‘About five years ago.’ He’d looked sad. ‘If I’m honest, things were already going a bit wrong with Naomi by then. I used to come for a couple of months from home to give us both a break sometimes, although it was always about business on the surface.’
‘Are you OK?’ he asked her now. ‘You’ve gone quiet.’
‘Yeah. It’s just weird,’ she said. ‘Knowing I’m going to see Peyrat again; the house. It hasn’t been that long, not really, but it feels like so much has happened since I left.’
‘Yeah, I get that. Do you ever miss it?’
She thought about Versailles, her new job. How exciting but terrifying everything seemed now. Her new look and energy for life, but the unsustainability of everything – the feeling that it was all going to crumble away from her at any moment. ‘I miss the peacefulness of it,’ she said. ‘People. Obviously, I stay in touch with friends. But I miss the community – those I used to bump into locally and have a chat with.’
He nodded. ‘Makes sense.’
‘And the quiet, sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘You know, there were nights when I’d go outside after dark – just out on the front steps – and I used to feel astonished at how close the stars seemed. The street lights in the village would go out about 10p.m. and there were only about five of them to start with. But the sky was brilliant – like nothing I’d ever seen.’
‘Sounds cool. Maybe I’ll get to see them.’
‘I hope not,’ she said drily.
‘How come?’
‘Because it only gets dark about eleven, twelve maybe, at this time of year. And I hope we’ll be back in Versailles by then.’
‘Good point. Still, it sounds beautiful.’
‘It really is.’
The silence settled on them again. Then: ‘What’s the house like?’ Brad asked.
‘You’ll see it soon,’ she said, feeling something well up inside her as they drew ever closer to the place she’d used to call home.
‘Humour me.’
‘OK, well, it was made of stone – surprisingly. An old farmhouse and a couple of small, converted barns. Old world on the outside, bit more modern inside. Garden large, but workable. Great views.’
‘Cool. How many people did you do B&B for?’
‘We had about six rooms in the house, then the two outhouses where families could stay. I think the most we had at one time was twenty-two people.’
‘Hang on, twenty-two people?’
‘Yeah. Some of them were self-catering, so…’
‘Man! The way you spoke about it before, I was thinking you had maybe four rooms tops,’ he said. ‘That’s a proper hotel, almost. I mean, that’s a serious business.’
She smiled. It felt nice to hear him say that. ‘I suppose it was.’
She’d got used to the car on the drive down, although the rather meagre padding in the driver’s seat had left her feeling a bit bruised. As the roads narrowed, she passed the first sign for Peyrat and felt a strange shiver of recognition. ‘Almost there,’ she said, trying to sound upbeat, but wondered whether Brad could detect the tremor in her voice.
Then suddenly, they passed the sign, and she found herself driving past the fields and gardens, the scattered stone houses. In one garden, an enormous parasol under which there was a table covered in plates and glasses. Another had a pool, its still surface glistening blue and white in the sunshine. All was peaceful and drenched in light.
‘This is really cool,’ said Brad, his tone almost reverent.
‘Yeah?’ She felt a kind of uplift, as if he’d told hershewas cool. ‘I guess it is, kind of. Gets a bit quiet in the winter, mind.’
‘I can see it,’ he said. ‘Snow, and dark skies and roaring fires inside.’
‘And ice on the roads and gritters and having to stock up on horrible UHT milk just in case you can’t get out for a few days.’ She glanced at him and grinned. ‘But you’re right, beautiful too. I did love it here.’ She was surprised at her own words for a second. Things had deteriorated with Pete and had been so stressful with the B&B she’d almost forgotten why she’d chosen to move to Peyrat in the first place. It had been the beauty of it, its unspoilt nature. The air so fresh it almost made her feel drunk.
Those first evenings, sitting in the garden with Pete, laughing at how ridiculous it was that they could afford a house like this in rural France when their friends were trying to save up deposits for bedsits priced twice what they’d paid. They’d felt so very clever and on top of the world.
