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A Year at the French Farmhouse(101)

Author:Gillian Harvey

‘Oh, I was so hoping to sleep on that leaking airbed again.’

Lily made it to and from the p?tisserie in record time and was soon sitting opposite her son watching him put away pastry after pastry with a combination of fascination and envy. Oh, for a teenage boy’s metabolism – he had no need to eat slowly or concentrate on his food. He simply shovelled it in with no thought of the bottom line.

‘Nice?’ she asked once or twice.

‘Glub,’ he replied, nodding.

She tried not to get emotional as she watched the clock count down the time until her son would have to leave. After all, he’d be back at some point. Perhaps for longer next time. Even so, she could feel the tug on her heartstrings as each minute went past and his flight approached.

At 10 a.m. it would finally be time to start the trip to the airport. With ten minutes to go, they began to gather things together and do the obligatory passport, ticket, phone, wallet checks that precede each trip. It would only be the second time Ty had flown by himself and she was determined that it would go smoothly. She wanted him to want to come back; wanted to minimise any stress.

‘Right, I think we’re all set!’ she said brightly at 9.58 a.m.

At 9.59 a.m., there was a knock on the door.

‘Don’t worry. It’s probably post or something,’ Lily said. She’d ordered a few things online recently and had begun to welcome the morning knock from a postie with a parcel. It was kind of like receiving a present – albeit one you’d paid for.

But it wasn’t the postie.

‘Bonjour, mon coeur!’ Frédérique appeared on the doorstep with an enormous bunch of flowers. ‘You are looking so very beautiful this morning, eh?’ He was smartly dressed in black jeans and a white shirt, his hair glistening with gel.

‘Oh, Frédérique,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry, we’re just going…’

He stepped into the house, and held out the flowers for her to take. ‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, giving them an obligatory sniff. They were freshly cut white lilies, scattered with another pink flower she didn’t recognise. ‘You really shouldn’t have.’

‘I don’t understand,’ he said, his brow furrowing. ‘You want that I don’t bring you flowers? Per’aps you have le hay fever?’

‘Oh, no. I was… it’s just an expression,’ she said hurriedly. ‘I love them. Thank you.’

‘Ah, but you are welcome, my love.’ He looked at her affectionately.

Ty wandered through with his bag, his face visibly dropping when he saw who the visitor was.

‘And it is the son!’ Frédérique exclaimed. ‘He, er, il s’en va… leaves, oui?’

‘Yeah, don’t worry,’ grunted Tyler. ‘I’m off.’

‘Mais non, I am ’ere not because you are leaving! I am not trying to – how you say – make love to your mother. But to ’elp ’er,’ Frédérique said. ‘She need transport back from the airport and I can drive, non?’

‘Oh, it’s so kind of you,’ said Lily, setting the flowers down on the side and hoping the plastic reservoir of water at the base of the cut stems would be enough to stop them dying while they were out. ‘But honestly I’m fine…’

‘Mais non, what kind of man would I be if I let my lover travel alone?’ Frédérique said, smiling fondly and not really getting the hint. ‘And I fink too, that Tyler ’e will be ’appy to know that ’is mother is safe, oui? Not on a train alone? It is no place for a beautiful lady.’

‘Honestly, I’m perfectly capable of taking a train,’ Lily interrupted, slightly affronted.

Tyler’s neck had reddened at the use of the word ‘lover’ but he stayed silent.

‘Oh, mais oui! Of course! But it is far nicer to sit in a car, eh? To ’ave – how you say – door-to-door service! Today I am not your lover. Think of me as your chauffeur! I am sure your son will be ’appy for this.’

He looked at Tyler, who seemed preoccupied with the zip on his bag and said nothing.

Undeterred, Frédérique turned back to Lily with a smile. ‘So I follow you in the car, yes? And zen I can bring you ’ome after? I take the day off my work to ’elp.’

There wasn’t really much to be said.

On route to the airport, Frédérique drove so closely to the back of the Nissan that every time Lily glanced in the rear-view mirror their eyes locked. Or at least, it felt as if they did.