by Lucy Coleman
Fortunately, Sam seems to have disappeared and by the time he returns I’ve managed to repoint half a row. Considering the wall is some forty feet in length, I’m rather pleased with myself. Until I see his face. He’s staring down at my tools, as I’m using the long-bristled brush to dust off a few stray bits and tidy up my efforts.
‘What on earth?’
He moves his eyes from the floor, to my face and back again. Then he walks along the length of the wall. I stand back, trying to look at the results of my efforts objectively, and comparing them to the top third of the wall.
‘That’s not a bad job, but I have to see this in action.’
The disposable latex gloves allow me to easily slide the mortar off the lid of the tin with accuracy, as I hold it against the joint to be filled. I scoop it into the void with the plastic knife and because the blade is a small surface it packs the stuff in quite nicely without getting very much on either side of the face of the stones. I work along the gap quite quickly, then change tools, picking up the plastic spoon. I use the handle, which is bevelled in a similar way to Sam’s old bucket handle, but is a better fit, to glide along the irregular surface. There isn’t much left to clean off once it’s a little drier and I stand back, watching the expression on Sam’s face.
‘Well, I’m actually almost speechless. And it’s not a bad job, at all.’
‘You’re happy for me to continue?’
‘Yes. I can’t guarantee not to laugh, though, if I walk through the door forgetting what I’ve seen. And if my dad appears, you make it clear that this,’ he points to my tools lying on the floor, ‘wasn’t my idea.’
I feel weirdly elated as if I’ve achieved something.
‘It really isn’t a bad job, is it?’ I can’t help crowing a little as I scrutinise the wall. Although I say it myself, if the new mortar was dry I don’t think I could tell the difference between what Sam has done and where I’ve taken over.
As he walks out of the door carrying a long piece of wood marked ready to cut, he throws a laugh over his shoulder.
‘I hope Viv has a large stock of plastic cutlery. I don’t usually work at the weekends but I’m working tomorrow if you’re up for it. I need to move things along now.’
‘Great.’ Well, my head says great, but my arm muscles are saying something else entirely.
Welcome to the Village
At the end of the second day of working alongside Sam, I need a long soak in the bath to ease my sore muscles. Even with my improvised tools, the fact that my arms have been working at shoulder height for two whole days has been a shock to the system. I’m sure the muscles I usually use at work are grateful for the rest, but I can’t recall ever aching quite so much.
When I eventually manage to drag myself out of the bath and dress I do, at least, feel refreshed. I heard car doors slamming outside about half an hour ago and hope no one is put out that I’m arriving late to my own celebration dinner. Although it’s a buffet, I believe. Mum wouldn’t let me do anything at all to help, even though she spent virtually the whole day in the kitchen. She said that Sam’s mum, Sarah, was also bringing food, which is rather concerning. How much do they think six people can eat?
I throw on some skinny jeans and a summery top, give my hair a quick brush and put on a slick of lip gloss. This is rustic living and I’m sure I’ll do. Besides, it’s nice to feel relaxed and not to have to dress up, even if every single arm movement produces a groan.
As I descend the final flight of stairs I can tell by the volume of noisy chatter coming from the dining room that this is no intimate little buffet supper. As I push the door open a few inches and try to slide into the room unnoticed, I can’t believe what I see. Fortunately, the first pair of eyes that flash in my direction are Sam’s and he grabs a second glass of champagne and walks towards me.
‘You look shocked. What were you expecting?’
I wince as I raise my left hand to take the glass he offers me.
‘Well, not half the village, that’s for sure.’
We exchange smiles over the top of our champagne flutes.
‘Let me guess. Arm muscles are in revolt. I should have warned you, I’m sorry. But you have to be pleased with what you’ve achieved these last couple of days.’
I nod, trying not to make eye contact beyond Sam’s line of vision, but suddenly Dad spots me and raises his voice to shush everyone.
‘At last! She’s here.’ He heads straight towards me, Mum is close on his heels. Sam rather diplomatically stands to one side, a momentary look of commiseration on his face.
‘This is our lovely daughter, Anna.’
There’s shuffling as everyone turns to look in my direction and I can feel myself shrinking.
‘Hello.’ My voice has never sounded quite so small but it doesn’t seem to matter because Dad immediately takes over.
‘Can I ask everyone to please raise their glasses to toast what is a very special occasion for Viv and me. Having Anna here for the summer means so much to us, as do the wonderful friendships we’ve made since we arrived here. To family and friends, à votre santé.’
A chorus of voices chime in and, to my relief, within moments the room is once more full of general chatter. Mum turns to give me a hug.
‘Mum, you didn’t tell me you were inviting so many people. I would have made more of an effort if I’d known.’
‘You look fine,’ she whispers into my ear. ‘Perfect, in fact. It really is so wonderful to have you here with us, Anna. This was always our dream.’
‘Viv, shall I start handing out plates?’
Mum gives me a warm smile before heading off towards the buffet table with Dad. I look at Sam and he strides across to stand with me in the corner.
‘You can’t hide here all night, you know. You will be expected to talk to everyone at some point.’
‘But I don’t know anyone aside from you and your dad. And my French is patchy to say the least.’
He opens his eyes wide, feigning surprise. ‘And I thought you were a woman of unlimited talents. Everyone here speaks at least a little English, so you’ll be fine. The tall, wiry looking character standing to the left of your mum is Monsieur Bastien Deniaud and next to him is his wife, Agnés. He’s the mayor and you should head in his direction first. It’ll score you a lot of points.’
Sam winks at me and I stifle a laugh. His eyes move on to a much older woman who is in conversation with another couple.
‘That’s Madame Allard, she’s your nearest neighbour. She lives in the little cottage on the left just before you turn into the drive. She’s eighty years old but don’t be fooled by her meek and mild manner. She can be formidable from what I hear, but I don’t know her very well. The couple she’s talking to are Claude and Inès Gaubert. Come on over and I’ll introduce you.’
As we approach they all turn to look at Sam and he does a brief introduction.
‘Anna, Monsieur Gaubert here runs the village boulangerie and you won’t taste finer bread or croissants anywhere. Madame Gaubert runs the little épicerie next to the bakery and it’s the place to go to find out what’s happening in the village. I’m sure you will have noticed Madame Allard’s charming little cottage on the opposite side of the road.’
I receive a very warm reception and I briefly wonder what Mum and Dad have been saying about me.
‘My husband prefers fishing to making baguettes these days,’ Inès Gaubert informs me with a scowl. Claude is quick to respond.
‘Maybe it’s because I like a little peace and quiet.’
They aren’t arguing about that fact, merely acknowledging the truth of their situation. Inès shrugs her shoulders.
‘The world goes on around you, Claude, and you never know what’s going on. That’s why people come to me.’ She laughs and he gazes at her, the bond between them is quite touching and their easy banter has no edge to it at all. ‘Don’t you agree, Madame Allard?’
I don’t really catch the response as it’s in Frenc
h and spoken very quickly, but everyone begins laughing.
‘Madame Allard said that she’s simply grateful for the most wonderful croissants in the whole of France. And fish is so easy to digest.’
Now I understand the laughter.
Sam suggests we top up our drinks and I give a friendly nod of acknowledgement as we all part company. ‘It’s lovely to meet you all.’
I lean into Sam, keeping my voice low as we walk away.
‘Thank you. Your help is much appreciated. It’s all a little… embarrassing. I mean, coming back to live with my parents for six months, could be viewed as—’
‘Uh oh, prepare for the next assault.’ Sam grins as a couple approach us, smiling broadly. ‘Anna, this is my mum, Sarah, and you already know my dad, Neil.’
Neil gives me a nod and a smile. ‘We met when Anna came over for a few days earlier in the year.’
I step forward, honouring the French tradition of la bise, the air kiss. Thankfully I get it right, turning my cheek three times and reciprocating; often in the UK, people only turn their cheeks twice. Sarah follows it with a welcoming hug.
‘It’s so lovely to meet you in the flesh, at last, Anna. I’ve heard so much about you.’
Inwardly I groan. Having proud parents who insist on singing my praises, even though my life is in a complete and utter mess, makes me feel like a bit of a fraud.
‘And Sam says you’re a quick learner and the repointing is coming along nicely. He was very impressed and it’s wonderful that you can be here to get involved. Neil is so busy and turning work away. After helping your dad with his plumbing problems, he’s running way behind. It’s such a shame, though, as it’s not ideal to have major building work going on when paying guests are around.’
‘Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll get it sorted as quickly as humanly possible.’
‘I know you will, my son.’ Sarah places her hand on Sam’s cheek, a loving gesture that doesn’t seem to embarrass him in any way and I like that.
‘Sam’s a good teacher, even if he did make repointing look a whole lot easier than it is when I gave it a try.’
‘Fair play to you for having a go,’ Neil lifts his glass in my direction. I lift mine back at him and, forgetting about my arm, let out an involuntary groan. Sam and I exchange glances and start laughing.
Mum and Dad join us at that precise moment, wondering what the laughter is all about.
‘I seem to have discovered some muscles that I haven’t used in a long while. Okay, maybe never. Guess I’m not quite as fit as I thought I was, but it won’t stop me, I promise.’
‘I’ll hold you to that,’ Sam grins at me over the top of his glass and I notice a small smile creeping over Mum’s face. Now that’s something I need to make very clear to her. He’s not my type, but it’s also going to be a long time before I commit to a full-blown relationship again. Besides, I can sense that he hides more than he cares to share and the last thing I need is someone whose life story is more complicated than my own. He is attractive but my head is now ruling my wayward heart.
The fact that every time I pick up my phone I end up deleting a string of texts from Karl, is a sharp reminder of how messy things can get. From now on my gut instincts are in charge and they’re telling me that I’m safe around Sam because he has no agenda. No agenda at all, so it seems, other than heading off on holiday before too long.
And as for my own agenda? Well, I spend most of Sunday resting up and thinking about the future, mulling over the ideas I’ve spent the last month thinking about. It’s time to begin formulating a plan because procrastination is beginning to feel like merely a delaying tactic. When I go back to the UK I’m going to set up my own business and in future no one is going to be the boss of little old me.
Baa Baa Black Sheep
On Monday morning, Sam is back at work and he’s on good form. The studding for the plasterboard is flying up around me as I continue to work my way along the wall, one painstaking row at a time.
‘How long do you think this is going to take me?’ I talk to Sam over my shoulder, grateful that the run I’m currently working on is lower so isn’t quite such a stretch for my arms.
‘Probably a week, if you can keep up that pace. I’ll be honest with you, it takes a certain mindset to deal with a repetitive task like that. Some people would find it boring and lose interest.’
I stop and turn to face him.
‘It doesn’t bother me. In fact, it’s rather therapeutic and I find it relaxing. If only my muscles would stop complaining I’m sure I could work a little quicker.’
‘You’re the sort who prides themselves on finishing what they start, then?’ He looks up at me from his kneeling position as he marks off another line to cut on the timber in front of him.
‘Always. Can’t stand loose ends. And you?’
He sits back on his heels, resting the palms of his hands on his knees.
‘Me? I’m the black sheep of the family which makes life a lot simpler. I guess no one really expects me to tie up anything, anymore. My role is to make my brothers look good and that’s something I seem to excel at.’ He laughs, but I realise it’s to himself, rather than something he’s sharing with me.
I raise my eyebrows, surprised by his words. ‘I find that hard to believe. I wasn’t the only offspring enduring an outpouring of parental pride on Saturday night. Your work ethic is impressive and I can’t believe you are almost ready to start putting up the plasterboard. This is going to go from a shell to a blank canvas in no time at all.’
This time his laugh is abrupt, more like a self-deprecating snort.
‘I’m not a builder really, just a builder’s mate. I have no formal training. I learnt by watching my dad and working alongside him.’
I reluctantly turn back around, conscious that the mortar is drying and I can’t really stop and chat.
‘How long have you been living in France?’ I call, over my shoulder.
Sam, too, continues with what he’s doing and is already making his way to the door.
‘Three years, nearly. But I’m still living my life one day at a time.’ With that he disappears and it’s clear the conversation is over.
Admittedly, this is a strange life for a single guy who is probably not much older than I am, so maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven years old. Everyone I’ve met so far are Mum and Dad’s generation, or older. It’s a great place to settle if you’re in a permanent relationship, or have a young family, and finding a job isn’t going to be an issue. Or young enough to make a new set of friends while learning the language, so that you don’t become isolated. But Sam must have the same problem that I would face if I moved here. Having your family around you is one thing, but when you have your whole life ahead of you the opportunities in this rural village are rather limited. I guess with his skills he’s always guaranteed work, but doesn’t he miss city life and socialising with his friends?
The morning passes with very little chatter between us. After lunch, I clear away my tools and sweep up, ready to help Sam carry in the sheets of plasterboard. They’re more awkward than heavy. I’m tasked with holding each piece in place while he screws them to the wooden studding. By the end of the day over half of the three walls have been plaster boarded and my exposed stone wall is starting to look like a real feature. I haven’t been able to repoint as large an area as yesterday, but enough to feel I’ve continued to make some progress.
Rather unexpectedly, Ziggy appears and runs straight up to Sam, totally ignoring me. I stand with my hands on my hips looking indignant. Well, I guess I really am a part of the fixtures and fittings now and the novelty of welcoming me back has worn off already.
‘What?’ Sam exclaims. ‘We’re old friends.’ He looks at me askance.
‘Yes, but she was originally my cat and I deserve at least one meow and the chance to smooth her back, before she streaks past me. Hey, I’ve just realised that you both have green eyes!’
My remark makes him smile.
> ‘Ooh, and now the green-eyed monster raises its head, Ziggy. Are we scared?’ With that his hand deftly sweeps along her entire back and her tail – the thing she loves the most – and then she begins to purr. Loudly.
‘Traitors!’ I exclaim. I turn my back on them and finish sweeping up, almost ready to quit for the day. Sam picks up the last of his tools, placing them in a crate.
‘Right, I’m done. Thanks for your help, Anna. Appreciated. Are you okay to help again tomorrow so I can finish getting these walls lined, or do you want me to see if I can get someone in so you can crack on with the repointing?’
‘No, it’s fine. It’s nice to do something different. I think I’ll sleep well again tonight, that’s for sure.’
He grins up at me for a second or two before putting away the last of his tools for the day.
‘One thing I know for sure, though, is that I won’t be giving up the day job.’ That makes him laugh. Then I realise I don’t have a day job any more, which kind of turns a smart comment into a joke of a very different kind. As Sam leaves, Ziggy follows devotedly in his wake – really?
*
Two of the couples staying here have children and tonight they are back early, taking advantage of the pool. Mum suggests we have our evening meal in the secret garden, which is a little corner tucked away out of sight of the house in the rear garden. We carry everything down on trays, passing through the rose covered archway and settling ourselves quite comfortably on the weathered, but fully functional, wooden table and chairs.
‘This is beautiful, guys. And I couldn’t have ordered better weather.’
Dad pours the wine while Mum and I uncover the plates and lay out the cutlery.
‘How did it go today with Sam?’ Dad’s still working on sheep-proofing the fencing and this is the first chance we’ve had all day to catch up.
‘Good. I spent the afternoon helping him with the plaster boarding, but aside from that I’m not unhappy with how the wall is coming along.’
