Epilogue MEGAN
Epilogue
MEGAN
Mum’s face appears on my phone screen and she breaks into a wide smile.
‘Hello, darling,’ she trills, sliding her sunglasses up to perch on top of her head as she peers at her screen. ‘I’m so glad you called!’
‘Hey, Mum, where are you today?’ I ask, propping my phone up against the stack of books on my desk and leaning back in my chair.
‘Here, take a look,’ she says, turning the camera so I can admire the impossibly turquoise sea next to the stretch of white sand she’s walking along, a small beach framed by dramatic cliffs. ‘What do you think?’
‘Wow. That looks incredible.’
‘It is. And the people here are the nicest in the world. I’m considering moving to Bali permanently, you know.’
‘Interesting. Funnily enough, I remember you saying that at the beginning of this year about South Africa and also about Sweden, Norway and Iceland earlier this summer.’
‘What can I say, the world continues to impress me,’ she replies unfazed, returning the camera back to her smile. ‘Guess what I did this morning while you were fast asleep on your side of the planet? Surfing! Me! I went surfing, Megan.’
‘Were you any good at it?’ I ask, impressed.
‘Oh god no, I was terrible! Could barely paddle on the thing, let alone stand up on it. I couldn’t even “pop up” when we were practising on land. Jemma and Iris witnessed the lesson and Jemma laughed so hard, she peed herself a little. That’s what happens when you get older, darling.’
‘Thanks for the warning,’ I say, wrinkling my nose. ‘Sounds like you three are having a lot of fun. How are Iris and Jemma?’
‘Better than I’ve ever known them,’ she says. ‘They were both in need of a holiday. We’re having a ball. Speaking of which, how are preparations going?’
The sun is reflecting on the screen of the phone so I stand up to move to the window and close the shutter. ‘Good. Sad you won’t be here this year.’
‘Me too. Francoise told me about the mix-up with the florist, what a nightmare! I’m so sorry, Nico must have been stressed,’ she says, frowning in sympathy.
‘He was stressed – his version of stressed, anyway, which is still kind of chilled. But we got it sorted,’ I assure her, slumping back down in my chair.
‘You mean you got it sorted,’ she corrects with a knowing smile. ‘Francoise mentioned that there’s no problem you can’t solve. When are you going to make it official?’
‘Make what official? And how often are you talking to Francoise behind my back?’
‘Oh, not as often as I’d like, we’re both so busy, but it’s nice to catch up when we can,’ she says dismissively. ‘I mean, when are you going to become the official manager of Chateau du Chèvrefeuille? You’re running the place, aren’t you? Nico will be out of a job.’
‘I’m helping to run the place,’ I say, rolling my eyes. ‘Nico is still in charge.’
She chuckles. ‘I’d like to see him try to boss you about.’
‘Yeah, that doesn’t happen. He’s too smart to try,’ I say with a grin. ‘He sort of steers me in the right direction when I need it, I would say. He’s good at managing without coming across as a manager. One of the many reasons the staff love him. Anyway, my focus is on the book.’
‘Ah yes, the book. Did you see I emailed you my latest set of notes?’
‘You read the new chapters?’ I say astonished, sitting up and logging into my laptop. ‘I didn’t think you’d have time. I only sent them yesterday.’
‘My darling, I will always have time and when I don’t have it, I’ll make it,’ she says matter-of-factly. ‘They’re fantastic, Megan, I don’t know where you get your imagination from.’
Opening my email, I quirk a brow. ‘Don’t you?’
‘I wish I could take credit, but I’m all about heroines and hunks, not all this magical world-building you’re able to do,’ she remarks. ‘Must be your father’s side.’
I grimace. ‘Please don’t say the word “hunks”, Mum.’
‘What’s wrong with the word “hunks”?’
‘I don’t know, it’s just weird.’ I open up the now-edited document I sent her, before blowing out all the air in my cheeks. ‘Whoa. That’s a lot of red notes.’
‘Yes, I had a few thoughts on these ones.’
I balk at that. ‘A few?’
‘Well, we’re getting to the crux of the story now.
You’ve set the scene in the early chapters and here the action really takes off.
Welcome to the world of drafting, my darling.
You know if you want to get this right then you have to be prepared for a lot of critique.
I’ve told you before, don’t make the error of mistaking lots of notes as a bad thing.
If I didn’t think the chapters were any good, I wouldn’t bother working on them.
Trust me, my first drafts are nothing like the published books that end up on the shelf. ’
I nod, scrolling down and smiling as I read through a couple of the more complimentary edits dotted through the manuscript. Beautiful writing, darling! One says. Goodness me, the magic of this story! I’m lost in wonder! Another reads.
‘Thanks, Mum,’ I say earnestly, sitting back again. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘Not at all. As always, feel free to ignore any that you don’t agree with. It’s all subjective and, as I say, I’m no expert when it comes to this genre.’
‘I’m honoured to take any notes I can get from the Dawn Dixon, thanks.’
I’ve been working on my children’s fantasy novel since I made the move to Collioure at the end of last year.
After we fulfilled Dad’s wishes and scattered his ashes, I returned to the UK to work out my notice, having told Cameron that the time off had made me rethink a few things and one of those things was where I was headed in my career.
I knew that I was on a path to more success but also a lot more stress and I’d realised that, as grateful as I was for how far I’d come, I didn’t see me enjoying that life anymore.
I turned down the promotion I was offered for senior partner.
I heard Angus still hasn’t got it and imagine he’s probably going around ranting on nights out about the company ticking those boxes.
I haven’t regretted my choice once.
As much as he jokes about it, I didn’t move here just for Nico, although he made the decision a lot easier.
In the end it came down to the fact that I preferred who I got to be out here.
More myself, really. I had enough savings to take some time to work out what I wanted to do next, but as soon as I started plotting my book, I realised there was nothing else.
I applied for jobs at some cafés in the area, wanting a job that I could write around, but when Nico lost a kitchen staff member at Christmas who was moving abroad, he badgered me to step in.
I was apprehensive about working for my boyfriend, and embarrassed too that I was using connections to get a job, but it didn’t matter in the end, because I was shit at it.
Luckily for everyone, my organisation and problem-solving talents shone through, eclipsing my terrible kitchen skills, and no one complained when I was moved onto the operations management team. And I love my job.
I also love working with Nico. Having him as part of my everyday feels like a privilege I can’t quite believe I deserve.
Last Christmas, when decorations, fairy lights and an enormous Christmas tree transformed the chateau into some kind of festive wonderland, I finally mustered the courage to tell Nico that I was in love with him and he smiled bigger than I’ve ever seen him smile and he told me he’d been in love with me since we were fourteen years old, no, wait, maybe younger than that, he couldn’t be sure.
He kissed me deeply and whispered that he’d always love me and I said, ‘Same’, because in my awkwardness I couldn’t quite say those words, but I hoped he knew I meant it just as much.
Moving to Dad’s dream house in Collioure hasn’t been a completely easy journey.
There are lots of things about England I miss, but I’ve been able to journey back easily when I can, like when Mum has her hospital treatments so I can be with her for them, or when I surprised Marisa with a big night out with a load of her friends the weekend before she went back to work.
She cried a lot that night. Partly because her second baby was starting nursery, largely because of the tequila.
I cried too because I miss being able to see her whenever I like.
But being in a different country means we make the effort to talk much more.
And we talk about everything, even if it makes us look pathetic and feel vulnerable.
We may be further apart, but I feel closer to her than ever before.
I made a point of reaching out to Mathieu.
I wasn’t angry at him, I wanted him to know that, and I realised that when it came to piecing together a side to my father I felt that I didn’t know, he was a good person to speak to.
I asked Nico for permission, even though he insisted I didn’t need it.
He and Mathieu had spoken since the fireworks and were on good terms. Nico didn’t want to get in the middle of the divorce with Francoise, which was a delicate situation, but he saw him as much as possible.