A Year at the French Farmhouse

‘Oh.’


‘I think,’ Sam said, ‘we see the beauty in the houses like this because we haven’t grown up living in one, and we’re looking to come out here and live a completely different kind of existence. But local people want to get on with their lives, their careers. They can’t spend hours working on a house as it crumbles around them.’

That didn’t sound good. ‘Crumbles around them?’

‘Sorry. I’m prone to exaggeration. This is… well, it’s pretty standard.’

‘You don’t think it’s a complete disaster then?’ Lily said, feeling a little lighter. ‘In your professional opinion?’

‘Ah, you’ll be OK,’ Sam said, prodding the wall with her hand. ‘It’s not terminal, I don’t think. We had a couple of walls like this – and it’s just a case of ancient or non-existent plaster, strong glue and wallpaper that’s been left in place since the dark ages.’

‘Thank god for that.’

‘You’ll need someone in to give it a proper look-over and fix-up though. Unless you’re a dab hand at pointing and plastering as well as demolition?’ Sam gave her a sideways glance.

‘Yeah, think this might be a bit beyond me right now.’ Lily nodded. ‘Although, you know, I’d love to learn how to do all of those things eventually.’

‘Oh, you will.’

‘Thanks.’

‘And you know,’ Sam said, ‘these houses drive us all mad – I don’t know anyone who’s actually finished all the work that’s needed. They come with a lifetime of projects.’

‘Really?’

‘But,’ Sam said, ‘once you get a bit further down the road, you become… well, sort of attached to the house. And you learn about how to cope with the various hiccups. And you also learn what to touch and what to leave to the experts.’

‘Right.’

‘And, you know, I say a lifetime of projects, but they’re not all patching up and making good. Some of the projects are fun. Once you’re a bit more confident that you’ve uncovered all the nasty surprises, they’re the kind of projects with less effort and a bigger payoff.’

‘Sounds more like it.’

‘And it is worth it! A bit of work and this place will be gorgeous.’

‘You think?’

‘Definitely.’

‘So,’ said Lily, looking at the wall again. ‘What did you do when it happened to you? How did you… fix things?’

‘Well, budget version? What we did was get the bit of disaster wall repaired, then left the rest of the wallpaper in situ and just covered it with about twenty coats of paint.’

‘Oh!’

‘Yeah. I mean, I know the wallpaper is not to everyone’s taste – and it’s quite an undertaking to cover it up – but in Limousin, some of this sixties wallpaper is load-bearing.’

Lily laughed. ‘I can imagine.’

‘Yep. More important than some of the beams in keeping the house together, I reckon!’ Sam winked. ‘Derek! Come here. No. Don’t touch that. No! Not the stairs…’

‘Right, perhaps I’ll follow your advice,’ Lily said. ‘And thank you. You’ve really saved my life.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘I mean it. You hardly know me, and you’ve no idea how much better you’ve made me feel,’ Lily said with a watery smile. She tried not to think about how many times she’d already welled up in front of this practical stranger, and was astonished that Sam still seemed to want to know her despite her seemingly constant misery.

Sam smiled and touched her arm briefly. ‘Don’t worry, we’ve all been there.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. That’s one of the reasons I go to those expat gatherings. Almost all of us are out here, away from family. We’re all missing that sort of backup – parents or sisters or uncles we can call. So we sort of step into the void for each other.’

‘Oh.’

‘Yeah. I suppose that’s why I excuse the flat-earthers and the conspiracy theorists. Because they’re like sort of great-uncles, or crazy aunties. They’re family. You tolerate it at least, tackle it sometimes. And you stay in touch. You stay around for each other.’

‘That sounds… well, it sounds really nice,’ Lily said, warming to the idea of a sort of substitute family, especially as even back in the UK she had few relatives to call her own.

‘It is… I mean, we’re all completely different. But we have that in common. That need for someone to call on. It’s not something anyone talks about. But you’ll find out – people do a lot more for each other than they might do for neighbours or friends at home. Because we’re all in it together in a strange way.’

Lily smiled. ‘Thanks, Sam.’

‘Ah, this is nothing. Wait till you try to do anything with the electrics or plumbing.’

‘Call in the experts?’

‘Definitely.’

‘Anyway, what do you reckon?’ Sam said then, gently brushing down a few of Claudine’s loose curls. ‘Want to help us build a few sandcastles?’

‘I’d love to.’ Lily smiled. ‘Just got to make a couple of phone calls first.’

‘Join us in a bit?’

‘Definitely.’

‘I’ll get you a coffee.’

‘Thank you – see you in five.’

As soon as Sam had bundled her children back up the garden path and into the car to drive to the lakeside car park, Lily scrolled through her phone to find Frédérique’s number. After all, the property was still his she reasoned. She ought to tell him what had happened. And he’d probably know someone trustworthy to make the repairs.

She waited for the number to connect, then listened to it ring out before going to answerphone.

‘Hi, Frédérique. It’s Lily. Can you call me when you have a moment?’ she said. ‘A wall in the house has… well, I think it needs to be repaired.’

As she hung up, a thought struck her. That, rather than needing to speak to Frédérique, she’d wanted to.

Of course it was sensible to inform the homeowner when you’d ripped half a wall down by mistake. It was just, she realised, that wasn’t the only reason she’d raced to dial his number. Although the wall looked unsightly, it wasn’t going to actually fall down. There was no urgency in having to call him. She’d calmed down talking to Sam and knew what she needed to do.

In reality, she probably should have downed tools and gone to the beach with Sam immediately. Switched off for a bit. Built a sandcastle if the urge had taken her. And embraced some of the calm that came with being close to the still, cool water and lush green trees.

She didn’t even need to ring Frédérique to find a suitable artisan to help her make the repair. There was Sam – who’d literally been right there – and Chloé. Each probably knew one or two people. All things being equal, a rational decision might have been to leave Frédérique alone – after all, he’d already tackled a rogue gang of squirrels for her, and was trying to manage the reputational damage from Emily’s drunken exhibition.

But she’d wanted to hear his voice, she realised. She’d wanted him to come around and look and laugh about it, and make her feel better.

At the heart of it all, she’d just wanted to see him.





22





‘So you’re a plasterer and a farmer?’ Lily said to Claude as he removed the loose bits from her wall and began to mix up some filler. They were standing in the hallway, the front door open to let in the light, which cruelly revealed not only the mess she’d made with the wallpaper, but the millions of dust particles that floated in the air, every chip and dent on the skirting board and probably every single one of her wrinkles.

‘Mais, non. I am just un agriculteur,’ he said with the obligatory shrug. ‘I’m a farmer, just a farmer. Mais, j’ai aussi une maison – I have a house too, uh? You learn to care for la maison.’

‘Right.’ Lily nodded. ‘Well, merci beaucoup for your help… votre aide.’

‘Ton aide,’ he corrected. ‘Et de rien, it is nothing.’

She’d tried to hide her disappointment when he’d knocked at the door this afternoon, complete with bucket, box of plaster, some sort of mixing tool, wearing a navy-blue pair of overalls. ‘Frédérique, ’e say you need some ’elp?’ he’d said by way of greeting. ‘You ’ave… ’ow you say – made the wall tombe? It fall down?’

‘Er, yes. Well, sort of,’ she’d said, standing back to let him in.

When she’d finally spoken to Frédérique and explained the situation on the phone last night, he’d seemed really concerned. ‘I will fix this,’ he’d said. ‘Don’t worry.’

He’d clearly outsourced the job to Claude, but if she was honest, she’d been hoping he’d be the one arriving at her front door. It was probably for the best though, she told herself. It was fun having a little crush on someone, but she wasn’t in the market for a relationship, or even a bit of fun. Not yet. Things were too raw.

‘Would you like a coffee?’ she asked now.

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