A Year at the French Farmhouse(31)

‘So it’s a shithole?’ Emily said. ‘You’ve bought a dud, is that it? Because I’m sure we can… there must be recourse, even if you have paid a deposit… there must…’

‘No, it’s not that,’ she said. Because despite the musty wallpaper and dangling wires and curiously plumbed in toilet, the cracked windowpanes, missing roof tiles, scuffed wooden floors and pretty much absent kitchen, she was utterly in love with the place – or the place it could be, given a little time, money and elbow grease. She’d expected renovations, plumbing issues, faulty shutters. And she was able to look through these problems, to see the house underneath that could be stripped and repaired and polished and refitted and brought back to life.

It was all doable.

‘Actually, it’s beautiful… I mean, it’s not a ch?teau, and it’s certainly only just habitable, if that, at the moment,’ she said. ‘But I’m not completely insane…’

‘Well, that’s debatable.’

‘Hey! Well, I’m not. I’m not crazy enough to believe that you can snap up a house for forty k and discover it’s a fully renovated dream home. I’ve bought a shell. But it’s a good shell. I mean, there are parquet floors. Real parquet floors, Emily!’

‘That’s… very impressive.’

‘It’s just…’ She sniffed loudly. ‘Standing here, I can see everything that needs to be done, I can see just how beautiful the place will be when the work’s complete.’

‘Right…’

‘I can even imagine what it’s going to be like living here in the interim. I mean, not perfect, right? But doable. Even an adventure if I look at it in the right way.’

‘The right way being after several glasses of rosé?’

‘Ha. Well, yes.’

‘So what exactly is the problem?’ her friend asked, an edge of impatience creeping into her voice. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve got a rat infestation? Or squatters? Or, I don’t know, the place is balanced on the edge of a cliff or something?’

‘None of that. It’s… I mean, it could be – will be – great. I just didn’t… I don’t know how I’m going to even begin to do it all by myself. Whenever I imagined starting again, having an adventure, it was with Ben. Encountering problems together. Working out what to do together. Here on my own, well, I just feel completely… stuck. Alone. As if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew in every possible way.’

‘Oh sweetheart…’

‘It’s like I’ve stepped into a dream, just I’ve left part of it behind.’

‘Oh Lily…’

‘And I know I’ll get myself together and start, well, to tackle everything. But right now I’m just completely alone.’

‘Bullshit,’ Emily said decisively.

‘What?’

‘You, my darling, are not alone. At least you won’t be for more than another day or so…’

‘No?’

‘No. I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I’ve persuaded Chris that he can actually manage to pick up a bit of dog shit for a couple of days, and that try as the boys might, he won’t actually get licked to death.’

‘And…?’

‘And I’m coming.’

‘Oh!’

‘Yep. Flight booked, suitcase almost packed. Husband pacified. Job… well, they owe me about a month’s worth of leave so they basically don’t have a leg to stand on.’

‘Thank you,’ Lily said, feeling tearful again, but this time with relief.

‘Yes. So you can dry up those tears, dust off that parquet and buy an inflatable mattress. I’m on my way.’

‘Thank you,’ Lily said again. ‘I really appreciate it, you know.’

‘Hey, what are friends for? I’ll ping over the flight details if it’s OK to pick me up?’

‘Of course!’

‘And Lily?’

‘Yes?’

‘For god’s sake buy in a case of vino. Emily is en route!’





11





‘Well,’ he said, ‘what do you think?’

‘What do you mean, what do I think?’

‘Which one would you like?’ he asked again, colouring slightly.

She looked at the jeweller’s window he’d stopped in front of. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes. Pick one. Go on!’ His face broke into a smile and he nodded at the window. ‘Within reason, obviously.’

‘Ben Butterworth, are you saying you want to marry me?’

He laughed. ‘As if you didn’t already know.’

Later, she’d have fun regaling friends and family with his lacklustre, unromantic proposal. But right then, she couldn’t have asked for anything more.





At first, on waking, she wondered where she was. Her back ached and her limbs felt heavy and unrested. Turning over, she could feel the mattress beneath her sink onto a hard surface below. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, she remembered. She was on an airbed on the floor of the largest bedroom in her new house.

The sun streamed through gaps in the shutters and shot across the room onto the back wall – highlighting air that was thick with dust particles. Outside, she could hear the cheering sound of birdsong and the rumble of a car or two on a distant road.