Chapter 13
13
Anticipation.
As an emotion, it had a magic all of its own. Nothing else could allow you to be completely in the present but also give you the apparent ability to touch the future. To be able to imagine what was going to happen with such clarity and detail that it felt as if it was actually happening. The danger was, of course, that the reality might not live up to its promise, but that contributed to the delight of anticipation, Ellie decided, because it made the journey possibly more significant than the destination and therefore something that deserved to be savoured in its own right.
She was smiling a lot more, she realised, when she rode her bicycle down to the village to follow what was becoming a familiar route around the shops near the church in Tourrettes-sur-Loup. People smiled back at her. Perhaps they were starting to recognise the new foreigner with her bright red bike and small white dog. Or maybe it was because she was deliberately taking her time today – savouring the first steps of a new journey – that was making her more aware of everything around her.
Ellie took a moment outside the épicerie to simply admire the care that had been taken to display the fresh fruit and vegetables so beautifully. Today there was a rainbow arrangement of tiny cardboard punnets of wild strawberries, blackberries, raspberries and currants as a centrepiece to other fruit like small peaches shaped like doughnuts, apricots and plums and nectarines. Trusses of ripe tomatoes at the other end of the trestle table had glass jars with bunches of basil amongst them, and Ellie picked both to purchase, making a mental note to find some mozzarella at the fromagerie so that she could make her favourite salad to go with the fresh baguette she would buy at the boulangerie.
She paused to let Pascal sniff a tree and listened to someone nearby greeting a friend in passing.
‘ Bonjour Bernard. ?a va?’
‘Oui, ?a va. Et toi?’
‘Ouais… ?a va. à bient?t. ’
And Ellie was smiling again as she heard the words she recognised. Words that would probably remind her of Julien Rousseau for the rest of her life. Words that might conjure up this delicious bubble of excitement that sparkled like the end of a slowly vanishing fuse.
à bient?t. See you soon.
Bient?t. Soon…
Would it be today?
Not knowing added another layer to the anticipation that became a background hum to everything else that happened that day. Ellie uncovered enough of the garage door to make her think that someone with some muscle might be able to open it, so it was timely that it turned out to be the day that Mike brought his mechanic friend, Gary, to see the car. He also brought a bottle of strong alcohol that his mate had sourced in Italy, which Ellie happily reimbursed him for.
They hauled the tilting door open despite the loud complaint from long-neglected hinges, and then they pushed the car out into the sunlight and set to work. They talked about ignition coils and fuel lines and sparkplugs, and Ellie smiled and left them to it. They were all smiling when the engine sputtered into life, with a cough and then a roar, an hour or so later. Mike added to the celebration by tooting the tin snail’s surprisingly loud horn, which was no doubt why somebody stopped their car further up the road to turn and stare. And why Julien Rousseau came out of his gate to walk towards La Maisonette.
That was the point where Ellie’s level of anticipation threatened to render her incapable of saying anything, but she didn’t need to, because these three men were making their own introductions and bonding over the vintage car.
‘My first car was one of these,’ Julien said. ‘I was fifteen. It was… how do you say it? My joy and pride?’
‘Pride and joy,’ Mike nodded.
‘Where did it come from?’ Julien turned to Ellie, his gaze catching and then holding hers. ‘Have you bought a car, Ellie?’
She could only shake her head. Still smiling. Still holding that eye contact.
‘It’s been locked away in this garage for goodness knows how long,’ Mike told him.
‘But it sounds like it’s going well.’
Gary was wiping his hands on a rag. ‘This car’s a beauty,’ he said. ‘All she needed was a tune up.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘We’ve got time to take her for a bit of a road test. Why don’t you come along?’
Julien shook his head. ‘Thank you, but I have my own driving to do. I’m off to Roquebillière in a few minutes.’
‘Ellie? You want to come?’ Mike peered into the car. ‘Or maybe not. Needs a bit of a clean, that back seat. And I suppose we should make sure it’s not going to conk out first.’
‘Good idea.’ Ellie was trying to find a balance between savouring the anticipation and fending off the disappointment that clearly today wasn’t going to be the day. ‘I’ll put the kettle on for a cup of tea when you get back.’
Julien waited with Ellie just until the little red car was moving up the road. They could both see that someone was standing near his gate.
‘My mother’s anxious to leave,’ Julien said. ‘I’m taking her and my grandmother and Theo up to Roquebillière now, and I’ll be staying there tonight.’
Disappointment had definitely taken the lead in the battle for balance.
‘But I will be back tomorrow,’ Julien added, as he turned to leave. He glanced over his shoulder at Ellie. ‘And I am hoping I could take you out to dinner.’
Anticipation totally obliterated disappointment.
‘I’d like that.’
Her words sounded shy. Hesitant, almost? Maybe that was why Julien simply nodded and began to walk away.
Ellie searched for something else to add and remembered what she’d overheard this morning in the village square. ‘ à bient?t , Julien.’ She also remembered to pronounce his name with a soft J .
He looked back again, and this time there was a lopsided smile tilting his lips. ‘ à demain , Ellie. Yes… see you soon.’
Even if she’d had an entire wardrobe full of dresses, Ellie would have chosen to wear the pretty blue one with the tiny white daisies, puffed sleeves, and buttons all the way down the front because she could remember wishing she’d been wearing it when she’d met Julien for the very first time.
When he’d been so angry. So protective of his tiny son. So dark and passionate and… so incredibly drop-dead sexy …
She washed her hair, letting it dry in the warmth of the late afternoon sun and then brushing the curls into soft waves that she intended to leave loose, as she had also done that night she’d worn the dress for the first time in so long. She changed her mind, however, and twisted a thick tress along each side of her head to keep the hair away from her face, leaving the length rippling over her back. A compromise between looking tidy but having the comfort of what felt like a shield protecting her back. A shield against the scary part of an anticipation that was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
A touch of mascara and lip gloss was the only makeup she chose, having never been as concerned as Laura about covering up her generous sprinkling of freckles. She brushed Pascal, too, in case he was included in this invitation for dinner. For this… date.
Oh… there were nerves hovering in the wings with their talent for creating doubt, but Ellie wasn’t about to let them spoil what might be the last of this particular shade of anticipation. Because there could only ever be one first time with someone, couldn’t there? But that thought, cloaked in the knowledge of what was almost inevitably going to happen later this evening, only added a much sharper edge to that anticipation. The kind of edge you might find on a metal sign warning of danger?
Luckily, distraction was close at hand, and, by the time Julien knocked on her front door, Ellie had finished both a glass of wine and a session of practising her French phrases.
‘ Salut ,’ she said, as she opened the door, because ‘hi’ seemed a friendlier way to greet him than ‘good day’. ‘?a va?’
‘Oui. ?a va. Et toi?’
Lost already, Ellie just smiled as she picked up her shoulder bag. At the signal she was leaving, Pascal came to sit in front of her. She glanced at Julien. ‘Can he come too?’
‘Of course. Dogs are welcome everywhere in France.’ He was already heading for his car, which was parked by the gate. ‘Except in supermarkets.’
He took a route that Ellie didn’t recognise, to circle the old walls of Vence and arrive on the far side of the city, where they parked near the cemetery.
‘It’s the first summer evening market,’ he told her. ‘I thought you might like to walk through it.’
Traffic had been blocked from the old town because the evening market was set along the cobbled main street that led towards the central square – where Ellie and Laura had walked together after that first visit to La Maisonette and their lunch in the tiny square hidden behind the cathedral. There were tables set along the footpaths, but the shops on the street were also participating, staying open longer and putting racks of clothing or other goods outside to attract customers. There was music, with a live band and a stall where children could get their faces painted, and there was a bouncy castle and whole families and many dogs – a slow-moving river of people out to enjoy a long summer evening.
Ellie was drawn to a table of handmade leather items, like belts and bags, and she bought a small, dark brown bag with just enough room for her phone and a few small items and a strap long enough to wear across her body, which would make it easy to use when she rode her bike.
Pascal stayed very close to Ellie’s feet. When a child tried to race between them, Julien reached out to take Ellie’s hand, perhaps to protect the little dog from being stepped on, but then he didn’t let it go. They strolled past the offerings of jewellery and dreamcatchers, polished gemstones and lavender oil, hand in hand, as if they’d known each other for ever and were totally comfortable in each other’s company. Amazingly, that’s what it felt like to Ellie. Comfortable.
Safe.
Safe enough to soften those sharp edges that could have destroyed the delicious flicker of butterflies still dancing in her belly. If anything, the feeling of her hand enclosed within his had increased their number.
‘Oh… look …’ The table tucked against a stone wall at the opening of a side street was very different to any around it. Paintings were propped against the wall. Big, colourful paintings with textures that gave the images a choppy, three-dimensional look. Images that were utterly Proven?al, capturing not only the soft colours of the stone buildings and flower-studded fields but that light that was so distinctive here. More than that, even. This artist, if that’s who the man sitting on a stool behind the table was, had managed to capture that sense of peace that Ellie had been so aware of. She actually had to blink back sudden moisture in her eyes as she found herself drawn so far into this work she didn’t even notice when Julien let go of her hand.
The biggest painting, which had to be well over a square metre of canvas, had a smudged stone building that could have been a small chapel to one side and the shadow of mountains in the background, but the focus was the colours of the flowers in front. Blood red and clear white against the gold of dry summer grass and stony ground. The colours of her own tiny front garden. The flowers that were pretty much the first French words Ellie had learned since high school.
Coquelicots and Marguerites.
‘That’s… magnifique ,’ she said softly. But then she turned to Julien. Saying ‘ J’aime ?a’ this time was not going to be enough. ‘How can I say I really love this?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘You could say “ J’adore ?a tellement”,’ he whispered back.
But the man was half hidden beneath a wide-brimmed hat, and Ellie suddenly felt too shy to try out her French on a complete stranger, so it was Julien who said something, and then the man looked up. He had a bushy grey beard and eyebrows that he could hide behind, but he stared at Ellie for a long moment. Long enough to make the moment so awkward that she actually stepped back as she broke eye contact.
‘Do you want me to ask how much it is?’
‘No.’ Ellie shook her head. ‘It would be too much. And it’s far too big. How on earth would I ever get it back to Scotland?’
Julien’s nod was an agreement. ‘We’ve run out of time in any case. I have a reservation for dinner.’
He led her through a stone archway onto a cobbled street with crowded footpaths as customers spilled out of busy eateries and then into narrower pathways between buildings. It wasn’t until they emerged into a wider space that Ellie recognised where she was.
‘I know this place,’ she exclaimed. ‘I had lunch near that tree with my sister on my very first day here. That’s the back of the cathedral, isn’t it?’
‘It is. Did you eat at the vegetarian restaurant?’
‘No. I had a slow-cooked beef stew that was the most delicious meal ever.’
‘Daube de boeuf , ’ Julien smiled. ‘One of my favourites, also. And that is where we have a table waiting for us.’
The restaurant looked completely different at night. The huge chestnut tree had fairy lights woven amongst its branches, and candles flickered on every table. A man with a top hat and a piano accordion was wandering through the large group of diners, and there were peals of laughter that suggested the song was an amusing story. It didn’t look as if there was any space at all, but the owner had spotted Julien and ushered them to a small table almost hidden beneath the tree. Pascal curled up, out of sight, behind the drooping corners of the white tablecloth.
A short time later the propriétaire was back, carrying two glasses of champagne, and began to talk about the special blackboard menu for the evening. His words flowed around Ellie, competing with the music, and conversation from a nearby table for six. With the addition of the warmth of the summer evening, the aroma of the food around them and the myriad tiny lights and flames, this was not only the essence of what Ellie was coming to love so much about France, it was also the most romantic setting imaginable. The crisp tingle of champagne on her tongue was the final touch, and Ellie almost had to blink away a prickle of embryonic tears.
She was happy, she realised.
Really happy. It felt like the first time she’d ever felt quite like this. There wasn’t a single thing she would change about this moment, and, even if it only lasted a heartbeat, she would remember it for ever.
Okay… maybe it wasn’t the champagne that was adding the final drops to a happiness that was quite unlike any she could ever remember experiencing. Maybe that final touch was that she had Julien sitting on the other side of the table. Or the way he was smiling at her.
This was as full of promise as any first date could aspire to be.
Except… this wasn’t really a first date, was it? Not in the usual sense. She wasn’t hoping it might turn into anything more than a… what was it, exactly? A friendship with the benefits that could come from a mutual attraction? An opportunity to find out if male companionship could provide something that would enhance the quality of her life?
But was Julien on the same page?
Perhaps he’d seen that flicker of doubt on her face, because he put down his wine glass. ‘What are you thinking?’ he asked.
‘That I’m only here in France for a short time,’ she said, quietly. ‘And that this might be the only time I’m ever here.’
He understood exactly that she was saying she didn’t want this to be the beginning of a significant relationship. Was it a wash of relief she could see in his eyes?
‘Which is what makes this so perfect,’ he said. ‘You have your own life to go back to, and I will never try to replace Theo’s mother – for his sake or my own. It simply isn’t going to happen. This is a moment in our lifetimes that will never happen again, ma chérie , so… on devrait en profiter tant que ?a dure … we should enjoy it while it lasts.’
Ma chérie? Didn’t that mean ‘darling’? The tone of Julien’s voice certainly made it an endearment that sent a prickle of sensation from Ellie’s ears right down to her toes.
And Julien was right. This was perfect.
What they had together had a shape. A beginning, a middle and, most importantly, an end.
And that made it safe.
Perhaps he could see relief in her face now, because he was smiling.
‘Have you been driving in your car yet?’ he asked, changing the subject as if it was no big deal to discuss the time frame of an affair.
‘The tin snail?’
‘The…’ Julien blinked. ‘I’m not sure I understand.’
‘It’s the shape,’ Ellie said. ‘That’s what Mike the builder said they used to call them, because they look like snails.’
‘Ah… un escargot . I see that.’ Julien laughed. ‘Perhaps you should call her Margot?’
‘Margot the escargot ?’ Ellie was laughing now, too. ‘I love it.’
Their laughter was lost amongst the sounds of the restaurant, but Ellie knew she would hear the echoes of it later.
You could fall in love so easily with a man who could make you laugh.
Maybe she already had – just a little bit.
Because it wasn’t going to last very long, and that made it so much safer.
Her house.
Her room.
Her bed.
It was the choice Ellie would have made because this was her safe place in this new, very different life, and there was still enough of an edge of danger in doing this to make it daunting. So daunting that the butterflies in her stomach were battering themselves senseless by the time Julien had driven them home, and it was impossible to find the words to tell him she didn’t want to go to his house.
And she didn’t need to.
It seemed that Julien knew where she would feel most safe. That he knew there was a fine line between wanting this and being scared enough to run from it. That had to be why he paused just inside her front door, holding her gaze with his own. Why he reached out to touch her face, stroking her cheek with his fingers before cupping her chin gently, bending his head as her eyes drifted shut, to touch her lips with his.
A soft touch. A question that needed no words.
Did she want this?
As much as he did?
Oh… yes …
This was the point that Ellie had anticipated above all else. The moment when it was absolutely clear that this was what they both wanted. The moment when the need to touch – and be touched – could be released from any restraints. After being stoked so slowly by sharing a long, summer evening of food and laughter and being so physically close without being able to touch, Ellie had been sure that, given its freedom, anticipation would explode into reality as an uncontrollable force.
She couldn’t have been more wrong. and it couldn’t have been any more perfect because of that. Instead of passionate flames that would burn themselves out far too quickly, it seemed that time slowed to a point where its passage became meaningless. Every moment stretched far enough to be aware of details that Ellie might never have thought of before, and each one of those impressions added to an intensity that was unprecedented.
She could hear the rub of fabric as Julien undid the tiny buttons on the front of her dress, and she could feel goosebumps forming on her skin as she felt his breath on the side of her neck. His lips found hers again at the same moment the pad of his thumb stroked one of her nipples through the lace of her bra, making it harden so fast it almost hurt. The sound that escaped Ellie’s mouth was a mixture of ecstasy and a need so deep she had no idea where it came from.
She pressed into the hand cupping her breast, but she could feel the chill of his warmth leaving her skin, and she pulled away from the kiss to search his face. Oh, God… it would be unbearable if he’d changed his mind.
His eyes were so dark she couldn’t tell where the pupil ended and the iris began. Sinfully black. Bottomless pools that Ellie was being pulled into.
‘We have all night,’ he murmured. ‘And we can never have this first time again, can we?’
Ellie had to lick her suddenly dry lips as anticipation reached a level that was completely off any charts she’d ever been aware of. In danger of drowning in that gaze, her voice deserted her, so all she could do was shake her head. Slowly. As slowly as the astonishingly arousing circles Julien was making with his thumbs just below her collarbones as his hands rested on her shoulders.
She tipped her head back, her eyes closed so that she could sink into the sensation. Created on such a small patch of her skin, it was astonishing that it could be felt so far through the rest of her body even her toes were tingling.
And then she felt Julien’s lips on the side of her neck – a trail of featherlike kisses – the strap of her bra pushed aside as they reached her shoulder. Her hands skimmed over the hard contours of the muscles in his back and shoulders, her fingers brushing the soft skin on the sides of his neck – which she was aching to press her lips to – and then burying themselves in the soft, silky waves of his hair. The ache of unleashed passion was sharpening the pain in her nipples, so she pressed her breasts against his chest as she rose to her tiptoes to beg for another kiss.
He made a sound that Ellie could interpret instantly, and she knew the battle to slow this foreplay down was being lost. But did it matter? As Julien had said himself, they had a whole night together before anyone, or anything, from a forgotten world beyond this room could pull them apart. Perhaps this first, insane need to be as close as it was humanly possible to be had to be sated before they could take the time to savour discovering each other’s bodies. To touch and taste and hear the sounds of pure pleasure.
Ellie heard a tiny whimper of need escape from her throat, and Julien’s response was so swift she barely felt her feet leave the floor, her dress slithering from her body before she was lying on her bed. And then Julien was kneeling between her legs, his gaze touching her own with the same fierce, hard heat she could feel so tantalisingly close to that most private space in her body.
Her cry might have been his name.
Or perhaps it was simply a wordless plea to give her something she needed so badly that it felt as if she might die if it didn’t happen. She was already drowning in that look in his eyes, so she saw the reflection of what her body was feeling as that space was filled.
She could see that he wanted – needed – this as much as she did.
And Ellie held out her arms to welcome him.