‘Yes. Thanks for that again. And sorry about… the bites. Do you want me to… do I owe you anything?’
‘No, you do not need to pay me,’ he said. ‘After all, it iz still my ’ouse pour l’instant, eh. Zey were my petite pests, oui?’ He smiled. ‘But maybe when your friend goes back to Angleterre you can buy me a beer? Tell me about your dessins et your plans’
She looked up at him, his earnest, injured face so open and friendly and found herself smiling.
‘Definitely,’ she said.
He reached a hand out and gently touched her shoulder. ‘And perhaps, Madame, you will solve another mystery for me – eh? ’Ow such a beautiful woman end up coming to zis small place alone?’
It had been a while since she’d been touched. She wanted to say something, to say that she wasn’t available – not like that. But perhaps he didn’t mean anything by it. It was just a friendly gesture.
She wanted to say something modest, like, Pah! Beautiful! You need your eyes testing. Or something Emily might say, such as, Do you mind taking your hand off my shoulder. Perhaps even, Unhand me, sir!
But actually, it was quite nice to feel his hand on her shoulder. And she didn’t know what she wanted to say about it.
‘Well, yes,’ she said. ‘I’m not sure when Emily’s going. But yes. That would be très bon.’
There was a clatter from the hallway and, as Lily lifted her head to look she saw Emily peeping around the doorway – invisible to Frédérique from her position. She made a little face at Lily, unsure whether or not she should come in.
‘Hey, Emily!’ Lily said loudly. ‘Frédérique, this is my friend, Emily. Emily, this is Frédérique, the maire, the man who is selling the house to me.’
‘Bonjour,’ said Emily, walking up to them and sticking out her hand for a shake. She eyed Frédérique with interest. She’d changed into a pair of white jeans and a red, flowered blouse and looked so fresh and groomed from the shower that Lily suddenly felt sweaty and inadequate in comparison.
‘Rebonjour, Madame,’ Frédérique said, briefly touching his fingers to hers. ‘I ’ear you ’ave quite an experience au marché this afternoon, huh?’ He grinned.
‘That’s one way to describe it, I suppose.’
‘It is OK, I now, I know your secret ah? I will tell all zat this woman, she is not like this normalement. She does not mostly like to drink like the poisson, eh? All will be well.’
‘Well, thank you,’ Emily said, looking at Lily with eyes that told a different story.
‘Well, I’d better go,’ Frédérique said, looking at them both with a wide smile. ‘Bonne soirée, Mesdames.’
‘Bonne soirée,’ they chimed in unison as he left the room.
‘Right, missy,’ Emily said, grabbing Lily’s arm and pulling her into a chair. ‘You have got some explaining to do.’
‘I have’
‘Yes, first of all, what secret of mine is that man going to tell to the entire Limousin?’
‘Oh, it’s nothing to worry about… it’s…’
‘And didn’t you think to tell him that I’m quite able to fight my own battles?’
‘Well, I probably should have but—’
‘And,’ interrupted Emily with a grin, ‘much more importantly, why didn’t you tell me that the man you were buying the house from looked so much like Max Skinner?’
‘Max Skinner?’ the reference was briefly lost on Lily. ‘Who’s—’
‘“This place does not suit my life”,’ said Emily, with a dramatic flourish. ‘“No, Max, it’s your life that does not suit this place.”’
‘Oh god, you’re right,’ Lily said, her mouth dropping open.
‘“Pardon my lips”,’ began Emily.
‘…“they find joy in the most unusual places”,’ finished Lily. ‘Oh, bloody hell.’
‘Lily, I hate to break this to you. Yes, the house is a bit smaller and you don’t have a vineyard. But other than that you’ve pretty much just stepped into the set of your favourite film.’
Because behind the beard, behind the bites, when you imagined him in a cream linen suit and with slightly longer hair, Frédérique was the spit of a younger Russell Crowe.
18
‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, wrapping his arms around her tightly. ‘We can try again.’