by Jo Thomas
‘I didn’t know there was something going on with you and Fabien,’ she says, jutting out her chin.
‘There isn’t.’ I’m desperate for her to believe me, and to convince myself. ‘I promise. We were just …’
‘Just what?’
I sigh.
‘He’s just a friend. There’s nothing between us,’ I lie, not proud of myself but sometimes there’s a place for a small lie, if it stops someone else being hurt.
She sniffs. ‘He would have made a good father for Tomas,’ she says. ‘He’s really good with children. I think he misses his family. He would make a good father and husband.’
‘He’s much older than you, Stephanie.’
‘Age doesn’t matter,’ she says. ‘Age is about how old you feel. Some of us have lived a lifetime already. Becoming a parent makes you grow up.’
I wonder if it was a dig, but let it go. She’s upset. I remember being a teenager and wish I’d told Mum how sorry I was for all the hurtful things I said in the heat of the moment, that I didn’t mean any of them. But I think she knew that. Just like I get the feeling that Stephanie doesn’t mean to hurt me now.
‘Love is love,’ she says.
‘And do you love him?’ I ask.
She pushes out her lips as only the French seem able to do, telling me all I need to know. I look around at the bags. ‘Please don’t do anything you’ll regret. Don’t go anywhere. This is your home. Yours and Tomas’s.’
She suddenly looks horrified.
‘Tomas! Where is Tomas?’ She leaps to her feet.
‘He’s with some friends of mine who have just arrived. He’s introducing them to Ralph.’
A smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. I would love to hug her and tell her everything will be fine, but I know she’s not ready for me to do that. So, I do the only thing I know that will make this better right now: ‘I promise, Stephanie, that there is nothing between Fabien and me. Nor will there be.’ I lift my chin. ‘Now, wash your face, unpack these clothes and come and say hello to our guests.’ I speak gently but firmly, hoping I’ve got the tone just right. And, by the look of it, I have. She nods and starts to unpack the blue plastic bags. This time she hasn’t run. She’s stayed put, and I feel proud of her for that.
‘This is Stephanie,’ I say to Lou and Rhi, who are sitting at the table on the terrace, watching Tomas chasing Ralph chasing butterflies and smiling. They’re still clearly bewildered, the wine giving their cheeks a hint of a glow.
‘Tomas’s maman,’ I explain.
‘Maman!’ he shouts, runs to her and clutches her leg.
‘Bonjour,’ says Stephanie, shaking hands with Lou and Rhi in turn.
‘Stephanie is my chambermaid and kitchen assistant here at Le Petit Mas,’ I say, and Stephanie’s smile is back. Now it says she has a place in the world that is all hers.
‘Chambermaid?’ says Lou.
‘Kitchen assistant?’ says Rhi.
‘Yes, for my business. Lavender bakes from the heart of Provence.’ I look at Stephanie proudly, throw my arm around her shoulders and pull her to me.
Lou and Rhi are still confused.
‘You sound as if you’re staying here,’ Lou says, and Rhi laughs. ‘Ollie told me to help you pack up and get you home. He said you were … unwell.’
‘I’ve never felt better.’ I look out over the lavender fields. ‘And I’m not going anywhere. This is my home. Mine, Stephanie’s and Tomas’s.’ And I pour myself a glass of wine and a small one for Stephanie, who has to look after Tomas and says she doesn’t want much. ‘To Le Petit Mas de la Lavande.’ I raise my glass.
Lou and Rhi raise theirs too, clearly wondering if I’m insane or the happiest they’ve ever seen me.
‘So, you’re running this as a hotel?’ Lou asks.
‘A chambre d’hôte,’ I tell them, offering them the biscuits Tomas has left. ‘A B-and-B. Well, that’s the plan. When we’ve done the work.’
‘Great! So you’re okay for us to stay, then?’ says Rhi.
‘Of course!’ I reply. ‘Plenty of room. And you can help with the painting while you’re here. Just out of interest, how long are you here for?’
‘A few days, a week maybe,’ says Lou.
‘Just as long as you need us!’ Rhi says.
‘Rhi, you left the salon!’
‘Ah, but I have this,’ she says, fishes out her iPad and opens it. ‘I’ve had CCTV fitted all over the salon and I can watch everything that’s going on from here.’ She beams, looking at the screen.
‘Oo, internet’s not great!’ and she peers at the screen.
‘I’ve managed to reschedule my nail appointment for next week, although, they may need doing while I’m out here,’ says Lou, flourishing her perfectly manicured talons.
‘So, we’re all sorted.’ Rhi claps her hands together.
‘There’s only one problem,’ I say. ‘We just have to find you something to sleep on.’ And there’s only one place to go for that. I swallow hard.
TWENTY-THREE
We walk along the river path into town, past the clearing where the homeless people greet me as I pass, and one praises my ‘macarons délicieux’. Again Lou and Rhi are bemused. And I have no idea how he knows about the macarons: I’ve only left biscuits here, and only once.
Stephanie stays at home to start cleaning the rooms. I hope we’ve moved on from the flare-up. I know now that Fabien has no intentions towards her and I think the situation will pass. All she really cares about is that she can trust me, which means I must keep my promise to her. Nothing can happen between Fabien and me. A knot twists in my stomach and in my heart. But that’s how it has to be. Right now, Stephanie’s faith in human nature must be restored, for Tomas’s sake as well as hers. It’s his future too. And that’s why I have to do what I’m about to do.
We walk through the backstreets, the way Stephanie has shown me, a short-cut after the riverside clearing, making the journey much quicker to the brocante. With every step my heart is beating harder, and I wonder if Lou and Rhi can hear it. It would appear not, as they exclaim at the cream and peach walls, the red and orange terracotta roofs.
I slow as we head towards the brocante. I have no idea what to say to Fabien. We both know it was far from ‘a silly kiss’, but I have made a promise and I need to stick to it.
We walk into the courtyard through the big wrought-iron gates. I see him straight away and he rushes towards me.
‘Del,’ he says, then stops, seeing Lou and Rhi right behind me.
‘Fabien,’ I say, my voice cracking. ‘These are friends of mine from back home.’
‘Friends of Ollie and Del,’ says Rhi, pushing past me eagerly to shake Fabien’s hand.
‘Ollie,’ Fabien repeats.
‘Her husband,’ confirms Rhi, not letting go of Fabien’s hand, until Lou elbows her out of the way.
‘Out of the three of us, she’s the only one who’s married and she seems to have forgotten where she left him!’ She laughs, a little too high-pitched.
‘Her husband,’ Fabien repeats, and my cheeks burn. He knows Ollie and I have split up. What he doesn’t know is that I can’t look at him without wanting to wrap my body around his.
‘Mine left me, with two small children, twenty years ago,’ says Rhi, who was a teenage mum, a bit like Stephanie.
‘Mine died at the gym, trying to get fitter,’ says Lou, drily.
For a moment there is silence and I feel guilty. I had a husband, a life, and walked out on both. Not for anyone else, but because I was unhappy. Was I just feeling raw after losing Mum, after the failed IVF? Would we have found our way back into each other’s hearts if I’d stayed with him? Is Ollie showing he still loves me by sending Rhi and Lou over? My head starts to hurt. Just when I thought everything was clear in my mind. I look at Fabien. Did I feel like this when I first met Ollie?
‘Welcome, and how can I help today?’ He is nearly his usual cheery self and I almost can’t bear to hear it. ‘You hav
e come for souvenirs to take home?’
‘Erm, no.’ I clear my throat. ‘Actually, Fabien, I need bedroom furniture, for my guests.’
‘I see.’ He nods. ‘You are staying, ladies? A holiday?’
‘Yes.’ They seem as unsure about why they’re here as I am. ‘Just until everything here is sorted.’
‘Sorted?’ says Fabien.
‘Just until …’ Rhi trails off. What was she going to say? Until they’ve persuaded me to go home? To go back to Ollie? Because he still loves me and this is just a blip?
‘Just for a while,’ I finish the conversation.
‘Then I look forward to seeing you around, ladies, both of you.’ He grins, and Lou smiles warmly while Rhi practically faints at his feet.
‘You look around and I will find what you need,’ he says. ‘Del? Would you like to join me?’ He gestures for me to follow. And I do.
He starts climbing over some furniture at the back of the barn-like building.
‘I have some more beds back here,’ he says loudly, for Lou and Rhi’s benefit, and then, in hushed tones, ‘How is Stephanie?’
‘She’s fine. Just a bit … upset. She thought … She likes you.’
He shrugs kindly. ‘It’s my fault. I should have realized. She is hurting.’ He looks at me and my heart flips over and back again. I turn my head away quickly, unable to find the words or the strength to keep my promise if I’m looking at him.
‘And all because of “a silly kiss”,’ he whispers. And I feel like I’ve been slapped across the face. I look up at him as his chin lifts, his eyes narrow. ‘I got carried away, I’m sorry.’
‘Look at these lamps! Only ten euro!’ Rhi is exclaiming. ‘We’ll take them.’
‘And this,’ says Lou, of a bundle of bedding.
Fabien is still gazing at me, the warmth gone from his eyes. I have no idea what to say.
‘You … agree?’
‘Of course,’ he says, and jumps down from where he’s standing on a chest of drawers. He switches the charm back on. Did he charm me? So nothing he said meant anything? It really was ‘just a silly kiss’. Then why had it felt like so much more? Is he already looking elsewhere? Or have I really hurt him with what I said, in the heat of the moment? I feel so stupid! The way I felt when I looked at him, the way I thought he looked at me, it felt so real at the time. And now he’s acting like we’re strangers. He’s making Lou smile and Rhi laugh as he shows them more of the gems he has in his warehouse.
‘Put it all together. Shall I put it on account, Del?’ he calls, as friendly as if nothing has passed between us.
‘Oh, I’ll pay,’ says Lou, reaching into her tasselled shoulder bag.
Fabien waves her away. ‘It’s fine. Del and I understand each other,’ he says.
I wish there was something I could say to make him understand why I had to say what I did. Anyway, even if I didn’t mean it, to him it was just a silly kiss. My eyes sting with tears I blink away.
‘Oui, merci. I’ll pay you soon,’ I say quietly, through my tight throat.
‘And I have some big pots of paint that might be useful. I can lend you brushes, if you like. Just drop them back when you’ve finished.’ I’m not sure if he’s talking to me or Rhi and Lou, but I thank him and wish I could wind the clock back to when we were standing by the truck with the smell of the lavender and his eyes only on me. ‘I’ll bring it all up later, and the lavender plants, if you’d still like them?’ he asks, making a note of all the items I have and rounding off the numbers to a very acceptable figure.
We leave the brocante. Fabien kisses Lou and Rhi on the cheeks and, very briefly, me. I yearn to feel his cheek against mine.
‘Well,’ says Rhi. ‘Whoever he goes home to at night is a very lucky person indeed.’
Yes, I think, very lucky. But it won’t be me, and my heart shatters all over again.
TWENTY-FOUR
Rhi and Lou insist on taking me for lunch. I’m not sure if it’s to make up for their sudden arrival or they want to see if what Ollie has said is true and I really have lost the plot. I take them to Henri’s, through the ancient archway, down the cobbled street to the little bistro, where the awning is out, and the tables are laid outside.
Henri greets me, Rhi and Lou warmly, and tells me he is so proud to see Stephanie working with me. ‘She is blooming, like the lavande!’ he says, then adds, ‘And you too! Le Petit Mas is good for both of you!’ Rhi and Lou are looking at me with interest.
We order the wine and water and Lou gets straight to the point. ‘So, what’s going on here?’ she says. ‘Ollie said you’d lost the plot and refused to come home.’
Rhi kicks her under the table.
‘What?’ Lou flicks her straight blonde hair. ‘He says you keep saying you’re not going back and now you’ve stopped messaging him. Look, if it’s the baby thing …’
‘The baby thing?’ I ask.
‘What Lou means is …’
‘I know what she meant,’ I say to Rhi, with a sigh, and the ache in my heart has suddenly returned.
‘Look, I know you both mean well, and you’re my dearest friends,’ I lean over and put my hands over theirs, ‘but, really, this is for the best. Ollie and I, we’d come to the end of the road. We wanted different things. We’re not the same people we once were, and separating, before we could make each other thoroughly miserable, was the right thing to do. It was just the end of the journey for us. No blame. Just the end.’
They stare at me, clearly hearing what I’m saying and that I’m not talking gibberish. ‘It’s sad, really sad, but we both deserve the chance to be happy again, away from each other.’ And there is a pain in my heart that will leave a deep scar because we couldn’t make the distance together. ‘I can’t go back to our old life, the same things. This is about moving forward, wherever it takes me. And I have no idea how things are going to turn out. But I need to try.’ I look at them both. ‘I’m not going back. I’m here to stay. So, if you’ve come to persuade me otherwise, you’re wasting your time. But if you’ve come to stay here as my friends, I’m delighted to have you. As long as you don’t mind doing a bit of painting!’ I suddenly laugh. I have never felt clearer about anything in my life. I lift my glass.
After a moment of stunned silence, Rhi says, ‘I better get that brush out, then!’ She picks up her wine and smiles.
‘Best we order another bottle first!’ says Lou. The three of us clink glasses.
‘To new beginnings,’ I say. ‘What is it Dr Seuss said? “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”’
‘I’ll let Ollie know,’ says Lou, grappling for her rhinestone-decorated phone, and we smile. They understand. This is me. This is now and I’m not going back.
‘I’ve told Ollie. He knows. He just has to accept it,’ I say sadly.
‘To new beginnings,’ they both say, and Henri smiles from the kitchen door. The smell of bouillabaisse, the rich tomatoey fish stew with thyme, fennel and garlic, reaches us and tells us lunch is on its way. Henri places a big basket of crusty bread on the table that I know we’ll be using to mop up the juices at the bottom of our bowls. I’m happy. And I can’t help but think Le Petit Mas has had a lot to do with it. Henri was right: it seems to have healing powers for those who stay there.
Carine passes us as we’re finishing our meal and I introduce Rhi and Lou to her.
‘Enchantée,’ she says, shaking their hands.
‘Will you stay and have a drink with us, Carine?’ I ask, pointing to a chair.
‘I’d love to, but I have an appointment. A date!’ She grins naughtily. ‘But I will see you all soon!’ She swishes her smart dark bob and carries on through the town in the direction of le mairie.
After lunch, we walk back unsteadily along the riverbank after our second bottle of rosé, and an extra glass each on Henri, then up the hill towards Le Petit Mas. Ralph bounds up to us, jumping at Lou and leaving his pawprints on her white trousers. But even she sees the f
unny side. At the side of the house the lavender plants, in the shade, are waiting to be dug into the ground. Tomas runs to us and Stephanie is behind him, wiping her hands on a tea towel, looking very much at home.
‘All okay?’ I ask Stephanie, hoping that a little time on her own has helped her.
She nods. ‘Fabien came. He put together the beds, left the paint in the hall and the other stuff in the kitchen. And the lavender.’
‘Thank you,’ I say.
‘And I made a quiche, for le diner, with salade,’ she says. I think it might be her way of saying sorry. Whatever it is, it fills my heart.
‘Wonderful!’ I say. We made a quiche together one evening – to produce one on her own is a big step forward. I put my arm around her and she gives a huge smile.
‘And Fabien?’ I ask.
‘He had to get back,’ she says.
It’s for the best, I think. No complications, but my heart is still saying otherwise.
That evening we sit outside, listening to the birds and the chorus coming from the river at the bottom of my field.
‘What’s that noise?’ says Rhi, who, having said she’d never be able to eat anything after all that lunch, has tucked into Stephanie’s quiche and salad, then had seconds.
‘Frogs,’ I say.
‘Frogs?’
‘Yes, frogs,’ I repeat. ‘Down by the river.’
‘La grenouille,’ says Stephanie to me, and I repeat it back to her.
Tomas jumps down from his seat and hops about. ‘Ribbit, ribbit!’ We all laugh.
‘So, what happened to his father?’ Lou asks, in her usual direct way.
Rhi gives her a nudge and I turn to Stephanie.
‘Did he leave you? Mine did,’ says Rhi, trying to smooth over any awkwardness. ‘But my kids are doing great. One’s in college and the other’s working. It’s getting better. If you think these years are hard, wait till he’s a teenager! Sorry …’
‘Nothing to be sorry for,’ I tell her. ‘I was a teenager too once! I remember how awful I was. I just wish I could have said sorry to my mum.’
