A Year at the French Farmhouse(4)

It was hard to know what to do with herself while waiting, so in the end she did what she always did in a crisis – picked up the phone and dialled Emily.





2





Lily lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling, phone clamped to her ear. She noticed a hairline crack in the plaster, dust on the lampshade. ‘So, what do you think?’ she asked.

‘I think,’ said Emily, ‘it sounds amazing… And you reckon Ben will be up for it?’

‘You think he might not be, because of Ty?’

‘Well, yeah. I mean, that was his reason for the delay before, wasn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Lily said, rolling onto her front. ‘But you know what? I think Ty’s grown up so much in the last six months. He seems so different – I’m sure Ben’s noticed it too. I really don’t think he’s going to need his parents hanging about.’

‘Good point.’ Emily was silent for a moment. Then: ‘Wow, so you’re actually going to be doing it,’ she said, her voice quieter than usual.

‘Well, yes…’ said Lily, ‘it looks like I am.’

‘I’m going to miss you, you know,’ Emily said, wistfully. ‘Miss spending so much time with you.’

‘Even the times when I make you pluck that wayward grey hair from the back of my head?’

‘Even those.’

‘Even the times I drag you to aerobics on Thursdays, despite your protestations?’ Lily joked.

‘Well, I won’t miss the aerobics, I’ll admit,’ said Emily. ‘Although if I end up eating myself into a state and having to be winched out of my house by a crane, it’ll be one hundred per cent your fault for leaving and taking my motivation with you.’

‘‘Ha! As if that would ever happen. You’ve got the dogs to drag you around, remember.’

‘Ah yes. Thank god for the dogs. They have absolutely no desire to live in France, as far as I can tell.’

‘Ah, but you never know. I reckon Buster would look fabulous in a beret!’

‘You know what? You could be right!’ Emily laughed. ‘Seriously though… Now it’s actually happening. Wow. I’m happy for you, obviously. But… you know – I actually hate the thought of you not being around.’

‘I know,’ Lily said. ‘But I mean, it’s been a long time coming. When did I first talk about moving to France? I was – what – about fourteen?’

‘Younger than that. I remember in Year Eight, all you wanted to do was help Mademoiselle Fran?ois create a French café for parents’ evening.’

‘But that was just… I…’

‘Ooh, Mademoiselle, laissez-moi vous aider!’ Emily mimicked. Let me help you.

‘That does not sound like me,’ Lily laughed.

‘Admit it, you’re France obsessed.’

‘I wouldn’t say obsessed, exactly…’

‘Really, so, tell me. How many times have you watched A Year in Provence?’ Emily asked, knowing already that it was Lily’s all-time favourite movie.

‘It’s called A Good Year actually. A Year in Provence is the book it’s based on. Anyway, you know how I feel about Russell Crowe.’ Lily was a sucker for the now-vintage film; the way living in Provence changes the lead character, Max Skinner, from corporate go-getter to someone more wholly real and attractive. The fact Max Skinner was played by Russell Crowe was just a bonus. But she wasn’t going to admit how many times she’d watched it – even to herself.

‘Still, don’t catch you watching Gladiator on repeat. Or A Beautiful Mind, do we?’ Emily pressed.

‘OK, you got me. I’m France obsessed,’ Lily said, feeling herself smile. There was no hiding her truth from Emily. ‘But you know, this isn’t just me. Ben’s really keen to do it too. Next year at least. It shouldn’t be too hard to get him to bring our plans forward a bit.’

‘It’s amazing what twenty years of wearing someone down will do.’

‘Two decades of nagging – and finally a result!’ Lily quipped back. ‘Although, he honestly does love the idea. I mean, that hamper for my birthday was really…’

Emily snorted. ‘If someone bought me a packet of bloody snails for my birthday, I’d turn around and shove them up…’

‘It was romantic.’

‘Romantic my arse.’

They laughed.

‘Seriously though, good for you, Lil. I mean, just going for it. It sounds like an amazing idea. And I know you’ve been a bit worried about Ty, but there does have to be a time, doesn’t there, when you say, it’s my turn now. Before it’s too late.’

‘Too late?’

‘Well, what are we now, forty-two?’

Lily laughed: ‘Forty-four, I’m afraid.’

‘Oh, fuck off, we’re not. Forty-two’ll do. Anyway, we’re forty-two – you want to go to another country, start a business and recline on a sun-lounger or whatever…’

‘Swim in the lakes, go to beautiful cafés, learn to speak French like a native…’

‘Yes, yes, all of that,’ Emily continued, dismissively. ‘But you know, if you’d left it much longer, it might not have been possible!’