Chapter 37
37
When Sasha mentioned to Freddie at breakfast that she was going out with Jean-Paul that evening, he immediately said he’d walk Mimi and Mitzi and stay home with them. ‘I’ll look forward to it. I’ll get to see how well you’ve trained them,’ he said. ‘It’s not often I get them to myself,’ he teased.
Sasha gave him a horrified look. ‘You’re not accusing me of hogging them, are you? It’s just that I’m here most days and evenings, and you’re out working.’
‘No. Of course I’m not,’ Freddie said. ‘It’s better for them to have a regular routine, which you’ve given them, than for them to be left alone in the cottage for hours at a time – which sadly they would be if it were just me.’
The cottage felt strangely empty to Sasha as she started getting ready for Jean-Paul. Freddie had taken the pups out as promised and she missed hearing the short barks they gave as they played with each other, and even their gentle snoring as they snuggled together in their basket. Freddie wasn’t back when Jean-Paul arrived and Sasha had to leave without the usual fussing of the dogs, which was curiously upsetting.
On the short drive to Chateauneuf-du-Faou, Jean-Paul told her a little about where they were going – a walk along the canal and then a meal in a local restaurant. As he drove over the bridge down by the canal, Sasha said, ‘What a beautiful place.’
‘One day us and the dogs walk here ensemble ,’ Jean-Paul said, catching hold of her hand.
‘Mimi and Mitzi would love it,’ Sasha said quietly, her small hand nestled in the gentle but firm hold of Jean-Paul’s.
As they strolled along the canal path, they met a couple of dog walkers and an elderly man striding out with his walking poles. For a few moments, they stood watching a pair of swans gliding gracefully down the canal, past a statue-like heron on the bank. He was so still, Sasha could barely believe he was real, until he took off and soared onto one of the tall trees overhanging the canal.
Jean-Paul glanced at his watch. ‘I think we go to the restaurant now,’ and they turned and began to make their way back towards the bridge.
Jazz began to drift on the air towards them as they neared the picturesque canal-side restaurant with its terrace overlooking the water. It was busy. Several people who were already seated smiled and waved at Jean-Paul as a waitress showed them to their own table. Looking around, Sasha saw the source of the jazz she could hear. A trio of musicians on a small, raised platform were softly playing ‘C’est Magnifique’ – one of her mother’s favourite Cole Porter songs. Sasha swallowed the emotion that suddenly threatened to overwhelm her at the thought of her mum, how much she would have loved to talk to her about her new life in France, about Jean-Paul. Especially to talk about Jean-Paul, a man Sasha knew her mum would have liked.
‘Are you okay?’ Jean-Paul’s anxious voice broke into her thoughts. ‘You are quiet.’
‘ Oui, merci . I’m fine. This particular tune was a favourite of my mum’s. It reminded me of her. In a good way.’
Before Jean-Paul could answer, the waiter arrived with the menus and asked if they would like to order drinks. ‘I have the non-alcoholic beer tonight,’ Jean-Paul said. ‘Which wine you like?’
‘A glass of rosé would be lovely,’ Sasha said. ‘It seems to have become my favourite summer drink.’
When the waiter returned with their wine and beer and asked for their food order, they’d both chosen the same things from the set menu. A selection of canapés, and a main course of chicken fricassee in a creamy white wine sauce served with roasted vegetables and a green salad on the side. Desserts would be chosen from the sweet trolley.
Relaxing and sitting there eating her favourite newly discovered canapé – green olive tapenade on toast – and sipping her wine, Sasha watched the evening activity on the canal coming to a close. Canoes and small rowing boats were navigating their way between ducks and swans towards the pontoon where they were tied up for the night. Swallows were dive-bombing off the surface of the canal and the moon was starting to show in the sky.
‘It’s beautiful here,’ she said, smiling at Jean-Paul. ‘Thank you for bringing me.’
They both agreed their chicken fricassee was delicious and Sasha resolved to try to find a recipe and make it at home. Maybe Penny would have a tried-and-tested one she would share with her.
Conversation between them was a mix of French and English, and not once did either of them resort to using the app on their phones. ‘We help each other,’ Jean-Paul said.
All too soon, the evening was over and Jean-Paul was driving her home. After pulling up in front of the Cottages du Lac, Jean-Paul got out of the car and opened Sasha’s door for her.
‘ Moi , I enjoy ce soir . I hope you enjoy also?’
‘ Merci , I truly did,’ Sasha said. ‘It has been a perfect evening.’
‘Next time, I think you come see where I live, no? You bring Mimi and Mitzi. I show you my farm.’ Jean-Paul gave her an anxious look as if unsure she would like it.
‘ Oui . I’d love that,’ Sasha said. ‘Soon?’ She smiled hopefully at him.
Jean-Paul nodded. ‘Soon, but first we meet tomorrow evening.’
‘Tomorrow evening?’
‘It is book club night.’
‘I’d forgotten,’ Sasha said. ‘See you then.’
Jean-Paul smiled before slowly leaning in and kissing her gently on the lips. ‘ Bonne nuit et fais de beaux rêves .’
Watching Jean-Paul drive away, Sasha smiled happily to herself as she remembered something her mum had once told her: ‘A slow burning romance that takes its time to ignite the flames is usually a long-lasting true love.’ If that was what this relationship was, a slow burner to true love, she had the feeling that it could burst into flames at any moment in the future.