A Year at the French Farmhouse

But if she was going to be living in a lakeside paradise, she ought to try to get to know it a bit better. Feeling herself just inching forward with breaststroke, she changed, diving under the water slightly and kicking her legs. She gained momentum and – briefly coming up for air – dived below the surface again, enjoying the sensation of being submerged briefly in her own little world, hearing only the gentle rhythm of her heartbeat.

Her vision was clouded by debris stirred up from the lake bed and – resolving to buy goggles – she closed her eyes. Then she kicked forward, enjoying the added meditative quality that shutting off one of her senses brought – of being alone, underwater, focused just on herself, on her movement. She kicked again and… collided with something soft.

Hitting the thing sent her reeling and she stood up, slightly unbalanced, gasping for air. Only to see a man doubled over in front of her. His back was covered in a thin sprinkle of hair, and his skin was lightly tanned. His hair, a blonde mop, flopped forward as he bent down, clutching himself.

‘Oh god. I’m so sorry,’ she said. ‘I was… I had my eyes closed and…’

The man straightened up; his face slightly flushed, his mouth contorted. ‘It izz OK,’ he said. ‘I em fine.’

‘But you…’ She wasn’t sure quite what to say. ‘I’ve hurt you.’

‘I will be OK in a minute,’ he said, a single tear rolling down his cheek. ‘Please, continue your swim.’

She awkwardly, but gratefully, turned and disappeared under the lake’s surface. This time keeping her eyes open despite the cloudy water, she pushed herself forward once again, then turned and swam back. The man had hobbled into the shallows and she now had most of the area to herself. Gaining a little momentum, she completed another length, and kicked back to her original position – only to find herself now confronted with a set of extraordinarily hairy legs and a pair of orange Speedos that only became visible through the cloudy water when she was a little too close for comfort.

Seeing the orange beacon-like glimmer of Lycra, she came up abruptly, not wanting to repeat the horror of her earlier collision, only to find herself standing in front of a person she recognised.

What was he doing here, in the water, when she hadn’t seen him at all on the beach?

‘Lily Buttercup!’ Frédérique said, laughing. ‘I did not know you like to ’ave a swim ’ere.’

‘Oh,’ she said, feeling suddenly embarrassed at her sodden hair and half-nakedness. ‘Oui, j’aime, I like the water. It’s my first swim here though.’

‘Ah, but I like to come often in the summer after my work is done,’ he says. ‘But not so much the winter, eh. Mais il y a une association – a club you can join, if you wish. They like the water all the year.’

‘Er, thank you,’ she said, trying to keep her gaze on his eyes. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t seen a male torso before – the beach was littered with them. But having involuntarily imagined what Frédérique might look like under his shirt in the past (in her defence, notary appointments are long) she felt as if somehow he might be able to read that in her eyes. As it was, her imagination hadn’t been far off – he was just as tanned and toned as she’d imagined, albeit with the hairiest chest she’d ever had the pleasure to peruse up close.

‘Anyway, I will let you get back to making your sport,’ he said.

‘Thank you.’

‘And your casse it is looking good, eh?’

‘My what?’

‘Your casse?’

Had he seriously just told her she had a nice ass? ‘I’m not sure you should…’ she began… then thought better of it. ‘Sorry, I don’t understand,’ she said.

‘Your casse. The breakage – you damage the wall, yes? And it is now good?’

‘Oh, yes, thank you,’ she replied, feeling herself blush. ‘It’s perfect.’

Then in a move that was almost too French to be believable, he took her hand and kissed it. ‘Then I am ’appy,’ he said, seemingly oblivious to the swimmers that had joined them in the little enclosure and were trying to wend their way around them.

‘Thank you,’ she said, desperate now to plunge back into the water and hide her blushes.

‘And,’ he said, finally, ‘I fink we ’ave to celebrate that it iz fix, yes? Do you want to join me for a drink tomorrow to ’ow you say, faire une célébration?’

‘I’m…’ There were thousands of reasons why she should say no. Not least that she was still married and – against all odds – still held a tiny thread of hope that Ben might yet get himself on a flight. Then there was Claude’s warning – that Frédérique wasn’t such a good friend to women. And the fact he was selling her a house. And that he was the local mayor, so someone who would probably be in her life going forward whatever dating disasters might happen.

But before she could let her rational mind step in, she found the words ‘I’d love to,’ coming out of her mouth.





23





‘You agreed to go on a date?’ Emily’s voice on the phone was incredulous.

‘Well, I’m not sure if it’s a date, exactly,’ Lily replied. ‘But I suppose I’m open to it being one. I mean, why not?’

She was sitting on the front steps of the house, looking across the front garden and, beyond it, the road that led to the beach, coffee in hand. The air was cool, but the shards of sunlight that broke from behind the puffs of cloud held the promise of warmth. She took a sip of her hot coffee and felt it shiver through her.

Emily was silent for a minute. ‘But I thought you said you weren’t going to do anything until you were sure…?’

‘I am sure! Emily, Ben told me he didn’t think we should contact each other – surely that’s enough evidence that it’s over between us?’

‘I know,’ Emily sighed. ‘But I suppose… I mean, haven’t you ever sent a text message in haste? And regretted it? Or,’ she added pointedly, ‘clicked a button you didn’t mean to click after a few drinks?’

Touché.

‘Well, you know the answer to that.’

‘What if Ben’s desperately sorry? Has he tried to contact you since?’

‘Well, no. But I blocked him, obviously. I didn’t want to be tempted to call him if he isn’t interested in hearing from me.’

‘So for all you know, he’s been trying to get hold of you.’

‘Seriously, Emily. If he has, he hasn’t been trying that hard. I’m still on email…’

‘Lily, he’s a man. You have to be realistic about what he’s capable of…’

‘Ha. Well, yes. But seriously, Em, I thought you were all for my embracing a new life over here and anyone else who might come along?’

‘I know…’ Emily paused. ‘I suppose, well, don’t tell anyone, but things with Chris have been so good since I’ve been home. I mean, they were good before, you know? But since… we’re so much closer. I think we’d drifted apart a bit – like you do.’

‘I get it, I do…’

‘And I couldn’t help but think how much closeness and togetherness you build up over the years. And how awful it would be to throw it away.’

‘But I’m not throwing it away. He is. Or rather, he has.’

‘I know. Just… well, if anything happens with Frédérique, it kind of makes it final in a whole new way.’

‘I know,’ Lily said. ‘But I suppose… I mean, I can’t keep waiting and hoping forever, can I? I can’t… Well, I don’t want to be alone forever.’

‘I know, chick.’

‘I’m not even a hundred per cent sure it’s a date, so…’

‘Well, there you go then. Enjoy his company. Get to know him. Just maybe… I don’t know… Maybe take a breath before jumping into anything else. Life is short, and I just… I suppose I don’t want to see you making a mistake.’

Once she was off the phone, Lily tried to get her mind off Emily’s words. It wasn’t as if she’d had any intention of rushing into anything with Frédérique – for starters, the idea of it being a date at all might be entirely in her head. But she’d expected her friend to be her usual, enthusiastic self. To tease her and encourage her and make her excited for the evening ahead. Now she just felt… well, flat at best.

And the thought of a possible reconciliation with Ben – something that she’d kept at arm’s length as much as she could recently – was back at the forefront of her mind.

For twenty years, they’d been everything to each other. Sure, they’d probably gone through periods where they’d taken each other for granted, or snapped at each other, or not spent enough time together. But underneath it all she’d always had a feeling of safety and permanence. She’d felt that, for better or worse, it was Ben she wanted by her side. And she’d been convinced he’d felt the same way.

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