Yes, Sophie did want it cut into slices. When she went to the boulangerie she got thepain de miebread cut into soft square slices as well. She had everything else she needed at home apart from wine, so she got a chilled bottle of Côtes de Provence rosé in the wine shop. Something for dessert didn’t enter her head until she’d filled the rest of the space in her basket with some fresh salad ingredients from the épicerie and walked past her favourite artisan chocolate shop. What could be more perfect to end a girl’s night in with wine and comfort food than indulging in a square or two of dark chocolate – maybe the one that was infused with local lemons from Menton?
Sophie wandered home, in no hurry to shut herself away from the soft sunshine or the company of hearing snatches of conversation coming from people sitting outside with an aperitif or through open windows and doors of dwellings. As she approached her blue door, she could see through the archways to the heat haze misting the vista to be seen from the ramparts. She could also see a solitary figure. A tourist? But why was she looking in the direction Sophie was coming from and not at the spectacular view?
And why did something about her seem so familiar?
Was it just the dark, wavy hair?
She took another glance as she paused to open her front door and it was then that the woman took off her sunglasses.
Sophie froze. She could feel blood draining from her face, leaving her lips feeling oddly stiff but the word that escaped was barely audible anyway.
‘Hannah…?’
Blood had left her brain, too, because this wasn’t making any sense at all. Why, after all these years, had Hannah tracked her down?
She knew. Of course she knew. It was because of the blog. Because Hannah felt betrayed enough that she wanted to tell her face to face that she hated her as much as she hated Luc because they’d both cheated on her beloved brother?
Was this about to become the absolute rock bottom of Sophie’s life?
She couldn’t move as Hannah walked towards her. She couldn’t smile. She couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t even breathe.
It was Hannah who broke the silence.
‘Oh my God, Sophie,’ she said, her voice breaking. ‘I’m so sorry… This is allmyfault…’
A couple of tomatoes bounced and then rolled away from Sophie’s basket, as the handle slipped from her grip and it hit the stone step with a thud, but neither of them noticed.
They were already wrapped in each other’s arms.
23
This was reminiscent of the old days.
When Sophie needed to be the sensible one and take control. To calm Hannah who’d clearly got carried away with some impetuous new idea. But this was nothing like trying a new extreme yoga class or dancing naked at Stonehenge to celebrate a summer solstice. Whatever reason Hannah had found to blame herself for what was happening in Sophie’s life had to be just as far-fetched, but maybe they both needed some time before they crossed that bridge.
So Sophie took Hannah inside her house and up the stairs and gave her a handful of tissues to follow her example and mop up all those tears. She opened the door to the little balcony and she took the bottle of that palest pink rosé from her basket and opened that, as well.
Hannah’s jaw dropped as she took in the view and the majestic presence of the Baou de Saint Jeannet above them.
‘This is…incredible. How on earth did you find such an amazing place to live?’
‘I got lucky,’ Sophie said, as she poured the wine. ‘But how on earth didyoufind it?’
‘I knew you were in France. When I knew what the name of your business was, it was easy to find the address it was registered to. Oh, God, Soph…’ Hannah’s face scrunched into lines of distress as she took the glass Sophie was offering. ‘I’ve missed yousomuch.’
‘I’ve missed you, too. We’ve got a lot to catch up on, haven’t we?’ Sophie felt a flash of fear as Hannah opened her mouth to say something. She didn’t want to hear anything that might snap the tenuous strand of their old bond she could feel stretching between them, so she spoke before Hannah could. ‘I just found out that you’remarried!’
Hannah nodded. ‘To Jamie. He’s as car mad as my dad. We’ve got a little boy. George, who’s nearly three.’ She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. ‘Would you like to see a photo?’
‘Yes… of course.’
The picture of the small boy with bright eyes and a grin that lit up his face made Sophie catch her breath.
‘He’s adorable,’ she whispered. ‘He’s so like…’
‘Yeah…’ Hannah filled in the space. ‘He’s so like Tom. My dad burst into tears when he held him for the first time. They’re as thick as thieves now – absolutely adore each other. Having a grandson has given him something to live for again. I honestly thought he was just going to fade away and disappear after the accident. I’ll have to go and tell him the truth, as soon as I get back to London.’ She reached for her glass and took a gulp of her wine. ‘I’m scared it might push him right back into that darkness.’
Perhaps Sophie couldn’t put this off any longer. ‘The truth about what, Hannah?’
