A Year at the French Farmhouse(18)

Then she imagined coffees in sun-drenched cafés, walking to the boulangerie for her daily croissant, saying cheery bonjours to friendly locals and living each day with the knowledge that she’d had a dream and made it happen. Even if she’d had to do it alone.

She was just musing over colour choices for the salle de séjour, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. ‘Sorry love, captain’s put the seat belt signs back on; we’re coming in to land.’

She felt a lurch, which may or may not have been the descent of the plane. This was it.

‘I’m so proud of you,’ Emily had said when she’d called her yesterday. ‘It really takes enormous balls to do what you’re doing.’

‘Well, maybe not enormous balls.’

‘You’re right. It takes an exceptionally large vagina.’

‘Hmm, why does that sound like less of a compliment…’ Lily had paused for a moment, listening to her friend laugh. ‘So you don’t think I’m making a big mistake? I mean, Ben…’ Her voice had broken slightly as she’d said his name. ‘He’s… we’re both… devastated.’

Emily had sighed. ‘I know, sweetheart. But he doesn’t have to be. He could come with.’

‘Or I could stay.’

‘You could,’ her friend had said. ‘But it’s like you said yourself – you’d always wonder, maybe always resent him for holding you back. At least this way you’re doing the thing you’ve wanted to do for practically your whole life.’

‘I know, it’s just…’

‘I think you’re doing the right thing, lovely. It’s heartbreaking, I know. But staying would be too.’

‘You’re right,’ Lily had said, feeling a sinking sensation deep in her stomach. ‘And I just… I mean, if he loved me enough…’

‘Exactly.’

There a silence, then, ‘Do you want me to come?’ Emily had offered.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes, I mean, not forever. I’m not going to become your business partner or anything. And the dogs haven’t even got passports so I’ll have to see whether Chris can cope with looking after them – I don’t want to come back and find him mauled to death or covered in doggie drool. But if I can sort it all, I could come out for a week or so, if you like? Help you settle in. Help knock back that wine that you reckon might be in the cellar.’

‘I think the cellar is more likely to be full of junk. But, pretty sure we can stretch to buying a few bottles if that’s a deal-breaker.’ Lily had found herself smiling.

‘You got it. Look, I’ll have to organise a few things, but I’ll get myself a ticket and be over as soon as I can. Only if you want me to, that is.’

Lily had felt her eyes fill with tears of relief. ‘You,’ she’d said, ‘are such a good friend. What would I do without you?’

There was a silence. ‘You’d manage.’

‘Still nice to know I’ll never have to, right?’

The plane bumped onto the tarmac and screeched to a halt on the tiny runway, jolting her back to the present moment. Almost immediately, the other passengers got up, grabbed bags from overhead lockers and then queued up in readiness for the door to open and release them. Lily waited until most of them had exited, then calmly removed her own bag and made her way to the back of the plane. ‘Thank you,’ she said to the smiling staff.

‘Have a lovely trip!’ one of them said.

‘Actually,’ she said, ‘I’m moving here. I’m getting a visa for…’

But they’d moved on to the next passenger.

She rolled her suitcase over the tarmac, already appreciating the warm sun playing on her face. She was charmed by the tiny airport, the quick exit to collect her baggage, and the fact that the foyer in the building was practically empty. The department of Limousin had one of the lowest populations in France, and Lily noticed a difference in density even at the airport: the lack of pushing and shoving, the amount of space and the air that, despite the planes, smelled somehow fresher and cleaner than it did back home.

‘Aren’t you worried you’ll be lonely?’ Emily had said when she’d told her that there were fewer residents in the whole of Limousin than there were in Basildon

‘Not at all,’ Lily said. ‘It’s not as if it’s completely empty. There are still people there. Just… well, I suppose fewer of them.’

‘Quality not quantity?’

‘Exactly.’

‘Plus, there are an awful lot of cows in that area,’ Emily had added. ‘You can always make some bovine friends.’

‘Thanks, I’ll bear that in mind.’

‘See, you think I’m joking. But before you know it you and the local cattle may have formed a moo-tiful friendship.’

‘That’s awful.’

‘Yes, I apologise.’

‘I feel as if you’ve let yourself down.’

‘I am deeply ashamed.’

Lily had decided to book a small hire car for the first month to get her started, so after collecting her case and making her way through passport control – which had taken just twenty minutes – she headed to the car hire building. Her on-board suitcase was modern, light and had wheels. But the enormous case she’d placed in the hold was old, unwieldy and bursting at the seams. Rolling one while carrying the other proved no mean feat, but she developed a kind of roll-limp and drag motion that got her to the tiny administrative building with a picture of a car above the door just across the pedestrian crossing.