‘Oh, it’s wonderful!’ she said, just managing to resist the urge to jump into his arms and give him the thank you hug of his life. ‘It’s… I don’t know how I would have managed.’
‘It is nothing,’ Claude replied, modestly.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to pay? I really don’t mind. I…’
Claude shook his head. ‘It is – how you say? – what les amis, the friends are for.’
‘Oh, well, at least come in for a coffee?’ she said, then, hoping that coffee wasn’t quite the euphemism for sex in France that it had become in England, quickly added, ‘My friend, Emily, is here and I’m sure she’d love to meet you.’
‘Well, for un petit moment per’aps,’ he said, stepping into the house and pulling off his boots.
‘Emily, this is Claude,’ Lily said, as they walked back into the kitchen.
Emily, who’d been leaning against the kitchen sink, sipping a coffee, straightened up. ‘Ah, the farmer!’ she said, nodding in his direction. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘It is my pleasure.’
Lily quickly poured out another coffee and set it down on the small shelf close to where Claude was standing, placing a bag of sugar and bottle of milk there too for him to personalise his drink as he pleased. ‘Sorry it’s a bit messy,’ she said.
‘It is what?’
‘Um, messy – er a bit négligé?’
‘Désordonné? C’est normale! You have just moved, oui? It take time,’ Claude said, adding several spoonfuls of sugar to his café then grimacing as he took his first gulp.
‘Lily,’ Emily said quietly, sidling over to where Lily stood leaning against the sink. ‘Did you seriously just talk to that man about negligees?’
‘No, négligé means untidy – neglected – or at least I hope so,’ said Lily. She looked at Claude who was studiously staring at his coffee, recognising they were having private words, and felt guilty. ‘Désolé, Claude,’ she said. ‘C’est her… um langue.’ It’s her language, nodding at Emily to ensure he understood.
‘Sa langue?’ he said. ‘She ’ave a problem with er mouth, um, her tongue?’
‘No, no,’ Lily said. ‘Her language, she doesn’t speak much French – even less than me.’
‘Oh, I don’t know! I understand you’re talking about negligees and tongues. Do you want me to leave?’ quipped Emily.
‘Emily!’ Lily chastised, feeling her face get hot. She barely knew Claude, and the last thing she wanted to do was to make him feel uncomfortable, or give him the wrong idea.
To her relief, Claude laughed. ‘Ah, she is a joker, yes!’ he said, grinning at Emily. ‘She ’ave the Breetish humour.’
To Lily’s surprise, Emily flushed slightly. ‘J’essaie,’ she said, I try, then glanced at Lily. ‘You’re not the only one who listened in French lessons at school,’ she said.
‘So I see.’
After answering a few questions about what farming life was like in the Limousin – ‘Yes, it is a lot of work’; ‘No, I don’t kill the cows myself’’; ‘Yes, I grow sweetcorn’; ‘Yes, I have three dogs but the little one is my favourite’ – Claude finished his coffee and left, with the promise of coming to help if Lily needed anything else.
‘My word,’ Emily said, when the front door closed. ‘No wonder you’re enjoying the scenery around here.’
‘Emily!’
‘What? The man is bloomin’ gorgeous. And he seems to like you!’
‘Don’t be silly, he’s just being nice. People are… well, the ones I know so far, they seem really lovely. And it was Frédérique who suggested he came. You know, the owner. If anything it’s a favour to him.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I do say so,’ she said, grinning over her lukewarm coffee.
‘Still, those eyes.’
‘I know.’
‘That accent.’
‘Well, you’d be surprised, but lots of people have the same accent around here.’
‘That body…’
‘Em! You didn’t see his body.’
‘No, but I’ve imagined it and believe me, it’s to die for.’
Lily shook her head. ‘God, I’ve missed you, Em.’
‘Glad to hear it. And you too, actually.’ Emily looked suddenly teary.