Page 64 of Falling for Provence

Yes, there was a reason.

She would be Julien Rousseau’s neighbour and that would, quite simply, be too hard.

It had been hard enough this week, seeing him only briefly in passing on his way to or from the hospital where Theo was a patient. Even worse had been the time he’d come and knocked on her front door – thefrontdoor – to tell her that Theo was recovering well enough to be able to leave the hospital. He would take him back to Roquebillière so that his grandmother and great-grandmother could devote themselves to his care and Julien could tackle the mounting backlog of his own patients needing his attention. The escalating level of stress in his life had been palpable.

A sick son.

A mother who was already caring for her own mother.

Longer distances to travel to work – a stress all on its own – to treat other sick children who had frightened families needing reassurance.

Ellie had watched his face, her heart aching, as she’d stood on her doorstep and listened to his words beneath the arch of roses that had become such a profusion of pale yellow flowers she was bathed in their fragrance. It had occurred to her that, for the rest of her life, the scent of Banksia roses would remind her how it felt to have such an intimate connection with another human being but, at the same time, to see them through an invisible but totally impenetrable barrier.

Julien was holding himself – and his life – together. To anyone else, he would seem to be the epitome of an adoring, deeply concerned parent, but Ellie knew that he was struggling with that extra emotional blow: the proof that he wasn’t Theo’s biological father. He hadn’t seen that coming. Such a formal visit, using the shiny brass knocker on the old wooden door to announce his arrival, instead of feeling comfortable enough to scale the fence and wander through the garden, had been a very clear signal that he had to come to terms with that devastating news by himself, in his own way.

She could respect that.

It would be hypocritical not to, in fact, given how she’d shut out her own friends and family for the same reason in the terrible aftermath of losing her baby.

Ellie sipped her coffee, lowering her gaze from the mountains to the small white dog lying beside her, his chin resting on her bare foot. Pascal had barely left her side since she’d come home in that police car. If he sensed that she, too, was struggling, he certainly wasn’t going to allow any barrier to prevent him offering the comfort or reassurance she might need, and Ellie loved him for it. He was a big part of why she knew she was going to get through what had suddenly become a huge challenge, and it had made something else very clear. There was no way on earth she was going to leave Pascal behind when she went home.

He lifted his head, with that one floppy ear, as Ellie spoke aloud.

‘I rang Mam yesterday,’ she told him. ‘Just to check that she won’t mind you coming to live with her until we can find our own place. I think we might be able to buy a house, so we won’t even have to worry about whether pets are allowed in a rental. When this place sells, my share should be more than enough for a good deposit. Maybe we can find a little fisherman’s cottage in Oban. Or it might be nice to go and live on Mull. Would you like to be an island dog?’

Pascal’s tail thumped the stones of the terrace, but he settled his chin on Ellie’s foot again to wait for her to finish her coffee. Feeling the trusting weight of that little head made her smile.

Aye… she was going to succeed in navigating this challenge. And maybe she’d needed it to happen, because otherwise she might not have discovered the well of strength she could draw on that certainly hadn’t been there when she’d arrived in the south of France. She was a very different person. One who could face life and embrace it far more than she ever had before.

Ellie had so much to be thankful for. If even one piece of this particular puzzle had been missing, she might not have discovered this new version of herself.

Even that impulsive decision to stay here for the summer had been a unique combination of puzzle pieces. The soft light here and the way stone buildings and streets seemed to have soaked in the warmth over so many centuries. The music of the language and comfort of food that could be both homely but utterly delicious at the same time – like a wedge of fresh baguette wrapped around some ham and cheese.

This little house had played such a huge part in Ellie’s journey that it felt like it had a personality she’d fallen in love with as she’d coaxed – and perhaps, sometimes, bullied it a little – away from its sad, unloved submission to abandonment.

And then there was Julien…

It was still far too soon, but Ellie knew she would be forever grateful for the cracks in the protective layers around her heart that had grown wide enough to allow Julien – and Theo – to capture a part of what lay behind them. Her heart might be going to ache for a long time, but the reminder that it was love that matters most in life had been what had healed her soul.

‘At least you’re going to come home with me.’ Ellie reached down to scratch Pascal behind his floppy ear. ‘I’d better look into the rules about taking you on the plane.’

She wouldn’t be able to take her beautiful red bicycle on the plane, of course. Even that rag rug from the second bedroom would be far too big to fit into her suitcase. And what about the bottles of limoncello that were still waiting to be tasted? It would be very disappointing if they got broken in transit. Ellie needed to start searching for a removal company that could help. She needed to find a new home for Marguerite and Coquelicot because it would be impossible to take them home with her.Margot might need a new home, too. Hopefully with someone who would appreciate all the quirkiness of a classic tin snail.

Unless…

‘What if we drove home?’ Ellie wondered aloud. ‘It would take forever, and Margot might break down, but it would be… epic, wouldn’t it?’

A massive challenge. An adventure. A way of turning the end of something precious into the start of something else that might be life-changing in a good way?

Was she brave enough to try?

Was it even possible?

Ellie rang Laura the next day.

‘You’re mad,’ her oldest sister told her. ‘Completely bonkers. Legally, the car doesn’t belong to you, so you could run into all sorts of trouble. You’d need the registration details and ownership papers, and goodness only knows where they are.’

‘I might be able to get a copy. I’ll need to get the mechanic that came to get Margot going in the first place to come back and make sure she would be able to make the trip. He should know what I need to do. If I had the ownership papers and you emailed me a copy of Uncle Jeremy’s will, I’m sure I could talk my way around any complications.’

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