Page 61 of Love In Provence
‘Damn you, Mistral. Damn you!’
24
‘I should go away more often,’ Fabien says, later that night, when I tell him how much we’ve sold from thebrocante.
‘No, you shouldn’t!’ I say, joining in with his laughter, just a tiny bit of me worrying that he might have meant it.
‘And do you plan to do it all again?’
‘Yes, I think so. Maybe next Friday. Do you think you could be here?’
‘It’s hard. We’re back in my parents’ town and a lot of people here want to say hello. But I will try.’
‘Okay. What about now? Getting an early night?’
‘A few of us are meeting up, going to a party, after the gig.’
‘A few of us?’
I feel something unpleasant crawl across my skinagain. Something I’ve never thought I would feel that is a lot like jealousy. I try to shake it off. I’m an adult in a relationship. Why would I suddenly feel jealous? Or is it guilt? I remember how Henri’s son made me feel when he looked at me tonight, before he humiliated me. The frisson, the teasing, the anger and repulsion we feel for each other. How he held my gaze and my insides melted, like the desserts I was holding. And how stupid I felt when he laughed. He was like a cat playing with a mouse, teasing it, knowing it can squash it with one paw. Well, I’m not going to be squashed and made to feel stupid.
Firmly I say to Fabien, ‘Well, you deserve a good night out.’
Because he does. He’s been working hard. I’m so cross with myself. There’s nothing to feel jealous about, nothing to feel guilty about. It was just a look from a man I’m coming to dislike, even loathe, for what he’s doing to his father’s legacy.
Don’t ask, I tell myself. I look at him on the screen. ‘So, who’s going to be there?’
Damn! I hate myself.
‘Just the band. And some old friends we used to hang out with when we were younger. Now they all have children or divorces and are moving into second-time-around relationships.’ He gives a light laugh. I remember the call of ‘Grandpère’, and teasing him.
I think of my ex-husband Ollie leaving France andstarting again with his new partner, having a baby. I had no idea any of it was going on. What if I get hurt again?
‘Fabien …’ Don’t say it. Don’t poke the nest. Don’t say what doesn’t need to be said. ‘You would say, wouldn’t you, if you were unhappy? If you didn’t want “us” any more?’
‘Of course! I mean no! Yes! What? Jesus Christ. Where’s this come from?’
I’m not sure. Why did I have to say that? We rarely get to speak at the moment. Why spoil what time we do have?
‘Look, forget it. I didn’t mean—’
‘Maybe, Del, it’s me who should be worried. Maybe you’re getting tired of our relationship?’
‘No, Fabien. I didn’t mean that.’
‘Why else would you say that?’
I hear the beep of a car horn at his end of the phone.
‘I have to go,’ he says, and I can tell he’s hesitant to hang up.
‘Okay.’ I’m unsure what to say next. I’m cross with myself for rattling the bars of a cage that didn’t need to be rattled. It’s just a party, with friends, one of whom may be Monique. I wish Carine had never sown that seed of doubt. But it wasn’t Carine. It’s me. Thinking that what happened with Ollie will happen again. I’m pushing Fabien away. And I don’t know how to get us back to where we were.
‘If you want me to come home, I will …’
How can I make him do that? It wouldn’t be fair.
‘Go! And have a lovely evening,’ I say.
