We leave half an hour early to amble through the town, picking out the top five things to see in Monpazier, which other than the covered market, church and general quaintness, consist of a pretty fountain and an apparently cursed gargoyle.
When we emerge from the dank nave of the church and back into the quickly fading evening light Archie nudges into me. ‘I can see why you fell in love with the place.’
‘Pretty, isn’t it?’
‘Could be the setting of a Disney film.’ He doesn’t sound particularly pleased with that statement.
‘Yeah, but I mean the charm wears off after a while.’ I play it off.
‘It’s a far cry from Hoxton, that’s for sure.’
‘They each have their appeal.’
‘Maybe you could show me where you lived, before…’ he asks slowly. I feel everything tighten at his request: my shoulders, my stomach, my palms.
‘We’ll be late for dinner.’ I try to placate him, put on my best fake smile and hope that he might get the hint but he shrugs.
‘We have ten minutes, besides I’m sure they’ll hold it.’
I look at him, his soft, wide eyes, the way he hunches over slightly to try to look me squarely in the face. ‘You really want to see it?’
‘Yeah, I do.’
I look at my phone, knowing that it is way past closing, that my chances of running into Florian are as slim as bumping into him at the supermarket, which still feel strangely far too high. ‘Okay.’
We round the corner and come to a stop at the edge of the café. It looks almost skeletal now, with the chairs and tables all safely packed underneath the arches waiting to be laid out again tomorrow. The only signs of life are in the warm-yellow lights emanating from the apartment above. I feel the lump in my throat and swallow it back.
‘So… this isthe place?’ He asks as if it’s more than it is.
‘This is the place,’ I repeat and check his face for any signs of disappointment that the most interesting thing about me is a rather bland, dilapidated building in the arse end of nowhere. ‘It’s a bit livelier in the day of course, when the tables are out and there’s… people.’
‘It’s exactly how I imagined it, Avie.’ Then there’s something warm and firm in my hand, and I look down to see Archie’s hand. He gives me a reassuring squeeze. It feels comforting and alien all at once.
Archie doesn’t let go of my hand until we get to the restaurant. Something has come over us, a strange familiarity that goes beyond the handful of times we have slept together. I imagine what we look like through other people’s eyes: a couple perhaps? Two people who are happy and content in each other’s company and I don’t hate it. I like the feeling of beingwithsomeone again, someone who makes it all so bloody easy.
When the waiter comes over with a pad and pen, I go to look at the menu but Archie whisks it away. ‘The Pécharmant and two menu du jour.’ He phrases it so lightly, the same gentle smile on his face, like he hasn’t just ordered on my behalf without even so much as checking that I’m not deathly allergic to something. Something writhes inside me; I’m angry and I don’t really know why because Ettie used to do this all the time.
‘Did you just order for me?’ I ask when the waiter disappears. Archie’s face doesn’t falter.
‘I thought we’d go all out. My treat.’ He shrugs but when my face doesn’t fall back into submission and I don’t start uttering adoring thanks in his direction, his brow twitches. ‘Do you not like it? You can order something else if you want?’
‘It’s just…’ I start to say how, in that moment, I felt like a kid again, like someone who couldn’t be trusted to make the simplest decision; but I pause. There are many ways this conversation can go, and only one of them leads to a nice evening with the possibility of some uncomplicated and distracting sex. ‘It’s fine, it sounds lovely.’ I deflate. Drink down a glass of water instead.
‘How are the chapters coming along?’ he asks over our main course, a duck breast smothered in sauce.
‘It’s starting to come together,’ I shrug. I think of the three pages I managed to write last night; it might make anyone else baulk at my lack of productivity, but it felt like something had switched. Kissing Florian had cleared the creative block, maybe because I wanted to do anything other than think about him.
‘Getting a bit more used to the place again?’
‘Like riding a bike,’ I say, still chewing a piece of fatty meat. ‘After a while you slip back into the way of things.’
‘And The American, will I run into her?’
‘Unfortunately not, she’s visiting some friends.’
‘That’s a shame.’ He takes a sip of his drink before leaning over the table towards me. ‘Please tell me you at least know her name by now.’
I push some hair behind my ear. ‘Well, not exactly…’
