Page 25 of Sisters Making Mischief
Eugénie finished her coffee and put the cup down with a tiny chinking noise on the saucer.
‘La famille est l’un des chefs d’oevre de la nature.Family is nature’s masterpiece.’
I wasn’t sure if she approved or not. Or exactly what she was getting at so I decided to ignore it.
‘Joy had an accident on the road between here and the village, perhaps that is why she is rather stressed,’ Isabel said. ‘A tractor nearly ran her off the road.’
‘These farmers. Just because they are bigger than you, they drive like maniacs,’ Eugénie said.
‘Jean-Luc helped her out,’ Isabel added.
Eugénie’s eyes brightened. ‘Ah yes, Jean-Luc. A man like that is always helpful. Which I for one would enjoy.Les médecins sont fascinants.Doctors are fascinating. They know so many interesting things, and what they don’t know they can ask their friends. If I were ten years younger and didn’t need them quite so much in a professional capacity, I would not allow him to be so reclusive. You should invite him over for dinner, in fact that is a very good idea. I insist you do. It would be –de bon voisinage– neighbourly.’
I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of this. I had come here for some peace and quiet, not to have Eugénie organising my time. But there was another part of me that realised that life here held different possibilities, and if I wanted things to change for the better, it might be a good idea to be a bit less rigid.
9
Eugénie stayed for quite a while, eventually leaving when Isabel made very pointed comments about how tired I must be after my journey, and how I needed time to settle into my room.
This time it was me in the attic because Isabel said it was the most comfortable bed. A space that had been converted some years ago by Felix and his sons in to a large room under the bending beams of the roof. Half the room at the far end was taken up with exactly the sort of stuff one would expect to find there. Cardboard boxes sealed and taped up, a broken lampstand, which apparently Felix was planning to repair one day, some dining chairs with ragged covers and even an old wardrobe propped up on bricks. However, in the area I was to use, there was a beautiful old sleigh bed, which looked as though it was carved from mahogany, a painted chest of drawers and a blue velvet armchair.
‘Thegîteyou stayed in last time will be finished soon and then you can move in there,’ Isabel said, looking around with some uncertainty, ‘but this will be okay for now, won’t it?’
‘Of course,’ I said, looking up and hoping the roof didn’t leak.
‘The bathroom is at the bottom of the stairs, I will bring you a tray with a kettle and some tea things, so you don’t have to go downstairs first thing if you don’t want to. The dogs will jump over you if you do. I’ve got some tea bags for you. I wonder where they are…’
‘Brilliant, thank you,’ I said.
‘Right, I’ll leave you to get unpacked. I’ll be downstairs in the kitchen trying to get my head around lunch. Although I don’t expect Felix back before this evening. What would you like?’
‘Nothing much,’ I said, ‘I’m still full of coffee and cake.’
‘Perhaps I’ll just get a few things out then, and you can decide. Some bread and cheese or something.’
‘Sounds fine,’ I said, ‘you don’t have to go to any trouble.’
‘I wasn’t going to,’ Isabel said grinning, ‘you’re just as capable of making a sandwich as I am. Just relax.’
Yes, perhaps I should have taken that attitude with my family, instead of insisting I did everything. Maybe I had been my own worst enemy.
I sat on the edge of the bed after she had gone and looked out of the window. The fields stretched out below me, down the slope to where the little river ran. On the other side of it I could see a single house, and beside it a thin plume of blue smoke rising into the still air. It looked like there was a bonfire burning in the garden. Perhaps that was the old place that Jean-Luc was busy renovating.
I wondered what his life there was like. He had come from Paris after all, where presumably he had led a busy life. And yet he had chosen to live here, in the depths of the countryside, with no neighbours nearby. I wondered why he had done that.
And then I remembered how I had shouted at him, and been rude, and I felt my face grow hot at the memory. I hoped Isabel wouldn’t invite him over for dinner, and if she did, that he would make some excuse not to come. Or perhaps I could pretendto have a headache and retire to my room. No, that would be silly and childish. I would be complaining about the vegetables touching in the dish next.
And if I was honest, I had been the one in the wrong. I had been daydreaming, not concentrating on the road. It hadn’t been Jean-Luc’s fault. There was no reason why I couldn’t just apologise to him, talk to him in a reasonable way and be a bit braver about meeting new people. Starting with him.
I unpacked and only put a few things into the wardrobe, after all I was not sure how long I would be staying in this room, and then I found my phone. There were two messages from John telling me something of the glories of Manhattan and attaching a photo of his office, which seemed to have walls made of glass and an incredible view over other skyscrapers. The girls had settled in quite well and had already been invited to two birthday parties. Vanessa had contacted an old school friend called Beatrice and signed up for a gym and t’ai chi classes.
Sara had sent several messages, asking where the spare tea towels were kept, did I have various pieces of kitchen equipment, would I mind if the girls had a couple of friends for a sleepover and telling me that two glasses had been broken and were they very special or could she just get some from the supermarket.
I sent a message to them both and a photograph of the lovely view out of my attic window, telling only the briefest highlights of my journey, and then sent a message to Sara reassuring her that the glasses were nothing special, a sleepover was fine and not to worry about me.
Then I went back downstairs looking for Isabel and feeling surprisingly rather hungry. After so many weeks of full-on housework and activity, it felt very strange to have nothing in particular to do. No meals to prepare, no towering ironing pile, no need to go out for more milk or biscuits.
The kitchen was empty, the top half of the stable door open and for a moment I stood with my hands hanging, feeling rather unsure what to do. Should I go outside? Should I go back up to my room pretending I needed a handkerchief or something?
