by Fortin, Sue
From her crouched position, Marcie looked up at the former farmhouse her brother had bought several years ago. It looked a bit different now after spending almost eighteen months renovating it. Rustic was the word that sprang to mind. The two hundred year old building was draped in Wisteria, the purple flower of summer long since dropped, leaving naked branches staked to the walls. The house was still beautiful even without the flower, as the granite stone and soft sand coloured pointing was now clearly visible. The Breton red window frames and front door, despite faded from the summer sun, stood out as the only splash of colour against the grey overcast palette of the day.
Marcie loved coming here, the house was stuck in the middle of rural Brittany, well off the beaten track with only a scattering of neighbours in the commune. The tranquil location of The Retreat attracted artists, writers, photographers and walkers all year round. Basically, anyone who wanted to get away from it all.
‘Come on in,’ said Ben, leading the way into the farmhouse. ‘Lisa’s prepared a salad. French stick, cheese, ham, that type thing. She’s doing a big homemade chilli for tea.’
‘Ooh, sounds great,’ said Marcie standing up. She turned to Will. ‘Lisa’s chillies are legendary.’
‘In that case, I shall look forward to it,’ he said.
‘At last,’ said Lisa as Marcie entered the kitchen. ‘Some female company. I was beginning to despair of any.’ She embraced her sister-in-law. ‘You’ve picked a good time to come over, we’ve only got Will with us at the moment. In fact, it’s been me and the lads for the last month. So glad you decided to come.’
‘Not as glad as I am to be here,’ said Marcie. Unexpected tears flooded her eyes.
‘Hey, don’t be crying,’ said Lisa. She hugged Marcie tighter. ‘It’s okay. You’re here now.’
Marcie wiped her eyes. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure what happened there. Totally didn’t expect to cry.’
Ben opened a bottle of wine and pouring four glasses, handed one to Marcie. ‘Here, get that down you,’ he said. ‘Just chill. After all, this is The Retreat. Let the place work its magic.’
Marcie smiled gratefully at Ben and then, looking round, saw Will standing there, observing the scene. God, what must he think of her?
‘I’m just pleased to see you both,’ she said. ‘Ignore me.’ Marcie raised her glass. ‘To The Retreat.’
‘I’ll drink to that,’ said Will. He had the most serious look on his face which didn’t match the joviality of the kitchen. He looked steadily back at Marcie as he raised his glass in her direction. Not for the first time she wondered what had brought him here.
After lunch, the weather took a dip and the grey clouds that arrived with Marcie finally burst open.
‘I’ll go and get some logs in to light the fire,’ said Ben.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Marcie jumping up. Taking the wax cotton jacket Ben handed her, she followed him out of the house and down to the wood store in the garden. ‘So, what’s the story with Will?’ she asked as Ben began to pick out some bigger logs for splitting.
‘What do mean?’
‘He’s not exactly the life and soul, is he?’
Ben placed a large log on the ground and picked up the axe which was resting on top of the log pile. He looked at his sister.
‘I can’t say too much, you know, guest confidentiality and all that,’ he raised the axe above his shoulder and then swung it down onto the log, jamming the blade in the wood. Then lifting the axe and the log together, tapped the axe all the way through, splitting the wood completely. ‘He had a rough time on his last tour of Afghanistan but he’s getting himself sorted now.’
Ben proceeded to split the wood into smaller and smaller pieces. Marcie guessed that the conversation about Will was over.
It was a nice relaxed lunch with the Graingers, they were all obviously very close. It made Will think of his own family. The total opposite. Disjointed.
They got on all right, but they never chose to spend much time in each other’s company, especially since his parents divorced three years ago. As for his brother, well, living half way round the world in Australia wasn’t conducive to a big bromance.
Will pushed down the small feeling of isolation that fought its way to the surface. His counsellor had told him to replace bad thoughts with good thoughts. Not having anyone to help him when he needed it most – bad thought. Having a bolt hole to run to in France, albeit it a few years later than when he really needed it, this was the replacement good thought. He was in a good place now, not just geographically but mentally too. The past – bad thought. The present – good thought.
Will bade his goodnights after tea and left the family in the living room. His own bedroom was on the first floor overlooking the back garden and the various outbuildings scattered beyond. Ben had earmarked them for renovation in the next five years, once he had the main part of the house bringing in enough revenue.
Will lay on his bed, fully clothed. It was pointless settling down just yet. Sleep was elusive. It was at night his mind wandered most and often took him back to Afghanistan; a place he didn’t want to visit in any shape or form.
In an effort to replace the bad thought, he recounted the day’s events. Mostly spent in the car and a lot of the time in Marcie’s company. Now, what had brought her to tears when she arrived earlier? Will was sure it wasn’t just the pleasure of seeing Ben and Lisa. No, they weren’t tears of joy, they were tears of relief. He’d seen enough of them, even experienced them once or twice, to recognise those kind of tears when he saw them. Ben and Lisa seemed to be aware of what had set Marcie off. Maybe she’d split up with a boyfriend or something like that.
Will let his mind drift through the possibilities for a while. Whatever it was, it had to be serious. Ben hadn’t been expecting her, it had been a last minute arrangement and the timescale of her stay was very vague. Ben had said something like a few weeks. Oh, well, it wasn’t Will’s business but it had succeeded in keeping his mind occupied for a while.
The night was closing in fast now and being out in the countryside there was little light pollution. He liked it that way. There was no need to close any curtains here, the only light that came in was that of the moon. On clear nights he liked to look at the stars and identify constellations. It was a new hobby, another tactic to keep his mind from wandering into dangerous territory. Tonight, although the rain had stopped, low cloud cover remained so star gazing wasn’t an option.
Will got up from his bed and pulled out the black case from underneath. Opening it, he carefully took out his camera and attached the long lens. He fiddled around with the settings for a time before placing it in his rucksack.
He could hear the sounds of the Graingers coming up to bed. Ben and Lisa slept at the front of the house and, as he listened, he heard Marcie take the guest room next to his.
After Will was sure everyone was safely in their beds, he picked up his rucksack and carrying his boots to avoid clomping on the wooden floorboards, he slowly lifted the latch on his bedroom door and stepped out onto the landing. He closed the door gently behind him. As he reached the top of the stairs, the bedroom door next to his opened and out came Marcie.
She gave a jump but managed to stifle a yelp of surprise. ‘Oh, God, I wasn’t expecting anyone to be out here.’ She looked him up and down, her eyes coming to rest on the pair of boots in his hand.
‘Didn’t want to disturb anyone,’ whispered Will. Marcie was standing in an over sized tee-shirt which was only just a decent length. She had her toothbrush in one hand and a towel in the other.
She must have suddenly became conscious of her lack of clothing as she caught her breath and her face flushed crimson. ‘Sorry, I was just going to brush my teeth.’
‘Hey, don’t apologise,’ said Will. He gave a wink. ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.’ As he tiptoed down the stairs he could hear Marcie scurry across the landing and into the bathroom.
The following morning when Marci
e went downstairs, Lisa was already in the kitchen preparing breakfast. Marcie blinked away the memory of meeting Will on the landing last night.
‘Morning. Did you sleep all right?’ said Lisa flicking the kettle on to boil.
‘Yes, very well, thanks,’ said Marcie. ‘Ooh, what’s that delicious smell?’ She gave Poppy a quick a stroke as the dog trotted over to greet her.
‘It’s Breton Butter Cake. I baked it earlier this morning,’ said Lisa, placing the golden sponge on to the middle of the table. ‘Ben will be back from the boulangerie any minute now. He’s gone for fresh bread and croissants.’
Marcie took a seat at the table opposite Will. ‘Morning. Wasn’t expecting to see you up so early after last night.’
‘Never one for staying in bed,’ said Will.
‘What’s that?’ said Lisa, picking up on the conversation.
‘Nothing,’ said Will, before Marcie could answer. ‘Busy day yesterday. Marcie obviously needs her sleep more than I do.’
‘At least you didn’t say beauty sleep,’ said Marcie, she tried a smile at Will, hoping for its return but she was unsuccessful.
The sound of car wheels crunching on the driveway outside, together with Poppy running excitedly to the door, indicated a visitor.
‘It’s Ben,’ said Lisa, looking out of the kitchen window. She poured three cups of fresh coffee and placed a tea bag in a cup for Marcie. ‘I’ve been able to get hold of proper English teabags for you. I know how you hate the French ones.’
‘Excellent. You can’t beat an English cup of tea,’ said Marcie pouring a drop of milk into her cup.
‘Philistine,’ said Will quietly.
Marcie snapped her head to look at him. Was that his attempt at humour? Getting his own back for her reference to his musical tastes yesterday? His face was deadpan as he returned her look. Those dark eyes of his gave nothing away and yet somehow managed to hold her gaze, despite her desire to break the deadlock. And there it was, a small smirk. Just a tiny glimmer of one played on his lips before he looked away and picked up the cafetière to pour his coffee.
‘Bonjour!’ said Ben with a flourish as he bustled in through the door, his arms full of paper bags. ‘I come bearing gifts.’ He kissed Lisa on the cheek as he passed her the shopping. ‘Not looking too clever out there. Think it might rain later.’
‘That’s a shame,’ said Marcie. ‘I was hoping to go for a walk.’
‘You’re not going to let a drop of rain put you off, are you?’ said Will.
‘Well, no,’ said Marcie. What was it with him; winding her up all the time? ‘It’s not that.’
‘You can still go for your walk, then,’ said Will. He took a sip of his coffee.
‘That’s easy coming from an ex-soldier,’ said Lisa. She sat down at the table and picking up a knife began to cut the cake. ‘Just because you still like to go out for daily route marches, whatever the weather, it doesn’t mean everyone else does.’ She smiled at Will and gave him a playful tap on the arm as she passed over a slice of cake.
‘Got to work off this delicious baking of yours somehow,’ said Will. ‘Can’t say I’m in the habit of having cake for breakfast.’
‘I’m not either,’ said Marcie, aware she was rising to Will’s teasing. ‘I go to the gym three times a week, I am quite fit.’
‘Is that so?’ said Will. He took a bite of cake.
‘It is actually,’ said Marcie, his indifference and obvious lack of belief in her abilities now annoying her rather than amusing her. ‘What time are you planning on going out?’
A look of surprise crossed Will’s face. He swallowed and washed the cake down with his coffee. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to prove it. I believe you.’
Marcie felt a small wave of relief. She didn’t really want to prove it - she had let her indignation get the better of her.
‘Will goes out at two-thirty each day,’ said Ben. He grinned at his friend and then his sister. ‘Go on, Marcie, you’re not chickening out, are you?’
At that moment, Marcie wanted to throttle her brother. She had just got herself out of a showdown with Will and now Ben was very much putting her right back there.
‘It’s okay,’ said Will to Ben. ‘I believe Marcie and besides, I’ll be able to go at my own pace if I’m on my own.’
‘Marcie won’t hold you back, if that’s what you’re worried about,’ said Ben. He was clearly enjoying himself. ‘If anything, she’ll have to wait for you.’
Will raised his eyebrows but said nothing as he continued to eat his cake. Marcie threw a glare over to her brother who grinned innocently back at her.
‘There’s a market in town this morning if you fancy coming with me to buy some vegetables,’ said Lisa.
‘That will be nice,’ said Marcie. ‘We could have a little walk around the village and maybe the lake too.’
‘A warm up walk for later,’ said Ben.
Will pushed his now empty plate away from him and taking the last swig of his coffee, stood up. ‘Thanks for that, it was lovely. I’ll get the fire in the living room started, shall I?’
‘Okay, thanks,’ said Lisa.
Will gave Ben a pat on the shoulder. ‘Put your feet up now,’ he said and then turned to Marcie. ‘I’ll be setting off after lunch, rain or shine. Make sure you’ve got decent walking boots on.’
With a mouthful of cake, Marcie wasn’t able to protest. By the time she had swallowed it, Will had left the kitchen.
Ben laughed out loud.
Marcie scowled at him. ‘Thanks for that!’ she said. She tried to keep a cross look on her face, but as Lisa giggled as well, Marcie couldn’t help joining in. ‘You’re terrible,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I can’t believe how you stitched me up.’
‘You could say you walked right into that,’ said Ben, laughing some more at his own joke.
‘I hope he cheers up,’ said Marcie quietly, glancing at the kitchen doorway to make sure Will wasn’t lurking. ‘One minute he’s fine and then next, all moody.’
Ben’s face took on a more serious look. ‘He can’t help it. Just cut him some slack. He’s much more relaxed than when he first got here.’
‘How long is he planning on staying?’ said Marcie.
‘As long as he needs to,’ said Ben with a shrug. ‘A bit like you.’
Chapter Three
It was not without a certain amount of surprise, Will found Marcie waiting outside the front door of The Retreat that afternoon. He hadn’t really expected her to turn up for the excursion, especially as the grey clouds overhead had turned their threat of rain into a promise.
Marcie snapped her heels together and gave a mock salute. ‘Reporting for duty, Sir,’ she said.
Will eyed her up and down, appraising her clothing. ‘Woolly hat. Sensible. Rain jacket. Good choice. Cargo trousers. Again, good choice, better than jeans. And a decent pair of walking boots.’ He nodded his approval.
Marcie relaxed her stance. ‘I have done this before,’ she said. ‘I’m not a total novice.’
‘I never doubted you for one minute,’ said Will, mentally crossing his fingers. He adjusted his rucksack and nodded at Marcie’s own backpack. ‘Got plenty of water?’
‘Yep.’
‘Good. Let’s go.’ He strode out along the lane heading north. Marcie caught up and fell into step alongside him.
‘Where are we headed?’ she said.
‘Lizio. There’s a woodland walk we can do. Nice and gentle, nothing too strenuous,’ said Will. He had done this route before and compared to some of his usual yomps, this was like a stroll in the park. He wasn’t entirely sure of Marcie’s ability and suspected that her earlier enthusiasm might have been a touch of bravado on her part. Although the temptation was there to push her hard on a difficult and long hike, he could do without her going lame on him and either holding him up or, at worse, not being able to complete the walk. Phoning Ben to come and rescue his sister probably wouldn’t go down well.
As th
ey rounded the corner, the sound of someone calling out caught their attention. An angry looking farmer strode out from the field on their right. It was hard to judge the farmer’s age, his face shrouded in a bushy beard and a cap pulled down low, the peak shielding the eyes. Untamed hair protruded out from under the cap. Judging by his uneven stride, Will guessed he was of an older generation. Will and Marcie stopped as the farmer launched into a torrent of French and headed their way.
‘Care to translate?’ said Will to Marcie.
‘He’s doesn’t sound very happy,’ said Marcie.
Will looked over at her and was met with an apologetic look. He shook his head. ‘Really? I’d never have guessed. Any idea what he’s saying?’
‘I’m working on it,’ said Marcie.
As the farmer neared, Will put up his hand in acknowledgement. ‘Bonjour, Monsieur,’ he said. Any hope this would interrupt the flow of words was soon dashed. Standing at the edge of the field, the farmer ploughed on for several minutes, gesticulating wildly towards The Retreat. ‘Any time now would be good,’ said Will out of the corner of his mouth.
‘Désolée Monsieur,’ said Marcie. ‘Je ne parle pas français très bien.’
The farmer paused, looking from one to the other.
‘Don’t stop,’ said Will. ‘Say something else before he starts again.’
‘Like what? I only know schoolgirl French.’
‘A sight more than I do. Just say anything.’
‘Bloody hell,’ cursed Marcie. ‘It’s not as easy as that.’
‘In French would be more helpful,’ said Will.
‘Shh, I’m trying to think of something.’
‘Too late,’ muttered Will as, clearly impatient at the lack of response from either of them, the farmer started again.
‘Je suis Marcie Grainger,’ interrupted Macie and then again more loudly which seemed to have the desired effect, silencing the Frenchman for a second time. ‘Je suis en vacances. Mon frère habite à la ferme.’
The farmer gave a look of exasperation and with a flap of his hand mumbled something and trudged back off across his field towards the barn.
