You can’t stop me. I’ve already booked the flights and Brad and I have been officially welcomed to stay for the weekend by your mother.
See you soon ;-)
Chapter Thirteen
Every great dream begins with a dreamer. Always remember, you have within you the strength, the patience, and the passion to reach for the stars to change the world.
Harriet Tubman
After we showered and Maxi started grumbling downstairs, reminding Leo he hadn’t had any breakfast yet, we both realised we were starving hungry too so Leo popped to the Boulangerie, coming back with a selection of pastries.
“I can’t believe we forgot the pizza last night.” I pull on yesterday’s clothes. It will actually be a first for me, to do a walk of shame. Although I’m not actually ashamed and I have only got to pop next door.
I sit down next to Leo on the sofa and attack a pain au raisin with relish, amazed at how ravenous I am.
“I can, we were otherwise occupied.” Leo munches on a croissant.
“I don’t know where the time went,” I say, bemused at how quickly the evening passed while Leo and I were locked in our own little world.
I still can’t quite believe the things we did, or how powerfully emotional it would be. I’m trying to play down the emotional side because I don’t want to scare Leo off. I really am trying to live by my own rules now but there are some universal truths that every woman knows about dating. Anything that’s too intense or borderline stalkery is a definite no-no.
For the moment I feel wonderful. I can still feel where Leo thrust inside me and I savour every sensation. I’m floating on clouds of endorphins and happy hormones and I don’t want to come down. Why risk ruining a perfectly nice post-sex breakfast with talk about emotions?
“Thank you, that was delicious,” I say once we’ve finished eating.
“Are you thanking me for the sex or the pastries?” Leo’s mouth quirks in a way that tugs at me, deep down.
I wonder if that’s because he’s got me hooked. It’s that magnetic cord between us – it would explain why every time he smiles I feel a corresponding tug. I’ve been reeled in and not yet thrown back into the sea. I say “not yet” because, while all this is new territory for me – the connection, the fantastic sex and the “coup de foudre” – maybe lightning bolt attractions and great sex are a fairly normal occurrence for Leo. Who knows? I don’t, and I haven’t a clue how to ask. Or if I even want to ask.
On other subjects, Leo seems to be opening up. As though us finally having sex has breached an emotional dam. He talks about why he’s come home, his guilt that he wasn’t here when his sister and niece died and his fears for his father’s health.
“He is the Mairie of the village, you know, the mayor?”
I nod.
“But with everything else I think it’s too much for him. You know he hasn’t been well?”
“He had an operation that didn’t go too well?”
“Yes, a bad infection. But it’s more than that. He just doesn’t seem to be getting better. Also he’s in the early stages of Parkinson’s and I don’t think my parents have taken that diagnosis in. They didn’t even tell me. I only found that part out because I spoke to the doctor at the hospital myself. You’re the only other person in the village who knows.” Leo runs his hands through his dark hair, making it even more dishevelled than usual. The frown lines between his eyes are back. I thought they were part of a general glower when we first met but I see now they’re a sign of worry, not bad temper.
“That’s really hard for you. And they won’t talk about it to you?”
Leo shakes his head. “No, my mother says there’s no point worrying about it yet, that the doctors may be wrong and I’m not sure my father even remembers being given the diagnosis.”
“I suppose you just have to be there to help when they need it. It’s their choice how to deal with it. Maybe they need some time to process things and cope with it in their own way,” I say. “There must be a lot of responsibility with taking care of the chateau and the vineyard. Who does all that?”
“We had an estate manager who turned out to be untrustworthy.” Leo’s frown deepens. “There were financial irregularities, I think that is the polite way to say it. My parents wanted to be polite, so I fired him without going to the police. We have someone new now, hopefully things will turn around for us. We are due some good luck.”
Leo shakes his head and lets out a long, deep sigh. I reach out to squeeze his hand, touched that he’s confided in me.
“Maybe you are my good luck Poppy.” He smiles.
Tug, tug, tug. I bite my lip, silently begging him not to throw me back in the sea. I don’t want to lose this sense of emotional connection between us.
“If those prints are Goya your parents won’t have anything to worry about, not financially anyway,” I say. “Is it possible something so rare could be set aside and forgotten?”
Leo shrugs. “Maybe. My great grandfather was notoriously forgetful. They’d call it dementia nowadays I suppose. He was the one who started the chateau’s art collection and built up the library. He befriended many of the great artists who came to the south of France.”
“I still haven’t seen the art, I can’t believe you managed to distract me so I could forget how much I wanted to see it.”
Leo replies by leaning forward and kissing me, sensuously, slowly, his tongue stirring desire deep inside me. Then he pulls back and raises a questioning eyebrow.
“Okay, you arrogant sod. I can believe you distracted me.” I roll my eyes.
“You’ll just have to come back another time. After all it’s not like you’re going anywhere, is it?” Leo asks, his tone light but his gaze serious and watchful.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I reply firmly. “Except back home at some point before the terrible trio assume I’ve abandoned them forever and start a howling competition.”
Leo nods and I shift closer to him on the sofa, resting my head against his chest and swivelling my legs over his lap. We sit like that for a while, in a posture that feels emotionally intimate rather than overtly sexual.
“You know you should convert one of the empty barns into an art gallery,” I say. As I’m enjoying the warmth and intimacy my mind is going into overdrive. “You could split it into two halves, one half the collection and the other half a space for local artists to sell their work. You’d get a commission from any art sold and then you could funnel the tourists straight onto a wine tasting, to a ‘buy direct from our vineyard’ experience.”
“I suppose, that’s an idea.” Leo rubs his chin. “I’ve been saying we should get in on the tourist wine tasting trail for ages.”
“The art would give you an added edge.” I sit up, excited. “The venture might get a grant, particularly if we could get St Quentin into the Plus Merveilleux Villages de France guide. Gran and I used the guide all the time when we picked where to visit. I bet it would benefit all the other local businesses too.”
“Including the new guesthouse you’re opening?” Leo laughs.
“Of course.” I grin. But actually I hadn’t been thinking of myself when I had the idea, I just wanted to help Leo.
Leo rubs the stubble on his chin again. “You know it might be an idea. I’ll look into it. It would be a good idea to have a village meeting, if it turns out we might be eligible.”
“I ought to get back to the dogs. They get anxious if I’m away from them for too long,” I say reluctantly, not wanting to move from Leo’s lap. I could go to sleep again quite happily like this, if my three little ones were lined up next to Maxi in front of the stove.
Leo pulls me onto his lap, pushing up my skirt so I’m straddling him.
“They can wait for you a little longer Poppy. It’s still early and right now I need you.”
“Again?”
“Again,” Leo confirms, pulling me down hard onto the tangible evidence of his need.
“Well if you need me, I
suppose I can stay a little longer,” I say, pretending reluctance while all the time my body is melting at his touch and reacting to his “need.”
“Stay forever,” Leo murmurs into my neck, making my skin tingle and my head spin. Does he mean it, or is this just sex talking?
I wish I could trust it, trust Leo, trust my own judgement. My head is spinning but all the while my heart is softening, opening up and offering itself to Leo just as my body surrenders to him utterly and unconditionally.
“I’m yours,” I whisper the text I never had the courage to send. “Anytime, anywhere, any way you want me.”
Leo swears and groans while grabbing my hips and squeezing, his “need” instantly more tangible. The words turn me on almost as much as they do Leo.
My body and heart are Leo’s. It is only in my mind that fear lingers.
Daydream Designs – Poppy’s blog
It’s turned out to be a very busy month. We’ve had gloriously sunny weather here in St Quentin and I’ve got my first village meeting coming up soon. In the meantime I’ve been busy getting the house ready to receive paying guests and getting my head around all the rules and regulations.
The latest Fenella Fairy illustrations have been approved, and I’ve received a commission to paint some donkeys! I’ve posted a few of my journal sketches here for you to see. I’ve never really thought that much about donkeys to be honest but there seem to be so many here in rural France – something to do with subsidies and a cheap way to keep the grass down, if I’ve understood my local sources correctly. It’s possible I’ve got that wrong, but my French is definitely improving now I’m living here. And that’s despite the fact that whenever someone realises my nationality they switch to English. I’m never sure if that’s an insult to my language skills or because the other person is either trying to be kind to me or to improve their English.
However, living next door to a donkey sanctuary has made me realise just how much character they have. It’s given me an exciting idea for a project but I can’t give you the details yet. You’ll just have to wait :-)
I wave at Michelle as she walks through the tiny arrivals area at Carcassonne airport. It’s one of the smallest airports I’ve been to, there’s no danger of missing anyone.
I give her a fierce hug and fight the irrational desire to burst into tears.
“Hey, I quite like my ribs unbroken.” Michelle laughs and pulls away from me. “Cute airport, and wow it’s hot here!”
“I told you it was. It’s a hard time of year to pack for – getting seriously hot during the day but still quite cool at night.” I eye her hoodie. “You’ll bake in that.”
“Well it was pissing it down at Stanstead airport, really miserable weather.” Michelle gazes up at the cloudless blue sky. “I wish I’d packed my sunglasses. I don’t think I’ve seen them since my hen weekend in Ibiza.”
“Really?” I make a mental note to hide my sunglasses when I get home. I always wondered where they came from. Mystery solved.
As we make our way to the Mini Michelle stops gawping at the surroundings to give me the once over.
“You’ve changed Poppy.”
“Have I?” I ask absentmindedly while feeding coins into the car park ticket machine.
“You’re all glowy.”
“Glowy?” I smile.
“Well you’re the one who’s always telling me the English language only evolved in the first place because people made up new words.” Michelle grins at me. “You’re all sun-kissed and vet-kissed. That must be it, a combination of the two.”
“No comment.” I grin widely, remembering exactly where Leo did kiss me last night.
“Where are the littl’uns? I was hoping for a doggy welcome. Not that I didn’t appreciate the hug, but your dogs have a way of making me feel like my arrival is the most exciting event of their little lives.”
“Joanna’s looking after them.” I unlock the Mini and we pile in, throwing Michelle’s cabin-sized case into the back. It practically doubles the cost of the flight if you want to pack any hold luggage.
“And Joanna is?” Michelle asks. “You didn’t mention her in your emails.”
“She’s English, she’s been staying with me, helping me get the house decorated and ready for guests.”
“How much are you paying her?” Michelle has that look in her eyes I know so well – the “I need to stop someone taking advantage of Poppy” look.
“I’m not really, I give her a bit here and there. We’ve decided to say she’s the dog’s au pair if anyone asks. Or just a friend helping out.” I turn to look Michelle directly in the eye. “She needed a job that gave her bed and board, she’s great with the dogs and I think she’s running from an abusive ex or something.”
“As long as she’s not ripping you off.”
“If anyone’s doing the ripping off it’s me. I feel bad about it but she’s really grateful to have somewhere to stay and she likes decorating. It saves my hands for illustration.”
“Okay, that’s good then.” Michelle knows how stressed I was by my arthritis prognosis and falls quiet.
When I turn to glance at her she’s staring out at the scenery, at the vineyards and orchards lining the road. The sunflowers haven’t quite come out yet here, but I can’t wait to show her the Saint Quentin sunflower fields, already in full, glorious bloom.
I’ve decided to drive the long way round so she gets to see the fantastic view of Carcassonne that still takes my breath away even now.
“Wow, that’s amazing, I can’t believe I didn’t know it existed,” Michelle exclaims when she sees the extent of the castle city. “I watched Robin Hood Prince of Thieves last night and I found a film version of Labyrinth online after you told me about it, I didn’t have time to read the book. Don’t pull that face. Wait until you have children and then you’ll understand about not having time to read.”
“If I have children, we’ll see.” I don’t look at Michelle, knowing she’ll see the fear in my eyes, that I’m running out of time.
“You’ve got plenty of time,” she says, reminding me of her best friend telepathy skills.
I’m glad she doesn’t say anything about Leo. We’ve only just begun whatever it is between us. For me it’s an amazing ride I don’t ever want to get off. I have no idea how he feels or if it’s going to lead anywhere serious.
“So what have you been up to? I saw on your blog you said something about drawing donkeys and another project. What is it? You can’t keep it secret from me, you’re not allowed.”
“I want to write and illustrate my own children’s book,” I explain. “So, not just stick to commissioned freelance work. The donkey watercolours I’m working on are for the veterinary surgery and before you say anything it was Angeline, the other vet who asked me to do them, before Leo and I got together.”
Got together. Such a casual phrase for a passionate, astounding bolt from the blue. I understand the phrase “eye-opener” properly for the first time. I seem to be seeing a lot of things in a new light recently. My day dreams are no longer subtle blurs of watercolour but vivid bursts of technicolour that I could splash over wall-sized canvases.
“That’s great, I’ve been on at you to do more of your own work for ages.” Michelle beams. “You know what I think has happened Poppy?”
“What?”
“You’ve gone from day dreaming to actually living the dream and it’s transforming you. I can’t believe how different you look and it’s not just the tan, it’s … you.” Michelle beams. “I’m so pleased for you, really. Whatever this Leo is doing for you I think I approve already.”
“I think it’s more than that. It’s being here, being free to change. Leo is just a part of it and he supports me, you know, he encourages me to try new things.”
“I bet he does.” Michelle giggles and I roll my eyes.
“No seriously, it’s great to find someone who actually thinks my daydreaming is a good thing and likes me being a bit eccentric.”
I don’t have enough superlatives to describe how I feel about Leo’s support. I just wish I knew how long I’d have it for. I should try to live in the moment, I know I should. But still, a part of me yearns for some security or at least a smidgen of hope that we’re moving towards a mutual understanding. That we belong, not to each other as such, but with each other.
If only it were the kind of thing you could talk about upfront. Maybe I should try it. After all, if Leo wasn’t fazed by my asking if he planned to murder me for my house, then surely he can handle a question about whether or not we’re an item.
Hmm.
The thing is, I don’t think I could handle another rejection or a “we’re just having a bit of fun, yeah?” type statement. Not that I can see Leo ever saying anything like that but if he doesn’t feel the same as me I know I’ll be utterly crushed.
“You’re thinking about him aren’t you?” Michelle asks. “Leo I mean, not Pete.”
“Stop reading my mind, I forgot how annoying it is,” I pretend to huff.
“I’ve missed you too, hun.” Michelle blows me a kiss. “These villages are so pretty, I love all the shutters and the cobbled streets. It’s so … French.”
“That would be because we’re in France.”
“Very funny. But seriously you’re so lucky to live here. Do you regret moving at all? What do you miss from England?”
I think hard.
“I don’t really miss anything from England, except you. Oh, and ginger biscuits. I can’t find them anywhere over here.”
“How flattering that I’m put on a par with a ginger biscuit.” Michelle pouts.
“You know I love ginger biscuits. And as for whether I regret anything the only thing I regret is trusting Pete and counting on his contribution to make things work.”
“You’ll manage without him, won’t you?” Michelle asks. “You’ve got to make this work. I’ve never seen you so, well, glowy.”
“I’ll make it work.”
For the first time this feels like a statement of intent, not an expression of hope.
Poppy's Place in the Sun Page 24
