Page 79 of Sisters Making Mischief
Stephen would have been speechless if he had known what I had spent on three new bras and six pairs of co-ordinated knickers (which I was told in no uncertain terms should always match).
And then I realised that over the last few days, Stephen had been far from my mind and that I had stopped worrying about how he might have reacted if he had seen me. This could only be a good thing. It was as though his dominating presence, which had been sitting on my shoulder for so long, had been gradually fading like an old photograph, and now it felt like it had gone.
I hadn’t forgotten him, of course, I hadn’t. But now, although I couldn’t quite vocalise it properly, life felt different. Something that Paulette had said resonated with me.
That beautiful jacket.
I never wore it. It was too big. Now it is too small. I waited for the right day and then that day never came.
Surely this applied to most things in life. I wasn’t going to do as so many people did, wait for the right moment. Keep new things for best. Plan that trip of a lifetime for some vague time in the future. From now on I was going to wear those clothes, that underwear, that smile, because tomorrow might just be too late.
Early on Saturday morning, Isabel was wandering around fretting about the lack of customers and wondering if we should reduce the prices on things.
‘Hardly anyone knows we are here,’ she complained, kicking at one of the watering cans disconsolately, ‘it wouldn’t matter if we did have Fabergé eggs or Princess Diana Beanie Babies.’
‘Let’s do the video,’ I said, ‘and put it on social media. Telling everyone what a lot of fabulous things you have here. Andperhaps mention thegîtesand the shepherd’s hut at the same time.’
‘Okay,’ she said, sounding anything but enthusiastic, ‘what do we have to do?’
‘You can just walk around pointing at things and I’ll film you on your phone.’
‘I’m not doing it on my own!’ she said, horrified, ‘I wouldn’t have the nerve. You have to do it too. And what would we say anyway?’
‘Let’s work it out, we can always have the words written on bits of cardboard. Lots of people do that. Bob Hope was famous for it.’
Isabel grinned, warming to the idea. ‘Let’s have a practice.’
I tugged a bit at the edge of my new bra, which while supportive was very different from what I was used to, and we went into the barn. I took Isabel’s phone and started filming.
‘Go on then,’ I hissed.
Isabel looked blank. ‘What shall I say?’
Never wanting to be left out of anything, Marcel and Antoine loped in and sat at her feet. Marcel scratched one ear and Antoine yawned.
I pressed the record button and started speaking.
‘Here we are in my beautifulbrocantebarn, which as you can see if filled with?—’
I sent her an enquiring look and she took up the thread.
‘A lot of old junk, and some good bits that are probably worth a fortune, but I am too stupid to know.’
‘We don’t say stupid,’ I said, automatically.
‘Okay, I am just a simple woman with no qualifications in antiques, and no idea if this—’ she picked up a cup and saucer, ‘— isSèvres Fontainbleauor Ikea.’
She then posed like a magician’s assistant in front of a display of farm machinery, and I started giggling.
‘I have no idea what this is, but it’s very old and I have two of them. So if you wanted a matching pair of whatever they are, come along to mybrocantebarn atFerme de Pommes de Terre.We are open most days, and if we aren’t, it means we are closed.’
She took the phone from me. ‘You have a go.’
I picked up a bundle of embroidered sheets and held them against my cheek.
‘Sleep like a queen in these vintage, embroidered sheets. Not Marie Antoinette of course, that didn’t end well. Or amuse and delight your friends with these—’ I picked up a couple of wonky pottery bowls, ‘—objet d’artwhich look like Meissen but were, in fact, made by my nephew for an art project about twenty years ago.’
Getting into the spirit of the thing Isabel picked up one of the tablecloths and swirled it around her shoulders like a cape.
