Page 69 of The French Wife

When the meal was over, Gaston said he would walk Charlotte to his mother’s house in the next street and then come back. His mother was expecting to take Charlotte out shopping that afternoon.

‘We’re going to buy some new clothes for school,’ she told Emma proudly.

‘She starts in a few weeks,’ Gaston said.

‘How exciting!’ Emma replied.

Charlotte kissed Emma on the cheek when they said goodbye. Her little arms went around Emma’s neck and held her tight for a brief second and it brought back such powerful memories, Emma’s heart twisted and she felt her eyes moisten with tears.

She sipped her wine after they left and enjoyed the warmth of the summer afternoon, the sun filtering through the plane trees, the quiet hubbub of the cafés on the promenade. Her mind drifted to Gaston. She’d not been able to stop thinking about last night, the kisses they’d shared, the warmth of his body next to hers. When she saw him appear around the edge of a building a few minutes later, her heart lifted. She watched him walk up to the table, then he bent down and kissed her on the lips.

‘Your little girl is charming,’ she said. ‘Not half as shy as I expected.’

‘She’s not so shy when she takes to someone. And she liked you straight away, I could tell. She told me as much too when we were walking home.’

‘That’s lovely – I liked her too. She is very sweet.’

‘She’s a delight,’ Gaston said. ‘Now, how about some more wine?’

‘Oh, I couldn’t. I have to drive home,’ Emma said.

‘You could leave your car here and walk back to the farm,’ he said. ‘I’ll show you the way if you like. There’s a back route up the valley beside the river. It might be a bit overgrown, but it should be passable.’

‘All right,’ she said. She could think of nothing she’d rather do than sit here whiling away the sunny afternoon over a glass of wine with Gaston, then strolling home up the valley with him.

‘We could walk back down later when the wine’s worn off and fetch the car. How about that?’

‘Sounds good,’ she said.

Gaston signalled to the waiter for another pichet.

‘I was wondering if there was a path the other side of the river the other day,’ Emma said. ‘I walked down to the river through the woods on the other side. I told you about it, didn’t I? It’s where I discovered the tumbledown cabin where I found the Hans Bauer paintings.’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I remember you mentioning it. And I remember that old place too. When we were kids, somebody got the idea it was haunted, so we used to steer well clear of it.’

Emma laughed. ‘Well, I went inside and looked around and didn’t come to any harm. I was wondering if you’d come and look at it with me at some point. See if it was worth doing up.’

‘All right. If we can get across the river, let’s take a look this afternoon.’

When they’d finished their wine, they paid the bill and set off lazily, arm in arm, towards the edge of town, stopping on the medieval bridge to admire the view of the mountains. Gaston put his arm around Emma’s shoulder, and they gazed up the valley, at the grey-green maquis of the hillside, the sweeping pine forests and the craggy mountain tops with their granite ridges.

‘You’re lucky to live here,’ Emma said. ‘It’s so beautiful.’

‘It is, but don’t you live here too now?’ he asked with a laugh in his voice.

She laughed too. ‘Of course, I was forgetting. I’m lucky too.’

Arm in arm, they walked up the road out of town until Gaston found a gap in the overgrown hedge. He pushed the bushes aside.

‘Here it is! This was a farm track once. The entrance is overgrown, but the track should still be passable.’

Once they’d pushed their way through the hedge, Emma could see what he meant. Ahead of them, the remnants of a pathway stretched through the maquis beside the river, winding on up the valley towards Le Châtaignier.

‘It’s much shorter this way,’ Gaston said. ‘And prettier, of course.’

After they’d walked about a kilometre, the derelict cabin came into view on the other side of the river, nestled under the trees. They carried on walking until they were parallel with it and peered across at the old building; the ivy covering the walls and windows, the collapsing roof, the broken chimney.

‘It’s in a pretty bad state,’ Gaston said. ‘Are you sure you want to look at it?’