‘Oh, yes please,’ Lily said, reaching for it.
They lapsed into silence. She wasn’t sure whether she dared start another conversation at this particular party. But then the woman said, ‘I’m Sam, by the way.’
‘Lily.’
‘Nice to meet you. Dawn said you’re new?’
‘Well, yes. Just moved over.’
‘I’ve been here a couple of years now,’ Sam said, leaning forward slightly, her hair brushing against her cheek. Then, ‘Derek, give him the ball back now!’ she barked so suddenly that Lily almost spilled her new drink to boot. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Never bring kids to a party, is my advice.’
‘Sounds like a sensible plan,’ Lily said.
‘You got any of your own?’
‘Just one. Tyler. He’s eighteen now, off to uni.’
‘So you took the chance to move?’
‘Yes. Something like that. How about you? What brought you here?’
‘Oh, love, I suppose. Met Gabriel, got married. Now stuck speaking French for most of the day,’ she laughed.
‘Ah OK, is he here, your husband?’
‘No, I’m giving him a day off,’ she said. She leaned forward. ‘A few people here are a bit of an acquired taste.’
‘Flat-earthers?’ Lily ventured, keeping her voice low.
‘They’re the ones.’
‘Then why—?’
‘Ah, they’re harmless enough, unless you’re particularly susceptible to conspiracy theories,’ said Sam. ‘And I don’t know. It’s nice. I don’t get to see my parents that often. And hearing voices from home… It’s … I need it sometimes.’
‘Even if they are trying to convince you that global warming is just a phase?’
‘Even then.’ Sam grinned. ‘And you know, don’t let the conspiracists put you off. There are a few normal people lurking about if you know where to look. And I like to think that I’m one of them. Here.’ She leaned over and rummaged in her bag, producing a piece of paper and pen. ‘Take my number,’ she said, scribbling rapidly. ‘You know, in case you ever need anything.’
‘That,’ said Lily, taking a swig of Coke and feeling her eyes water slightly from the fizz, ‘is really kind of you.’ She took the paper from Sam’s outstretched hand, and was just about to key the number into her phone, when it began to ping and vibrate in her hand.
Three messages from Ben.
Lily, I’m not sure what else we can say.
I miss you, but I can’t come to France.
Maybe it’s better if we don’t message any more.
20
The grey early morning light gave way to the first proper rays of sun as she sat in her kitchen nursing her third cup of tea. After an evening spent on the phone to Emily, followed by a call to Ty during which she’d pretended all was well and tried to sound upbeat, she’d spent a restless night lying alone in the silent house, waking what seemed like every five minutes only to find the clock hands had barely moved.
Lily hadn’t realised how much she’d been clinging to the hope that Ben would come round. That whatever it was that was holding him back wouldn’t seem so important once he started missing her.
But his message to her had been so stark, so final, that it had felt almost like they had broken up all over again. Her text messages, pictures of the house, lake, local town, which had been met with thumbs up or the odd smile emoticon had not had the effect she was hoping.
Around five o’clock, when she’d given up on sleep and come downstairs to the kitchen, her bare feet shocked by the cold, tiled floor, misery had given way to a kind of indignant rage. Rage that she’d spent so long with a man who clearly wasn’t in it ‘for better or worse’, but should have added to his vows ‘within a thirty-mile radius of Basildon’. Rage that she’d put off her dream for so long when perhaps she could have saved herself a decade of wasting her designs on local shopfronts and been running retreats in the French sunshine – perhaps with a little bilingual Ty by her side.
Rage that she’d allowed herself to miss Ben so much, to feel lonely without him, to – she realised now – put off some of the things she wanted to do to the house in the vain hope that they might be able to do them together.
She knew that underneath the anger, the devastation she’d felt was still lingering. But for now, she was determined to embrace the energy that came with being furious. It was still weeks until she’d be able to sign for the house entirely, but Frédérique seemed perfectly relaxed about the idea of her living here. Surely he wouldn’t mind if she started some of the work? After all, it wasn’t as if she was knocking anything down. Simply making improvements.