by Lost
Raff tucked his phone away and hoped to God Estelle was talking rubbish as usual and that she wouldn’t rock up in a few weeks’ time. Especially not now that Sophie was finally back into his life. Because one thing he knew for sure: whether Sophie was staying or leaving him again, as far as his feelings were concerned it was already too late; despite doing his very best not to, Raff had fallen head over heels for Sophie all over again.
Chapter Seventeen
‘You’ve kissed?’
Sophie rolled her eyes. Pinter was like a small child at times. Especially when it came to relationships. He used to wind her up about Ryan until he met him properly and felt a bit meh about the whole thing.
‘Sophie. You’ve gone quiet. You’ve just told me that you and Raff have kissed and now you’re not talking. Don’t do this to me.’
‘Pinter, pack it in. What else do you want to know?’
Pinter sighed dramatically down the phone. ‘Everything, Sophie. I want to know everything.’
‘There’s nothing else to know,’ Sophie said, laughing. ‘Not yet, anyway.’
‘“Not yet.” Ooooh!’ Pinter was clearly fizzing over with anticipation.
‘Oh, shut up. I don’t even know what any of it means.’
Sophie stopped laughing. That was true. She really didn’t. She was only supposed to be in Paris for a short time until her mum came home. And despite the regular, heartfelt texts, Sophie still had no idea when her mum might make an appearance and much less about what was going on behind the scenes. But either way, Sophie’s stint in Paris was supposed to be just that: a stint. Not a complete life change or a move from one country to another.
‘Well, I don’t think you should focus too much on what any of it means,’ Pointer said reasonably. ‘I think you should focus on getting your mum back – in whichever way you can – and on doing what she’s asked you to do: sort out the shop in her absence.’
‘Oh, I am,’ Sophie assured him. ‘What did you think of those designs I sent over?
‘Loved them,’ Pinter said immediately. ‘I agree with Raff. I think the silvery swirl pattern is perfect – classy, classic and timeless – but I do love the photo of the shop. It’s beautiful. I’d go with a rich, colour version rather than black and white, so it looks modern and lush. Not too much tampering with it, but maybe just deepen the colours a little? And I’d only put the image on one thing. Either the bags or the boxes.’ He paused and then carried on. ‘The bags, maybe? Then everyone will see them as they’re carried around Paris.’
‘I love that idea,’ Sophie said, visualising it in her head. ‘I think Mum will love it too.’
‘Great!’ Pinter sounded pleased. ‘So, have you had a chance to check out the wedding venue yet?’
‘Not yet, but I’m planning to head over there later. I promised I’d take a few photos of Raff’s father; he’s quite old and I think Raff wants to make sure he has some lovely images of him. Coco, also.’
‘That’s very nice of you. Very.’
‘Oh, shut up, Pinter,’ Sophie said again, knowing he was being sarcastic and making a point. ‘We get it. You think I’m in love with Raff and doing whatever I can to make him happy.’
‘I didn’t say that!’
Pinter was protesting, but Sophie could hear the laughter and mock-innocence in his voice.
‘Listen.’ Pinter sounded serious again for a moment. ‘I’m happy that you’re happy. You’ve been so worried about your mum and it’s been a really stressful time for you. And you and Raff… from what you’ve told me, it was the biggest love affair of your life when you were together. And if there is any chance, even the slightest chance, that you might be falling in love again, the pair of you… then I couldn’t be happier. Even if it means me losing you to Paris.’
Sophie swallowed and clutched her phone to her ear. Pinter had never spoken to her like this before. Not about anything. Definitely not about Ryan. Actually, he was never this serious with her.
‘I don’t think you’ll lose me to Paris,’ Sophie managed, not sure what else to say. She didn’t know what was happening between her and Raff. It was making her heart race and her cheeks flush and every part of her body tingle, but Sophie would be hard pushed to put a label on it because she didn’t have a clue where it was going to go, how it would ever work or what was unfolding between them at the moment. And with her mum and the shop and everything else, she already had way too much to think about.
‘Well, we shall see,’ Pinter said, as if sensing that she was spiralling internally. ‘Anything from boring Ryan?’
‘He’s not boring,’ Sophie said automatically. ‘But yes, he sends me texts every so often.’
‘Do you think he wants to get back together?’ Pinter asked. ‘And I apologise for being nosy. But I am nosy and I care about you.’
Sophie laughed again. ‘I know. On both fronts. I have no idea if Ryan wants to get back together. He does text a lot but I have no idea what he’s thinking because I don’t respond, so we don’t ever chat properly.’
‘Ok.’ Pinter sounded relieved. ‘Listen, I’ll let you go, darling and I’ll be in touch soon about the wedding. Let me know what you think of the venue and we can discuss the photographs beforehand.’
‘Fab. Speak soon, Pinter. Love to Esther.’
Sophie rang off and immediately headed for Raff’s house. He was at the macaron shop, and as he had hired the daughter of a family friend to work there for a few hours each day, Sophie didn’t feel guilty about focusing on other things for a while. When she arrived at Raff’s house, she was greeted by a flustered Coco and the pungent aroma of burnt onions.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ Coco wailed, letting Sophie in. ‘I’ve had a bit of a disaster in the kitchen. I was trying to cook dinner for Papa and Grandpapa and I burnt everything and it smells disgusting and I’m so…’
‘Calm down, Coco!’ Sophie waved her arms in the air to get rid of the dense smoke billowing out of the kitchen. ‘Wow. Let’s open this window for starters.’ She pushed the kitchen window open, and the back doors of the lounge too for good measure. It was warm and sunny enough outside, but it was more to get rid of the smoke.
‘Where is Henri?’ Sophie asked.
‘He’s upstairs asleep,’ Coco answered, looking distressed. ‘He comes downstairs occasionally to sit with us in the living room, but he doesn’t go outside.’
Poor Henri, Sophie thought to herself. He was practically house-bound these days. She felt so sorry for him, but she wasn’t sure how to help him; she had limited knowledge or experience of agoraphobia. Or grief, she thought, remembering what Raff had said about his mum dying and Henri going rapidly downhill afterwards. Well, she had experienced a kind of grief after leaving Raff and Paris, but she was sure it wasn’t remotely the same as what Henri was going through.
‘What were you trying to cook?’ she asked Coco, peering through the smoke at the frying pan on the hob.
‘Boeuf bourguignon,’ Coco said, wringing her hands. She was wearing a short, white, off the shoulder dress and it was covered in cooking splashes. ‘It’s dad’s favourite. Well, that and…’
‘Moules mariniére,’ Sophie finished without thinking.
‘Oh.’ Coco smiled. ‘Of course you would know that.’
Sophie met Coco’s eyes and found herself smiling back. ‘Do you want me to help you with this? I was going to take some photographs of you and Henri, but I can do those later?’
‘Yes please.’ Coco nodded gratefully. ‘I was trying to help dad out, not burn the house down.’
‘Ok. So let’s start again. My mum used to cook Boeuf bourguignon a lot, so I know how to do this.’
Coco looked delighted. ‘Let me just check on Grandpapa and then I’ll come and help.’ She disappeared upstairs for a few minutes and Sophie stood thinking about the recipe, working out what they needed to do. When Coco returned, Sophie handed her the burnt pan with a rueful smile and got started, chopping up some more onions and getting some button mushrooms out.
Sophie got started with cooking the beef in a fresh pan and it was soon sizzling away. Coco soaked the other pan and started chopping up the other ingredients.
‘Ok, so let’s cook the onions now. Slowly… on a low heat,’ Sophie grinned.
Coco looked embarrassed but she laughed. They continued cooking together in a companionable silence, with Sophie giving instructions and Coco a willing student. Finally, Sophie carefully slid a well-worn, almond-coloured Le Creuset dish into the oven and made sure the heat was turned down.
‘Done,’ she said, wiping her hands on a tea towel. ‘That will start smelling delicious very soon.’
‘Thank you,’ Coco said. ‘I really appreciate all your help.’
‘De rien,’ Sophie said. ‘It was nothing, really.’ She studied Coco. She looked lovely as she always did, but today, she looked rather more naturally beautiful than normal. She was wearing less make up, although the heavy black eyeliner was present and correct as always, and she had pulled her long dark hair up into a ponytail. Maybe it was the fact that she was wearing slouchy jeans and a t-shirt tied up at the waist, but Coco looked her age for once. Young and fresh-faced and rather vulnerable.
‘So… what’s happening with you and Dad?’ Coco asked.
Sophie glanced at her. The question sounded almost shy rather than nosy.
‘I’m not… entirely sure,’ Sophie admitted. ‘But I’m not a person who… plays with anyone’s feelings and I wouldn’t be doing this unless I… felt something, unless this was… genuine. This thing between Raff and me is… it’s…’ She faltered, not sure how to articulate what she felt.
‘Real?’ Coco suggested.
‘Yes,’ Sophie agreed. ‘Yes. Real. That’s it.’ For some reason Sophie felt taken aback admitting that out loud.
‘I get that.’ Coco frowned. ‘Well, I haven’t experienced any of this love stuff myself, but I think I know what you mean.’
‘It’s all very hard to explain,’ Sophie mused. And it was. She wasn’t a writer or a musician; she didn’t have the words to describe love. If that’s what it was between her and Raff. All she knew was, her heart leapt when he was around her.
God. Who was she kidding? Sophie had fallen hook, line and sinker for Raff again. Nothing had changed. Sophie was now beginning to think she had stayed in love with Raff after she had left for Paris; she had simply buried the feelings in the deepest place possible. Which made Sophie feel horribly guilty about Ryan and made her doubt that entire relationship. How could she have carried on with him the way she had when she had probably still been in love with Raff?
At the same time, however, Sophie hadn’t ever anticipated seeing Paris – or Raff again. She had put both of them firmly in the past and made them part of her history, and she had focused on the present. Ryan had been that present; he had lifted her up and pulled her out of the terrible place she had been in. And she had had feelings for Ryan – she had. It just hadn’t been the magic of her and Raff, the magnetic passion and the intense love. It had been different and at the time, it had been exactly what she needed. Not a substitute for Raff, because nobody could be. Sophie hadn’t wanted to replace Raff; she had wanted to obliterate his memory from her mind and she had wanted to start over.
Sophie let out a long breath. Where had all that insight and wisdom come from?
Coco took her phone out of her jeans pocket. ‘It’s my friend Aimee. She has some coursework I need for school.’ She bit her lip. ‘I should go and collect it, but Dad wants me to keep an eye on Grandpapa.’
Sophie checked her watch. ‘Go. I’ll stay here and watch over Henri. Your Dad is due back here shortly as we need to go and look at this wedding venue together.’
Coco’s eyes widened and she almost dropped her phone.
‘Oh.’ Sophie shook her head vehemently. ‘Not for us! For my friend. His sister is getting married here in a few weeks’ time.’
‘Aah ok.’ Coco smiled, revealing the gap in her teeth that so reminded Sophie of Raff. ‘Thought that might be a bit fast.’
A bit fast? A wedding for her and Raff? Sophie looked away, feeling her cheeks burning. God. Coco really was getting ahead of herself! Sophie had barely worked out what she was feeling for Raff and how it could ever work… let alone thinking further ahead than that.
‘I’ll go to my friend’s then if you’re sure it’s ok?’ Coco was saying.
Sophie pulled herself together. ‘Yes, of course. I’ll go and check on Henri and then I’ll just… chill until your Dad gets here, and I’ll make sure dinner doesn’t burn.’
‘I’ll be half an hour at most,’ Coco said, grabbing her jacket from the back of the door. ‘And there is fresh parsley in the garden if you’d like it for the Bourguignon.’
Sophie heard the door slam and she went upstairs to check on Henri. He was dozing in the chair by the window, but he looked peaceful enough. He wore smart shirt and trousers, which suggested he was perhaps more together than he was, but that had always been Henri’s daily uniform.
Heading back downstairs, Sophie decided to grab the fresh parsley Coco had mentioned grew in the garden. She stepped outside and took stock of how out of control the garden was beyond the main decking area. It hadn’t always looked this way – but Raff’s mum had always been the one to take care of it. Sophie doubted it had been touched since Camille had died and that was apparent in the tangle of weeds and all the admittedly pretty wild flowers that were woven in between the shrubs and flowers that had been carefully planted originally.
Stepping off of the decking, Sophie carefully made her way through the wild flowers and weeds. If memory served her correctly, Camille’s herb garden had been on the right-hand side, near a bench that Sophie and Raff used to curl up on to look at the stars. They had seen a shooting star there once and Sophie remembered thinking it was the most magical thing she had ever seen and she had felt ridiculously happy that she had seen it with Raff. It felt like a silly memory now, but at the time it had felt amazing.
‘Merde!’
Sophie yelped as she suddenly felt herself falling backwards and her ankle twisted awkwardly. She landed with a thump and banged her head on something. Shocked, she lay sprawled in the long grass and wild flowers, winded and a tad humiliated. What had just happened?! There must have been a pot hole or something and she had fallen backwards into it and her ankle had gone one way and she had gone the other. She had cracked her elbow at the same time and she was all tangled up in the weeds now. Sophie couldn’t move without something hurting.
Wow. Her ankle in particular, was throbbing like mad. Literally throbbing and pulsing and feeling as though it was badly bruised and probably swelling up. Sophie tried to get up, but realised she couldn’t. Oh man. This was bad. She had at least half an hour of this while Coco was out and Raff wasn’t due in for a while.
Henri. Sophie lifted her head towards the upstairs window. Henri’s room faced out onto the garden. Could he see her? Craning her neck, Sophie could see him slumped in his chair. He was clearly still asleep. Damn! She called out to him, but her voice sounded weedy and weak. Sophie tried yelling instead. Nothing. She flopped back down again, feeling defeated. What on earth was she going to do?
She winced as she tried to move again. Maybe she could… roll over and pull herself out of the hole. Sophie put all her effort into it and did her best to yank her body over. Nothing happened. One side of her body felt as though it had shut down; it simply wasn’t playing ball. Sophie felt like crying, but she knew that wasn’t going to help one bit.
She reached around for her phone, but realised she’d left it on the kitchen table. Brilliant. She heard a noise coming from somewhere and looking up, she saw Henri’s face pressed up against the window and he was knocking on it to get her attention. Feeling foolish, Sophie waved her a
rms and pointed at her foot, hoping Henri would realise that she was incapacitated and couldn’t move. He stood starting at her from the window, but didn’t seem to understand what she was trying to say, nor did he move from his position at the window.
Sophie flopped down again. What was the point? Henri was housebound. He didn’t even venture outside; Coco had told her that earlier. She was just going to have to wait it out.
At least it was sunny, Sophie thought to herself in vague amusement. Her ankle felt horrific; the pain was so intense, she was sure it must be sprained at the very least. She felt sorry for Henri too. He must know she was in a pickle, but his anxiety was preventing him from helping her out. It wasn’t his fault and Sophie wasn’t cross with him. It was her own stupid fault she was lying in a pothole right now. She hadn’t even found the parsley for heaven’s sake.
‘Que s’est il passe?’ What have you done?
Sophie looked up. ‘Henri! What… how…’
Henri looked terrified at being outside. He was visibly shaking. ‘You’ve fallen down the old well,’ he said, still speaking in French.
Yes, of course! Sophie suddenly realised she was lying next to the spot that used to be a well years ago. It had been filled in, but the grass and mud always seemed to sink into itself on this spot.
‘You’re outside,’ Sophie stated stupidly.
‘Yes,’ Henri said. He didn’t look at all happy about it, but he was here and Sophie could have kissed him. ‘Is it your ankle?’ He pointed at it.
‘Yes. It’s so painful, I can’t get up. The whole of my side feels bruised.’
Henri leant over and grasped her arm. He was obviously weak himself, but he managed to pull Sophie up onto her feet. She let out a scream as her ankle came loose and leant more heavily on Henri than she meant to. He wobbled and she had to steady both of them.
‘Sorry, Henri,’ she said, clutching him.
Henri shook his head and together they slowly hobbled back to the house, leaning on one another. Sophie couldn’t put her foot down and she could see that, encased in the Converse, it was already bulging and starting to turn purple. When they were together, Raff used to joke that she bruised like a summer fruit.
