‘You want to borrow money? I have a little saved, you can have it if you need?’
Bella shook her head. ‘No. I mean, I need money. But I won’t. I can’t. You know that.’
‘Then why not give Paris a try?’ Juliette gave Bella’s knee a squeeze. ‘Look, if it were me, I’d just apply for every job I found and take whatever I can get. Cleaning, housekeeping, office work. Just to buy you some time. And in Paris, the wages will be better, even for those kinds of work.’
Bella nodded. ‘I know. I’m going to have to. Or it’ll be destination Kitty’s.’
‘Would that really be so terrible?’
‘Yes, actually. Anyway, you’re right. I just have to take whatever I can get. Even if it’s just a stopgap. Even if it’s – I don’t know – scrubbing Macron’s underwear or something.’
Juliette pulled her in for a hug. Jolie, sensing the emotional moment, came and lay her warm head on their hands, looking up at them imploringly. ‘See, even Jolie wants to help you,’ Juliette said.
Bella felt her eyes fill with tears. ‘Oh Jolie,’ she said, pulling her hand away and rubbing the dog’s head. ‘I know you’d employ me in a heartbeat.’
Juliette laughed. ‘Yes, she’d have you walking her and cooking special meals. Unfortunately, she can only pay you in love.’
‘If only the bank would accept that.’
‘Oui, indeed.’
Later, when her friend had left, Bella lifted the foil lid from the dish she’d been given to discover a richpot-au-feu, a casserole made with well-marinated chunks of beef and vegetables in a rich gravy. She heated a little in the microwave and tried to eat, but it was difficult.
Juliette had been right. She hadn’t been eating properly. Just picking at this and that. Working through the batches of cupcakes she’d baked to get her mind off things. Feeling sick of them and sick with herself.
Something in her body reacted to the sensation of proper food, and she closed her eyes as she chewed and swallowed her first decent meal in an age.
‘Enough,’ she said to herself. Enough of the wallowing. She would get a job if it killed her. She opened a bottle of wine – something she’d ordinarily never let herself do when alone for fear she’d finish the whole bottle – and poured herself a generous glass. Then, roughly clearing off the kitchen table, stacking dishes and mugs in the corner to deal with later, she opened her laptop and began to search.
She didn’t want to leave her lovely home. Only that was going to have to happen whether she liked it or not. So maybe moving away from Peyrat for a time would be a blessing. How would it feel to rent a home in the village and see someone else living her life in the house she’d thought she’d be in forever? The tears threatened but she forced herself to regain control. It would feel awful. Awful.
Juliette was right, she should cast her net farther afield. Find a job to fill the months between sale and completion, give herself something to think about and money in her pocket. Keep the bank happy by paying her share of the mortgage. Then reconvene, decide what to do next.
She opened yet another application form and began to fill in her details, sipping from her wine as she did so. Every job she’d applied for so far in the local area had criticised her lack of experience. She’d run a business for eight years, but clearly that wasn’t impressive enough. She hadn’t worked in an office, she’d never worked in a larger organisation. Her face, her skills, just didn’t seem to fit the mould. Her meagre qualifications from the UK weren’t even recognised here.
She thought of Kitty’s offer. Her sister had suggested she move back to the UK even if it was just for a bit. But staying at her sister’s and observing her perfect life – married bliss, a toddler, a successful career to go back to when she was ready – would be too much.
She wouldn’t be happy there, living in Kitty’s shadow, feeling every ounce of her inadequacy. France was the place where her happiness lived, and she had to stay.
What would Kitty do if she were in this situation?she thought, opening up yet another questionnaire.
She didn’t need to ask. Kitty had always been the confident one. She’d aced her exams, got into a top university, landed a coveted graduate scheme. She’d met the love of her life, got married, conceived easily and now had a perfect little boy. Her CV would impress anyone.
She thought of Juliette. Of her forthright manner, her strength. If Juliette were in this situation, she would sell herself. She had the confidence to overcome the sort of reticence that Bella had when talking about her skills.
If she wanted to get anywhere, she’d have to forget all about who she was, her limitations, and try to become the kind of person she wished she could be.
4
2006, ENGLAND
Mum wasn’t home when Bella got back from school, although she’d left a note on the table.
At supermarket. Back soon.
Bella checked the cupboards and managed to find one slightly crushed packet of salt and vinegar crisps. Hopefully Mum would bring some more snacks back with her.
This was the sort of moment where a mobile phone would come in really handy, she thought to herself. Everyone else seemed to have one and she was the only kid in the world whose parents thought she was too young. She was doing her A levels now, for God’s sake!
