A Year at the French Farmhouse(70)

‘Oh. Thank you.’

‘And pleased too of course for my grandmother,’ he said. ‘She is not well, so she worry about things all the time.’

‘Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Yes, but this is what ’appen when we get old, non?’ he said, trying to keep his hands on the wheel and shrug at the same time. Which only partially worked.

‘Well, I’m happy about it too,’ she said. ‘It will be nice to feel… Well, that things are falling into place.’

‘But not falling down, uh?’ He grinned.

‘No, hopefully not.’

They arrived in Auphelle, a small village at the far side of the enormous lake, and Frédérique parked his car in an almost-empty car park in front of a grassed area. A small path led down to a restaurant, set right on the waterfront, its balcony extending almost to the water’s edge.

‘This is lovely,’ Lily said, accepting Frédérique’s hand as he helped her negotiate the rather uneven stone steps that led to the entrance. It had been a while since she’d worn heels and she was already regretting it a little. They might make her legs look longer, but the aesthetic was lost when she started to walk – she could barely balance.

‘It izz just a little place that I like to come,’ he said. ‘Zey are very nice ‘ere. And we can sit, in the sun, eh? And look at some of les boats?’

‘Yes, perfect,’ she said.

The waiter showed them to a table on the corner of the balcony that offered uninterrupted views of the water. Despite the parasol over the table, she could feel her shoulders start to heat up in the direct sunlight. She shifted along and tried to shade herself as best she could.

‘You are all right, Lily?’ asked Frédérique.

‘Oh yes. I’m fine.’ She smiled.

They ordered wine and Frédérique spoke quickly to the waiter who came back with a board covered in different cheeses and a basket of bread as well as a carafe of house red. Frédérique poured her a generous glassful and she took a sip, feeling herself start to relax.

‘This,’ she said, ‘is what I came to France for.’

‘You come to the country for wine? Zey don’t have wine in England?’ He grinned.

‘Oh, there’s definitely no wine shortage in England.’ She laughed. ‘It’s this.’ She gestured around her. ‘Sunshine, scenery…’

‘And of course the good company, yes?’

‘Well, yes,’ she said, finding herself blushing.

He laughed. ‘It is joking,’ he said. ‘I am sure you have lots of friends in England? And lovers?’

The word caught her off-guard. ‘Well, sort of,’ she said. ‘A husband. Well, I did have one.’

‘Yes, but you ‘av not brought this ‘usband wiv you.’

She shook her head, desperately holding back a swelling tear. ‘No. It’s… we’re over.’

‘I am sorry,’ he said.

‘Yes, me too.’ She shrugged – perhaps the habit was rubbing off. ‘But c’est la vie.’

‘Yes. C’est la vie. And to new beginnings in France,’ he said, clinking his glass with hers and fixing his intense gaze on her. ‘I wanted to ask you…’

But at that moment, Lily spotted a familiar face over Frédérique’s shoulder. ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘It’s Chloé!’

Her new friend had walked in with two other women, all dressed casually but exuding the kind of effortless glamour Lily hoped one day to emulate. Chloé glanced around the terrace then caught Lily’s eye and smiled.

‘Yes? She is ’ere?’ Frédérique said, turning to look.

When Chloé saw Frédérique, her face took on a stonier expression. She seemed to say something to her friends and then walked over to their table.

‘Bonjour, Chloé,’ Lily said standing up and exchanging a brief air-kiss. ‘C’est une surprise!’

‘Oui,’ she said. ‘Bien s?r. You are ’ere for dinner?’

‘Just a drink,’ Lily said. ‘Frédérique… we wanted to celebrate the house sale.’

Chloé nodded, her face uncharacteristically expressionless. ‘Ah, ze house it is done?’

‘Well, no. But we’re getting there,’ Lily said, realising how weak an excuse that sounded, then wondering why she felt the need to have an excuse to be with Frédérique in any case.

‘Bonjour, Fred,’ Chloé said, and exchanged a quick kiss with Frédérique. It sounded odd to hear him called ‘Fred’ – such a plain, normal name. Even so, the way Chloé said it, with her accent, it sound much prettier than the version Lily was used to.

‘Well, I ’ope you enjoy,’ she said, after a brief silence. ‘It is a good evening, yes?’

‘Thank you.’ Lily smiled.

‘Oui, merci. ? bient?t!’ Frédérique added as Chloé walked back to her friends. She said something when she arrived and they all glanced at them for a moment.

‘Did Chloé seem OK to you?’ Lily asked.

‘Oui, she is always like zis wiv me,’ he said, making a sad face. ‘I fink she does not like it when I ’ave a drink wiv a woman, eh?’