‘OK, change of subject,’ Emily said, understanding completely. ‘Tell me about this party. I want to know everything you’re planning for it. When exactly is it? What should I wear? And will the illustrious Frédérique be making an appearance?’
Lily felt better once she’d hung up an hour or so later. There was something wonderful about talking to Emily on the phone – text messages and emails just didn’t give her the same lift, and when she did a video call, she just became obsessed with looking at her own face.
She wandered down to the kitchen, still only dressed in her pyjamas, to find a man on a ride-on mower bumping up and down her garden. Claude had obviously decided to seize the day and come over to mow earlier than planned. She raced back upstairs and pulled on yesterday’s jeans and a pink fleece, washed her face and tied her hair back neatly. Feeling vaguely human, she walked out of the back door onto the sunny terrace and waved in his general direction.
It took her about ten minutes to get him to notice her over the noise of the mower, but she finally managed to persuade him in for a cup of coffee mid-mow. By the time he arrived at the door, covered in cuttings and smelling of grass and earth and petrol, she was already pushing down the plunger on her cafetière and had set out a plate with a couple of pain aux raisins for him.
‘Oh, I must not,’ he said, indicating the pastries. ‘I am getting fat, my wife say.’
‘Are you sure?’ Lily said, helping herself to one. ‘Surely these aren’t too bad for you?’ After all, they contained raisins. It was practically one of her five a day.
Claude laughed and patted his stomach. ‘Ah, yes. But my wife she is very careful with my ’ealth.’
‘Well, she must love you very much,’ Lily said.
‘Oui.’ Claude nodded, rolled his eyes and took a sip of coffee. ‘Mais peut-être a bit too much, eh!’ He sat down at the table and eyed the pastries hungrily.
‘Sure that’s not possible,’ she said.
They looked at each other for a moment, then it got a bit awkward.
‘I’m having a party on the twenty-ninth,’ she said. ‘Perhaps you and your wife…’
‘Florence.’
‘Florence would like to come?’
‘Eh bien, oui, merci.’ Claude smiled. ‘I will tell ’er.’
He was almost finished with his coffee and Lily knew she had to strike while the iron was hot – if he disappeared into the garden she’d probably not have another chance to talk to him properly, one on one.
‘Actually, Claude,’ she said, slipping into the seat opposite, ‘I wanted to ask you something.’
‘Oui?’
‘You said about Frédérique… How maybe he wasn’t a great person to have a relationship with.’
‘I do not remember this.’
‘Yes! You said he wasn’t always good with the ladies.’
‘Ah yes, this. I say this. Oui. Poor Frédérique…’
‘Well, that’s just it,’ she said. ‘I sort of… well, we went on a couple of dates. And I wondered… was there anything I should know? Before… well, we have another?’
Claude looked at her, then down at his mug. ‘I am not sure,’ he said. ‘Frédérique is my friend… and…’
‘But I am your friend, too, Claude,’ she said. ‘And I’m a bit worried…’
Claude smiled. ‘Ah, but, Madame, you need not to worry,’ he said. ‘He is not dangerous, oui? He is just… how you say… a little amorous?’
‘Well, that’s not usually a bad thing?’
He shook his head. ‘No, and I am sorry if I worry you. It is just, for some ladies it become a bad thing.’
‘How do you mean?’
Claude shifted slightly in his chair. ‘I fink it might be better if you speak to ‘im, non?’
‘Look I know you’re uncomfortable, but I won’t mention it to him, I promise. I’m just… well, I suppose I’m scared of…’
‘Of ’aving ’im to break your ’eart?’
‘Oui, yes.’
Claude shook his head. ‘Well, I cannot say that he won’t do this, because I don’t know the future. But some ladies, they ’ave said Frédérique ’e loves them too much. It is too much for them I think? And Frédérique, ’is ’eart is broken.’
‘Oh, poor Frédérique.’