‘And the mill’s workings?’ He points to the large flat millstones and cogs.
Although I’ve started to clean them, there is still a lot to be done. ‘I’m not sure. I was thinking of making a feature of them. On the other hand, I could get a lot more tables in if they were taken out.’
‘I agree. There is little sense in keeping them. They’re not even attractive.’ He smiles. ‘Unlike present company, of course.’
My stomach does a triple somersault.
I left theUKaware that something was waiting for me. The excitement of not knowing what tomorrow would bring. I came out here for fun, to feel alive, to prove to myself that I could doanything I set my mind to. I came for an adventure and that’s what I’m going to have! I’m not a young woman any more. Who knows when I might feel desired again? This is fun. The way he says my name, it’s as if I’m the only woman he’s ever spoken to like this. I know I’m not but, right now, it’s wonderful to feel so … seen.
Claude walks towards me as I reach for the coffee pot. He puts his hand over mine, and I stop. I hadn’t thought about taking this any further than some flirtatious banter. He draws my hand away from the coffee and holds it. ‘How about we forget coffee? Let’s have wine …’ he says, and indicates the bottle I have on the sideboard – I bought it from a local vineyard on my day out at thebrocantes.
I smile and even laugh. ‘Well, as long as that’s all it is!’ I joke. This is going a little quicker than I’m comfortable with.
‘But of course. New friends and neighbours getting to know each other. Should they not?’ He plants a kiss on the back of my hand. It doesn’t excite me like his earlier interest had. But he’s right. We are just getting to know each other and that’s nice. It’s been a long time since I’ve made new friends and enjoyed a drink with someone who wants to talk to me. It’s just a glass of wine, I tell myself. It’s just making friends.
‘Why not?’ I say, feeling bolder again. Isn’t this what I wanted? ‘And how about lunch?’ I hold up the baguette. ‘I have cheese.’
‘Du vin, du pain, du fromage? Parfait!’ he says, and we load a tray with bread, cheese and tomatoes and take it outside onto the lawn, where I spread a blanket from my bed.
It isn’t long before I discover that sitting on a blanket on the ground isn’t half as comfortable as I thought it would be. In fact, it’s not comfy at all! So we move to sit on the fallen tree trunk, throwing the blanket over it and putting the tray on a chair from inside. And there we sit, beside the lake. It feels so nice to be with someone who actually wants to know about me.
‘So here you are, in France, starting a new life. Are there things you wish you’d done differently, before now?’ he asks, sipping the wine.
I look out across the lake. ‘I suppose I wish I’d been more spontaneous. Done what excited me sooner. Not left it until now. I wish I’d said yes more in life and not been nervous. Life’s short.’ I turn to look at him, his face closer to mine.
‘You are a very beautiful woman,’ he says suddenly. And, like the kiss on my hand, it doesn’t quite land where I want it to. It feels a little forced.
Despite the wine, the sunshine and myjoie de vivre, I’m not sure that this is how I wanted the conversation to go. Flirting is uncharted territory and seems to be heading in a direction I’m not sure I’m ready for.
‘You have very beautiful eyes,’ he says, taking my wine glass from me and putting it on the ground. I think he’s expecting me to respond to this in some way, but I don’t move. He reaches up and touches my curls, which grew back after I lost my hair. He clearly has a practised routine. He moves his face a little closer to mine and I can’t decide if I want to kiss him or not. I wonder what it would feel like to kiss another man after all these years of only kissing Pete.
‘Beautiful lips too. Like they are made for kissing,’ he says, and I suddenly get an urge to giggle and tell him his chat-up lines are pretty cheesy. But on the other hand, why shouldn’t I kiss a man I find attractive? Isn’t that what people do, these days? Hook up? But I’m not sure I find him attractive any more.
I pull back and pick up my glass. ‘Erm, look … I don’t usually …’
He raises an eyebrow, along with a little corner of his mouth. ‘You don’t usually sleep with men who come visiting bringing baguettes?’
And this time I laugh. The thought of sleeping with a strangeris a long way from where I’m at. I was flattered by the flirtation, but I’m not going to jump into bed with him. It’s been a while. And, of course, I have a scar.
‘You are embarrassed?’ he asks. ‘It is just making the most of life.’
‘Well …’ I say, sipping my wine. I’m reminded of a line from Shirley Valentine. Intimacy for Pete and me was Saturday night afterBritain’s Got Talentand birthdays. In the comfort of our bed.
‘You do not find me attractive?’ he asks matter-of-factly.
‘Well, yes. You’re very attractive.’
‘Then why should we not do this?’ he says, and kisses me. For a second or two, I let his lips sit on mine, just to know how it feels.
Chapter 10
Ipull back. ‘I wasn’t expecting that,’ I say, not feeling any excitement or thrill. It was more of a disappointment, like kissing a wet rag. Would it improve with practice?
‘And tell me, did you like it?’ He smiles confidently.
‘Well, it was different from what I’m used to.’
‘Different?’ He tilts his head, not impressed with my assessment of his kiss.
