Chapter 27
27
We finished off with crème brulée , which was silky smooth, had a wonderful caramelised crispy top, and tasted like heaven. By then I had surreptitiously undone the top button of my trousers and hidden the fact by blousing the top of my tadpole patterned shirt over it.
‘Would you like a digestif ?’ Luc asked as Arnaud took our dishes away.
‘Nothing more for me, thank you,’ I said.
It was on the tip of my tongue to say I was as stuffed as a sofa, which was something Sara had always said as a child, but wisely, I didn’t.
‘That was a wonderful meal.’
‘It was good, wasn’t it?’ he agreed with a smile, ‘I brought my brother and his wife here some years ago, I was afraid it might not have been as good as I remembered, but it was even better. And the company was excellent.’
Another of those looks passed between us and for a moment I was confused.
I was so out of practice with this sort of occasion. Was he sending me subtle signals? Was I unknowingly doing the same? What happened next? I couldn’t remember.
I shuffled around a bit, hoping the safety pins were staying closed.
Luc paid the bill and we returned to his truck. By then, a lot of the other cars had gone and the car park was nearly empty. It was nearly ten thirty, there was an obliging full moon to illuminate the path, and he offered me his arm as we made our way over an uneven patch of ground. I linked my arm through his, liking the way it felt. Sort of protective and masculine without being strange.
It made me realise how little physical contact I had on a day-to-day basis with anyone. The only people I kissed or embraced was my family on their occasional visits. People my age didn’t go in for a lot of hugging the way that young people did. I don’t remember anyone throwing their arms around each other and crying hysterically when we passed our O levels or got into university. Perhaps that was a shame.
There could be something pleasant and reassuring about the touch of another human; even so, I didn’t think I was going to start embracing the postman or my neighbours when I saw them. So, that was an interesting thought. When did people get to the point when touch did become a comfortable thing?
It seemed it was that evening.
When we got to the truck, he opened the door for me and when I stepped forwards, he put his arms around me, and there in the moonlit car park we had what could only be described as a good old snog.
As we stood there, some of the fancy cars began to leave, passing us with the occasional toot of their horns, but that didn’t seem to bother either of us.
I was consumed with so many emotions. Surprise, pleasure and underneath everything something I recognised as relief.
I was not past it; I was still someone who was kissed, I was not someone who was important solely because of the place I occupied in someone else’s life. I was me. I was still a part of the world. I was seen.
‘Wow,’ I said, when at last I came up for air, ‘wow.’
He laughed. ‘I have been wanting to do that for a very long time.’
‘Why?’
Oh yes, that was a clever question, beg for compliments why don’t you.
‘Because you are beautiful, funny, clever.’
I actually bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from disagreeing with him.
‘Because something about you made me want to find out more about you, to understand why you are sometimes so serious, when behind your eyes there is a vibrant, exciting woman.’
I sighed and took these words deep into my heart. I didn’t think I had been vibrant or exciting for ages.
‘Thank you,’ I said at last, ‘you don’t know how great that makes me feel.’
‘I want to know more about you,’ he said, kissing the tip of my nose.
‘Me too,’ I said.
I realised that had been a slightly confusing reply. Did I mean I wanted to know more about me, too, or more about him. Or actually, perhaps it was both.
‘And now, I’ll take you home,’ he said.
‘Thank you. I was hoping you would. I’ve no idea where we are.’
He laughed and helped me up into the truck, both hands on my waist, which I liked but also made me a bit startled, knowing that the button of my trousers was still undone, and the rest of my modesty was only protected by two safety pins.
When he was in the driver’s seat, I sat looking at him and put my hands either side of his face, looking at him for a good, long while. Memorising his features, so that I could remember this moment. He looked back at me, his brown eyes clear and honest.
Yes, he was attractive, yes he was good company, but more than that I felt he was a friend. I hadn’t been looking for a fling or love or anything like it when I came to France, but perhaps I had found something better.
The trip back was quite a quiet one. Perhaps he, like me, was thinking about things. We had kissed each other very enthusiastically. The question about whether each found the other appealing had been answered. But what next?
I still had no idea.
I suppose I investigated various possibilities during that trip. Would we go back to his house? Would he invite me in for a nightcap? If he did, would I agree or not? And if I did, what did that imply?
Would it mean that in the morning I would have to do the drive of shame, taking my car back to Potato Farm in the early hours, worrying that Isabel might hear me, the dogs would bark, Eugénie would spot me? I already knew that nothing stayed under the radar in this place. It would be all over the town in no time.
I looked down at my wedding ring and twisted it on my finger.
Interesting point to consider: why was I still wearing that? Till death do us part, that was what we had both said. But in the end, we had been parted by an estate agent and two firms of solicitors.
Up until that moment I hadn’t even thought about it. Eugénie had said with some heat that she was still married to Bastien, even though she had been widowed decades ago. I too had been married for so long, and my life had developed strict boundaries as a result. How did the possibility of another relationship – if that’s what it was – fit into my life? Did I even want to go there?
I suddenly remembered my Wonder Woman notebook, and the list of things I had written in it. All about doing things, seeing places, accepting new challenges and opportunities. I hadn’t even considered another relationship, and yet possibly, unless I was reading too much into it, there was one on offer.
Perhaps it was the late hour, maybe it was the wine, but my brain was spinning with tiredness. I would do what Scarlett O’Hara always did in Gone with the Wind and think about it tomorrow.
I began to recognise the road, signposts and houses as we came closer to the town, and then it seemed he had made the decision for me, and he turned off into the driveway of Potato Farm. Part of me was relieved, part of me wasn’t.
Perhaps I had been up for some romantic nonsense, some skilful French seduction. Him whispering things in my ear, me trying not to say something foolish, wondering if he had a spare toothbrush, would he notice that if and when my trousers dropped to the floor there would be a metallic clonk from the safety pins?
I laughed out loud then because the whole thing was so unexpected, so ridiculous that it was funny. He turned to look at me, his face illuminated by the dashboard lights.
‘Okay?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said.
He stopped the car and took my hand, raising it to his lips and kissing the back of it. Well, that was a definite first. No man had ever done that.
‘Goodnight, chèrie ,’ he said, and I felt a daft thrill.
So, I was chèrie now, was I? Another first.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek.
‘Goodnight.’
‘I’ll see you soon?’
A question, not a statement, which I liked because it showed he wasn’t assuming anything.
‘ à bient?t ,’ I said, feeling very chic and cosmopolitan.
The taillights from his truck hadn’t disappeared from the end of the drive before Isabel was banging on the door of the shepherd’s hut.
I opened it; she was in her pyjamas and dressing gown with a wool throw from the sofa over her shoulders. Behind her I could see Marcel and Antoine looking just as inquisitive as my sister.
‘Well?’ she said.
‘Bit nosey, aren’t you?’ I said.
‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘let me in, it’s freezing out here.’
She came in, nudging the dogs to wait outside, and sat down facing me, her eyes bright with interest.
‘We had a lovely meal,’ I said, ‘you and Felix really should go there. I had terrine to start with and the sole meunière …’
Isabel tutted her frustration. ‘I don’t care if you had beans on toast. How did it go?’
‘Very well,’ I said, ‘it was a lovely evening, we talked non-stop, I like him.’
‘So why are you here? And not over there making passionate love amongst the paint pots and dust sheets?’
I laughed, feeling quite light-headed at the idea. ‘Give me a chance!’
‘What I mean is, you know, was there a connection? Did you fancy each other?’
‘Yes and yes,’ I said, ‘and we had a lovely snog in the car park before he drove me back, and he called me chèrie and kissed my hand.’
Isabel clasped her hands over her heart and sighed with pleasure.
‘How marvellous! I couldn’t be more pleased. And? Anything else?’
‘No, that’s about it,’ I said.
‘Are you going to see him again?’
‘I expect so. Now go away and let me go to bed.’
Isabel stood up and pulled her blanket around herself more tightly.
‘Excellent. Right then, I will leave you to it. But I will be asking more questions in the morning.’
‘Don’t tell Eugénie,’ I shouted after her, and she laughed, and then nearly fell over Antoine.
I lay in my comfortable bed that night thinking how lucky I really was. I had my health, my family even if they had their faults. But I had flaws, too, quite serious ones if I was honest. I had been so busy pleasing people, clearing up after them, keeping Stephen happy instead of both of us, and consequently not actually being involved in my own life. After I had retired, I had come to regard my family as my job.
I had never been the sort of mother who boasted she was her children’s ‘best friend ’, but could I have encouraged Sara to confide in me more about what her marriage was really like, so she didn’t have to numb the pain with alcohol? And then perhaps she wouldn’t have been so hostile to Vanessa.
Why had John felt the need to keep his move to America secret from me until it was all sorted out? Did he think I would be annoyed that the pattern of my life was going to be affected by it?
I was proud of both my children. Had I ever told them? I thought I had but I wasn’t sure.
A thought struck me at that point. Hang on. I was doing it again, making other people’s happiness my responsibility.
I reached over, switched on the bedside light and picked up my Wonder Woman notebook, flicking though the pages of my list.
The last entry.
18. Ring people up. Don’t just text or send emails.
I picked up my pen.
19. Stop taking the blame for everything. Stop being such a martyr. You can only live your own life.
20. As long as I don’t break any laws or upset the horses, do things that make me feel better about myself. I am not just a sister, aunt, mother, grandmother and divorcee, I am me.
I put the notebook down and turned off the light.
And now there was Luc.
What would they say if they knew about him?
You’ll never guess, the funniest thing happened when I was in France. I met this man…
So, was Luc going to be 21 on my list? Have another man in my life who will need to be explained/introduced to your children and grandchildren.
Did that really matter?
I had been so lonely, and at the same time I hadn’t coped well with company. Christmas had been a perfect example of that.
And then I turned the light on again and took off my wedding ring and put it in the bottom of my handbag.
I lay down in the darkness and felt the place on my finger where the ring had been for so long. My finger was free, and so was I.