A Year at the French Farmhouse(57)

‘I’ll try.’

‘Atta girl.’ And with that, Emily gave her quick peck on the cheek then joined the small queue leading to passport control.

Lily waved her hand when Emily was in the queue and her friend raised a reciprocal palm.

It felt wrong to disappear before Emily made it through security and into the waiting area, but the queue moved painfully slowly, meaning they were stuck performing an embarrassing scene: Lily playing the patient waver-offer, Emily rummaging in her bag, checking her passport, glancing up occasionally to grin and do another mock wave. It was excruciating, this need to be polite and do the right thing. They both knew it, yet they both played their parts to perfection until at last Emily disappeared through the glass double doors and Lily was able to turn and make her way home.

Six hours later, she was parking down the side of a country road, tucking the Nissan alongside ten or so other cars – muddy Land Rovers, battered Clios, and several cars that still had English plates. She’d opted to wear one of her summer dresses – something she didn’t often get the opportunity to slip on – and had taken the time to properly blow-dry her hair. The shampoo she’d used smelled of apples and she caught a whiff from time to time as she walked.

It had taken a while to find the right place. As in Faux la Montagne, none of the houses had numbers and it was a case of taking careful directions, looking out for landmarks such as ‘a field of cows’ or ‘the barn with all the solar panels’ in order to find what looked to be the right place. Even now, she was only half sure she wasn’t turning up to another party altogether.

The house looked gorgeous from the outside as she walked up the muddy, half-gravelled path. The shutters and front door were newly painted in a pale green, and a table and chairs sat under an enormous oak tree, its twisted trunk marking it out as at least a couple of hundred years old.

As she approached, she could hear the gentle hum of conversation, and saw to her right a group of people gathered together, wine glasses in hand, standing by an in-built pool. A couple of children were in the water, splashing and calling to one another. It was an idyllic scene, but she felt suddenly shy – not able to see Dawn or Clive among the guests and unsure how to introduce herself.

‘Hello, love.’ The voice in her ear was so sudden that she couldn’t help but jump. She turned and found herself face to face with Dawn, red hair backcombed into a resplendent bouffant, eye-liner slightly smudged and wearing a bikini top and sarong. She grinned and shoved an enormous glass of wine into Lily’s hand. ‘You found us then!’

‘Yes, oh, thank you. I shouldn’t really, I’m driving…’

‘Oh we don’t worry about that around here!’ Dawn said with a conspiratorial nudge and grin.

‘We don’t?’

‘No, well everyone else seems to just get in their cars after a long lunch. You see them weaving around the streets come two o’clock. All the farmers, and the like. No-one ever seems to stop them.’

‘Oh. But…’ Lily was going to suggest that being caught was only one of the risks of drink driving, but Dawn marched off ahead towards the group and she found herself hurrying in her wake like a young child chasing her mother.

‘Right,’ said Dawn, letting her catch up on the edge of a small cluster of people. ‘This is Lily. Lily, this is Pat, Kenneth, Wilbur, Sharon, Conor and Bob.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ said Lily, lifting her glass slightly and realising that while Dawn might only be a decade her senior, the small group she’d been introduced to were definitely old enough to be her parents.

‘Lily’s moved over all on her own,’ Dawn continued, making a sad face. ‘So I thought it would help her to see a few friendly faces.’

There was a chorus of murmurs and nods. Her job done, Dawn clapped her hands. ‘Right,’ she said, ‘better get back to me sausage rolls.’

Lily took a tentative sip of her wine, which was pleasingly cold although a tad on the vinegary side, and looked around the group. She could feel her body tense under the soft folds of her dress. She wished more than anything she had Ben with her, or Ty. Or ideally both. Without them she felt exposed – not knowing what to say. And despite the crowd of people, terribly lonely.

The man to her left, who’d been introduced as Bob, caught her eye and gave her a grin.

‘So what brings you to these parts then?’ he asked.

‘I’m hoping to do up a property, start running retreats,’ she said. ‘What about you?’

‘Me? oh we’ve been here for about a decade. Me and Sharon over there. Both retired now, thank god.’ He took a gulp of his wine. ‘Takes a bit of getting used to, mind.’

‘Yes, I can imagine.’ She smiled. ‘But you’re settled in now.’

He shrugged. ‘It has its moments,’ he said.

She noticed a bead of sweat at the top of his bald head begin to tremble slightly, before it snaked its way along his forehead and glided down to the tip of his nose, at which point he wiped it off with the back of his hand.

‘So,’ she said in the slightly awkward silence that had formed between them. ‘What do you do?’

‘You’re looking at it,’ he said. ‘Meet up with mates, have a wine. Maybe a pizza night sometimes.’

‘Oh, right.’