‘And I can pay of course,’ she said. ‘How much?’
He shook his head. ‘We are amis, friends now,’ he said. ‘We do not charge for our friends, I think?’
‘Well, thank you,’ she said.
‘Then as we are friends, you must forgive me for laughing?’ he said, his eyes twinkling.
She nodded.
Moments later, she experienced a sudden jolt after realising she’d been lost in thought, while looking at his eyes that seemed to flicker hazel in a certain light. ‘Well,’ she said abruptly. ‘I’d better get on.’
‘Yes, you ’ave to tackle that terrible plante, oui?’
‘Not any more!’ she said.
‘Well, I will get this little Madame back ’ome, I think,’ he said, rattling the lead slightly and receiving a bark for his trouble. ‘? tout à l’heure – see you later.’
‘? tout à l’heure,’ she replied.
An hour later she was driving the long, field-flanked road to Limoges. She’d finally managed to find a radio station that played recognisable music without too much incomprehensible – to her at least – chatter, and sang along with bits of the hits she recognised. She’d been tempted to link up her mobile and stream one of her playlists – perhaps ‘upbeat’ or ‘summer tracks’ – but seeing as she’d yet to sort out a French mobile contract, she’d decided for once to be sensible and stick to something that wasn’t going to put her into her overdraft.
When she’d visualised moving to France, she’d definitely glossed over the admin side of things. As well as the bureaucratic nightmare that would come with applying to stay here full-time, moving house and countries simultaneously had thrown up a great deal of additional paperwork. Or online form-filling work, if you were being entirely accurate.
For a start, she didn’t yet have the internet. In fact, she wasn’t sure whether she’d be entitled to install internet at the house until she’d actually signed the final completion papers. She’d yet to speak to Frédérique about how she should pay, and who, for the electricity – had he put the account in her name, or was it still in his grandmother’s? And she desperately needed to sort out a new phone, which, in the absence of internet, she’d have to do in person, and eventually a car – this one had been on special offer to hire for four weeks, but she couldn’t afford to rent one forever.
When was she going to have time in between planting out the garden, patching up a leaking roof, getting basic facilities like a proper kitchen sink, signing phone contracts and sorting out the internet to actually sit in the frickin’ sun and drink red wine? That was the problem with moving to a holiday destination, she realised. Part of you expected that living there would be like a holiday, whereas in reality all the messy details of life still accompanied you. Other than with her dinner when staying with Chloé, she hadn’t had a sniff of alcohol at all so far, and although she was far from dependent on the substance, it would be nice if she was able to put her feet up and relax just once in a while.
She also felt a little guilty about this evening. When she’d gratefully accepted Chloé’s offer to cook the murdered chicken, she hadn’t considered that would mean she’d have to cook for Emily too. But Chloé had been fine when she’d called her earlier to check it was OK. ‘How you say? The more the merrier!’ she’d said. ‘Yes, to bring your friend.’ Still, Lily hated the lingering feeling that she was putting her new friend to too much trouble.
The journey passed quickly, and soon she was weaving her way through the city centre, sweating slightly around the one-way system, and then picking up pace as she made her way along the long, straight route to the airport. Parking in the short stay car park, and remembering for once to tuck her ticket into her purse and save herself the panic of trying to find it in a couple of hours’ time, she walked the short distance to the little terminal.
The building was fairly empty; with only one flight due in this afternoon. A few people were milling about with suitcases, or queueing at the flight desk, and there was a rumble of quiet conversation, but she could see the arrivals door clearly, and there was space in the café in which she could sit and read her book.
A member of staff had opened the large glass doors at the back of the seating area, and customers spilled out onto a terrace which overlooked the runway on one side, and the car park on the other. It wasn’t exactly the dream location, but it was a chance to sit and feel the warm sun on her face – even if the air was fragranced with fumes.
She ordered a tea at the counter – having not had one for a few days – and remembered for once to request ‘thé au lait’ (tea with milk). She chose a tarte aux fraises from the mouth-watering selection of pastries and promised herself she’d walk it off later.
The server nodded then, moments later, produced a tray with the glistening tarte and a cup filled with warm, steamed milk.
‘I’m sorry,’ Lily said. ‘I ordered thé au lait.’
‘Oui,’ he said, ‘you can choose the tea, ’ere.’ He opened up an embossed box which housed teas in every conceivable form – green, herbal, rooibos and, thankfully, English breakfast – for her to select from. She reached in and took an English breakfast, before pointing again to the tray. ‘But the milk… you’ve put the milk in the cup already,’ she said, patiently.
‘Oui, pour le thé au lait,’ he said, seemingly confused.
‘But we don’t…’ she began. A cough in the queue behind her alerted her to the fact there were about five other people waiting to be served. ‘Never mind,’ she said, handing him a ten euro note and heading over to the terrace. There, she set down her tray on a small, vacant table and unwrapped the tea bag, then placed it in the milky cup, hoping beyond hope that something resembling tea might emerge if left long enough.
She busied herself while she waited by listening in to snippets of conversation around her. Usually, she craved quiet, but now she lived in practical silence, it was nice to hear the murmur of others talking. Some conversations sped past in French and she was only able to grab on to the odd word. Others were in English. One woman was telling her son how he should behave when he got to his grandmother’s. A couple discussed the price of air travel. One man, on the phone, seemed to be talking about computer software, and might as well have been speaking another language entirely.
She scrolled pointlessly through her phone, and re-sent the message she’d sent to Ben last night, hoping to prompt a response. It looked a bit heartless in the cold light of day. But what else could she say? If he didn’t love her enough to come, she wasn’t going to try to force him.
Then, trying her best to put thoughts of ‘home’ or the place she’d used to call home, out of her mind, she drew her book from her bag and began to read, feeling the sun playing lightly on her face, and breaking small forkfuls from her tarte as she read. Eventually, she gave up on the tea and went to get herself a coffee instead, making sure to order a ‘grande crème’ rather than simply assuming she’d be offered milk if she didn’t request it.
The time passed quickly and she was taken by surprise when a plane screeched onto the nearby runway, practically skidding to a halt. Did they always look so haphazard when they landed? Or was it only the budget airlines that went for a white-knuckle finish?
Tucking the book away, she got to her feet and walked to the arrivals door to greet her friend.
13
‘OK, so promise you’ll use your imagination,’ Lily said again as they turned down the road that led to her new house. ‘It’s not perfect, and I didn’t expect it to be.’
‘You really have no faith in me at all,’ Emily said. ‘Besides which, after that drive, I’m too travel sick to complain about anything!’
When Emily had walked through the double doors from passport control two hours earlier, Lily had had to fight the urge to leap into her arms. Her friend had been her usual dishevelled yet beautiful self: sporting tracksuit bottoms, a hoodie, dark glasses and a messy bun. But in that moment, she’d seemed so familiar, reminded her so much of home, it had thrown the experience of the last few days into sharp relief. Lily had been lonelier than she’d realised.
‘You get used to the roads, honestly,’ Lily said hurriedly. ‘They are a bit twisty, but you learn to sort of go with it.’
‘I know – I’m kidding. I’m just traumatised from looking out the window and seeing we were driving on the edge of some sort of death-drop.’
‘Yes, that freaked me out at first,’ Lily admitted. ‘It’s a long way down, huh?’
‘At least it holds the promise of certain death,’ Emily said. ‘You don’t have to worry about life-altering injuries.’
‘Always a bright side.’