Chapter 11
11
It was Bert the builder who suggested breaking the padlock securing the stable door of the shed in the front garden of La Maisonette .
He’d turned up with Mike the plumber to tackle the list of handyman jobs that needed to be done, and both men were in the kitchen as Ellie made a pot of tea to go with the lunch she was providing. Their attention was initially caught by the huge bowl of lemons on the table.
‘I’m thinking of making some limoncello,’ she explained. ‘I just need to find out where I can buy a bottle of 95 per cent alcohol.’
‘You’ll have to go across the border for that,’ Mike told her. ‘But it’s easy to buy in any pharmacy or supermarket in Italy.’
Ellie’s breath came out in an amused huff at the idea of finding the time for a day trip to Italy. She led the way out to the terrace. ‘It’s just an idea.’
‘I’ve got a mate who lives down south. I’ll see if he’s coming up this way and he could bring you some.’
They talked about selling the house as they ate cheese and ham baguettes.
‘It’ll sell fast,’ Bert said. ‘It’s got a garage, which is a big plus on narrow roads like this one. Like hen’s teeth around here, garages are.’
‘It’s just a shed,’ Ellie said. ‘The door is on the side, in the garden.’
Mike shook his head. ‘I reckon that ivy on the road end is covering one of those metal tilt doors. Or maybe an old wooden one. It’d be worth uncovering that.’
Ellie laughed. ‘Thanks. I’ll add it to the list.’
‘We could take a look inside while we’re here,’ Bert suggested. ‘I’ve got bolt cutters. Big ones. They’d cut through that padlock like it was butter.’
‘Only if you’ve got the muscle to use them,’ Mike laughed. He flexed an undeniably impressive bicep. ‘Reckon I’d better do the cutting.’
Ellie topped up the mug of tea on the wrought-iron table in front of Bert, who was half Mike’s size and probably a couple of decades older. He was also a craftsman builder, and he’d just finished expertly repairing the broken shutter and stopping the basement door from catching when it was only half open. Ellie was more than happy with his work, and she smiled at him now.
‘That’s not a bad idea,’ she said. ‘I could get a new padlock with a key from the bricolage . It would be nice to have somewhere safe to store my bike outside, although I’m still not sure it’s big enough to be a garage.’
‘And it might have a fair bit of stuff in there already,’ Bert warned. ‘Sheds like that often get used for storage if people rent out their houses over summer.’
‘I don’t think this house has been lived in for a long time,’ Ellie told them. ‘But it might explain why I haven’t found anything personal here. No photos or books or… I don’t know…’ She shrugged. ‘Drawers full of letters or old birthday cards or whatever.’
‘No time like the present.’ Mike drained his mug of tea and grinned at Ellie. ‘I’m getting curious myself, now. Shall we go and see if there’s a family skeleton or two in the shed?’
Oh… he had no idea how close to the bone that phrase actually went. Did Ellie want to discover family stuff that had an unwelcome genetic link to her own family? In a way, it had been a relief not to find anything personal in the house, because it might have included a glimpse into her father’s life and stirred up old memories best left undisturbed.
Except those memories had already been disturbed by the inheritance of this property from her father’s brother, hadn’t they? And the shed would have to be cleaned out prior to sale, anyway. As a bonus, this was a new distraction. Despite the energy she’d been devoting to the renovations, it seemed to be getting harder to keep her thoughts from straying back to Julien. To stop herself imagining what might have happened if she hadn’t panicked and pushed him away so fiercely. To think about the path that a single kiss could have led them both down…
‘Let’s do it.’
Pascal got up from the shady corner he’d found under the tree and followed Ellie as she led the way through the house and into the front garden.
While Mike and Bert went to fetch the bolt cutters, she busied herself pulling ivy away from the door hinges and pushing aside any new doubts about whether this was a wise thing to do. For heaven’s sake, the shed was probably empty.
It wasn’t, of course. Why would anyone have used such a heavy-duty padlock to secure an empty shed? What was inside wasn’t what any of them were expecting, however, and they all entered the shed to have a closer look.
It was a car. One that Ellie recognised, thanks to an ex-boyfriend who’d been a car fanatic.
‘It’s a Citro?n, isn’t it? A 2CV?’
‘Sure is,’ Mike said. ‘In great condition, too.’
It was possibly the cutest car Ellie had ever seen. Bright red – almost the same shade as her bicycle, with headlights sitting on top of the front mudguards, like eyes.
‘Be worth a bit,’ Bert added. ‘Even more if it still goes.’ He opened the driver’s door and climbed in. ‘The key’s in here.’ He turned it but there was not even a sigh of response from the car. ‘Dead as a dodo,’ he declared.
‘Prob’ly just needs a new battery,’ Mike suggested. ‘I’ve got a mate who’s a mechanic. I could get him to come and have a look if you like?’
Ellie was tracing the slope of the bonnet with her fingers, leaving tracks in the thick layer of dust. Stroking the protruding headlight was irresistible, too. ‘I don’t need a car. I can get everywhere I need to on my bike.’
‘What about the beach?’ Mike was edging around the little car to get to the passenger side. ‘Or a trip north to see the lavender and sunflower fields in bloom in a couple of weeks?’
Mike’s enthusiasm was contagious, but it wasn’t persuading Ellie to learn to drive on the wrong side of the road. Instead, his words were creating images in her head of picturesque scenes, like a field of lavender in full bloom, that Laura would be thrilled to include in her advertising of the house. Even this little car, washed and shiny and parked in front of the stone cottage, would be eye-catchingly charming. It could be included as a chattel, perhaps, in which case it would need to be in working order.
‘If getting it going is as easy as putting in a new battery, it’s a good idea,’ she told Mike, turning away from the car. ‘But I don’t want to drive it.’
Her eyes were adjusting to the dim light that was such a contrast to the bright sunlight outside, and she could see garden tools like spades and rakes and hedge clippers in a corner, piled against an old hand mower. Beside the useful-looking tools was a set of shelves cluttered with objects and boxes, and there was an antique-looking rocking chair almost buried in piles of dusty books.
Personal stuff…
She drew in a deep breath. Did she want to go any closer? No… but her hand was reaching towards the closest pile of books.
It was Bert who broke the silence. ‘Can’t muck about in here all afternoon,’ he announced. ‘I’ve got that rotten board in the bathroom floor to replace, and if I don’t get it done today, goodness only knows when I’ll be able to get back. There’s too many people who want jobs done yesterday at this time of year, what with so many Brits opening up their holiday homes.’ He gave the car a last, lingering glance. ‘Always liked these,’ he nodded. ‘Tin snails, we used to call them.’
Ellie picked up a book. It was just a book. Nothing personal. And how good would it be to turn real pages instead of scrolling to read on-screen?
‘What does 2CV stand for?’ she asked. She tucked the dusty book under her arm and stepped towards the open stable door before she changed her mind and put the book back.
‘ Deux chevaux-vapeur.’ Mike’s French accent sounded impressively good. ‘Literally, two steam horses.’ He was blinking as he followed Bert and Ellie out into the garden. ‘About as much power as a decent-sized lawnmower – which is something else you could do with, come to think of it.’
They both watched Pascal disappearing into the jungle of poppies and daisies still blooming in the long grass she hadn’t had time to tackle yet.
Coquelicots and Marguerites.
The French words sounded in her head in Julien’s voice and came with a knot of sensation in her belly that felt like… longing. Almost like loss?
Oh, help… Was all this effort in distracting herself from that attraction only making things worse?
Pascal suddenly emerged from the grass with a daisy between his teeth and a look of triumph in those dark, button eyes, and Ellie could feel a smile start with her lips but then spread all the way to her heart. She’d decided it was safe to love this little dog and embrace the joy he was bringing into her life because she knew it was only temporary. What she hadn’t expected was that it would grow strong enough to bring this much delight. That, all on its own, was making a significant contribution to the gentle nudge life was giving her to get back to the business of making the most of what it had to offer. To start really living again.
And there it was…
The thought that she might be avoiding something that would take her much closer to embracing life properly. The thought that avoiding intimacy might be having far more of an effect on her mental health than she realised.
That it might be a big mistake to be running away from the opportunity to find out.
Ellie only remembered the book she’d found in the shed much later that day, after she’d spent the rest of the day wrestling with the ivy that was, indeed, hiding a tilting, garage door.
The book had no dust jacket, but embossed onto the fabric of its hard, blue cover was the silver outline of a small sailing boat heading into a sunset, and she had to turn the book to find the title on its spine. Ellie had never read the classic story of Swallows and Amazons , but she’d seen the movie a few years ago and remembered it was about a group of unsupervised children who were let loose to have a great adventure.
It felt like a sign. A ‘thumbs up’ for any decisions she was making that could expand the boundaries of her own freedom – like learning to drive on the other side of the road, if they did get the red tin snail going again? Ellie could remember the pride she’d felt when she’d got past the fear of the bats that first night to go up the stairs and find a blanket. In retrospect, that had been something so small, yet it had been a big step into feeling better about herself. About life.
Driving would be a much bigger step.
As for something as huge as being open to getting closer to Julien, even if it was only a kiss… well, that could be…
Big enough to change the whole direction of her life?
Her heart was doing that skipping thing again – missing a beat and then making up for it with a thump and a bit more speed. And, okay, there might be a bit of fear in that reaction, but there was also anticipation. Excitement.
Longing?
A longing to break through the protective barriers she’d been pulling around herself, even if it was just making a window so that she could see what was there?
This felt like an acceptable extension of giving herself permission to enjoy Pascal’s contribution to her new life. Because, even if Julien was interested in exploring the attraction between them, it didn’t have to mean that she was in danger of falling in love with him. Why would she, when she knew that it was only ever going to be a temporary thing?
It didn’t even have to be a ‘thing’, in fact. Just a one-off experience might be all Ellie needed to answer the question of what difference it might make. To remind herself of how it made her feel. Just that kiss that she’d run away from might have been enough.
Not that she had any way of gauging any interest Julien might have in the idea. How could she, when she’d been avoiding him so successfully since that moment in his office? Perhaps he’d also been avoiding her?
No. Deep down, Ellie knew that he’d been about to kiss her. And that he’d wanted to just as much as she’d wanted him to. So maybe all she needed to do was to stop avoiding him, and let fate decide what would happen.
And maybe fate had already decided. Pascal suddenly leapt off the couch with a warning bark that made Ellie drop the book she was holding. She was on her feet by the time she saw the figure on the terrace, but she wasn’t alarmed. She knew who it was.
Who they were.
Julien wasn’t alone. He put his son gently down on the kitchen floor.
‘Ellie? I need your help. Please?’