Sense and French Ability (19 page)

“I didn’t realise at first that your friend was French,” Fliss said. “Not that it makes any difference to anything of course.”

“You met her when you did that arts course in Arras didn’t you?” Jo asked.

“Yes, and when we realised she was so ill she sold her house to me. French succession laws are very complicated. It meant I could continue living here after she died.”

Clearly, they were comfortable talking about their previous lives. Fliss hoped that it would work out for her and Jo. She could see no reason why it shouldn’t.

*

It was only a couple of days later when Madame Marie began talking about leaving. Fliss had contacted the estate agent about her own house and he was giving a second showing to the man and his pregnant wife. He thought they would put in a serious offer to buy it. Fliss could hardly believe this might be true after so short a time. Perhaps everything the agent had said about the bungalow was true.

“I hope it all goes well. As soon as it’s sold I can settle with Madame Marie and get in touch with the notaire in the town near here to see the sale through. It doesn’t prevent Madame Marie and her sister, Camille, from leaving though,” Fliss said to Jo on the phone at the first opportunity.

“Have you managed to come to an amicable agreement with regard to rent and profits and so on?”

“Yes. We’ve had to come to a new agreement since she won’t be here at all. I’ll pay some rent and keep the business going. We’ve agreed what profits I must give her until we complete the sale but it’s not much. It’s all been very friendly.”

“It’s all formalised properly is it? You don’t want to find she’s fleecing you unexpectedly,” Jo said

“She insisted it was all done legally. I’m so excited to take this next leap. It is a leap too, so different to the existence I had before I came.”

“So I can at last say ‘I told you so’ can I?”

“Yes, I know that now. I also have this hugely handsome, humorous and honest man in my life. I am profoundly grateful.”

Finishing the call Fliss was prompted to think some more.

‘When I’m on my own, where will I live? I’m not sure whether I shall stay here or move in with Jean Chri. Madame Marie and Camille have given me warning. I don’t wish to court trouble before I have barely begun, but nor do I want to live apart for long.’

The day of Madame Marie’s leaving finally arrived. She had asked one of the farmers in a nearby village to transport her things. In the end she had taken her own bedroom furniture but had left the rest. That was fine, Fliss understood that an old lady such as she wanted her own familiar things around her. All the ancient wooden and metal artefacts on the walls she left, much to Fliss’s gratification. She just loved the look and feel of the ancient items. They gave the living room, in particular, a wonderful, country warmth. The guests liked all that too. Fliss felt her spirit lifted.

Before she left there was one question to which Fliss simply had to know the answer. Managing to catch her on her own, it was with trepidation that she asked.

“Did you ever come to a more amicable agreement with Jerome? It really was not his fault that he was here that day when I was away and I feel such a responsibility for your argument.”

“No, I have not seen him from that day to this. Some people will crouch in their fortress made of vindictive words. I have been guilty of that, I fear. I still detest the man, but I was wrong to shout so. I should make myself be polite, at least. You have no guilt in that. You thought to help, I know,” she said and patted her hand.

Later, it was with sadness that they hugged and kissed each other farewell. “I owe you so much,” Fliss said with a catch in her voice.

“My dear child, you have been a joy to have with me in my last few months living here, and such a help,” Madame Marie added practically. Was that a tear Fliss saw in her eyes or were they just moist with old age?

Then she was gone, and Fliss was on her own in the peaceful house. She wandered from room to room feeling a quiet joyfulness. She smelt the furniture polish and fresh flowers; she saw the warm dark wood; she felt the cool tiles under her feet. It was as if she needed to visit every room to establish her presence.

All was silent. There were no crowds outside, no cars and no lorries pounding the street, no rushing through a working lunch and no running to the next meeting.

It occurred to her that finally she had found herself. No longer did she have to pretend to be a good hard-working daughter looking after someone else and wishing for nothing more. No longer need she pretend to be a compliant and loving companion with no real zest for living.

Finally she crept into Madame Marie’s room. Opening the door furtively, she peered round.

‘It feels as if I am trespassing,’ she thought.

There were lighter patches on the wall where pictures and furniture had rested for years and years but all was clean. Only a faint lavender smell remained.

‘I must decorate this room before it will be part of the house, and mine to use for guests. I shall have to wait until the sale is complete.’

Already Fliss could not stop her mind from reverberating with possibilities for colour schemes and style. As in most French houses the windows opened inwards and, as she stood in the middle of the empty room with sunshine streaming through the wide open space, unexpectedly she thought, ‘It could be an ideal space in which to paint again. Instead of having guests in here I could use it as my own special studio, my own personal space.’

She was in high spirits again, after her moments of calm tranquillity.

Chapter 19

Knowing that Jean Chri was out in a field ploughing, or something, Fliss looked out of the window down the village and across to his house. She could see all was quiet there. She understood most of the grain harvest was in but that it wouldn’t be long before he had to start on the maize and sugar beet.

“I don’t grow much beet nowadays,” he had told her. “There’s a declining market. The local factory closed a couple of years ago and the next nearest is too far to take a tractor and trailer. I have to hire a wagon to deliver the crop and that just eats into the profit too much.”

“There’s an awful lot more to farming than just sowing and gathering,” Fliss had said. “You’ve got to be a scientist and an accountant and all sorts.”

“Well, I have an accountant but yes, I have to know quite a bit about what’s profitable.”

He was enchanted that she was so interested in all his work.

“This year we have a small co-operative and have organised the pick up that way so I’m hoping it is profitable enough. Sugar from beet has been popular in France and beyond since 1811,” Jean Chri told Fliss. “You British blockaded the supply routes from the Caribbean,” he laughed. “Good old Napoleon was presented with two sugar loaves from beet and he had factories galore built to manufacture it.”

“So he is responsible for all the obesity problems is he?” Fliss teased him back.

“Unless it’s the British for destroying our trade routes,” he continued.

Fliss ended up punching his shoulder and he grabbed her around the waist and the rest was more of their shared history.

She smiled at those reflections and then saw his tractor returning. She was just thinking she would wait a time before going down to see him.

‘I don’t want to crowd him when he’s been working all day.’

Then Fliss began to have a crisis of fear. She was playing with fire.

‘We must be careful though. People will begin to guess that we are having this affair. Please, God, I hope his divorce comes through soon.’

Then she saw Jean Chri leap down from the tractor and come striding up the road. She felt her excitement rise. She could not resist anymore. She was at the door, holding it wide open as he climbed the steps. Barely waiting until he was inside he took her into his arms with his strong brown hands, stroking her hair and kissing her as though they hadn’t seen each other in forever.

As they pulled apart he indicated his clothing and he said, “This is the unattractive side of being with a farmer.”

As Fliss took the time to give him a proper look she could see he was filthy.

“My mucky socks are not so romantic when I come in from work. Perhaps you will not love me then!” He chuckled his deep throated laugh and she moved forward to kiss him again, regardless of the grubbiness.

“Have a shower and then we could have a glass of wine,” she suggested.

“I’ll have to sit in just a towel,” he said suggestively, raising his eyebrows and tilting his head with a quirky smile. “I have no clothes here.”

“That look is why I thought you so arrogant,” she said.

“I know. It was a cover story.”

Putting her hand to the side of his face, she smiled up at him to acknowledge that she now knew this to be true.

“No clothes? I’ll manage,” and she did, for just a short while.

*

The couple with the dog who came to stay were a hoot, and able to tell several funny stories against themselves from the holiday they had been having. They said there were bells that rung twice on the hour and every hour through the night; mock bull fights where the husband was the volunteer bull, DIY enthusiastic guest house owners and more. Some people just had the knack of telling a funny story. It made Fliss wonder what they would go home and say about her. The dog was well-behaved although it did not stay in the kennel long. It ended up in their bedroom because of the music it was making upon being left. Fortunately, its manners were impeccable and there was no trace that it had been there once they had left.

There were to be no more guests that weekend and Fliss had been invited by Jean Chri to have Sunday lunch with Pascal, Amélie and Melodie. Having no visitors until Tuesday, she had agreed and was really looking forward to meeting his family again. It was strange to be in their house, however.

“I have not visited there before and I am curious to see how they live,” she said before they went.

‘Are they a traditional French family living virtually in one room around the large table or do they have soft furnishings in a more cosmopolitan style?’

“I do feel slightly awkward that I am taking the place of your soon to be ex-wife,” she confided to Jean Chri.

‘In an hour or so I shall know where I stand,’ Fliss thought.

Jean Chri was going to knock on her door and they would walk together to his brother’s house. It was unusual for people in this village to walk anywhere, Fliss had observed, but he knew that she did so frequently and he was happy to join her. She loved his kind thoughtfulness.

It was very hot but sultry and sticky. It had been so hot for ages and now the meteo on Fliss’s iPad was saying it threatened to be overcast. There may be storms approaching. She hoped she had not made an error in suggesting they walked and that they would not get a soaking. The land needed some rain soon but Fliss didn’t.

Pascal and Amélie’s house was along the lane next to the river, but further than to Harriet’s. As they passed her house Fliss couldn’t help wondering if they were at home. There seemed to be no sign of either Jo or her. Then Jo came around from the back with a trowel and a bucket.

“Hi there,” she said in English.

“Jo, I think you may still be understood, in part, even when you speak English. Be careful.” Fliss told her.

“Is this your lunch date?”

“Yes,” Fliss replied.

“Nervous?” She was grinning as she asked.

“Very,” Fliss answered.

“Those two will be fine with you. Just enjoy it,” she reassured. “You haven’t upset anyone, not like me,” she grimaced. “I’m still not sure I’m forgiven.”

“Well just make sure you don’t say anything against anyone and be your usual friendly self,” Fliss advised, blowing her a kiss.

The walk took them twenty minutes and they were both hot and thirsty by the time they arrived. The house was beside the river but in a little hollow and was absolutely picturesque. Unusually for France, the front garden was a riot of colour with lilies, cornflowers, hydrangea and fuchsias. Admittedly there were any number of wild geraniums, in shades of pink and lilac, filling up the spaces but the whole effect was striking.

On arrival Fliss found her nerves increasing. Jean Chri must have sensed this because he took her hand, squeezed it encouragingly and kissed her cheek saying, “All will be fine, don’t worry.” She loved that he knew how she felt without having to ask and did something about it without her having to say anything.

They knocked on the wooden door and almost immediately it opened. Amélie was there smiling. Pascal came through from somewhere too and together they greeted Fliss and his brother with kisses and handshakes.

“It is very good to see you again Fliss.” Amélie was vivacious in her enthusiasm and Fliss knew that all would be alright. Just then Melodie came bounding in and greeted them both so naturally with her kisses. She immediately went to Jean Chri but then took Fliss’s hand to draw her into a cosy little sitting room, where there was a sofa and an old rocking chair with a colourful cushion, to see something upon which she had been engaged. It was some sewing.

“I am making some socks for Choupinette,” she said holding up her scruffy toy dog which had clearly been loved a lot. “It’s her birthday soon. Ssh!” She clasped the soft ears with both hands. “Don’t tell her, it’s a surprise.”

Fliss was so happy to play this game and admire the naïve pattern and messy stitching. The rest of the family joined them and they all approved the little garments in the making.

“Put it away now, ma chérie,” Amélie said. “It is nearly time for dinner. You need to go and wash your hands.”

Then she turned to Fliss and said, “Come, Fliss, we shall have an apéro before dinner.”

Fliss followed her out, through the living room with the large family table and television in the corner and onto the terrace. Amélie indicated a chair.

Before the men join them she whispered, “We are so pleased that you and Jean Chri have become friends. You are good for him, I think. He is so much happier and more relaxed now. He was always a little tense before and trying too hard to please other people. Now he is smiling all the time.” She smiled herself.

She did not mention Maryl or her departure but it seemed to be clear that Amélie was not sorry Maryl had left.

They had a delicious meal and the wine flowed easily which made for a happy and comfortable atmosphere. When they had eventually finished eating Melodie retrieved her sewing and dragged her chair as close to Fliss as it would go.

“Melodie,” her mum remonstrated, “Fliss does not want to do that now.”

“Absolutely, I do,” Fliss reassured her. “Choupinette needs her present finishing, doesn’t she Melodie?”

As the afternoon drew on Fliss felt more and more part of this family. Jean Chri was attentive and ensured that she was involved in the conversations. From time to time he touched her arm or shoulder, or rested a hand on her leg. Fliss relished this reassuring attention. His broad smile encompassed all around him and she reflected upon what Amélie had said earlier, with a warm pleasure inside.

“It is so hot that it is difficult to move much,” Amélie observed.

They were all happy to be lazy. After a while Melodie crept onto Fliss’s knee and fell asleep. Her hair was damp and her little body was hot against her, but Fliss didn’t mind.

“I think there is rain in the air,” Jean Chri observed. “The clouds are building. Look over there.”

“I can hardly believe it after all this time of such a dry spell. It has been a year of bizarre weather,” Pascal said.

“Yes, we had all that rain and now this heat,” Amélie added. “I almost wish it would rain again just to refresh the atmosphere.”

“I could do with some rain for the beet now the grain harvest is in,” Jean Chri said, “but I hope no more of the soil gets washed away as it did before.”

“It was such a mess down in the village,” Pascal agreed.

“You all sound like the English discussing the weather.” Fliss laughed, and they with her.

As the clouds piled up, the breeze increased. Jean Chri scooped up Melodie from Fliss’s knee, carried her indoors easily and placed her on a cushion. As they cleared the table she stirred and awoke.

Melodie was generally such a sunny child but now she was hot and thirsty, and she started to grizzle.

“Come with me, little one,” Jean Chri said as he scooped her up again. “Let’s find you a drink.”

The whingeing faded as he took her into the kitchen where Amélie was making coffee. Soon after, as Pascal brought in the cloth from the table outside, they returned. Jean Chri had been teasing Melodie, and her grumpiness was forgotten. She smiled up at him and Fliss as she yawned, stretched and rubbed her ear. Reaching for Choupinette, she was happy again already. She was such a cheerful child.

“Can I stay at Fliss and Jean Chri’s and Aunt Maryl’s house tonight?” She asked her daddy as he came in through the French doors.

The adults looked at each other and Fliss did not know what to say. In her childish way, Melodie had voiced thoughts as she saw the world and showed her lack of understanding. Now her parents knew they had to explain. They looked at each other.

“She hasn’t seen her aunt for quite a while but she has never said anything before,” Pascal said to the room in general. “To be honest we have put off this moment.”

“Oh, I’m not sure they want you tonight.” Amélie jumped in to respond as she carried the tray in from the kitchen. Turning to Fliss she told her that, on occasions before, the little one has stayed over with her uncle and aunt.

“Aunt Maryl is not here anymore,” Jean Chri said, taking the bull by the horns.

“Why not?” asked Melodie.

“She wanted to go and live somewhere else, with some other people.”

Melodie shrugged. It was her uncle that she really loved, because it was he who went to her in the night if she awoke and it was he that gave her breakfast in the mornings anyway.

“Well can I stay with Fliss and uncle Jean Chri then?” The child pursued the query. She was reluctant to let it go once she had thought of the idea and was not going to be distracted from it.

The question presented Fliss and Jean Chri with a new dilemma. Neither of them had stayed in each other’s house overnight before, so aware were they of gossip. In her innocence, Melodie had automatically assumed that they were together.

Amélie sent Melodie into the kitchen to fetch the sugar. Fliss soon realised this was a ploy to get her out of ear shot.

“If you are both happy with it, I am sure we are,” she glanced at Pascal with eyebrows raised in a question.

“Absolutely,” he responded. “She loves to stay with you, little brother and if Fliss is there too, so much the better.”