Page 45 of Love In Provence
‘I only heard this lunchtime. And there is nothing we can do. He’s right. He does own it.’
‘In the eyes of the law and all that,’ Ed puts in.
‘Dinner,’ says Maria.
‘Come on, let’s sit,’ I say. ‘You’ll love the food these people put on the table.’
‘You’re not cooking?’ he says in surprise.
‘No. I’ll explain later.’ Although I don’t quite know what to say. I’m like a racehorse that can’t run, a birdthat can’t fly, a frog that can’t jump. I’m a cook who can’t cook. But I can still eat.
And we do: we sit, eat, drink, and Fabien gets to know a little more about the people around the table. Their travels, where they’ve been, where they’re going.
‘Jen knows her way around the engine of a camper van,’ I tell Fabien.
‘Had to! Lived in one in Spain for long enough,’ she says, and we quieten. This is something we’ve not heard from her before.
‘I thought you lived in London?’
‘I did. With my second husband Trefor. But before that I lived in a caravan on a small patch of land with my first husband, Dan, when we took the big leap of faith and moved to Spain to run a bar there.’
The rest of the group don’t know the full story yet.
‘We were building a house, near the bar. But between running the bar and building a house, we lost our way. I met someone else, a holidaymaker, and we ran off together. I’m full of shame about it now. My family didn’t want anything more to do with me when I left Dan. But Trefor and I had each other. Until …’
‘He died,’ Rhi finishes.
Jen shakes her head. ‘He didn’t die. Trefor left me. I was mortified. I had caused so much hurt, giving everything up for him. I should never have had my head turned. It was a moment of madness and I got caughtup in the excitement of it all. After he left, I thought the only thing I could do was keep moving. I think it’s the guilt that’s kept me moving all this time. Not having to think about it.’
‘We can’t help who we fall in love with,’ I say, taking a small sideways glance at Fabien. He’s there to catch my glance and my cheeks colour.
‘But it wasn’t love. It was the excitement. Life had got busy with the bar and building the house. It was like the box of chocolates you’re not supposed to open because you’re on a diet. The temptation was too much for me.’
‘And then comes the feeling of sickness and the guilt,’ Keith finishes.
‘And now?’ I prompt her.
She looks around the group. ‘Van life. People think it’s cool and I’ve got it sussed, but the truth is I hate it. I absolutely hate it,’ she says, and we stare at her. And then she lets out a little laugh. ‘We always said that once we retired we’d go on the road. I thought it was exactly what I needed. Turns out it isn’t! I should never have left where I was in Spain. I loved having friends and staying in one place.’
Then Maria says quietly, ‘I wonder if I should have left the UK … or if I should go back.’
Marco frowns. ‘Why would you?’
‘Because it was my home,’ she says.
Marco peers at her as if she’s talking a different language. ‘Yeah, but Australia is like the best place ever.’
She shakes her head. ‘You think that. Maybe I don’t.’
‘Tsk,’ he says, and tuts loudly. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. How can you compare anywhere to Australia? I said we’d do a tour of Europe, but I assume you’ll make the right decision and want to go back to Oz as soon as. I can’t wait to get back.’
Maria’s eyes fill with tears. ‘We cooked differently when I was growing up and my grandmother was alive. I miss it,’ she says, and I haven’t heard her speak like this before. ‘I miss her. I just have no idea of who I am or where I fit in. I’m not Australian, I was born in the UK, and my parents have mixed heritage. I miss my grandmother, even though I know I’m not of Indian heritage, because I was adopted.’ She shrugs. ‘I can’t work outmeand where I fit. I thought cooking with the spice tin would make me feel more like her, like I belong.’
‘That wasmagnifique!’ Fabien leans back in his chair. ‘It must be very hard for you.’
‘It is,’ she says. ‘Thank you.’
‘I think you’ve fallen on your feet,’ says Marco, ‘your parents taking you on and moving to Oz.’
