A Year at the French Farmhouse(82)

‘I think I remember. Although to be honest, it’s been a while.’

‘Well, only for good reasons.’

‘True. Then coming home to see Ty! You must have died!’

‘It was weird, though,’ Lily said. ‘For a minute, when I noticed him standing there from a distance, I thought he was Ben. He had his back to me, and he’s grown, even in these few weeks. He looked just the same as his dad from the back. I ran up to him and nearly threw myself at him, until he turned around and I realised just in time.’

‘Eek, nothing like a full-on snog from your own mother.’

‘Quite.’

There was a brief silence, then Emily took an audible breath. ‘But, Lily, what do you think that means?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, bear with me, but don’t you think it sort of means something that you had that reaction when you thought it was Ben? Running towards him with bare feet? Flinging yourself into his arms? It’s like a scene from a bloody Richard Curtis movie.’

‘Ha. Well, I suppose. Although to be fair, it wasn’t raining.’

‘That’s true.’

‘And neither of us were about to board a plane, or had just ducked out of our own wedding.’

‘Good point. So not very Curtis-esque after all.’

‘Except for the running.’

‘Except for that. But seriously, Lily. What if it had been him? What would have happened?’

‘I’m not sure… I mean, I suppose, well, in that moment I was just so happy to see him. Like I’d been missing a puzzle piece and it had finally turned up. But maybe once the initial… thrill had died down, things wouldn’t have felt so straightforward.’

‘But what would you have felt like,’ Emily said carefully, ‘if it had been Ben, but you’d actually slept with Frédérique?’

Lily was silent for a minute. She imagined coming home one day to find that Ben had actually decided to join her. Whatever she told herself, she knew deep down that her dream of living in France had always included him. And admittedly, had she slept with Frédérique, despite the fact she and Ben were separated, it would probably scupper any chance that they might get back together.

But what was she meant to do? She couldn’t wait forever. Be alone forever.

‘Thing is, Emily,’ she said firmly, ‘Ben isn’t coming.’

‘You don’t know that,’ said her friend. ‘Maybe he will. It’s only been a few weeks, and he’s dealing with god knows what. Maybe think about giving him a bit more time.’

‘I don’t know, Em,’ she said sadly. ‘I can’t help but feel he’d be here by now if… well, you know.’

Once they’d said their goodbyes, she padded downstairs to find Ty in the kitchen, opening a packet of crisps. ‘All right, love?’ she said.

‘Yeah, not bad. Want one?’ He offered her the packet.

‘No, I’m OK.’

‘Did you call Dad?’ he asked innocently.

‘No, not yet. I was just chatting to Auntie Em.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘But I will. Call him.’

‘You will?’ Ty’s wide-eyed look made him seem about five years old again, looking at her when she’d said she was taking him to the fair, or going to buy a packet of his favourite sweets.

‘Yes,’ she said, wanting to please the ghost of her little son who’d suddenly flickered in the face of the man he’d become. ‘Tell you what, I’ll do it now.’

He nodded and wandered back outside, pulling the door softly behind him in order to give her some privacy.

She’d done it now.

She looked at the mobile phone in her hand and scrolled through to the number that she’d blocked. Her thumb hovered for a moment over the button before she pressed, restoring the connection between them. She wondered whether any messages, stored somewhere in cyberspace, might appear when she did so. But there was nothing.

And then, because there was very little else to do but get it over with, she pressed the ‘call’ button and rang her husband.





28





When he found her on the bed, he pulled her into his arms. ‘Oh Lily,’ he murmured into her hair.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I know I’m meant to be happy about this… and I am. I love our baby, I really do. It’s just…’ She looked at him, her eyes wide, pleading. ‘Ever since the labour I’ve been feeling… Everything just seems wrong.’

‘Shh,’ he said. ‘I know. And we’ll get through this.’

‘You promise?’

‘I promise.’





‘Um… deux crêpes au fromage avec salade, s’il vous pla?t.’ Lily smiled, handing the menu back to the waiter.

‘Oui, of course,’ he replied in English, tucking the menu under his arm and scribbling in a notepad. ‘I ’ope you will enjoy.’

Yet again, she’d been rumbled the minute she’d opened her mouth. It seemed no matter how impressive she thought her French accent was, the locals could spot her Britishness a mile off. She’d start conversations in French only to have them reply in flawless English. It was helpful, and she knew that many of them enjoyed the chance to practise their English, but it would be nice if they could humour her occasionally.