A Year at the French Farmhouse(73)

‘That’s great, Lily.’

‘Really?’ Lily’s face relaxed. ‘Because yesterday you seemed to think it was a mistake to be going at all.’

A beat.

‘Look, honey. It’s your life – your choice what you do with it. It was just… I suppose I wanted to make sure that you’re sure, about Ben.’

‘Well, I am.’

‘Well, then I’m happy for you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘And now it’s your duty to tell me all the details!’

Lily told her about the restaurant, the wine, the drive back home. And the kiss.

‘Wow, romantic!’

‘Very.’

‘And you’re not rushing into anything.’

‘Would it matter if I did?’

‘Well, no. I just…’

‘Look, Em… you know I love you. But you seem to be siding with Ben in all this. He let me go. He. Let. Me. Go. He didn’t want to come, he didn’t even want to try.’ She heard the wobble in her own voice. ‘What am I supposed to do? Sit around and wait forever? Live alone somewhere where I know no one and not leave the house?’

‘I’m sorry,’ Emily said. ‘And I am your friend. Always. It’s just… I don’t know. I want things to work out for you, I suppose. And it’s hard with you over there… I just worry about you.’

‘I know. But honestly, I’m fine. Well, most of the time.’

‘Good. Well, I’m glad to hear it.’

‘Thank you.’

There was a silence.

‘But Lily, just… just don’t rush into this thing, OK? I mean, it’s your life and I don’t want to interfere…’

‘Yes, Mum.’

‘Ha. You know what I mean. I care about you… is all. And… I just… Look, don’t give up on Ben, Lily. Not yet. Not completely.’

‘OK,’ she said. Because it seemed like the thing she ought to say.

But when she hung the phone up minutes later, she wondered why Emily had said that. Had Ben actually been going round convincing everyone she was the one in the wrong? Had he bad-mouthed her to Ty? Painted a tragic picture of his suffering to Emily? Surely Emily would have said if she’d seen him, heard from him.

For years, she’d been going to work, coming home; feeling completely invisible and unimportant. Now it seemed the world and his wife wanted to tell her how to live her life.

She debated whether to call Emily back and challenge her. But it was easier to leave it. It wasn’t as if she even had another date with Frédérique sorted yet. Any more conversations about what she should or shouldn’t do with the attractive, kind Russell Crowe doppelg?nger (circa 2006) would ruin things entirely. Just when she had been feeling upbeat and excited and attractive and all the things you feel when someone new comes into your life.

Instead, she decided to search online for a few more pieces of furniture. She’d seen a wooden bedstead on sale recently, and needed to research what kind of mattress might fit it. And sitting down and scrolling was all she was really good for right now.

Just as she was about to fire up the laptop, there was a knock at the door.

Perhaps it was someone else, ready to stage an intervention on her love life, she thought as she went to answer it.

‘Bonjour.’ It was Chloé, clutching a p?tisserie box.

‘Oh, bonjour, Chloé.’ Lily said, feeling her heart turn over.

‘It is OK for me to come in?’

‘Of course,’ Lily said, stepping back and smiling nervously. Then ‘Thank you,’ as Chloé handed her the box. Inside were two tartes aux fraises, glistening with sweetness.

‘I want to tell you for last night,’ Chloé said, settling herself down rather uncomfortably on one of the metal garden chairs. ‘I did not mean to be unfriendly, uh?’

‘It’s OK,’ Lily said, putting spoonfuls of coffee in her new cafetière and pulling a couple of plates from the cupboard. ‘Frédérique explained everything.’

‘Oh, he explain?’ Chloé said with a delicate raise of the eyebrow.

‘Yes, don’t worry. I understand.’ Lily smiled, passing Chloé her coffee before sinking into her own hard, metal seat.

‘Well, I am not sure what he say, but maybe I say what I think too?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Lily replied, her heart sinking.

‘Because Frédérique and I, we were lovers many years before.’

‘Yes, he said.’

Chloé shot her a look. ‘Yes? But did he tell you zat I don’t approve of ‘im much?’

‘Well,’ said Lily. ‘Sort of. That you find it… difficult.’

‘Difficile? Pourquoi? Why?’

‘Because,’ she felt herself going red. ‘Well, he said you feel…’

‘Pah! I feel. That I am in love with him, yes?’

‘Well, sort of…’

‘That I cannot ’elp myself to feel amour for ’im,’ Chloé said, shaking her head. ‘Bah.’

‘So you don’t…?’

‘Not for many, many year. But I watch him, huh? He did not treat me well, he – ‘ow you say – three-time me.’