Page 25 of Love In Provence
Keith’s smile slips. ‘It’s okay. Frankly, I’d rather be at home,’ he says, then adds apologetically, ‘Not that it isn’t lovely here. It is!’
I wave a hand. ‘Home is special. And when you find it, it matters.’
I see Jen look down.
‘It’s not just the house, really,’ Keith goes on. ‘It’s, well, our son. He’s gone to university, and Graham had the chance to take early retirement, so here we are.’ He sips his drink. ‘But I’d rather be back to where we were before our son left home. I loved it. I baked on my days off from the care home so there was always a tin of cake and biscuits on the side when he got in from school.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be back soon, wanting a taste of your cooking,’ says Jen.
He shakes his head. ‘I think … I think he’s embarrassed by us.’
‘Surely not!’ I frown.
‘I’m certain of it. He’s hardly been home all year and now, this summer, he says he’s going travelling with friends. I was hoping for plenty of time with him at home, going to the beach and for meals out. He was offered a really good job at the local pub for the summer. But he’s taken off. He has new friends and we’re probably a bit of an embarrassment in our small house.’
‘Oh, Keith, I’m sure that’s not the case,’ says Jen, putting her hand over his.
‘So Graham decided we should do something. Get motorbikes or climb a bunch of mountains. I agreed to go Interrailing and stay on farms. At least I know I’ll get fed.’
‘How much longer will you be away?’
He shrugs. ‘Until … I don’t know … until it doesn’t hurt any more? It’s amazing how time flies.’
Jen squeezes his hand. ‘So … what about favourite films?’ She puts us back on steadier ground, clearly used to doing so.
‘National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation,’ says Keith.
‘Love it!’ I say. ‘AndThe Holiday!’
‘Give me a Bond any day!’ says Jen.
With the popcorn eaten, we say goodnight.
‘See you in the morning nice and early. As usual, we’ll pick before it gets too hot, once the dew has dried,’ I say, feeling more confident.
‘I was thinking …’ Jen hesitates.
‘Yes?’
‘… maybe we should take turns to cook,’ she finishes.
‘What? Everyone does a night?’ asks Keith. ‘I do a brilliant fish-finger sandwich! And my cinnamon swirls …’
‘We could all pitch in. Only if everyone wanted to,’ says Jen.
Does she know I’m struggling? Is she just being kind? Or is this a really lovely idea?
‘Sometimes a change of location can help us when we’re feeling stuck,’ Jen says, and I think about her on the road after her husband died. ‘We could eat out here in the barn kitchen.’
I look around. It’s lovely with its thick beams, furniture that Fabien has put in from thebrocante, and festoon lighting strung across the ceiling.
‘I’d love that,’ I say quietly, standing. ‘Although I’m not sure how Marco will feel about it.’
‘I think as long as Marco is fed, he won’t care,’ says Keith, and Jen laughs. I wish thembonne nuit.
Maybe we can make this work after all. Maybemoving out of the kitchen is what I need for now. Just until the bistro is up and running again. I head back to the farmhouse with Ralph at my side, following me upstairs to bed. I really don’t have the heart to tell him no.
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