CHAPTER 28
I push back the thin sheet after a heavy afternoon nap, and head to the bathroom. I use the loo, wash my face and stare at myself in the mirror. Everything I’ve built here is rapidly falling away in front of my eyes. The day we moved in together, I dreamed of spending our lives here with our unconventional but happy little family, but that is gone. I retch into the sink. I drink a glass of water from the tap, refill it and walk back into the bedroom, passing the lavender field on one side. There is barking and laughter, and there on the drive is Fabien.
I run down the stairs and outside. ‘You’re here!’
‘Hey!’ He smiles. ‘Where have you been? Meeting your lover?’ He laughs. ‘A final fling before the old man gets home?’
‘You’re hardly old.’ I’m blushing, thinking of Henri’s son.
He goes to put his arms around me and I’m stiff – Zacharie’s cologne is still suffocating me. ‘I need to shower,’ I say, pulling back.
‘Okay.’ He loosens his embrace around my waist. ‘Shall I come and shower with you?’
‘No, no! I’ll be back in a minute. Pour some wine. Then we have to get to the brocante for supper club.’
I rush upstairs and turn on the shower. Scrubbing vigorously until my skin is red, I’m trying to get rid of the smell of Zacharie.
I arrive back on the terrace and Fabien is reading a message on his phone.
‘What’s that?’ I ask, not wanting to ask but the words come out of my mouth. This is Fabien’s homecoming. I planned to do so much more. I should have been focusing on that instead of Zacharie.
‘Just the band. A few pictures from last night. I wish you could have come. It was a great final gig.’
I tip olives into a bowl, then pick it up with my glass of wine and carry them across to join him. I look over his shoulder at a picture of him next to Monique, shoulder to shoulder, him on bass, her on saxophone, smiling at him.
He types a message back and sends a laughing emoji.
My cheeks are flaming, trying to push out the memory of Zacharie. Fabien puts his phone away and we stand in silence, looking out over the cut lavender plants. For a moment we are two strangers, with different paths ahead of us, who have come together just for one part of their journeys. I stare at the glow of the golden sun setting over the town, wondering if this is where our journey together ends.
I take a deep breath. ‘Is this enough for you, Fabien?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Will you miss life on the road? Is this, at Le Petit Mas, what you really want?’
Zacharie’s words are ringing in my ears. I heard you had a thing for younger men!
‘We’ve been through this!’ Fabien sighs. ‘Maybe you’re so busy worrying about other people and their lives you don’t have time for ours any more.’
I feel hot and sick. I have to tell him what happened between me and Zacharie. ‘Look, there’s something I need to tell you …’ at the same time as he says, ‘So, let me just tell you.’
We both give a little laugh.
‘You first,’ we say in unison.
‘It was just a kiss!’ we say together, then stare at each other as if time has stood still. As if we’ve just hit the end of the road with a bump.
‘A kiss! You kissed her?’
‘Who did you kiss?’ He scowls.
‘I didn’t! He kissed me! But I let it happen. You kissed her? Monique!’
‘You kissed who?’
‘Zacharie.’
‘You kissed Zacharie? Henri’s son? Oh, là!’ He slams down his wine glass and holds his hands to his head.
‘No. Yes. Not really. Sort of! And you kissed Monique?!’
‘Yes! And I realized straight away she wasn’t the person I wanted to be kissing! I wanted to be with you! That’s when I told them I was leaving. Last weekend. But you were busy kissing Henri’s son!’
‘Because you were away! I was confused, lonely. And it was him kissing me! I was just trying to talk to him about Henri when he suddenly cried.’
‘Crocodile tears to get you into bed!’
‘No. It was just a heat-of-the-moment thing. He just leaned in and kissed me.’
‘And you let him!’
‘No! I stopped him.’
‘Eventually!’
‘You can talk!’
Suddenly there is a cough. We turn.
It’s Carine.
‘I can see this is a bad time. I’ll come back later,’ she says.
Fabien and I glare at each other, neither knowing what to say. He picks up his glass and drains it, then grabs his bag and storms upstairs.
At the brocante, everyone is ready for service. The candles are lit and it’s hot, really hot. There hasn’t been any rain for weeks.
There is a strange atmosphere in the courtyard tonight. Everyone is looking at me and each other and I can’t help but think they must have heard our argument. Embarrassed and broken inside, I walk to the gates and write up the menu. This is all Zacharie’s fault. If it hadn’t been for him starting this war between us none of it would have happened. Outside l’expérience braziers are burning brightly, despite the heat of the night, dramatic against the cream walls of the alleyway.
I won’t let him win. He can’t destroy everything.
‘Let’s get cooking!’ I call to the team. ‘And bring in as many as we can, perhaps go out onto the square and point people in our direction. Let’s do what we can to get them into Henri’s and away from l’expérience!’
Jen and Graham go out into the alleyway and the square, pointing people towards us, offering them a glass of wine on the house. The place is buzzing, lots of happy diners. Ed and Maria are exhausted, serving from the tiny kitchen. At the end of service, I’m dead on my feet. We load the plates into crates with the cutlery and dishes.
‘So, last night tomorrow,’ says Graham, as I sit fanning myself.
He’s right. We agreed to do this just for the week.
‘We’ll have to make sure it’s a goodie!’ I try to smile.
Back at the farmhouse, it’s silent. Fabien is either asleep or avoiding me. I check my phone. Nothing from him. I try to think of a message to send to him. But what can I say? He’s not wrong. We took our eye off the ball. We strayed from the path and now it looks like there’s no way back. We’ve hurt each other. And what should have been his first lovely night home ends with us in separate rooms, so close, but so far apart.