Page 21 of Falling for Provence

‘Très mignon,’ he agreed. ‘Very cute.’ Again, he seemed to hold her gaze for a millisecond too long and, again, he was the one to look away first. Abruptly. His smile was fading even before he turned.

‘I have to go,’ he said, his tone crisp. ‘Bonne après-midi, Ellie.’

Ellie blinked at what seemed like a curt dismissal. He was a curious mix, this man. There was kindness there, that was certain. How many people would give up their lunch break to help a stray dog? Or look after someone else’s donkeys because his son was fond of them? He had a smile that could light up his face and an intensity in his eyes that did something odd to her body, but he could shut those glimpses away as swiftly and conclusively as pulling shutters closed on a window.

Leaving her feeling like she was missing the view?

She watched his car sail past his own gate. Maybe he’d been annoyed by realising that he’d lost the chance to spend any of his lunch break at home.

Or maybe he was simply annoyed by her. Because she spoke English. Or because she had inadequate fences on her property. Or perhaps because she was intruding on the life of a person who preferred his privacy.

She looked down at her newly named companion, who was still sitting there, gazing up at her. The moment he caught hergaze he wagged his tail again, and a little bit more of Ellie’s heart melted, albeit reluctantly.

‘We kind of need to say a proper thank you, don’t we, Pascal?’ She opened her door. ‘Maybe I could get those fences fixed.’

It would be the gesture of a good neighbour but more than that as well – it could be seen as a symbol of respecting boundaries and privacy. Both physical and personal? Reassurance that Ellie wasn’t about to cause any more disruption to Julien’s life than she already had, perhaps.

That he was safe?

Aye… As safe as she intended to keep herself.

6

‘Here…’ Ellie was carrying bowls to where Pascal had curled up in the corner of the living room, near the French doors. ‘Here’s some food and water. I’m sure you must be hungry and thirsty.’

Pascal didn’t move. He wasn’t looking at her either, but Ellie knew he’d been watching her every move since she’d brought him into the house. Perhaps he needed to feel a bit safer before he accepted the food and water?

‘Would you rather I left you alone to eat?’ She paused to consider her new housemate. ‘A blanket or something for you to sleep on would be more comfortable than those hard tiles. Or maybe an old towel, because that would be easier to wash and you kind of smell bad.’

It felt slightly ridiculous to be speaking aloud to an animal like this, but Pascal’s upright ear twitched as if he was listening.

‘You need a bath,’ she added. ‘But I can’t do that while you’ve got your leg all bandaged up. If I took the bandage off, I wouldn’t know how to put it back on properly.’

Julien would know how to do something like that…

Ellie gave herself a mental shake. Good grief… It was only about fifteen minutes since she’d seen her neighbour, but shewas already inventing an excuse to see him again? Like a teenager with some sort of crush?

‘You’ll just have to smell bad for a while,’ she decided aloud. ‘But I’m not going to sleep anywhere near you. I reckon it’s time I sorted out a bedroom.’

Armed with a broom, dustpan and brush, and a piece of fabric large enough to protect her from breathing in any horrible dust, Ellie climbed the narrow stairs. She knew, from the brief glance when she had first explored this house, that the two bedrooms were almost identical in shape, with sloping, beamed ceilings, wooden floors and whitewashed walls. She knew that Mike the plumber had shooed out the bats and covered the broken pane on the window in the second room with a piece of wood, but she wasn’t ready to open the door that she’d slammed shut so decisively on that first night. Besides, the room with the larger bed had a window looking out onto the garden and the view beyond, so it would have been her first choice anyway.

The iron frames and vertical rails of the bed were painted an odd green-tinged black, and two horizontal brass rails at the top of both the head and foot ends were separated by circles and moulded columns that were thinner versions of the ornate knobs on the four corners of the bed. They were tarnished and dusty. The mattress was covered by what looked like very old lace. Probably handmade, Ellie thought, as she inspected the intricate flower patterns separated by cobwebs of tiny chain stitches, so it would need careful washing by hand. The feather-filled duvet looked clean enough but smelt musty, so Ellie carried it outside and threw it over one of the smaller lemon trees to bake in the afternoon sun for a while, even though she knew she wouldn’t be in need of its warmth at night.

She stripped the sheets off as well and took them down to the washing machine in the basement. Laura had bought a new set of sheets in the supermarket the other day, but whoeverhad purchased the linen for this cottage clearly had a taste for something more luxurious, and these felt like pure cotton with a high thread count. How lovely would they feel, freshly washed, bleached by sunshine and infused with the scent from the lemon trees as they dried?

Ellie took the feather pillows outside as well, but throwing open the shutters and windows to air the room was the best that she could do for the mattress. At least there was no evidence of it being inhabited by mice. It was also inner-sprung and didn’t look too ancient. Had this been her uncle’s room? A chest of drawers with an inset pattern of branches and leaves, a marble top and very ornate handles offered no clues because it was empty, the drawers lined with old wallpaper. A huge mirror with a brass surround crested by a fleur-de-lis motif startled Ellie as she looked up while closing the drawers.

Taking a second glance, she tried to figure out what felt so different. The wispy curls escaping from her braid were familiar enough, as was their fiery colour. Her hazel brown eyes still looked sombre. So did the set of her mouth. Were her freckles more obvious, perhaps due to the first kiss of the French sunshine? Or was it that she just hadn’t looked at herself properly for a long time because she didn’t want to see a reflection of how she felt.

Maybe that was the difference.

Shefeltdifferent.

Not like someone who was dragging herself through the remnants of a life and struggling to find a way through broken dreams. Here, she was someone with a purpose. A house to coax back into life. Cleaning and renovations that needed to be done and a terrace and garden to tackle after that. But first things first. Ellie turned away from the mirror to find the broom she had propped in the corner and then started sweeping. Whatever pigeon population had been in here seemed to be long gone. Thedroppings were attached to the floorboards like concrete, and she had to use the back of the broom to break them free before they could be swept up. The effort required was enough to let her know that her elbow had definitely been bruised as well as grazed.

And that was enough to remind her, again, of Julien’s touch on her body as he’d examined her injured arm. Only, this time, it wasn’t just confined to the memory cells in her skin. Ellie could feel it somewhere much deeper, down low in her abdomen. It took her a moment or two to recognise the sensation that only ever came from physical attraction. Because it was so long since she’d experienced it?

No. More likely because she hadn’t expected it. And didn’t want it. She had chosen to stay in France because she needed to rediscover herself.Byherself. For heaven’s sake, a big part of why she was at such a low point in her life was down to the last man she had allowed to share it. She wasn’t about to make another mistake like that.

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