Page 59 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

‘Jean-Paul Sartre, he said that being afraid is good… I think it was: “Fear is the consciousness of an anxiety in the face of the possibility of a choice”.’

She nodded again. ‘Letting a problem in can be the start of a transformation?’

‘That is very wise. Which philosopher said this?’

She blushed. ‘I’ve paraphrased it a bit but… Jerry Maguire.’

He looked confused for a moment then laughed. ‘Well, I think this Professor Maguire must be a very intelligent man.’

She laughed.

And then they were kissing and for a moment she could let go of her future and just be present. Moments later, she gavehim her hand and let him lead her to the bedroom. Whatever the future held for them, it would be silly to waste such a wonderful moment.

22

The next morning, Becky reached for her phone but found that her last few messages to Amber still remained unread. Surely Amber wouldn’t ignore her though? The only other explanation she could think of was that there was some sort of technical fault on the line. Perhaps it was something to do with Becky being in France. She’d called the number a few times, too, but who’s to say it wasn’t ringing in some cyberspace void rather than actually in Amber’s pocket or bag?

Becky couldn’t think of a rational reason why Amber wouldn’t be answering her. They’d parted on good terms, hadn’t they? And in any case, Amber was more the sort of person to try to talk something out rather than sit and brood on it.

She had several missed calls from last night from her mother. But those could wait. To try to put her off a little, she’d sent a breezy text:

Becky

Sorry! I’m so busy with decorating! Will call soon!

She just needed a bit of time; a little space to think. To work out how she felt about everything that was happening. After living in London for several years, working at the same firm, seeing the same people, to be plucked out of there like a toy in a candy grabber machine and plonked into this totally new situation was a lot. She wanted to mull everything over herself rather than have her mother’s forceful opinions and guilt trips in the mix.

But it would be a lot easier to mull things over if her best friend would pick up the phone and call her. The irony of being ghosted, while simultaneously ghosting someone else, wasn’t lost on her. But she doubted her mother really yearned to speak to her the way she did to Amber. She would just be calling to berate and bully her into booking her ticket home.

She sighed loudly and flung her phone onto the covers.

Pascal, next to her in bed with a notepad open and wearing just a pair of briefs, looked at her. ‘Amber hasn’t replied?’

‘Yeah.’

‘It is early. Try not to worry.’ He smiled. It was odd how she felt so comfortable around him, despite the fact he was nearly naked and that his body was even more attractive than she’d imagined it might be before she’d been confronted with reality.

Remembering last night – his gentle caresses, the ability he seemed to have to set her whole body alive with tingles at the slightest touch – she shivered, resisting the urge to reach forward and drag him back under the covers. Was it true what they said about French men making good lovers? Or was it that she and Pascal were so right for each other? All she knew was that when they were together, everything in her felt on fire. As if she suddenly realised what sex was all about.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Oh, nothing,’ she said. ‘Just thinking.’

They’d come up with the idea of the launch about an hour ago after waking up together. Pascal had fetched coffee and they’d sat up in bed, chatting and sipping, watching the early morning sky come into itself through open blinds.

She’d got used to early starts now. When she’d first arrived, she’d found herself sleeping – perhaps making up for all the years she’d spent reacting to six o’clock alarms. But there was something refreshing about waking up early and slowly coming to as the light turned from silver to gold, then bright brilliant white as the sun rose and began to gently wake the earth.

‘We should have a grand opening!’ he’d said.

‘But the café is already open!’

‘But we can do some… finishing touches. Then have an event. It’ll bring new people to the café, and maybe demonstrate that what we’ve been doing is for the community – the whole community.’

‘Even the yellow chairs?’

‘Can I tell you something,’ he’d said, his eyes on her face. ‘Something I have kept from you?’

She’d felt a frisson of anxiety. ‘Of course.’

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