Page 27 of Love In Provence
As I hang up, I pause. I vow things will be very different when he’s home. We’ll make time for each other. Visit the little towns together. Take time to go out and eat. Before it’s too late.
By evening, I’m drawn to the outside kitchen by the beautiful smells coming from it. I can hear chatter and laughter too. The kitchen in the farmhouse seems very quiet and empty. I fill two jugs from the wine boxes, the red that’s sitting on the side and the rosé in the fridge, and take a deep breath. For a moment I wonder whether to call up to Rhi but decide that space is what she needs. She’s done an amazing job of bundling the cut lavender today and hanging it in bunches in the drying barn. Working slowly, steadily, alone with her thoughts.
‘Ed, this smells amazing,’ I say, arriving from the stone-covered driveway with the jugs of wine, one in each hand, and Ralph bounding happily around me, excited by the company.
‘I hope you like it. I saw the recipe on the FoodChannel and just wanted to give it a go. The town here has amazing produce! I went in this afternoon. I could have just stayed in the one shop all afternoon tasting cheese and wine.’
‘Have you always cooked?’ I peer over his shoulder at the pan on the stove and breathe in the scent of slow-cooking duck,herbes de Provence, green olives, celery, bay leaves and thyme.
He laughs and shakes his head. ‘No. My parents didn’t spend a lot of time in the kitchen. It was only when I got to uni I started to cook, tried to make things go further, that kind of thing. But, well, I don’t really have anyone to cook for at the moment.’
This is a completely different Ed from the guy who’s been here so far. He’s hardly said a word, but over the stove, he’s a changed man. It’s like the tongs he’s holding have magic powers. He’s lit up.
‘What were you studying?’
‘Law,’ he says, focusing on the food.
‘What kind?’ asks Graham, pouring drinks and handing them round.
‘Conveyancing,’ he says, losing his spark.
I chew my lip. ‘Is that what you plan to go into?’ I ask, picking up an olive from a bowl on the table. I think Jen may have put it there.
‘Erm, yes. I start with a law firm when I get back. I just needed some time away.’
‘I didn’t mean to intrude,’ I say, throwing the olive stone onto the driveway.
‘No, it’s fine. I might as well tell you. I was coming here with someone. I told you. My … fiancée,’ he says.
‘Wow!’
‘Everyone I meet says we’re young to be engaged. It just sort of happened. We were together from the sixth form, went to the same uni and both stayed at home to save money. My parents were so proud. Then a house came up for sale in the same street as them. They used their savings to lend us the deposit to buy it. It was all sort of mapped out. We went on holiday to Center Parcs and everyone expected us to get engaged so we did. When we came back, the house had been decorated from top to bottom by our parents to celebrate.’
‘Whoa …’ says Jen, eyebrows raised.
‘They meant well,’ he says, clearly understanding our reaction but also feeling for them.
No one speaks.
He sips some wine. ‘Then the wedding plans started. All I’d done was buy a ring. I thought that would be it for a couple of years, but it was like this whole big machine whirred into action. Venues, dates, register offices, licensed premises, guest lists, themes …’
‘God, what a waste of money. Just have a party and spend the money on a good trip, like we did,’ says Marco. Maria’s looking thoughtful. ‘Marriage is for mugs!’ he adds.
‘But we plan to do it at some point,’ she says firmly, putting a large bowl of green salad on the table.
‘Not for a while. A long while,’ says Marco. ‘I mean, I just wanted a holiday. It was you who wanted to do all this picking.’
‘I wanted to be a part of a community, not just sit by a pool, eating all-inclusive meals and drinking cheap beer all day,’ she says quietly.
‘She’s got this mad idea that if she keeps travelling around Europe she’ll find out where she really belongs.’
‘I was adopted,’ Maria jumps in quickly, ‘by my parents, obviously, so I don’t know much about my background. European is all I have,’ she tells Jen, Graham and Keith. ‘Then, growing up in the UK, when my grandmother died, as I said, we moved to Australia. I’m kind of a mix of all sorts.’ She tries to smile. ‘But what about you, Ed? Where’s your fiancée now?’ she asks.
He takes a deep breath. ‘I’m not proud of it, but … the closer the wedding got, the more I knew I couldn’t go through with it.’
We all hold our breath.
‘I had to get off the bandwagon. It was the petits fours that did it. I mean, they were lovely – but the wedding was all about everyone else. What they wanted. We’d just become bit parts in this huge event. I couldn’t do it. So I told Kim, my fiancée, and then my parents.I may have broken their hearts.’ He goes red and wipes his eyes.
