‘Ava?’ Florian answers after the second ring. He sounds as confused and worried as he had done the time I told him his brother was dead.
Chapter 14
Florian arrives fifteen minuteslater. He pulls his car up behind mine and then before he even looks at it, he searches me out. I wave limply in his direction and then he’s in front of me, hands on my shoulders forcing me to look into his eyes as he asks me whether I’m hurt and what happened. I point at the body of the deer that hasn’t magically regained consciousness and feel the guilt creep in.
Florian leaves me his coat whilst he inspects the rental and then he grabs his phone and starts to make a couple of calls, talking enthusiastically in French to whoever’s on the other end.
‘Someone will come to get it tomorrow.’ He puts his phone back in his pocket. ‘Nothing else we can do tonight, so you should probably come with me.’ He leads me to the passenger seat of his car. I get in and I’m immediately smothered with nostalgia at the smell, the warmth and the poorly sprung seats. I sit there, paralysed, as he starts to load the shopping from my boot to his.
‘You may have lost some bottles. Managed to save about half,’ he says, his breath slightly ragged from the exertion of my retail therapy.
‘Sorry?’
‘The wine, still enough for a very good night though.’ I think he’s making a joke, trying to lighten the mood, but I don’t have the emotional resilience to even pretend like it’s amusing.
‘Thanks.’
‘You okay?’ he asks, as he slips into the driver’s seat, starts the ignition. The car hiccups into life, the whole thing trembling beneath me.
‘I’m fine,’ I nod.
‘It’s just that you’re crying.’ He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handkerchief that is covered in paint. He winces at it a little, but I take it pretending not to notice.
‘Am I?’ I catch a tear with my finger. ‘I just can’t believe I killed something.’ The words catch in my throat.
Florian looks at me warily. ‘I’ll take you back to mine.’ He moves the car off before I can object, not that I think I would. I don’t really care where I go at this point.
He fiddles with the radio, and voices fade in and out of a background of permanent static. He keeps his eyes on the road and I watch his lip curl in concentration as he rotates the dial, trying in vain to find something that might fill the silence.
I decide to fill it for him.
‘Thank you for getting me.’ My voice is almost as weak as the radio signal.
‘It’s fine. No trouble.’
‘It’s just, after what I said yesterday… I’d understand if you hadn’t.’
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. ‘I wasn’t going to just leave you there, Ava.’
‘I guess I’m trying to apologise,’ I wince and watch as his face softens, his eyes still locked onto the road in front of him.
‘You don’t need to—’
‘I do.’ My voice is stronger now. ‘I shouldn’t have said it; Ettie wouldn’t have wanted me to have said it.’
‘Ettie isn’t here. You can say what you like.’
‘And I would like to apologise. I know what I did was wrong, leaving I mean. I feel bad about it. Probably why I’ve put off coming here for so long, but I don’t think I ever really knew why I did it until yesterday, until it all just came out.’
‘I understand, Ava.’ He looks at me then – allows his eyes to move from the road and onto me. ‘And I mean it when I said you don’t have to apologise. What you said, it makes sense, you make sense a little more now.’ The sentiment hangs in the air between us. I don’t know exactly what he’s referring to, whether my tantrum means he now understands what a nutcase I am, or whether he actually did hear me, understand me, take the time to think about the words I hurled in his direction. I’m not used to being so easily read. He shrugs. ‘So shall we just move on?’ I feel my lip pull up at the edges, grateful for this man’s insane ability to navigate emotional turmoil with a quick gear change.
‘Yes.’ I nod earnestly. ‘Yes, let’s do that.’
The car trundles up the road until he indicates off a gravel track to a small stone house at the base of the hill. There’s a light on in the window and the smell of woodsmoke: the promise of a fire and somewhere warm.
‘I haven’t had a chance to tidy up,’ he says apologetically, letting himself out and then coming quickly to my door. He offers me his hand and I take it.
‘I’m sure it’s fine,’ I placate and watch as he opens the boot and stands there looking at all of the bags. I swoop in, reaching for my rucksack and a bottle of wine. ‘Rest can wait.’ I go to shut the boot but Florian holds his hand on it; he grabs a bottle himself.
