Another hour of driving and Matt pulled into a picnic area.
‘This looks popular,’ said Darcie, noting the numerous cars, vans, and caravans parked up. In the centre were the restroom facilities and a large grass area with picnic benches spread out. She got out of the car, stretching her arms and breathing in the warm Breton air.
Matt went to the boot and took out a cool box. ‘Can you manage this?’ he asked.
‘Sure.’ Darcie took the box and watched on in surprise as Matt proceeded to take out a fold-up table and two chairs. He set them up on the grass under the shade of a large birch tree. Darcie followed with the cool box. ‘I didn’t actually think you’d do this.’
‘Like I say, we can be properly French.’ Matt delved into the cool box and pulled out a tablecloth.
Darcie laughed. ‘Oh, Matt, this is brilliant. This would be so OTT in England, but here …’ she spread her hand out, taking in the other French families set up for lunch in the same way ‘… here, it’s no big deal. I love it.’
‘Would madame care for a seat?’ Matt pulled the chair out for Darcie.
‘Merci, monsieur,’ she said sitting down, watching as Matt laid out the lunch he’d brought. ‘Did you make these?’ she asked, looking at the French stick stuffed with salad and ham.
‘Of course. I’m more resourceful than you think.’
Matt was indeed resourceful and had not just brought a baguette and ham, but a mini buffet of French delights, albeit pre-packed from the supermarket.
‘There’s enough here to last a week, never mind one meal,’ said Darcie, plucking a grape from the bunch and popping it into her mouth.
‘We can keep what we don’t eat for later,’ said Matt.
Darcie wondered whether he was being this practical-minded for her benefit.
‘You’re doing that thing again,’ said Matt.
Darcie looked up at him. ‘What thing?’
‘That thing where you’re thinking about something else. Something that doesn’t sit easy with you.’
Darcie raised an eyebrow in his direction. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Matt’s usual easy-going expression had been replaced by one that Darcie couldn’t quite pinpoint, but it was far removed from his engaging relaxed smile she liked so much.
Matt lifted his glass. ‘I think you do.’ He sipped his water and looked over to the other side of the picnic area. ‘Do you want to see what’s over there?’
Darcie was glad of the quick change in conversation and grasped it. ‘There’s a noticeboard. I keep seeing people look at it and then walk off down that path.’
‘Looks like it takes you over the bridge,’ said Matt. ‘Let’s get this put away and we can go and explore. We can spare half an hour.’
Within a few minutes the picnic was all packed away in the car and they headed over to the noticeboard. There was a white bollard painted with a red star in front of the board.
‘It’s where the American troops came after the D-Day landings,’ said Darcie. ‘Come on.’
They followed the path, which took them over the bridge and out to a small clearing that overlooked the countryside below and beyond. It was breath-takingly beautiful.
‘Wow,’ said Matt. ‘This is amazing.’
‘Does it make you feel connected to the past?’ asked Darcie. ‘Especially because it was Americans who came this way?’
‘I guess it does,’ said Matt, his gaze travelling the vista in front of them, before he crouched down and picked up a small handful of dust, letting it trickle out through his fingers. ‘In theory, they could have walked across this very dirt.’
He stood up and brushed his hands together.
‘That’s how I feel about the dress,’ said Darcie. ‘When I touch it, I feel I’m being transported back in time. I imagine Nathalie Leroux handling the fabric and I even imagine Coco Chanel herself touching it, undoing the zip and stepping into it.’ She stopped, feeling a little embarrassed at her fantasy. ‘Sorry, I’m getting carried away, I know.’
Matt turned her towards him, his hands on her shoulders. ‘Hey, don’t be sorry. What you said is exactly that. It’s connecting with our past, not just through our knowledge, but through our hearts and minds. Don’t ever apologise for that.’
