Chapter 21
Nicola pushed open the door of the small café in the centre of Eymoutiers and instantly saw Chloé, sitting in the corner with two other women. A pushchair was parked at the side of the table and one of the women had a small child on her lap. At their feet, a small curly-haired black dog snoozed.
Feeling suddenly shy, she made her way to the counter and ordered an americano.
Chloé caught her eye and waved enthusiastically, then suddenly all of them were looking, smiling.
Self-consciously, she brought her coffee to the table and set it down, before pulling up a chair.
‘Hi,’ she said, wondering what Chloé had told them about her. ‘I’m Nicola.’
‘Bonjour,’ the woman on her left said. She had curly black hair, flecked with the occasional grey, worn long and loose. Nicola wondered whether the dog belonged to her. ‘I’m Audrey.’
‘Nice to meet you.’
‘Alice.’ The other lady, the one with the child, had sandy blonde hair tied back in a practical ponytail told her. ‘And this is Nadia,’ she added, indicating the little girl who’d snuggled into her with shyness.
‘Hi!’ Nic said. ‘And hello, Nadia.’ Nadia gave her a curious glance, then turned her face away again and they all laughed.
The mood at the table was light; Audrey had finished work for Christmas yesterday – she worked in the council in some capacity, although Nicola wasn’t 100 per cent sure what she did.
Alice was preparing for her husband’s extended family to arrive at her house and taking a well-earned rest from cleaning.
Chloé had closed her shop for the afternoon although she still intended to open tomorrow.
‘So that all the men can finally buy their presents.’
Despite her earlier shyness, Nicola had felt herself relax after just a few minutes with the women, who seemed more than happy to include her in their conversation.
Nadia was well-behaved and seemed content to play with the spoon from Alice’s hot chocolate.
They ordered a plate of macarons and the combination of their sweet, fruity flavour and the rich, dark coffee she’d ordered soon had Nic’s tastebuds fully occupied.
‘So, tell me about yourself,’ Alice said when the conversation ebbed. ‘You came from England?’
Nicola told them about her plans to run art lessons and retreats, how she’d quit a job in marketing.
She explained about Steven, how he was going to join her full time once he’d left his role; the mere mention of the fact he was a paediatric nurse was enough to have all of the women nodding in sympathy and understanding.
‘Well, I think it is amazing,’ Alice said firmly when she’d finished. ‘To come here by yourself, with French as your second language, and to achieve so much alone. Bravo.’
‘Yes, I think I would go mad,’ Audrey said darkly. ‘I could not live in a house by myself.’
‘But Audrey, you’re always saying you wish Pascal would go visit his mother more often.’
Audrey grinned. ‘Yes, but it is different. It is nice to have a break, huh, but not for months. You are very brave.’
In all honesty, she’d never thought of herself as brave doing what she was doing. Rash? Yes. Reckless? Sometimes. Crazy? Well, that went without saying. Nicola found herself basking in the compliment. ‘I do OK,’ she said. ‘Although I am looking forward to when he finally makes it here.’
‘For Christmas?’
‘No.’
The women exchanged looks.
‘He’s got to work at the hospital,’ she reminded them, and was rewarded by three sympathetic head tilts.
They moved on to talk about the painting retreats, and Alice excitedly told her of a friend who was an artist who might be able to help, and of another woman she knew who had said only the other day that she wished she were better at painting.
Perhaps it was the Christmas spirit making them feel more generous and at one with the world; perhaps it was the fact that she’d rescued their friend from the snowdrift (a story that, when Chloé retold it, had become wildly more eventful and heroic), or just that they were nice people who wanted to help a newbie to the area.
She didn’t know. But as things stood, she had seriously landed on her feet.
All in all, she thought as she made her way carefully up the road an hour later, her windscreen wipers having to work hard as the snow had thickened, it was a success.
She’d made them laugh, intentionally or unintentionally, asked the right questions and her French, which sometimes lost its way when she had to make conversation with several people, had held up admirably.
In fact, today was the first day when she’d felt things falling into place.
She’d spoken to more local people than ever before; she’d exchanged pleasantries with Monsieur Rémi.
She’d met Chloé again and two new potential friends.
She was full of coffee and macarons and returning to a house covered in Christmas lights.
Tomorrow, her family would arrive and she’d be able to show them her new life in all its glory – the beautiful stone house she’d bought, the garden covered in crisp, barely touched snow.
The Christmas decorations that she’d sourced locally, as well as the more outlandish display in the garden.
She’d introduce them to Gabi, who was probably the friendliest cat who’d ever lived (yes, perhaps she was biased and also scarred by the fact that every other cat she’d seemed to meet in her previous life had wanted to claw her eyes out… but still).
She began to sing a snippet of Slade’s ‘Merry Xmas Everybody’, managing to quiet her mind which always seemed to want to question the first lyric about hanging stockings on walls – because does anyone actually do that? – and enjoy it for the simple, catchy song it was.
Finally she turned into her drive, almost laughing aloud as she saw the full impact of today’s light stringing and decoration installing.
The row of white lights that Lucien had helped her fix along the front twinkled merrily.
The Santa and sleigh lit up so brightly that when she looked at it and glanced away, it was momentarily projected in front of her vision wherever she cast her eyes.
The solar tree decorations she’d hoped would catch enough sun had clearly been fully charged, their round, colourful bulbs glowing in the branches. It was magical. It was perfect.
In the illuminated kitchen window, she saw the tiny shape of Gabi looking out and waved, although the cat was probably looking at her own reflection rather than at Nic.
She was sitting in the window next to the angel ornament, which as usual seemed to cast a golden glow from its halo.
Nicola remembered the man’s words at the market, her whispered wish for a Christmas full of people, colour and light, and smiled to herself at the fact that most of her wish had come true today.
She didn’t believe the angel had any genuine magic, but it was lovely that things were finally deciding to look up.
The final part of her wish was highly unlikely to come true of course. But if Steven rang and said he was no longer needed at hospital over the festive period, then she really might start to wonder at the angel’s powers.
She exited the car and turned her face upwards for a second, letting the thick, fluffy snow touch her face, absorbing the wonderful, Christmassy sensation of being warm and well fed in the cold air, surrounded by lights and with the prospect of happiness on the horizon.
It occurred to her that perhaps if Steven had been coming, she wouldn’t have bothered to try to make inroads locally the way she had.
She’d never have complained to Lucien, and although she might have discovered the market herself eventually, wouldn’t have made the trip when she did.
She might not have seen Chloé’s car on the side of the road, or invited her parents.
Perhaps she wouldn’t have had time to go to coffee with new friends, or they wouldn’t have thought to ask her.
Of course, there was no way she was going to tell Steven that.
She climbed the few steps to the front door, making sure to carefully place her foot each time – remembering as she did so the frail figure of Monsieur Rémi making his own way back to his house and her brief wash of sympathy – then went in, feeling the warm air of the interior begin to thaw her cold feet almost instantly.
She’d call Steven now she thought as she slipped off her boots and padded into the kitchen in her thick socks.
After all, she’d been sharing a lot of negativity with him recently; he’d be glad to hear that things were turning around for her – for them, too, when he finally came to live with her again.
Slipping her mobile phone out of her pocket, she sank onto a chair. Almost immediately Gabi leapt onto her lap, front paws kneading the front of her jumper, purring loudly. She stroked the cat as the phone rang once, twice, then went to voicemail.
Nicola was used to the phone ringing out – she often had to leave a message and have Steven call her back. But this sudden exit to voicemail suggested that her call had been declined. She waited a moment and tried again. But again the phone cut off after a couple of rings.
He was probably in a meeting or something. No doubt she’d soon get a furtive text message from him, or he’d call her back. She’d thought his shifts had changed to daytime hours this week, but things got moved around so often in his job that it was impossible to know for sure.
Still, it wasn’t a great feeling knowing that you were missing someone terribly but they couldn’t take the time to answer your calls.
He’s a paediatric nurse! she reminded herself. He can’t always pick up the phone when it’s convenient for you.
She stood, lifting Gabi into her arms, and went to the front window to look out over the front garden.
The snow had stopped and the sky had cleared, the stars visible in the inky sky like jewels.
The snow sparkled a little in the moonlight, and around the places where she’d installed the Christmas lights.
Over at Monsieur Rémi’s, she could see the comforting sight of his chimney puffing out smoke, the gentle orange glow at the downstairs window telling her that her neighbour was warm and safe inside.
Across the way she could make out the lit-up decorations of several houses dotted in the darkness and thought about the people inside, together with friends and family, all looking forward to the coming days.
And she thought about how she’d soon be able to hug her mother and laugh with Harriet and how she’d feel part of a proper Christmas after all.
As she turned from the window, a car went by, slowing as it passed her gate, its occupants no doubt taking in her elaborate display.
The headlights shone a little into the window, highlighting Gabi’s whiskers and resting briefly on the angel’s halo.
Then there was the roar of an engine and it was gone.