Chapter 5
5
It came out of nowhere.
Maybe she would have seen it coming if she hadn’t been enjoying herself so much on her first excursion on the red bicycle. Ellie hadn’t needed to risk the main road to get to the village of Tourrettes-sur-Loup, and she’d just had a delightful hour or more exploring a village that she found even more appealing than St Paul de Vence. It didn’t have the flower-cobbled streets, but it was just as charming and… more real, somehow. Real people lived here, and there were everyday shops to be found when she returned to the central square.
A boulangerie to get some fresh bread. A fromagerie, where she’d found eggs as well as new cheeses to taste, like the tempting-looking époisses and the intriguing Morbier with a dark line through its centre. An épicerie was the last shop she visited, with an impressive array of fresh fruit and vegetables, including some delicious-looking carrots with their greenery still attached.
Her eye had been caught by the way the carrot tops, poking out of the basket, were catching the breeze, and her confidence in recapturing her bike riding skills was far greater on her return trip. Enough to make her increase her speed on this downhill slope so that she could feel the wind in her hair and not just see it in the carrot tops.
Ellie had had a great big smile on her face. Until it happened.
Until her peripheral vision had caught the small, hairy dog shape that was doing a kamikaze bolt across the road. Ellie jammed on her brakes, yanking on her handlebars at the same time, in an attempt to avoid a collision, and she’d felt the loss of her balance even before her front wheel clipped the dog. She heard its yelp of pain seconds before she toppled sideways into the stone wall and gave her own yelp. She also heard the skid of a car braking too swiftly behind her and, a second later, the sound of rapid footsteps.
‘ ?a va? Vous êtes blessée ?’
The bicycle was being lifted from her body, but Ellie kept her eyes closed a moment longer. Because that voice sounded disturbingly familiar, and it wasn’t simply that he was speaking French.
‘Oh.’ The voice was closer now. ‘It’s you .’
She opened her eyes. Yep. There was that intense stare again. She pushed herself up on one elbow.
‘I could have run over you,’ he said. ‘What happened?’
‘There was a dog…’ Ellie sat up. ‘He ran out in front of me. Oh, help… I hit him.’ Her gaze skimmed the pile of produce that had spilled from her basket. The wrapped cheeses, broken eggs, scattered carrots and the baguette that had slipped from its bag to land in the dust of the road would have to wait. Where was the dog?
It was hunched beside the wall. Shivering. If holding one front paw in the air wasn’t enough of an accusation, the expression in its eyes certainly was. This small, nondescript animal could not have looked more miserable.
‘Are you hurt?’ The note of concern in his voice was enough to make Ellie’s gaze swerve back to her neighbour in astonishment. It sounded genuine, and she also had the impression that he hadn’t stopped staring at her.
‘I… I don’t think so.’
‘You’re bleeding.’
His hand caught her wrist, tilting her arm so that Ellie could see the blood on her elbow.
‘It’s just a graze.’
‘Can you bend your arm? Wiggle your fingers? Does anything hurt?’
Ellie bent her arm and wiggled her fingers. Her elbow could well be bruised, but any discomfort was overridden by the sensation of that loose grasp on her wrist. The awareness of skin on skin was intense enough to be disturbing, and she pulled away from the touch. He let her go instantly.
She turned to look at the dog again. ‘I think he might be hurt, though…’ A horrible thought occurred to her as she realised how close to her gate she was. ‘He’s not your dog, is he?’
‘ Non .’ With a sigh, the man straightened and walked the few paces it took to reach the dog and crouched beside it. Ellie got to her feet and watched as he cautiously patted the animal on its head and then ran his hands over its body. It made her think of him checking out his own son after he’d wrenched him from her grasp. It was a focused attention, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. He left the dangling paw till the end and had barely touched that leg before the dog yelped in pain.
‘It could be broken,’ he said. ‘He needs to go to a vet.’
Ellie bit her lip. ‘It’s my fault,’ she said. ‘I have to help him.’
‘Yes.’
‘But I don’t know about vets here. Do they come to your house?’
‘Not usually.’
‘Is there a vet in Tourrettes-sur-Loup? Or in Vence?’
‘I’m not sure of Tourrettes. I certainly know one in Vence. A friend of mine, in fact.’
Ellie eyed her bicycle, which was now propped against the stone wall. ‘I guess he’s small enough to put in my basket. Erm… could you possibly tell me the address of your friend, the vet?’ She swallowed. ‘Please?’
There was a long silence. Then he closed his eyes for a long moment. The sigh this time, as he opened them again, was even more heartfelt than the last one had been. A defeated sound?
‘I will take him,’ he said. ‘As I said, the vet is my friend.’
It could have been an easy way out of this new dilemma, but Ellie shook her head. ‘This is my fault. I’m the one who’s responsible, so I will take care of him.’
She could feel the muscles in her jaw tightening and knew her tone was defensive. Would he recognise that she was belatedly responding to his unfair demand about assuming responsibility for donkeys that she hadn’t even realised were on her property?
Maybe he did. He stared at her for a long moment. Then he shrugged. ‘You can come too. Put your bicycle in your garden and then get in the car. I need to make a call. Don’t touch the dog. He’s injured,’ he added, as Ellie opened her mouth to say something else. ‘He might bite.’
Ellie picked up the baguette and carrots but ignored the rest of the mess on the side of the road. It took only a minute or two to wheel her bike a little further down the road and tuck it behind the wall of the shed with the stable door. As she turned back, she saw that her neighbour had taken off his jacket to wrap it around the dog. She heard the yelp of protest as he was carried to the car and put on the back seat.
He was holding the front door open for her. Further down the road, a woman had come to her gate. His gate, Ellie realised, because it was just on the other side of the olive grove. The woman lifted a hand, and the man raised his own and shouted something in French. The response was faint but didn’t sound angry.
‘Is that your wife?’ she asked, as he got behind the wheel of the car.
His expression was unreadable. ‘No,’ he said curtly. ‘My mother.’
Ellie winced. It was no wonder he was offended, but how could she have guessed someone’s age from that distance? And what was someone his age doing living with his mother, anyway?
They drove towards Vence, onto the main road that Ellie had chosen to avoid on her first bicycle ride and in the opposite direction she had taken to go to Tourrettes-sur-Loup, in silence. An increasingly awkward silence.
Ellie decided she had to break it.
‘My name’s Ellie,’ she said, finally. ‘Ellie Gilchrist.’
He didn’t shift his focus from the road. ‘I’m Julien,’ he said. ‘Julien Rousseau.’
‘Pleased to meet you, Julien.’
Her automatic response drew a huff of sound from him that was almost amusement.
‘Thank you for doing this,’ she added. ‘I realise it must be very inconvenient.’
‘It’s my lunch break so it’s not interfering with my work. I suspect you would have only had another accident if you’d tried to take the dog in your basket.’
Ellie didn’t respond. He had her pegged as a complete nuisance, didn’t he? Someone who had put his son in danger because her property had inadequate fencing. Someone who couldn’t ride a bicycle safely and ran over dogs. Someone completely incompetent.
‘He may have a puce . The vet will be able to find out who he belongs to.’
‘A… what?’
‘A puce . A small electronic device. I don’t know its name in English.’
‘Ah… a microchip?’
‘ Oui. C’est ?a. ’
It was Julien who broke the next silence, albeit reluctantly, as they got caught up in traffic entering Vence.
‘Besides… I think I owe you an apology,’ he said. ‘I was not very polite when I first met you.’
The sound Ellie made was somewhat strangled as she changed her mind about agreeing with him too readily.
‘I was… worried about my son.’
‘I understand… I was worried about him, too, when I saw him so close to the donkeys.’
‘The donkeys are very gentle. Theo adores them. That was why we started looking after them. Gave them names.’
‘You gave them names?’
He nodded. ‘Coquelicot and Marguerite.’ He slid a sideways glance towards Ellie. ‘Because of the flowers.’
She must have looked blank. ‘A marguerite is a daisy,’ he added. ‘I forget the word for coquelicot – I must be losing some of my English. The flower for remembrance?’
‘A poppy?’
‘ Oui. C’est ?a. ’ Julien nodded. ‘Poppy.’
‘Daisy and Poppy,’ Ellie echoed. ‘Cute names.’
‘They are French donkeys.’ His tone was a reprimand. ‘ Coquelicot and Marguerite .’
‘Mmm.’ Ellie wasn’t going to argue. ‘Did you know the previous owner of the property?’ Her tone was tentative. It felt disloyal, in a way, to be asking about someone who had caused her mother obvious distress.
Julien shook his head. ‘We moved into our house less than a year ago. We were told that your house had already been empty for some years. Nobody knows where the donkeys came from.’ His sideways glance was vaguely accusatory. ‘I didn’t know that the property was for sale. There was no sign.’
‘It wasn’t for sale. It belonged to an uncle I’d never met. He died recently and my sisters and I inherited the property. I’m staying here long enough to get it tidied up, and then it will go on the market.’
His grunt in response sounded approving. Because his nuisance neighbour was only temporary? Ellie wasn’t really offended. He might not like her, but he was going out of his way to help her right now, wasn’t he? It was a relief to be with someone who could speak her language and… okay… she had to admit that his accent was a delight to listen to.
‘Where did you learn to speak such good English?’ she asked, as he took a turn that went downhill, past a sign that advertised the municipal swimming pool.
‘I spent some years in England at boarding school. I also went to university there. Before I came back to go to medical school in France.’
‘Oh… you’re a doctor.’ So that explained why he looked as if he knew what he was doing checking a small boy for injuries. It also explained why he had been concerned about the graze on her elbow. That it had been a purely professional interest in her wellbeing felt disappointing for some reason.
What wasn’t disappointing was that Julien took charge as they entered the veterinary clinic. She would have been totally lost trying to communicate, so she just stood to one side, listening to the flow of conversation. The two men seemed to know each other and had a lot to talk about initially, but then things got quieter as the vet examined the dog and used a scanning device to try and locate a microchip.
Julien didn’t interrupt the conversation or examination to translate anything for her, so Ellie waited patiently at one side of the consulting room until she found herself the object of attention from both men.
‘The dog does not have a puce ,’ Julien told her. ‘And the clinic knows that there’s no room at the local rescue centre because they had reason to speak to them about another dog earlier today.’
‘Okay.’ Ellie nodded. ‘Is his leg broken?’
‘No. Sprained, probably. And he has a badly bruised paw.’
He exchanged a meaningful glance with the vet. ‘Christophe has already exhausted any means to care for a dog like this with the one they had earlier. He says that most vets would suggest that the kindest thing to do would be to euthanise him.’
Ellie’s jaw dropped. ‘ Kill him? Because he’s got a bruised paw?’
‘He’s old,’ Julien told her. ‘Possibly more than ten years. And he’s clearly been homeless for some time. He’s too thin and he’s very dirty.’
Ellie looked at the dog. He was certainly scruffy, and he had the saddest eyes she had ever seen. He was still shivering, but he’d been surprisingly brave during the examination and had only whimpered rather than yelped when his leg had been touched. And he hadn’t shown any signs of wanting to bite anyone.
The dog looked back at her. He had odd ears, she noticed. One stood straight up but the other was bent and it almost made it look as if he was winking at her.
She looked at the vet, who smiled sympathetically. She looked at Julien, who shook his head in response.
‘I do not want a dog,’ he said. ‘My life is complicated enough as it is.’
Of course it was. He was juggling parenthood with a demanding career. He lived with his mother. He’d been caring for a pair of donkeys that didn’t even belong to him.
‘There must be someone who would want him,’ she said. ‘I can’t have a dog, either. I won’t be here for very long.’
Julien spoke to the vet again. A short exchange that ended with a shrug by the vet.
‘It’s possible that a space at the rescue centre, or with one of the people that help by fostering unwanted pets, could become available before long. A notice could be put up here to see if someone wants to offer him a home but… in the meantime, there’s simply no way the clinic can help.’
Ellie looked at the dog again.
If she didn’t do something, this small, unhappy animal might not be alive for much longer. She couldn’t let that happen. Not just because she felt responsible for what was happening. It was more that she had an opportunity to cheat death, even if it was only for a scruffy, homeless dog.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I’ll take him. Until somewhere more permanent can be found.’
The vet was smiling again, this time with approval. Relief, even? He hadn’t wanted to put the dog down, had he? Christophe might have ended up taking him home himself if Ellie hadn’t offered, but it was too late to find out now. He was speaking to Julien quietly.
‘He’s not going to charge you for this appointment,’ Julien translated. ‘He’ll bandage the leg, and you can bring him back to be checked next week if he’s not a lot better.’
Ellie smiled back at the vet. ‘ Merci beaucoup ,’ she said.
‘You’ll need some food, I expect?’ Julien added. ‘And maybe a collar and lead? They have supplies here for sale.’
Ellie nodded slowly. She might not have enough cash on her, but hopefully she could use her bank card here. Not that she’d expected to see her savings eaten into quite like this, but, now that she’d made the decision to save this sorry little dog, what else could she do?
And it wasn’t just the dog…
Ellie suppressed a sigh as she followed Julien out of the consulting room. She’d been up early this morning to clean out the trough in the olive orchard, emptying it of water and scraping out the sludge at the bottom before refilling it. She had been pleased with the quality of water the donkeys now had to drink, but she was now remembering other things Fi had mentioned.
‘Could you please ask if they have what is needed to treat donkeys for worms?’ She asked Julien. ‘And possibly the name of a farrier? My sister tells me their feet will need attention.’
‘They are fine for the moment. I had Christophe check the donkeys when we first realised that nobody was looking after them. They had their feet trimmed not so long ago.’
‘Oh…’ Ellie bit her lip. ‘We owe you some money, then.’
Julien shrugged. ‘ De rien – it doesn’t matter. You didn’t know. And it was my choice. As I said, Theo was very taken with the animals when we arrived, and… and he needed something to be happy about.’
He turned away to speak to the girl behind the reception desk and she pointed towards large bags of dried food against a wall. Ellie was left out of the conversation again, but she wasn’t even thinking about dog food.
What had happened, she wondered, to make Julien’s son so unhappy at such a young age?
And then she remembered those big brown eyes looking up at her. The fear in them that had become something very different. Something like surprise and then trust. Hope, even.
That single word that had pierced her heart.
Maman .
They put the dog onto the back seat of the car again for the ride home, but, before they had even pulled out of the veterinary clinic’s car park, he squeezed through the gap between the front seats, climbed onto Ellie’s lap and then lay down, pushing his nose into the crook of her elbow.
Julien’s sideways glance came with a half-smile. ‘I think he knows who saved his life.’
‘I’m only going to be looking after him for a bit. Until I can find him a proper home.’
‘Of course.’ But Julien sounded unconvinced.
‘I can’t keep a dog,’ Ellie insisted. ‘I don’t even know how long I’m going to be here. Or where I’m going to live when I go home again.’
The weight of the dog in her lap wasn’t unpleasant, and she could feel his warmth as they sat in a small traffic jam on the narrow street leading back into the centre of Vence. It was reminiscent of the kind of comfort a hot water bottle could provide when you had a tummy ache. The smell of the dog was less pleasant, however, as was the chill of a small, damp nose against the bare skin of her arm, but when Ellie moved, so did the dog, which released more of its dubious odour. Giving up, she stroked the wiry fluff on his head.
‘He needs a name,’ she murmured. ‘I can’t keep calling him “the dog”.’
‘Everyone needs a name,’ Julien agreed.
‘Like Coquelicot and Marguerite.’ Ellie was pleased with herself for remembering to use the French version of the donkeys’ names. ‘You’re good at naming animals. What would you suggest?’
Julien shrugged. The traffic was moving again towards the main square of the town. ‘Spot?’
Ellie ran her hand across more of the spiky, tousled hair on the dog’s body. There were ginger patches, including his ears, but the rest was a dirty white colour. ‘He hasn’t got any spots. He’s very scruffy. Maybe that would be a good name.’
Julien seemed to be concentrating on the available space to pass a large van that was double-parked beside the square. Looking up, Ellie was astonished by how different it looked to when she and Laura had wandered past. There was no room for any quiet games of boules to be happening today. The square, bordered by huge, leafy plane trees, was crammed with people around stalls with bright awnings of red and yellow and white.
‘What’s going on?’
‘It’s market day, that’s all. Every Tuesday and Friday. They’ll start the evening markets for summer soon, though, on Tuesdays, and they go on till about the end of August.’
Ellie could see trestle tables laden with produce as they drove slowly past. Clothing hung from rails at other stalls. People queued for what looked like hot food. A bright blur of flowers as she turned her head to catch a last glimpse. A lot of the people didn’t look like tourists. There were women wheeling trolleys as if this was a normal shopping day for them, and many people had brought their dogs. It was a vibrant scene – the beating heart of a genuine French market town.
‘I’ll have to come one day. It looks fun.’
Julien increased his speed as soon as he reached the main road.
‘I hope you still have time for lunch,’ Ellie said.
‘It doesn’t matter. I can pick up some socca at the market. My clinic is on the other side of the Grand Jardin so it’s very close.’
‘Socca?’
‘A local speciality. Try it when you go there. It’s very good.’
Julien got out of the car when he stopped beside her gate, coming round to open the door for Ellie. It was a courteous gesture that made her feel curiously shy.
‘Thank you so much.’ She held the dog in her arms as she climbed out of the car, and then she looked up to meet his gaze. ‘For everything.’
He held her gaze for a heartbeat. And then another, which made it suddenly more significant than it should have been. It was Julien who looked away first.
‘I’ll get the food. For… what did you decide his name was?’
‘I don’t know. He’s a French dog. He needs a French name. Like the donkeys. What’s the French word for scruffy?’
‘ Miteux .’ Julien opened the gate and waited for Ellie to enter first. ‘But it can also mean… what’s the word… sleazy, perhaps?’
‘That’s no good, then. He doesn’t look sleazy.’
‘Maybe Leo? Or Max or Felix?’ Julien put the bag of food down beside her front door. ‘Pascal?’
‘Hmm… I like that. Pascal it is.’ Ellie crouched to put the dog on the ground. Her elbow was starting to ache. Not that she was about to admit that. The pain wasn’t just reminding her of the fall; her skin was remembering the touch of Julien’s hands as he’d checked her arm to make sure she hadn’t broken it. If she showed any signs of being in discomfort, he’d probably consider it his duty to check it again, and that didn’t seem like a good idea.
Maybe naming this dog wasn’t such a good idea, either. She was only going to foster the animal for a short time, not adopt it, and giving it a name seemed to suddenly give it more of a personality or something. But her gaze was caught by the small, scruffy face as she released her hold. The personality was already there, wasn’t it?
Pascal was sitting, his bandaged leg held carefully above any contact with the ground, looking up at her with his lopsided ears. And then his tail moved from one side to the other and back again, in a slow, slightly tentative, wag – as if he had been considering her personality as well and was showing his approval. Or possibly that he had forgiven her for running him over.
‘Oh… he’s actually quite cute.’ Ellie couldn’t help smiling as she straightened. ‘Did you see that?’
Julien was smiling, too. A real smile, this time, and… what a smile it was. It gave him crinkles at the corners of his eyes and dimples in his cheeks.
‘ Très mignon ,’ he agreed. ‘Very cute.’ Again, he seemed to hold her gaze for a millisecond too long and, again, he was the one to look away first. Abruptly. His smile was fading even before he turned.
‘I have to go,’ he said, his tone crisp. ‘ Bonne après-midi , Ellie.’
Ellie blinked at what seemed like a curt dismissal. He was a curious mix, this man. There was kindness there, that was certain. How many people would give up their lunch break to help a stray dog? Or look after someone else’s donkeys because his son was fond of them? He had a smile that could light up his face and an intensity in his eyes that did something odd to her body, but he could shut those glimpses away as swiftly and conclusively as pulling shutters closed on a window.
Leaving her feeling like she was missing the view?
She watched his car sail past his own gate. Maybe he’d been annoyed by realising that he’d lost the chance to spend any of his lunch break at home.
Or maybe he was simply annoyed by her. Because she spoke English. Or because she had inadequate fences on her property. Or perhaps because she was intruding on the life of a person who preferred his privacy.
She looked down at her newly named companion, who was still sitting there, gazing up at her. The moment he caught her gaze he wagged his tail again, and a little bit more of Ellie’s heart melted, albeit reluctantly.
‘We kind of need to say a proper thank you, don’t we, Pascal?’ She opened her door. ‘Maybe I could get those fences fixed.’
It would be the gesture of a good neighbour but more than that as well – it could be seen as a symbol of respecting boundaries and privacy. Both physical and personal? Reassurance that Ellie wasn’t about to cause any more disruption to Julien’s life than she already had, perhaps.
That he was safe?
Aye… As safe as she intended to keep herself.