu’il soit le dernier .”’ And he closed the car door and drove away.
Thoughtfully, Sasha turned to go back into the cottage. Her French wasn’t good enough for her to understand the last sentence he’d muttered, but she’d picked out a couple of the words – ‘ pas le premier’ , which she translated as ‘not the first’, and then the final phrase ‘ qu’il soit le dernier’, which she was fairly certain meant he wouldn’t be the last either.
She poured the rest of the wine into her glass. What the hell did she do now?