‘I should have said. But you know, it isn’t too late, Bella. We’re still married, legally. And we could try again. You could run a business. Maybe hire some help. I could find something that would make me happy?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘You could, Pete. But not with me.’
‘Why not?’ His tone was sharper now. ‘Because of this American bloke?’
‘Brad? No. Not because of Brad.’
‘You looked pretty cosy with him a second ago.’
‘He was standing behind me. We weren’t exactly locked in a passionate kiss.’
Pete shrugged. Not the nonchalant Gallic shrug of Yves or Henri, but a petulant, childish one. ‘Still.’
Bella looked at Pete. The man whom she’d spent nearly a third of her life with. It was impossible not to feel something for him. Because their split hadn’t been bitter and acrimonious. Just a gentle pulling away, a loosening of ties. ‘Anyway, we couldn’t go back, Pete. We’re signing the house over in, like, a week.’
‘Not back to the house. Go back to us.’ He touched her hand where it was still resting on his arm. ‘Think about it. We’ll have a little bit of money to tide us over. We could find somewhere to live. Maybe near your new job if you like it there? I could set up as an artisan – use some of my new skills. And we’d be us again! Pete and Bella, Bella and Pete.’
‘I just don’t know, Pete,’ she said at last. ‘It’s too late. I just can’t go back. Don’t know if I want to.’
‘Think about it,’ he said. ‘Just think about it.’
She shook her head. ‘Pete, I?—’
‘Don’t say anything,’ he said, putting a finger on her lips as if he thought they were in some sort of romantic movie. ‘Just give me twenty-four hours. Think about it for one day. Don’t say anything until then. That’s all I’m asking.’
It didn’t seem unreasonable. She nodded. ‘OK.’
There was an uneasy silence. Then Pete suddenly stood up, his smile as wide as if she’d told him ‘I do’ and they were about to head off into the sunset. ‘I’ll leave you to sort your bits,’ he said. ‘And there are a couple of boxes of stuff in the kitchen you’re welcome to.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ll give you some headspace,’ he said. ‘I’m around for another couple of nights. Staying in Hôtel France in the centre.’
‘Aubusson?’
He nodded. ‘So, I’ll see you?’
‘But Pete?—’
‘Twenty-four hours, remember.’
‘OK.’
He walked out through the front door, down the steps and disappeared. Shortly afterwards, she heard a car engine purr into life and he passed on the front drive in a small Nissan – a hire car that he must have tucked around the back.
She wondered how long he’d waited at the house for her, clutching that poor wilted flower. Then she got to her feet and stood brushing dust from her bottom. Brad appeared at the doorway, his smile almost a grimace. ‘You good?’
‘Um, not sure,’ she said, making a face. She told him about Pete, his sudden desire to reunite, to try again.
‘Oh wow,’ Brad raised his eyebrows. ‘That’s a brave move, my man.’
‘Just a bit.’
‘I mean you were saying that he hadn’t even sent you a text message for months?’
‘Not a single GIF.’
‘Phew! And I thought Naomi was difficult!’ He grinned. ‘I take it by his sudden exit that you told him exactly where he stands.’
