At last they found the address but the aunt had just one room. Justin looked at Meg questioningly. ‘It’s fine,’ she said and smiled. She had been beginning to fear that sleeping in the car was a real possibility, so having a proper bed was luxury enough and she felt she could ignore the fact that she had to share it.
‘Would you like dinner?’ Madame asked.
‘Yes, please,’ said Meg and Justin together.
When they were in the room, which was spacious, clean and comfortable, Justin said, ‘We may have been able to find a wonderful little restaurant mentioned in the Michelin Guide, but equally we might not.’
‘I totally agree. We might have to go miles and I’m so tired that the thought of eating and going straight upstairs to bed is too tempting to ignore, even if the food is a bit simpler.’
‘Sleeping is all we’re going to do in this bed,’ said Justin pointedly. ‘I want you to feel completely safe. If you’d rather I slept on the chair …?’
‘That would be ridiculous,’ said Meg. ‘Now I’m going to tidy myself a little. Shall I meet you downstairs?’
As she tried to get a comb through her hair and laid her nightie on the bed, she felt a pang of regret that Justin had promised she’d be safe. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be safe any longer. She was still very young, she knew this, but wouldn’t losing your virginity to a man you felt you loved be a good thing? Or was it the high road to heartbreak?
They were the only ones in the dining room and ate the simple meal, served with local red wine, without talking much. Meg was grateful she didn’t need to make conversation. They didn’t need to talk just for the sake of it.
‘This is very good,’ said Justin, having been eating the slow-cooked lamb for several minutes.
‘You almost always eat well in France, don’t you?’ said Meg. ‘We could do this at home, with Dorset lamb.’
‘It’s obviously been cooked for a very long time,’ said Justin. ‘With the potatoes added to the liquid later.’
Meg sipped her wine and laughed. ‘Honestly, here we are, on a mercy dash to England, and we’re speculating on how the lamb has been cooked.’
Justin smiled and shrugged. ‘We’re chefs. We can’t stop thinking about food.’
Meg looked across the table at him and realised she’d rather lost interest in what she was eating.
The temperature in the little dining room seemed to get hotter and hotter as they ate. Madame came and took away their plates and said there was thunder in the air. ‘It will be a relief,’ she said. ‘It gets very hot here in the summer.’
Meg didn’t like thunder. She prided herself on being mature and grown up, but her childish fear of thunder had never left her. Fear that there might be a huge storm as well as the heat meant she could only get through half of hertarte aux myrtilles.
‘It’s too hot to eat, really,’ she said. ‘Although I know I’ll regret not eating it one day when I’m really hungry.’
‘A storm would clear the air,’ Justin said.
‘I suppose so,’ said Meg, still hoping there wouldn’t be one.
Justin regarded her seriously. ‘Have you decided what to do? Will you come back to Nightingale Woods? Or is your heart in France?’ He smiled, possibly aware his question was a tough one. ‘I mean when Ambrosine is discovered to be fit and well again?’
‘I really hope she is,’ said Meg, who didn’t know how to reply to his question. ‘I feel very close to her – as if she’s my grandmother or something.’
Justin was still looking at her. ‘You haven’t answered my question.’
Meg considered. France had welcomed her when she’d thought her heart was broken. Herstagehad filled her time, taken her energy so she had no time to brood. Eventually she said, ‘I’ve loved it – but no, my heart isn’t here.’
‘I’m sure that everyone at Nightingale Woods hotel will be delighted.’
Meg smiled, relieved that the awkwardness had passed. She didn’t want to tell him the main reason for her heart not being in France.
‘So where is your heart?’ said Justin, reading her thoughts, as he so often seemed to do.
Just then there was a flash of lightning and Meg nearly fell off her chair in fright.
‘Are you all right?’ Justin asked, concerned.
‘Fine! It just made me jump, that’s all.’ Meg would never confess to being frightened of thunder, especially not to Justin. ‘Unless you disagree, I’m not sure I want any more of that verbena liqueur.’
