Page 86 of Sisters Making Mischief
‘Because something about you made me want to find out more about you, to understand why you are sometimes so serious, when behind your eyes there is a vibrant, exciting woman.’
I sighed and took these words deep into my heart. I didn’t think I had been vibrant or exciting for ages.
‘Thank you,’ I said at last, ‘you don’t know how great that makes me feel.’
‘I want to know more about you,’ he said, kissing the tip of my nose.
‘Me too,’ I said.
I realised that had been a slightly confusing reply. Did I mean I wanted to know more about me, too, or more about him. Or actually, perhaps it was both.
‘And now, I’ll take you home,’ he said.
‘Thank you. I was hoping you would. I’ve no idea where we are.’
He laughed and helped me up into the truck, both hands on my waist, which I liked but also made me a bit startled, knowing that the button of my trousers was still undone, and the rest of my modesty was only protected by two safety pins.
When he was in the driver’s seat, I sat looking at him and put my hands either side of his face, looking at him for a good, long while. Memorising his features, so that I could remember this moment. He looked back at me, his brown eyes clear and honest.
Yes, he was attractive, yes he was good company, but more than that I felt he was a friend. I hadn’t been looking for a fling or love or anything like it when I came to France, but perhaps I had found something better.
The trip back was quite a quiet one. Perhaps he, like me, was thinking about things. We had kissed each other very enthusiastically. The question about whether each found the other appealing had been answered. But what next?
I still had no idea.
I suppose I investigated various possibilities during that trip. Would we go back to his house? Would he invite me in for a nightcap? If he did, would I agree or not? And if I did, what did that imply?
Would it mean that in the morning I would have to do the drive of shame, taking my car back to Potato Farm in the early hours, worrying that Isabel might hear me, the dogs would bark, Eugénie would spot me? I already knew that nothing stayed under the radar in this place. It would be all over the town in no time.
I looked down at my wedding ring and twisted it on my finger.
Interesting point to consider: why was I still wearing that? Till death do us part, that was what we had both said. But in the end, we had been parted by an estate agent and two firms of solicitors.
Up until that moment I hadn’t even thought about it. Eugénie had said with some heat that she was still married to Bastien, even though she had been widowed decades ago. I too had been married for so long, and my life had developed strict boundaries as a result. How did the possibility of another relationship – if that’s what it was – fit into my life? Did I even want to go there?
I suddenly remembered my Wonder Woman notebook, and the list of things I had written in it. All about doing things, seeing places, accepting new challenges and opportunities. I hadn’t even considered another relationship, and yet possibly, unless I was reading too much into it, there was one on offer.
Perhaps it was the late hour, maybe it was the wine, but my brain was spinning with tiredness. I would do what Scarlett O’Hara always did inGone with the Windand think about it tomorrow.
I began to recognise the road, signposts and houses as we came closer to the town, and then it seemed he had made the decision for me, and he turned off into the driveway of Potato Farm. Part of me was relieved, part of me wasn’t.
Perhaps I had been up for some romantic nonsense, some skilful French seduction. Him whispering things in my ear, me trying not to say something foolish, wondering if he had a spare toothbrush, would he notice that if and when my trousers dropped to the floor there would be a metallic clonk from the safety pins?
I laughed out loud then because the whole thing was so unexpected, so ridiculous that it was funny. He turned to look at me, his face illuminated by the dashboard lights.
‘Okay?’
‘Absolutely,’ I said.
He stopped the car and took my hand, raising it to his lips and kissing the back of it. Well, that was a definite first. No man had ever done that.
‘Goodnight,chèrie,’ he said, and I felt a daft thrill.
So, I waschèrienow, was I? Another first.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek.
‘Goodnight.’
