Bordeaux has been a blast but the beach calls and Rosie is intent on following her pre-planned route. Over summer there’s a lot of events in the French Riviera we can pop-up in and Max has gotten approval for us which eases the usual bureaucratic paperwork headache. It will take the pressure off if we can bank some much-needed funds too.
Night falls as we sit by the fire. The nomads are coupled together listening to Max strum a guitar while someone croons a love song. I feel like I’ve stumbled into a real-life Love Island and didn’t get the memo! There is not one solitary figure in the group aside from me. And for one tiny moment I wish that Tori was around so at least I wouldn’t be so obviously the only singleton. Who knows where she is, I haven’t seen much of her of late. A good thing …
Violetta and Laurent are a mess of arms and legs as they entwine themselves together. Lorenzo sits with Gaia in his lap. Rosie is next to Max, staring dreamily into his love heart eyes. And about six million other couples are in various states of conscious coupling.
It’s as if there’s some kind of magic in the air but I’m immune to it. Space is what I need. Surely there’s other people out there without a significant other, I just need to find them.
I tap Rosie on the knee. ‘I’m going to take a wander into town and grab a drink.’
A line appears between her eyes. ‘I’ve got drinks, what do you want?’
‘It’s OK,’ I reassure her. ‘I just want to stretch the ol’ legs.’
She slides the blanket off her lap. ‘I’ll come with you.’
I slide it back on. ‘No, no, you stay here. I’m just going to meander.’
‘OK,’ she says, and I note the relief in her eyes. She’s still so tired and is counting down the days until she feels more energized.
In town a small wine bar called Cancan Bordeaux catches my eye. It’s got a cool saffron-hued laidback vibe and is just what I need tonight. It’s bookish for a bar, with old, wrinkled leather chairs and a wall of books stacked in disorderly piles – the perfect space for me to while away some time.
I take a small table in the back and plan to drink a few glasses of vin rouge and feel sorry for myself. So what if everyone’s shacked up? Some people would say I had the most envious life, wouldn’t they? Free and in control of my own destiny.
A glass of red appears and I thank the bartender. An elderly gentleman comes over and sits beside me, nodding a hello. He’s wearing a suit that has seen better days, but makes him look smart nonetheless. Please god don’t let him ask me on a date. He is old enough to be my grandfather and I will probably say yes since the entire planet is in love! The bar is empty so maybe he’s lonely just like me?
‘Why aren’t you out with all the others?’ I’m surprised when he speaks in a cockney English accent.
‘Which others?’
He points in the direction of the busier end of town. ‘At the party down at the campsite.’
‘Oh. I wanted to get away from them for a while.’
He takes a sip of wine. ‘So you are one of those nomadic folk?’
‘Guilty. I’m the single one. The cat lady.’ OK, I don’t have cats, but I really should. Lots of them that can alert Rosie when I finally keel over and die at a hundred, still the only unattached one in the group.
‘I don’t know about no cats, but seems to me like you’re a little sad. I could be wrong, I often am.’
I sigh. ‘Is it that obvious?’
‘You’re slumped over your glass like a bar fly, as if you’ve got all the troubles in the world. Now what would they be? A trouble shared is a trouble halved or some nonsense like that.’
I manage a half laugh. ‘Well, all my friends are basically having hot, passionate young people sex, while I’m alone reading by candlelight, eating ice cream straight from the tub.’
‘And what’s wrong with that? If I could still eat ice cream, I’d eat it straight from the tub.’
‘You can’t eat ice cream?’ What a tragedy. An injustice!
‘I’m so old my nerves are on the outside of my body these days, I can’t eat anything the way I used to.’
The description makes me laugh. ‘I wouldn’t go that far.’
‘It’s true. But I can still quaff a few of these’ – he points to his glass of red wine – ‘every night so that’s something. As for the hot, passionate young people sex, I wouldn’t know about that, can’t remember that far back, but surely you’ve got men lining up?’
‘Just how many wines have you had?’ I say half seriously.
‘Not enough.’
‘No, there’s no men, there’s no line, except the ones appearing on my face as I age disgracefully.’
‘That’s the spirit.’ He gently nudges me shoulder to shoulder.
‘What brings you to Bordeaux?’
‘The name’s Neville. I’m here with my grandson, one last hurrah, you know, before my toes curl up and I leave this mortal coil.’
This strange elderly gent has a dry sense of humour and I like him a lot. ‘I’m Aria. So where is this grandson of yours?’
‘He’s over there.’ He nods to the bar where I see another man in a suit, his back to me … but I would recognize that body anywhere.
My jaw drops. Jonathan must have been to the loo or something because I didn’t notice him when I walked in. But how adorable is it that Jonathan has asked his grandfather to join his book tour! It’s exactly the kind of thing TJ would have done, and not for the first time I think the two men would have really liked each other. There’s a lot of similarities in the way they put others first with their big, empathetic hearts but it’s more than that too. They remind me of each other, but I can’t quite put my finger on why – or am I just dreaming up such a thing?
Neville pipes up, ‘Maybe you can have hot, passionate young people sex with him?’
‘Pop! Wash your mouth out!’ Jonathan looks downright scandalized as he walks over, wine bottle in hand. ‘Aria, what a nice surprise.’
My heart skips a beat and I’m sure I’m blushing.
‘And I’m sorry,’ Jonathan says, his cheeks flushed. ‘I’m not sure what’s got into him.’
I give him a wide smile. ‘No, no, it was me who suggested it, not him.’
When Jonathan’s mouth falls open I have to retrace our dialogue until I realize he thinks either A: I propositioned his Pop or B: I want hot, passionate young people sex with anyone who offers. Both not ideal.
‘I meant, erm … it was just a joke we were making. No one is having any sex with anyone.’
‘What a darn shame.’ Neville laughs. ‘Problems of today’s youth could be fixed with—’
Jonathan plonks a hand over his Pop’s mouth. ‘You can see I get my uh – imagination from Neville here.’
I grin. ‘Ah, he’s the best. You’re lucky to have him.’
He sits beside Neville and stares into my eyes, which renders me mute. ‘Very lucky. Pop thought he’d join me for the Bordeaux book events but I lost him sometime soon after we arrived.’
‘All that talk about books,’ he says, his eyes rolling upwards. ‘Sends me to sleep after a while.’
Jonathan grins. ‘As you can see, he’s my biggest supporter.’
‘And then there’s the fans, hanging off him like he’s Kenny Rogers, I feel like showing them the pictures where he’s sucking his thumb and throwing the world’s biggest tantrum, and it wasn’t that long ago if you get my drift.’
‘And he’s my most loyal confidante, keeps me humble.’
I laugh at their rapport and the jokes that bounce between them.
‘Well, I needed to see it for myself. His mother’s always going on about Jonathan this, Jonathan that and he was never around, you know? Back in the day that meant they were in the service of Her Majesty. It was suspicious like and I would have bet money he was in prison. In fact I did bet and so to avoid paying up here I am.’
‘Here we are.’
Neville winks at me and downs the rest of his wine. ‘I’
d better leave you young folk to it. The days of me falling asleep at the bar are long over.’
I stand and give him a loose hug. ‘It was nice to meet you, Neville. I hope you enjoy your last hurrah.’
‘All the better for meeting you, my dear.’
‘I’ll walk you back to the hotel,’ Jonathan says.
Neville put a hand to Jon’s shoulder to sit him back down. ‘I’m a big boy, and I can find my own way. Don’t you go leaving this pretty little thing on her lonesome or you’ll come back and find her married to someone else.’
I shake my head and laugh. We give him a wave as he walks heartbreakingly slowly from the bar.
‘He’s such a character,’ I say. Mary pops into my mind and the way she changed almost overnight after TJ’s death, her once proud upright posture gone overnight, replaced by stooped shoulders as if her sadness actually weighed her down.
‘He sure is. He’s always been that way. When he said he wanted to come with me on tour, I wasn’t sure if he’d have the stamina but he has. He’s been out walking every day seeing the sights, and ends the evening with a few glasses of red. Jokes aside, it’s been wonderful to share this special time with him. He’s not doing so well health-wise, he won’t elaborate of course, but says this is his last holiday and he’s going to go out with a bang. I hope he’s wrong, I hope he’s got years left, but Pop isn’t one to exaggerate, he’s the tell-like-it-is sort.’
It strikes me that like TJ, Neville is living out the end part of his life exactly how he means to, no matter the physical cost to him. And he chose to spend that time with Jonathan which says a lot about what kind of grandson he must be. ‘I hope he’s wrong too and he gets the chance to heckle you at many more book tours.’
‘Let’s drink to that.’ We clink glasses and now the jokes are over and awkwardness descends.
‘How is Rosie going? Max told me the good news.’
I smile, conjuring Rosie’s face when I catch her staring into the ether, the realization she’ll soon be a mother. It’s such a lovely mental picture of my very best friend. ‘Still feeling queasy at every turn, but she’s reconciled herself to motherhood now and is enjoying the prospect of a baby on the horizon.’
‘It must have been a shock for them, but I can see them as parents somehow.’
‘Yes, can you imagine it for Rosie? A shock for anyone but for Rosie that’s next level scary. They’ll make it work, Max comes from a family who grew up on the road so I’m sure they’ll adapt fast.’
‘They’ll be OK, they have each other. What about you, do you want to have children?’
The question takes me by surprise as it did when Rosie asked me not so long ago. Just how does everyone expect me to make these mythical children? A spell, an incantation? ‘I did, once. What about you?’
‘Yes, definitely. I look forward to long summers abroad, building sandcastles, ice creams melting down sticky arms.’
‘And what about the kids, what will they be doing?’ Deflect with humour, don’t picture his future Kit Harrington-esque beautiful dark-haired children with lovely manners and shiny white teeth and sandy feet.
He laughs and the sound makes my stomach flip. He’s so lovely. He’s the geeky book boy who grew into his looks, the stuff of every bibliophile’s dream with his dark locks and smooth beautiful skin. He really is the epitome of modern-day hero. Sensitive, caring, reliable and destined to be around in five, ten, twenty years.
‘Oh!’ I say remembering his gift and the one I have for him. ‘Weird book-sniffer dude, thank you so much for the book. You’re right it did smell good! But I’m conflicted about the character Madame Bovary. I’m not sure I like her, although I liked the story itself very much.’
‘It’s such a strange tale in that respect. You want her to have her heart’s desires but she is always dissatisfied. And to what end? It’s always interesting to me to read about love that doesn’t work, when I’ve just written about love that does. True love, not the pretence of love for gain of some sort.’
I love his love of reading! It’s so rare to find someone to untangle books with. ‘Exactly. It’s not love she’s interested in really, is it? It’s her base desires coupled with a materialistic bent. And …’ I stop myself before I fall into an hour-long monologue. ‘Anyway, I found you this’ – I rummage in my bag for his gift – ‘and thought it you might like it.’
He gives me a wide smile when he sees it and takes a great big sniff. ‘Smells delightful, like adventure is just on the horizon!’
‘Doesn’t it?’ I say grinning.
He gives me a wide smile. ‘Collette. The Vagabond. Why do I feel this is going to remind me of you?’
I lift a shoulder and smile back. ‘OK, I bought two copies because I thought the same! We can read them together and …’ Oh god. ‘I mean at the same time, and compare notes.’
‘Reading them together sounds wonderful. Thank you for thinking of me.’
‘Just returning the favour.’
We sit in an awkward silence for some baffling reason. We’re just two bookworms talking books, what’s there to be worried about? But I know, of course I do. Jonathan is the whole package, the looks, the personality, the bookworm, the big heart, the wistful soul. And I want to act, I do, but I don’t know if I can. If I should.
‘I lost you there for a second,’ he says, touching my elbow to bring me back from reverie.
‘Sorry, I … lost my train of thought.’ And then it comes crashing back when Tori of all people swishes into the bar as if she’s on a catwalk, flicks her shampoo commercial hair and narrows in on us. Dammit. Not now!
When she sees me her face drops. ‘Are you OK?’ I ask. ‘You look like the curried egg sandwich you ate at lunch is on its way back up.’
She throws me a dark look and retorts, ‘Aria, I didn’t know you were coming to our date. Third wheel is your style though.’ She laughs it off as a joke and leans past me, to kiss Jonathan’s cheek.
‘Date?’ I turn to him and catch something indecipherable in his eyes. He didn’t want me to know! ‘Well, don’t let me stop you. I was just leaving.’ I take an unladylike chug of my wine and then throw down some euros on the table. ‘Enjoy, won’t you?’
I’m up and out of the bar fast, because for some tragic reason I feel like I might cry and the last person I want to witness that is Tori. Surely they’re not dating? Tori has the personality of a wet tea towel! But what it does make me realize is that what I’m feeling for Jonathan is real and what do I do about it? What would TJ think? And what about Mary? She’d despise me even more if she knew I was even considering such a thing. I go back to my van and for once I don’t read, I fall into a deep sleep and have murky dreams.
Chapter 21
Bordeaux to Nice
We say goodbye to Otto and Jörg as they play pétanque in the cool of the morning. The German Van Lifers are heading back the way we came so we’ve swapped suggestions about campsites and where to find the cheapest beer. We’ve only known the guys for a brief amount of time but they’ve stolen into our hearts already. They’re just young lads taking life as it comes and enjoying time on the road and what that has to offer with whatever funds they can muster by finding jobs fruit picking or labouring. One day soon they’ll go home and settle down for university and this will all be a distant but fond memory.
The remaining nomads are still snoozing but most are following the same direction as us and will catch up eventually. We wish the lads well and offer the same assurances that one day soon we will meet again, when I know most likely we will not. It always makes me a little sombre, leaving people behind like that.
As I chug along the beautiful Mediterranean coastline my heart is heavy. So what if Tori and Jonathan had a date? I’m not the couple police. And I told him in no uncertain terms I wasn’t moving on from TJ, so why would he wait? But it hurts and I’m conflicted. I need to debrief with Rosie and make sense of it all.
Max pulls into a car park. There’s a sign with dir
ections for a short walk to the best vantage point to view the Mediterranean Sea. I indicate to follow him and see that Rosie is not far behind. It’s been a long lonely drive despite the beauty so I’m keen to get out and be with my friends. Tori chose to stay a few extra days in Bordeaux and I can imagine why. Jealousy roils in my gut at the fact she’ll probably meet Pop Neville too and joke around with him like I did. It annoys me for some reason. When I catch myself thinking like this, I know I’m losing the plot. Note to self: crank the music for long solitary drives so you don’t drive off a cliff when you can’t see the road for your tears! Maybe I’ll adopt a rescue puppy. I can speak baby language to my fur baby and I’ll know I’ll never be alone.
A rescue animal is not a bad idea. Or I could stop at shelters and hug all the doggies and then I can go back to my van and feed my food baby …
Aria Summers yearns for love but has sworn off it and so the days became longer and lonelier than ever before. It doesn’t help that the entire population of the planet has coupled up and driven off into the sunset leaving Aria driving never-ending roads to nowheresville. She pictures herself in the future, surrounded by rescue dogs, maybe the odd bird or two, and a tub of ice cream so big she can dunk her head in it when things got bad—
Wait—
Aria Summers has sworn off love but that doesn’t mean she can’t have a happy fulfilling life, right? She has great friends, a unique lifestyle and the chance to change it all if only she listens to her heart. She needs a sign, something from above to guide her and show her the way, but doesn’t that sort of thing only happen in fairy tales? Writer Jonathan knows a thing or two about love stories, he pens them after all. Perhaps he’s the man who might rewrite Aria’s story if only she gives him a chance …?
Aria's Travelling Book Shop Page 16
