A Year at the French Farmhouse(106)

‘But…’ Lily said.

‘And for the first day I fink maybe she does not love me, huh? Then I realise what she mean!’

‘What I…?’

‘My beautiful Engleesh lady, she is not disponsible to just anyone,’ he said. ‘She is my princesse, oui?’

For a moment, Lily didn’t follow.

‘I make love with many, many women,’ Frédérique said, addressing her. ‘So many, many women. But for you, I know, it is not enough, eh?’

‘What?’

‘I mean to say,’ he said. ‘Zat you are more special, mon coeur. You say to me, don’t call me lover we are not lovers.’

This was excruciating.

‘We are le heart of each other,’ he said, nodding.

‘Well, kind of…’

‘And then I know what it is you want!’ he said, triumphantly. ‘And it is too, what I would want for us, oui? You want that we marry before we make love. To take it old fashion, like in le movies?’

‘No, that’s not—’

‘So I say to you, Madame Buttercup. You ’ave come into my life and made the sun shine again. You are beautiful, you ’ave l’indépendence. You capture my ’eart so completely, that I am yours forever.’

‘Oh.’

‘I know we know so little of each other. But please to believe me, my heart, I must tell you that I do not make this proposal just because I want so much to make love with you, mon coeur.’

‘I…’

‘Because, of course, I want your body, so beautiful. But I also want your ’ead. Your mind. My love. I want to be making love to all of you.’

‘Oh.’

‘I want to be wiv you forever.’

‘…’

He drew a box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a beautiful ring, set with a sapphire surrounded by diamonds. Her engagement ring from Ben had been a simple diamond solitaire, bought when they were too young to afford something bigger. But she’d always longed for a beautiful, antique ring. One day, Ben had told her, I’ll buy you one.

But one day hadn’t come.

‘I speak to my grandmother, and she say, Frédérique, you must follow your ’eart. She iz the one! And she give me ’er ring and say, do not let ’er go,’ Frédérique said. ‘And so I must ask you, my beautiful Lily, whether you will put this on your finger and agree to a marriage with me. Because love, when you know, you just know. Oui?’

‘But Frédérique,’ she started, but he held a finger up to silence her.

‘My love, you are alone. And it make me triste – sad – each day to think of you like this. You want to make life la France, you want to ’ave much happiness, I think? Let me ’elp. Let me be someone by your side. Someone oo never to let you down, or leave you, or let you go from me alone. You deserve a personne – a man – oo love you enough. Oo love you like you deserve to be love.’

Lily felt tears suddenly pool in her eyes.

‘Mon coeur, all you do to me is to say oui, and I am yours. And you will never ’ave to be alone again.’

She looked at his face – so handsome and earnest. The ring – so beautiful, and gifted by his grandmother. He was over the top, sure. But maybe after years of half-heartedness, she deserved a little romance?

And he was right. Despite everything. Despite the friends she had already gathered around her. Despite the fact that England was only a short flight away and she had so many ways of staying in touch with people, she often felt completely and utterly alone.





36





Lily looked at Frédérique’s handsome face, his beautiful eyes that crinkled when he smiled. She looked at the expectant faces surrounding them. It was in so many ways the perfect moment. Here in a house she loved, in a country she was coming to know. She could gather up her very own Russell Crowe (circa 2006), her Max Skinner, and she’d be living a long-held dream. Of living a different kind of life; of being loved.

It would be so, so easy to say yes.

She steeled herself for what might come next.

‘I’m sorry, Frédérique,’ she said, her voice picked up on the microphone in his hand. ‘I’m so sorry, but I can’t.’

‘But…’

‘Let me explain,’ she said, feeling her heart lurch when she saw his eyes begin to glisten. ‘It’s not you, it really isn’t. You’ve been… Well, wonderful. And kind. And you’ve done everything you thought I wanted. It’s amazing. To be wanted, to be loved that much. I would love to be able to say yes.’

She knelt down opposite him. ‘But I can’t. And it’s because I’m in love with someone else.’ She brushed a little strand of hair from his forehead. ‘I shouldn’t have come on a date with you in the first place,’ she said. ‘But I was angry, angry with him. And for a while the anger made me feel that I didn’t love him. But I do. I know now that I still do.’

‘Your ’usband?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I still love Ben. And it’s wretched because I know that he doesn’t love me any more. That he doesn’t want me enough. He’s back in England and—’ her voice was suddenly thick with tears ‘—I don’t even know if he’s OK or not. I can’t… we don’t even speak.’