‘Here you go.’ Olivier hands me a steaming mug of coffee and sits on the chair to my right.
‘I enjoyed tonight,’ I say, between blowing into my coffee and taking cautious sips; the roof of my mouth is still rough from yesterday’s hot coffee incident.
He smiles. ‘Me too.’
We sip our coffees until Olivier breaks the silence.
‘So, just one more place to visit until you complete the journey of your great-grandfather. Are you ready for it?’
‘I think so.’ I swallow. ‘Would you be able to come with me?’ I look at him hopefully.
‘I wouldn’t let you go without me.’ Olivier glances down at his cup, shakes it and drinks the last of his coffee before rinsing the cup and putting it to drain by the sink.
‘Did your son get his perm?’
The mention of Kieran hits me like a club to the stomach. I haven’t thought about him in days, never mind checked in on his latest hair fads. It’s so unlike me and the feeling of guilt penetrates my wine-infused merriment.
‘I don’t actually know,’ I say honestly. ‘I feel like a terrible parent – I don’t even know what hairstyle my son has! I’ll have to call him tomorrow.’
‘Home feels so far away when you’re on holiday.’ Olivier’s comment is flippant and he’s right, but I must keep up to date with my home life. I’ll be heading back there, after all, and soon, Olivier will be a distant memory. There’s that club to the stomach again.
‘Are you okay?’ he asks, picking up on the sadness, no doubt etched in my worry lines.
‘I was just thinking about how sad I’ll be when I do have to leave here.’
Olivier’s face doesn’t move, but I notice his jaw tense and relax, and then he smiles. ‘We’ll have to make sure you make the most of your time here then, won’t we?’
‘I don’t really know what else there is to see until I go to Paris, other than Ypres of course,’ I say. ‘I’ve done what I came here to do.’
‘There’s lots to see. There are plenty more World War I sites to visit, you could move on to the Second World War or visit more vineyards or the coast or—’
I giggle. ‘I get it. I just wish I’d planned my time better. I have a week left and don’t want to waste it. I could do with a rest day, though. Jackie wore me out shopping today.’
He laughs. Well, I’ve got to go into the office in the morning for a few hours, but I’m not running an excursion so I’ll come back and we can spend the day relaxing here if you like? Who knows, a rest day might be what you need to really plan out your last few days.’
‘That sounds like a plan.’ And hanging around here would certainly beat hanging around in my bedsit.
After chatting for a while, Olivier shows me to the guest room. It’s a cosy double room with an en suite and it feels like a penthouse suite after staying in my grubby little studio.
‘Here’s a T-shirt to sleep in, and there are clean towels in the bathroom and spare toothbrushes and things, but if you need anything else, just let me know.’
‘Thank you,’ I say, holding his gaze for too long.
‘Goodnight, Cath,’ he whispers.
‘Goodnight,’ I whisper back, but he doesn’t budge, and instead, we continue to look into one another’s eyes with our faces just a foot apart.
He runs his finger up my arm slowly, tracing my collarbone when he gets to the top. My body is frozen, aside from the parts directly beneath his touch, which fizz with warmth.
He rests his forehead on mine as he takes a step in, close enough that our bodies touch from the knees up. Using his head, he gently pushes mine back and our lips meet. I pull his shirt, wanting to feel him as close as possible, and he pushes me back up against the wall and jams his knee between my legs, pinning me against the solid surface. The kissing gets faster and I weave my fingers through his hair, clutching handfuls of it for dear life. This is not addressing the problem, Cath! My subconscious is screaming but I ignore her. I’m having this moment and keeping it in my memory forever.
He breaks away. We’re both panting. I haven’t been kissed like that ever, I don’t think. ‘I’ve wanted to do that all night,’ he whispers in my ear. His hot breath sends tingles down my spine. ‘Goodnight, madame. I’ll see you for breakfast,’ he says, before leaving.
He leaves me slumped against the wall.
Wanting more.
Chapter Twenty-Six
When I wake up, I’ve no clue of the time. The wine has left me groggy but so has the lack of sleep. It took me ages to drop off after that kiss, and I’m beginning to think Olivier should come with his own personal warning label: Caution! May Cause Insomnia.
I trundle downstairs, encouraged by the delicious smell of sweet pastry. ‘Good morning,’ Olivier shouts cheerfully from the kitchen.
‘Morning,’ I say slowly, wondering what on earth is going on. ‘Are you baking? It smells gorgeous.’
‘I woke up early so I made a tarte au citron, which is my speciality. Then I made fresh croissants for breakfast.’ He looks pleased with himself and I can’t blame him – they look tons better than the fresh bakery ones at work.
‘I’m impressed,’ I say as he places a warm croissant in front of me. I sit on the barstool and tug at the bottom of the T-shirt, which now feels incredibly revealing.
‘I couldn’t sleep. Baking relaxes me so I thought I’d start off the pastry and head back to bed, but I just got into the groove.’ He looks up from buttering his croissant and flashes me a half-smile.
The warm, buttery taste of the croissant is to die for, and I feel no shame in asking for a second. The food is almost enough to mask the huge elephant in the room, but I feel silly bringing it up. I don’t really know the protocol for hot, steamy kisses and whether or not they require a debrief. I just know that I do.
‘I need to head into work for a few hours. You can make yourself at home. It’s a nice day so you could enjoy the garden.’ He walks over to the patio doors and swings open the curtains. To my surprise, there’s a small outdoor swimming pool set into the crazy-paved patio, with two wooden sun loungers by the side.
My insides squeeze with glee. ‘Ooh, you have a pool,’ I blurt. ‘It looks like my idea of heaven.’
‘We don’t always get a long swimming season here in northern France, but the weather for the past few weeks has been great so I’ve finally had some use. Feel free to relax out there. Elena is going to pop round soon with some things you might need.’
My chest fizzes with excitement. This house, the pool, Olivier. It’s like a dream, or a Disney bubble or something. It’s a far cry from my terraced house back home, so I don’t take much persuading.
Olivier has been gone about twenty minutes when the doorbell rings. I can see through the glass panel to the right of the door that it’s Elena. I swing the door open. ‘Hi.’
‘Good morning. Did you sleep well?’ she asks and her words are layered with additional meaning.
‘I did. It was a much comfier bed than the one at my studio.’ There’s no point going into how I still couldn’t get to sleep for other reasons.
‘Good.’ She pauses as though contemplating another question, and a part of me wants her to ask what’s on the tip of her tongue, but instead she holds out a shopping bag. ‘Anyway, I have to get to work, but I brought you some essentials. There’s a swimsuit in there, which should fit you. I haven’t worn it because I bought it then changed my mind and forgot to return it. Don’t tell that to Olivier, though – he hates that I’m so careless with money.’ She winks.
‘Thank you, this is great. It’s a shame you can’t join me.’ And I really mean that. Some girlie company is just what I need.
‘Sorry. Another time maybe.’ She hugs me and skips down the driveway to her car. ‘Bye!’ she shouts and then she leaves. Everything is silent: the house, the fields outside, me. I take the bag inside and empty it onto the kitchen counter. I’m relieved to see the swimming costume is plain black. Being a sweetheart, Elena h
as also thrown in sunglasses, sun cream and a few French magazines. Soon, I’m lounging by the pool like a movie star, wishing every day could be like this one.
Remembering my plans to ring Kieran, I take out my phone. There is a good chance he won’t be up yet, but I decide to ring anyway. As I suspected, it goes to voicemail after a few rings so I leave a message in the hope he’ll get back to me.
‘Hi, it’s me: Mum. Just wanted to see how you are. Call me back. I think it’s free now to call abroad but if not I’ll p—’ Beep. I sigh. They never give you long enough to speak.
While I have my phone out, I decide to ring Kaitlynn.
‘You stayed over!’ she shrieks down the phone when I fill her in. I imagine a flock of birds leaving her vicinity immediately.
‘Only out of convenience, don’t get all excited,’ I say. ‘His house is amazing. It’s a rustic pile in the countryside. I’m currently lounging by his outside pool.’ I allow some uncharacteristically girlie excitement to tinge my tone.
She gasps. ‘No way?’
‘Yes way. But pools and houses aside, I do really like Olivier. He’s just so …’ I can’t describe him without coming over all gushy and I don’t want her to think I’ve fallen for him or anything so I go for an anecdote. ‘He baked a lemon tart this morning because he couldn’t sleep. I haven’t tasted it yet, but it looks and smells amazing.’
‘Are you sure he isn’t a figment of your imagination? Who the hell wakes up and rustles up a bloody lemon tart?’
I’m smiling. ‘I don’t know. He’s just different from the men back home, or at least the ones in Berrybridge.’
‘I’m lucky if I can get a guy to pop to Gregg’s for me, never mind whip up a bloomin’ pastry. So has anything happened between the two of you?’
I pause. On one hand, if I tell her, it will make it a thing, and I’m trying for it not to be one, but on the other hand, I really need to tell someone and I don’t know when I’ll next see Jackie. I can’t talk to Elena about her brother, and I think I’ll go mad if I don’t let someone know. ‘We’ve kissed. Twice.’
She gasps. ‘Oh my God. Is it a full-on holiday romance?’
‘No, I don’t think so. We’ve been spending time sightseeing together but really, that’s just his job so there’s nothing to read into there. Last night, his sister had invited me round for dinner; he was there. We were tipsy and got caught up in the moment. We slept alone, though, before you ask.’
‘Hang on, you said you kissed twice. What happened with the other kiss?’
‘He took me to his friend’s vineyard and set up this beautiful picnic for us. He kissed me there but again, it was just being in the moment.’
‘Are you blind or incredibly dim?’
‘Excuse me?’ I’m quite taken aback.
‘How do you get caught up in the moment twice? The man has taken you off on a picnic, which I’m guessing had nothing to do with his tour company? You’ve met his family for dinner and now you’re lounging by his pool. Do you really think that nothing is going on?’ She sounds frustrated.
‘I know how it seems, but we’re just having fun. I’m coming home soon so what would be the point in anything happening between us?’
‘I think it’s too late for questions like that,’ she says solemnly. ‘Be careful, Cath.’
I laugh nervously. ‘I will. I am.’
‘Well okay then, but you at least need to admit to yourself that this is more than a holiday fling.’
‘Maybe if I was your age I would.’
She sighs. ‘Well, keep me posted and I’m here for you, okay?’
‘Of course.’
We say our goodbyes, and when I put my phone away, I start thinking about her words. If she thinks this thing between Olivier and me is a big deal, am I just deluding myself? I push myself to think about going home. I’ve always known it was coming, but I hadn’t actually thought about how it would be going home to my empty house.
I close my eyes and imagine it. Saying goodbye to everyone here, boarding the train and arriving home to my empty nest before heading back to the supermarket job I know and love.
I can do that. It’s what I’ve done for years.
I force myself to think deeper, to think about actually saying goodbye to just Olivier, and my chest clenches so hard it’s painful. Maybe Kaitlynn is right. I think about calling her back to see if she has any answers, but I already know what she’ll say. She’ll tell me to step back because I’ll get hurt. She’ll tell me to focus on why I came here. There’s only one old romantic I know who could possibly offer any advice. It just won’t be quick.
I open Facebook Messenger on my phone and go to the message Martha sent me. I smile at the familiar partially punctuated, caps lock text but feel bad for not replying sooner.
HI CATH HES MARRIED. I WOULD NOT HAVE GUESSED THAT. ARE YOU SURE M XX
Still smiling, I tap out my reply.
Hi Martha,
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to reply. I’ve moved out of the hotel and don’t have Wi-Fi in my new studio. Anyway, I’m glad you arrived home safely and I can certainly say that France isn’t the same without you ladies here. Anyway, your instinct was right. Olivier is single. Basically, I’d put two and two together and won a loaf of bread.
I actually wanted to ask your advice on something. Olivier and I have grown quite close (Calm down – I know you’re squealing!). We’ve even kissed. The problem is, I’m leaving in six days and wonder if I’ve let things go too far and if I should cut all ties with him now before it gets messy.
Give Harry a hug from me.
Cath x
I stare at the text with my finger hovering over the delete button, but instead, I hit send. What the heck do I have to lose?
To distract myself, I pick up one of the magazines Elena brought. They look just like the glossy, celeb-filled mags I see every day by the tobacco counter at work, except I don’t recognise the cover girl. I flick through but my basic French skills don’t afford me any word recognition, so I settle for looking at the pictures and imagining what the words say. I’ve fabricated a very interesting story about an obvious plastic surgery addict when my phone buzzes. It’s a message. My heart skips. It’s from Martha.
SO GREAT TO HEAR FROM YOU HONEY. FOUND THE FULL STOP BUTTON NOW. DARN EYEPAD. STILL CANT TURN OFF CAPS. ANYWAY BACK TO YOUR PROBLEM. YOU HAVE TO FOLLOW YOUR HEART HONEY BECAUSE IN LIFE THERE IS LITTLE ALL ELSE. IF YOU WANT TO SPEND TIME WITH THAT MAN THEN YOU SHOULD. WHAT IS THE POINT IN STOPPING NOW. HAVING YOUR HEART BROKEN A FEW DAYS EARLIER WONT MAKE ONE HELL OF A DIFFERENCE. YOULL JUST SPOIL THE LAST FEW DAYS OF YOUR HOLIDAY AND EITHER WAY YOURE GOING HOME SAD. BUT YOU NEVER KNOW. LOVE IS POWERFUL AND IF YOU TWO ARE SUPPOSED TO BE TOGETHER THEN YOU SHALL BE. KEEP ME POSTED. M XX
I rub my eyes. The capitals and lack of punctuation make the message a bit hard to read but her message is clear. She’s right – what’s the point in moping around for the next six days? I will still be sad to leave either way so I might as well enjoy my time here.
Then something occurs to me. Olivier. Shouldn’t I talk to him about this? He might be having the exact same mental dilemma. I suddenly feel all hot and clammy so I jump in the pool, hoping the cold shock will clear my head, but it’s a lovely temperature.
I spend an hour drying off in the sun and pop into the house in search of juice. I glance at the bookshelf in the lounge on my way past and see the book Olivier was reading when I met him in the café that day: All The Light We Cannot See. He’s finished it I notice, as I run my finger down the spine, unsure if that bears any significance. He’s committed.
I find the orange juice and glasses and pour myself a drink. I can’t help but want to look around the house. There must be some undesirable qualities that this man has. The laundry room is clean and tidy. Just a pile of neatly folded bedding sits atop the washer waiting to be put away. The kitchen has been cleaned post-bake-off and the tarte sits on a wire cooling rack. There is an immaculate open-
plan dining area with a vase of freshly cut flowers on a sideboard behind the table amidst ornaments of various shapes and sizes. The door by the front entrance opens into a downstairs loo, which has scented candles on the windowsill. He’s like Gary’s polar opposite, I think with a smile.
I shouldn’t be snooping, I tell myself, but I can’t stop; it’s like a compulsion. I’m already climbing the wooden stairs to the first floor. The room I stayed in is off to the right, and I can see the house bathroom and two more doors off the landing. I open the first. It’s a small study with a pine desk, a computer and hundreds of travel guides and information books mostly centring on the war. Nothing unusual here.
The other door must lead into his room. Opening it feels like a real invasion of privacy, but my hand is already twisting the knob. As the door creaks open, I’m greeted by the sight of a perfectly made bed. I let out a small laugh and slump against the door. There isn’t so much as a pair of jeans strewn over the chair in the corner. This man is immaculate. I walk over to the window, just curious about the view he sees each morning, and I’m not disappointed. Fields of green and yellow stretch as far as the eye can see. There are hills in the distance, and below the sill is the grey patio and pool, framed by a neatly cut green lawn.
A feeling of sadness hits me on Olivier’s behalf. He has this wonderful life and nobody to share it with. He obviously would like to find someone. I can tell by the way he is around me, and because he kissed me. But I’m just not the right someone for him. I’m the warm-up act getting him ready for the real talent. Martha overlooked one vital detail in her message: Olivier’s feelings.
As I turn to leave, I notice a small pill bottle on the bedside table. I’m on autopilot as I cross the room and pick it up with a trembling hand. It’s a prescription bottle but the name and date have worn off. I’ve seriously invaded his privacy now. I place the bottle back down, fussing with the position to make sure it’s exactly as I found it. Then I slip out, close the door and go back to the pool area.
It Started With a Note Page 21
