Page 59 of Happily Never After
It’s become clear to me that I’m not going to get anything done until I hear from him. I need something to distract me, so wander in the direction of the house.
‘Everything OK?’ Cara asks as I approach the terrace, where she’s laying out the usual sumptuous array of pastries.
‘Yes. I think I’m going to go out today. Hugh recommended a couple of places to visit when I arrived, but I’ll confess I can’t remember what they were.’
‘The obvious one is Cordes-sur-Ciel,’ she tells me. ‘But I’d avoid that. Pretty as it is, it’s a terrible tourist trap and parking is a nightmare. If I were you, I’d head for Castelnau-de-Montmiral. It’s gorgeous and much less touristy. If you’re feeling brave, you could continue on into Gaillac for lunch. There are a number of good restaurants there. I’ll give you a list if you like.’
‘Thanks.’
I can’t resist helping myself to a pastry while Cara grabs leaflets and writes down addresses on a piece of paper. I wonder briefly whether I should invite Tess to come with me, but decide in the end that I’m not feeling especially sociable. I’d rather just let my mind wander where it wants as I take in the scenery, and having to make conversation will feel like a chore. Hopefully, I’ll get some inspiration and be able to concentrate when I get back.
Oh, who am I fooling? I know exactly what I’m going to be thinking about all day, and it’s not going to be Claire’s predicament.
God, I hope I do hear from Finn. I never asked him to tell me how it went, and he might be so caught up in what he’s doing that he forgets to let me know. As I bundle my stuff into the car, I send him another message.
Let me know how you get on. xx
Right, enough now. Stop harassing the poor boy, Laura.
22
Although Castelnau-de-Montmiral was gorgeous, just as Cara described, Gaillac proved to be rather busier, traffic-wise, than I was prepared for, and I sighed with relief when I finally found a parking space where I could abandon the car and continue my exploration on foot. I haven’t heard anything from Finn, but my stomach is growling with hunger so I’m currently trying to find a bistro that Cara said is one of her and Hugh’s favourites. According to her, theTartare de boeuf Limousinis to die for but, although I’d consider myself reasonably adventurous where food is concerned – you can’t be a wallflower about these things in Liv’s house – I’m unsure whether a plate of raw beef is going to do it for me today. However, Cara assured me that they’ve tried a number of things there, and they’ve all been excellent, so I’m going to treat myself.
As I follow the instructions from the navigation app on my phone, I can’t help feeling a tinge of pride. Here I am, finding my own way about in a foreign country and, so far, nothing has gone wrong. The hire car is still the same shape as when I picked it up. I’m definitely feeling more confident with it, and I’m now making my way through the narrow streets like a local, albeitone with a disembodied English voice shouting directions from her pocket.
The restaurant, when I get there, is exactly what I was hoping for. The menu is written out on large blackboards leaning against the windows, and a number of diners are already seated at the outdoor tables. I listen carefully and the only language I can hear is French, which is a plus, I reckon. If the locals eat here, it must be good. A waitress is bustling backwards and forwards with carafes of wine, baskets of fresh bread and plates piled high with all manner of delicious-looking food. At the tables, the customers appear to be in no rush, savouring their lunches as they debate whatever the issue of the day is. As if on cue, my stomach growls again, loudly this time.
Thankfully, my French extends just far enough for me to explain that I’d rather sit outside –à l’extérieurgot the message across – and to navigate the menu. I was initially tempted to try theAndouilettesausages and messaged Liv to ask about them, but her response that they could be challenging, aroma-wise, was enough to put me off so I’ve gone for a chicken dish instead. As I wait for my food to arrive, I tilt my head up towards the sun and enjoy the hubbub of conversation around me, so I don’t immediately notice my phone pinging to tell me that I have a new message. When I do pick it up, I’m excited to see that it’s from Finn.
Pitch went really well, thanks. The channel seem enthusiastic about the concept and they’re going to take it to the next stage. They absolutely loved the idea of the rogue item. I should hear more in a week or so. How are the Double-Doubles? Xx
I’m smiling as I type out my response.
There’s trouble in paradise. Suzie and Grace are pissed off with Gina, who seems to have dumped them like hot bricks in favour of Lynette, of all people! I’ve taken myself off for the day to leave them to it xx.
The ticks go blue straight away and I can see he’s typing a reply.
Uh-oh. Let’s hope nobody has poisoned anyone else when you get back. I wouldn’t put it past any of them… Enjoy your day out. How’s the book coming along?
What to say to that? I couldn’t concentrate because I was thinking about you? Honest, but I don’t want to spook him, so I opt for a more neutral reply.
OK. Darren still in the wall, but I’ll get him out later, and then there will be the inevitable autopsy.
Foul play suspected?
He couldn’t have bricked himself up in there.
Good point. This is why I’m not a crime novelist xx.
I’m trying not to read anything into the kisses on the end of his messages, but it’s hard not to. Does he normally end all his texts like that, or is he flirting with me? To be fair, I’ve been sending him kisses too; perhaps he’s just replying in the same way because he thinks that’s what I expect. Thankfully, before I can go any further down this particular rabbit hole, my foodarrives. I take a quick snapshot and send it to him with a brief message.
Got to go – lunch has just arrived and it smells amazing. Really pleased the pitch went well. Hope you have celebrations planned – keep me posted xx.
His reply is immediate.
Looks fab. Can practically smell it from here – enjoy! No celebrations until it’s in the bag – don’t want to jinx it. Hopefully, we’ll be able to celebrate together once you’re back xx.
By the time I get back to L’Ancien Presbytère, late that afternoon, I’ve analysed Finn’s message from pretty much every conceivable angle. On the one hand, he could just be inviting me to celebrate as a friend who helped him out of a hole, but I have to confess I prefer the narrative where he wants it to be something more. After a delicious lunch, I had a happy time wandering round Gaillac before taking a circuitous route back to the house via Cordes-sur-Ciel. It turned out to be exactly as Cara had described; rammed with tourists and not a parking spot to be seen, so I didn’t try to stop. It was pretty though.
