At the school, pupils were already streaming in and out; some with groups of friends; some with family; others, alone. There were whoops and screeches from some; others simply melted away into their future, clutching the paper that would go some way to dictate it.
She already knew – and Kitty already suspected – that the news wouldn’t be good. She hadn’t worked hard, had been unable to somehow. I mean, what were A levels anyway? Something some professor had invented a hundred years ago. A piece of paper. Everything seemed so pointless. University had once been a goal, but she was almost certainly not going to get the place she’d applied for.
It was weird, but she didn’t really care. If Mum’s death had taught her anything, it was that your future comes and hits you full in the face whether you like it or not. You could try to shape it with qualifications and dreams, but at the end of the day, if fate had other ideas, your plans meant nothing at all.
10
NOW
Half an hour later, Bella ventured downstairs, changed into a simple white summer dress. The idea ofapérossounded quite sophisticated – the tiny nibbles and drinks served before an evening meal had been something she and Pete had sometimes offered guests. But they’d rarely had the chance to have any themselves.
In fact the more she thought about it, the more she realised how many of the dreams they’d had had fallen by the wayside – there had been no trips to Paris, no weekend jaunts to the Riviera. They hadn’t visited the lakes in the Loire or gone on a wine tasting tour. They’d stayed, for the most part, in Peyrat and although their world seemed expansive to those they’d left in England, in many ways it had shrunk.
Before arriving in Versailles, she’d been determined to keep herself to herself – to work the three months until her house finally sold, then disappear. Only when Odette had asked her to have a drink with them, it had seemed impossible to say no. Perhaps because of her embarrassment over Henri. Or perhaps just because, if she were honest, she’d never felt so alone.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, for the first time in a couple of tumultuous months, she felt a lift – as if something were holding her upright. Hope.
It was kind of nice to be living in student accommodation; her own uni days existed only in her imagination. She’d wanted to go once, but after she’d failed her A levels and taken a job in a pharmacy, it hadn’t seemed to matter. She hadn’t cared back then, at a time when life had seemed to pass at a snail’s pace, every moment drenched in grief. But she sometimes liked to imagine what it might have been like, living vicariously through Kitty’s stories of wild nights out and exhausted days in lectures.
When she entered the kitchen, Odette had already opened a bottle of cherry wine, and placed it next to a bowl of tortilla chips and an open pot of dip. Two little glasses were set out on the table.
It wasn’t quite the decadent spread Bella had pictured. But it was a start.
‘Voilà!’ Odette passed her a glass and she took a sip.
‘Oof!’ she gasped involuntarily after the thick, syrupy liquid burned down her throat. It took all the willpower she had not to spit the whole mouthful out.
‘You do not like?’
‘Oh no. It’s lovely, just… strong.’ ‘Strong’ was an understatement. In fact, it reminded her of the cough syrup her mother used to force down her when she had the flu, but with a shot of turpentine in it for good measure. ‘Yummy.’
‘It is good, yes?’ Odette asked with a sideways glance, refilling her own drink.
‘Yes. Lovely.’ Bella grabbed a few tortilla chips, but it was going to take a lot more carbs to soak up something this strong. She hadn’t got anything in the cupboards, no plans. Her stomach grumbled reproachfully. ‘What do you usually do for dinner?’ she asked. ‘Is there somewhere local you like to go?’
Odette shrugged. ‘Sometimes we eat, sometimes we forget.’
‘Oh.’ Her stomach grumbled again in protest.
There was a creak on the stairs and she turned, aghast, remembering suddenly that there was a third person in the house. Before she could prepare herself properly (if that was even possible), Henri strolled casually in, wearing a short-sleeved black shirt and jeans, with the casual air of one who hasn’t had his genitals on display to an unexpected stranger.
‘Bonsoir,’ he said, giving her a nod and reaching out to accept a glass of wine from Odette.
He reallywashandsome. She hadn’t noticed his face much before – her eyes had been drawn elsewhere. She’d noticed he was brown-haired and slim but hadn’t got as far as studying his features. His eyes were kind, his expression amused, and she felt herself relax. He looked, she thought, a little like a hero from a period drama, a nineties Mr Darcy, or a modern Colin Bridgerton. She could just imagine him riding up on horseback, or arriving in a carriage, that dark, thick hair blowing in the breeze, his?—
With a start she realised he was talking to her.
‘…university?’ he finished, eyeing her over the top of his glass.
‘Well, no. I’m working, actually. Just a temporary thing,’ she said, trying to keep things vague.
‘Like a gap year from your degree or an internship?’ Odette chipped in.
‘Well…’
‘It must be hard for you to be so far from family?’
‘Yes, in some ways. But…’ She shrugged in a way she hoped would indicate things were not straightforward when it came to her family situation. ‘So you’re both at uni?’ she prompted, trying to shift the conversation away from herself.
