A Year at the French Farmhouse(9)

She shut the laptop as if shutting it away might actually delete the terrible mess she’d managed to get herself into, picked up the finished teas and made her way upstairs.

There was no way she could let on to Ben. Not until she knew what she was going to do.

When she reached the bedroom, Ben was sitting, half propped against the headboard. He’d thoughtfully arranged her pillows in an upright position so she could comfortably sip her tea in bed, proving that although he wasn’t the most adventurous husband, he did actually care. As she approached, she saw his face furrow with concern. ‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ he said. ‘You look really pale.’

‘Pale?’ she said, trying to sound normal. ‘I’m fine!’ She grinned widely to prove it.

‘Are you sure?’ he said. ‘Your smile looks… weird. You don’t think you’re going to be sick or anything?’

‘No, it’s nothing,’ she lied, passing him his mug and sitting back on the bed. ‘No need to call the cavalry. I’m sure I’ll survive.’

He looked at her doubtfully. ‘OK, as long as you’re sure.’

She sipped her tea. ‘Yeah. It’s just this hangover. Can’t remember the last time I had one.’

‘Think yourself lucky!’

‘Ah, yes,’ she said. ‘That’s what gives you a hangover. Bad luck.’

‘Ha. OK, well, I like to think so,’ he said. ‘Bad luck and Baz.’

‘Never your own fault?’

‘Never my own fault.’ He grinned and reached for her spare hand. ‘Look, I was thinking,’ he said. ‘About, you know, what you said about France.’

She felt something inside her lift. ‘You were?’

She looked at his face, and instead of the reluctance and fear she’d seen last night, she saw an openness. As if he, too, was beginning to feel excited about her suggestion. Despite the dark circles under his eyes, his tousled hair and the faint smell of alcohol on his breath, he looked better than he had for a while – alive with an idea.

‘Yes, and look. I’m sorry. Perhaps I should have taken things a bit more seriously. I know how much you love France, and I suppose I do owe you, after sort of… I don’t know, promising things…’ He smiled and reached forward for her hand.

Her headache subsided as excitement began to build in her chest. Could it be that she and Ben were on the same wavelength after all? Maybe, despite what she’d done, it could all work out!

‘Oh,’ she said.

‘Yes, and look,’ he said, placing his tea on the bedside table and taking her hand in both of his. His eyes were excited in a way she hadn’t seen for years. ‘I have a suggestion.’

‘Yes?’ she asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.

‘It’s about France,’ he said.

‘Oh, Ben!’

‘Because look, I know how much you want to go.’

‘I do, I really do.’

‘So, let’s do it!’

‘What? Are you serious?’ She flung her arms around him – only just keeping her tea balanced in its mug - and nestled her head onto his shoulder, her heart hammering with a kind of surreal excitement. This wasn’t really happening, was it?

‘Wait, you haven’t heard the best bit!’ he said, drawing back and smiling confidently. ‘I saw an offer in the Express last week. A weekend in Paris, first class Eurostar, three-star hotel, just ?199 per person if you collect all the tokens. It’s our anniversary coming up isn’t it. And what a bargain!’

‘Oh.’

‘France, here we come!’ he said, his eyes searching her face for the reciprocal excitement he seemed sure he was going to find.

‘Um. Yes.’

It was as if he’d taken the helium out of her balloon of happiness and filled it instead with shit. It plummeted messily to the ground.

But, right now – she reminded herself – the disappointment was the least of her concerns. ‘OK,’ she said, trying to smile as her brain raced at 100 miles an hour. She’d email eBay and say she’d made a mistake. Maybe say she had a toddler who’d clicked the button by accident. See if there was any legal wriggle room. See how committed she actually was.

She wasn’t giving up on France. But this was definitely not the way she’d wanted to do it.

Because the email she’d opened just now hadn’t been confirmation of a break, a receipt for money paid or information from a letting agent. Instead it had read:

Congratulations! You placed the winning bid for Stone Cottage with 3000 m2 garden and outbuilding for renovation.





She’d scrolled down, only half understanding, then stopped when she’d seen the text at the bottom.

You have committed to buying this property for the sum of €48,601. Please contact the seller to complete the transaction.





She’d only gone and bought a bloody house.





4





‘So, what’s the emergency?’ Emily said as Lily opened the door. She was dressed in what looked like pyjama bottoms, which protruded from underneath a long coat. Her wavy brown hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. ‘I came as soon as I got your message.’