Luc’s hand, warm and comforting wrapped around hers. She glanced up at his face and saw empathy and understanding.
‘My father does the same. Keeps ringing until I answer.’ Luc smiled at her, his mouth curving with such gentle sympathy it made her want to cry. ‘It’s a form of control, trying to make me do what he wants. I always remember that whenIchoose to answer.’ He carried on in a conversational tone. ‘He didn’t want to me to come here. For the last few years, I’ve been troubleshooting for the family business. We own a lot of vineyards all over the country, so I’m always being sent here, there and everywhere. This year I put my foot down. Said I wanted to make champagne here. This is my home.’ This was said with added ferocity before he continued in the previous calm tone. ‘It wasn’t until I resigned my position as director with a formal letter to the board that he finally took me seriously.’ Luc’s smile was rueful now. ‘I didn’t answer a lot of calls that week.’
Her breath evened out – she hadn’t realised she’d been holding on to it so tightly. Suddenly she wanted to confide in him. ‘I’m running away.’ That sounded cowardly so she added, to make her feel a little better, ‘For an adventure.’
Luc nodded. ‘That’s always a good reason.’
Hattie glanced down at her phone and the missed call notification. ‘I had the opportunity of this job and I—’ Now it was her turn to smile ruefully. ‘I grabbed it with both hands even though I knew it would upset my boyfriend – my ex, I mean – because he didn’t want me to come.’
‘But it’s only for two months. That is not so long. He could have come and visit.’
Hattie looked Luc in the eye. ‘He knew I wanted to escape.’
At Luc’s perturbed frown, she shook her head. ‘He’s not a bad person … It’s just…’ How could she say this without sounding full of herself? ‘He’s very reliant on me. We live … I lived with him and his mother. She has health issues and Chris has too, he hasn’t worked for a while, so he stays home and looks after her.
‘When I said I’d been offered the job in France, he said it was him or France.’ She closed her eyes remembering the look on Chris’s face when she’d answered.
‘Ah,’ said Luc.
‘I said France. I knew he didn’t mean it…’ Again, she looked Luc in the eye, hoping he wouldn’t judge her too harshly. ‘But it gave me the easy way out. While he was still sulking, I packed my stuff and then I spoke to him, reminded him that things hadn’t been right for a while. He agreed and suggested we have some time apart. Thinking time. I knew if I said yes to that I wasn’t being honest with him. So I broke up with him and went home to my parents.’
‘And now you’re regretting it?’ He withdrew his hand.
She felt the metaphorical retreat and missed the warm comfort of his touch. Quick to deny it, her head shot up. ‘God no! Not at all. It’s the right thing. No, I’m feeling horribly guilty because I know he’ll be upset and I’ve hurt him. And I’m worried he won’t be able to cope and that he’ll … he’ll end up being depressed again and that … I’ve been a cow. Leaving him when he needs me.’ She dropped her face into her hands, kneading her temples. It was all such a mess.
‘Hattie, I don’t know you very well but you don’t seem like a cow to me. No horns or udders.’ He gave her hand another one of those reassuring squeezes. ‘Maybe you do need to speak to him, to let him know it is over, but no one should be dependent on someone else for their happiness. You have to be happy for yourself. And if someone else is making you unhappy, then you have to look after yourself. You can’t be happy for other people.’
She huffed out a breath. ‘Thank you. It doesn’t stop me feeling guilty.’
‘You know, in the aeroplane, when they say, “Put your oxygen mask on before you help others”? Think of it like that.’
She gave him a wan smile. ‘Sorry to dump on you. That’s all a bit heavy for this time of the morning.’
Luc looked down at his watch and swore. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting someone at the cellar in five minutes.’ He tugged at the gaping neck of his robe and pushed a hand through his unbrushed hair. ‘I have to go. Will you be all right? Why don’t we have dinner this evening? I’m used to eating out or on my own. It will be good to have some company.’
Luc, she realised, was very self-sufficient; he didn’t seem to need anyone. She wondered what made someone like that, and thought how different he was from Chris. She was somewhere in the middle and sometimes she worried that maybe she needed to be needed by someone. A secret part of her acknowledged that at first she’d enjoyed rescuing Chris. Had she been as much at fault as he was?
Oh God, Luc was looking at her, as if waiting for an answer. She’d tuned out.
He took her hand again as if to anchor her back to the here and now. ‘We could go to the market at lunchtime and buy some food together?’
A warm wave of gratitude overwhelmed her. When was the last time someone had comforted her? Even taken the time to look out for her? ‘That sounds like a good idea.’ Although her words were brisk inside she was touched by his thoughtfulness. ‘Thank you, Luc. You’d better go, you’re going to be late.’
He shrugged, releasing her hands. ‘I’ll see you later. And,’ he paused, kindness glowing in his face, ‘don’t be so hard on yourself.’
Her heart fluttered in her chest, triggered by his compassion. Good-lookingandlovely. She found herself a little embarrassed by the way she’d first judged him, on looks alone, assuming he’d be arrogant. Already she could tell he was a genuinely good person.
Hattie sat at the table for a while longer gazing into her coffee cup. It had been good to say everything out loud. Just being here in the light and space of this wonderful house gave her room to breathe and to take the time to focus on the little things. The buttery taste of a croissant, the rich flavour of the coffee, the beautiful morning sunshine. Being here allowed her to put life back into perspective. She already felt better.
Sitting at the desk in the library, having cleaned the dusty surface, Hattie checked one of the many emails she had been sent by her cousin. First things first. There was no mention of a wedding cake. Gabby hated dried fruit and had once said she would never want a traditional wedding cake. Hattie considered some of the wedding cakes she’d seen recently: St Clements with alternate layers of orange and lemon, rose petal, cranberry and prosecco or perhaps lemon and elderflower. This was what she loved about her job, matching the perfect elements of the wedding to the couple. She’d come up with some suggestions to wow her cousin. However, Gabby was quite clear on what she wanted regarding food. A three-course meal. NO BUFFET. The capitals shouted at her from the notes. Which reminded her she ought to touch base with caterers and introduce herself.
‘Bonjour, puis-je parler avec–’ she referred to her notes ‘–Madame Garnier?’
‘Yes, who’s calling?’ demanded the voice in English on the other end of the telephone. Hattie wrinkled her nose. So much for her best French and the list of phrases she’d copied down from Google.
‘Hattie Carter-Jones, I’m calling on behalf of Gabriella Carter-Jones to discuss the arrangements for the wedding at Château St Martin on the twenty-fifth of July.’
‘I’ll put you through.’ Hattie frowned wondering if she’d imagined something in the tone of the receptionist.
