‘Well, yes…’ said Lily, ‘it looks like I am.’
‘I’m going to miss you, you know,’ Emily said, wistfully. ‘Miss spending so much time with you.’
‘Even the times when I make you pluck that wayward grey hair from the back of my head?’
‘Even those.’
‘Even the times I drag you to aerobics on Thursdays, despite your protestations?’ Lily joked.
‘Well, I won’t miss the aerobics, I’ll admit,’ said Emily. ‘Although if I end up eating myself into a state and having to be winched out of my house by a crane, it’ll be one hundred per cent your fault for leaving and taking my motivation with you.’
‘‘Ha! As if that would ever happen. You’ve got the dogs to drag you around, remember.’
‘Ah yes. Thank god for the dogs. They have absolutely no desire to live in France, as far as I can tell.’
‘Ah, but you never know. I reckon Buster would look fabulous in a beret!’
‘You know what? You could be right!’ Emily laughed. ‘Seriously though… Now it’s actually happening. Wow. I’m happy for you, obviously. But… you know – I actually hate the thought of you not being around.’
‘I know,’ Lily said. ‘But I mean, it’s been a long time coming. When did I first talk about moving to France? I was – what – about fourteen?’
‘Younger than that. I remember in Year Eight, all you wanted to do was help Mademoiselle Fran?ois create a French café for parents’ evening.’
‘But that was just… I…’
‘Ooh, Mademoiselle, laissez-moi vous aider!’ Emily mimicked. Let me help you.
‘That does not sound like me,’ Lily laughed.
‘Admit it, you’re France obsessed.’
‘I wouldn’t say obsessed, exactly…’
‘Really, so, tell me. How many times have you watched A Year in Provence?’ Emily asked, knowing already that it was Lily’s all-time favourite movie.
‘It’s called A Good Year actually. A Year in Provence is the book it’s based on. Anyway, you know how I feel about Russell Crowe.’ Lily was a sucker for the now-vintage film; the way living in Provence changes the lead character, Max Skinner, from corporate go-getter to someone more wholly real and attractive. The fact Max Skinner was played by Russell Crowe was just a bonus. But she wasn’t going to admit how many times she’d watched it – even to herself.
‘Still, don’t catch you watching Gladiator on repeat. Or A Beautiful Mind, do we?’ Emily pressed.
‘OK, you got me. I’m France obsessed,’ Lily said, feeling herself smile. There was no hiding her truth from Emily. ‘But you know, this isn’t just me. Ben’s really keen to do it too. Next year at least. It shouldn’t be too hard to get him to bring our plans forward a bit.’
‘It’s amazing what twenty years of wearing someone down will do.’
‘Two decades of nagging – and finally a result!’ Lily quipped back. ‘Although, he honestly does love the idea. I mean, that hamper for my birthday was really…’
Emily snorted. ‘If someone bought me a packet of bloody snails for my birthday, I’d turn around and shove them up…’
‘It was romantic.’
‘Romantic my arse.’
They laughed.
‘Seriously though, good for you, Lil. I mean, just going for it. It sounds like an amazing idea. And I know you’ve been a bit worried about Ty, but there does have to be a time, doesn’t there, when you say, it’s my turn now. Before it’s too late.’
‘Too late?’
‘Well, what are we now, forty-two?’
Lily laughed: ‘Forty-four, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, fuck off, we’re not. Forty-two’ll do. Anyway, we’re forty-two – you want to go to another country, start a business and recline on a sun-lounger or whatever…’
‘Swim in the lakes, go to beautiful cafés, learn to speak French like a native…’
‘Yes, yes, all of that,’ Emily continued, dismissively. ‘But you know, if you’d left it much longer, it might not have been possible!’
‘Hey, I’m not planning on shrivelling up any time in the near future.’
‘Nobody ever is,’ replied Emily darkly. ‘But soon you’ll be fifty, then sixty…’
‘Steady on!’
‘I’m not saying you’re old. We’re the same age, for Pete’s sake. And I’m practically a foetus. But there is going to be a time when it’s too bloody late to do all that. When you won’t have the energy to set it all up – to do the difficult bit. I reckon you’re doing the right thing.’
‘Thank you.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘So, what’s the plan? Going over and seeing where the wind blows? Arranging some viewings? Renting for a bit?’ Emily asked.
‘I haven’t fully thought it out.’ Lily opened her laptop, which lay next to her on the duvet and, putting Emily on speakerphone, brought up a list of French country houses on Google. ‘I mean France is… enormous. And I haven’t been that often, when it comes down to it. Except all those holidays when I was a kid. Ben… well, we’ve done Nice and Paris a few times, but it’s not as if we’ll ever afford a house in either of those places.’
‘Not unless there’s a EuroMillions win you haven’t yet told me about.’
‘Afraid not. Anyway, city breaks are great for holidays, but living… I want somewhere…’
‘Cheaper?’
‘Yes. Definitely cheaper.’ She laughed. ‘But also quieter. Somewhere, you know, tranquil.’
‘Like Limousin,’ said Emily, in an exaggerated French accent.
‘Oui, like Limousin.’
‘Where even is that by the way?’
‘It’s kind of two-thirds of the way down France, if you look at a map. You know. I went there every year from the age of about twelve to sixteen.’
‘Ah, yes. All those postcards with cows on the front?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘Wow, so really rural, then.’
‘Yes. But it’s beautiful. And the houses are… well,’ Lily gasped as a page she clicked on loaded. ‘Wow, ridiculously cheap. There’s an old farmhouse here for fifty thousand euros!’
‘What’s that in real money?’
‘Maybe forty grand. It’s within the realms of possibility: I’ve still got most of my inheritance from Mum. And now the redundancy money… Plus, when we sell this place, we’ll have money in the bank, to live off for a bit, do the renovations. That kind of thing. We’d have no obligations, time to set up a business…’ She trailed off, lost in her imagination.
‘Sounds blissful.’
‘And it isn’t as if I have anything much to stay here for, since – well – since Mum died. And with David in Australia now.’
‘Excuse me? Nothing to keep you here? Your big brother may not be on the same continent any more, but you still have an errant bestie!’ Emily said, with mock offence.
‘The errant bestie has a passport.’
‘Good point. I forgot about the free holiday for best friends aspect. Forget I said anything.’
‘I mean, Ben will see how much it makes sense to get on with it, don’t you think?’ Lily said, trying to still a sudden doubt. ‘Strolling in vineyards, exploring the countryside, collecting fresh bread from the boulangerie each morning… What’s the alternative? Sitting in Basildon, watching reruns of Bargain Hunt or Real Deal?’
‘Don’t knock it ’til you’ve tried it. I think Dickinson’s growing on me.’
‘Are you sure? It’s probably just a rogue mole.’
‘Ha. Well, look. You have my one hundred per cent support, however you decide to do it.’
‘Thank you,’ Lily said, pulling up a page of short-term rentals. ‘There’s loads of places to rent too, while we house-hunt. It’ll give Ben a chance to get used to rural living – you know; so it grows on him.’
‘Grows on him? You make it sound like a fungal infection.’
‘Emily! I’m serious.’
‘Well, I’m all for you finally embracing your dreams. You know that. It’s about time you stood up for yourself, Lily Butterworth. You are entitled to ask for what you want – put yourself first.’
‘Yes,’ Lily said. ‘You know what. I think you’re right.’
By the time Ben arrived home several hours later, Lily was sitting on the sofa, flicking through the channels in a vain attempt to find something to watch on TV. Ty had appeared briefly in the doorway at 10.30 p.m., then disappeared upstairs with a box of Frosties.
‘All right, love?’ Ben said, walking up and planting a kiss on the top of her head.
‘Yeah, not too bad,’ she said, head full of France and countryside and endless summers.
‘So, work gave you the afternoon off or something?’
‘What?’
‘You were home early, so I thought…’
Shit. In all her chatting with Emily, paired with three-quarters of a bottle of wine, she’d actually forgotten she’d been made redundant earlier that day.