Jodie said, slamming the cottage door behind her. ‘Tina wanted to chat!’
‘She always does at the weekend,’ Ben said. ‘She needs another flatmate.’
‘That’s why she rang. She’s seeing someone this evening. A friend of a friend. Fingers crossed they’ll get on.’
Automatically Jodie climbed into the passenger seat as Ben held the door open for her and snapped the seatbelt into its lock before remembering she’d planned to suggest she drove at least one way this evening. Too late now, the car was already moving.
‘Is it just us this evening?’ she asked, as Ben turned onto the road leading down to the village.
He shrugged. ‘Mama didn’t say. I guess there might be a couple of neighbours there. I know she has a couple of friends she wants to introduce you to.’
‘Are any of these neighbours likely to speak English? Even a little?’ It would be a long, mainly silent evening for her if they didn’t. Still, at least Ben wasn’t working for once and they were spending time together.
‘Mmm… possibly not,’ Ben said. ‘But don’t worry, I’ll translate for you.’ About to turn left, Ben slammed on the brakes instead. A large orange ‘route barré’ sign had been placed in the middle of the turning.
‘Damn!’ he muttered. ‘Now we are going to be late. Have to go the long way round.’
‘Any idea why the road is closed?’ Jodie asked.
‘Probably a small landslide somewhere. We’ve had a lot of rain this winter, which is always a problem with any unstable rocks.’
The long way round meant Jodie saw parts of the village and surrounding countryside she hadn’t seen before. Ten minutes later, as they drove down an even narrower lane than usual, she saw a small house set back from the road, a for sale notice fixed to its garden gate.
‘Oh, isn’t that the cottage I liked? What a lovely setting. Are you sure we can’t even look at it?’ she asked, as the cottage disappeared from view around a bend in the road and Ben turned onto another lane that led to the rutted driveway of his mother’s house.
‘Why? I’ve told you it’s too small for us.’
‘OK, I admit it. I’m a house-ophile – if there is such a word! I love looking at houses. And that cottage is exactly the kind of house I’m drawn to,’ Jodie said. ‘Are there bigger versions around? And importantly, is it the kind of house you might like?’
‘Oui. We’ll see lots that are very similar when we start serious house-hunting. It’s a traditional design in this area. We just need one with more space.’
Ben drew up alongside a scarlet Range Rover that was parked in front of the house. As they got out of the car Jodie said, ‘Who does that belong to?’ but before Ben could answer, Annette Delahaye had opened her front door and come out to greet them.
‘There you are. Last to arrive.’
As she was enveloped in a tight hug, Jodie fleetingly remembered Tina’s warning. ‘Mothers-in-law can be difficult,’ she’d said. ‘And we all know how close French men are to their mothers. She’ll probably turn out to be the mother-in-law from hell.’
Jodie smiled at the memory as she kissed Annette’s cheek. In the short time she’d known her, Jodie had become very fond of Ben’s widowed mother. A woman of copious energy and somebody you felt instinctively drawn to, she’d wholeheartedly welcomed Ben’s choice of wife into her family. Jodie knew she couldn’t have asked for a better mother-in-law.
‘Désolé,’ Ben said. ‘Rue du Berger was closed.’
‘Ah, my fault then. I forgot to warn you about that,’ Annette said, turning to Jodie and taking her by the hand. ‘Come on in and meet everybody.’
‘Everybody’ included Adele and Bernard, who were nearby neighbours, Thierry Francis, who Annette introduced simply as ‘my friend’ with no further explanation, and, to Jodie’s surprise and delight, Nicola and her husband, Gilles.
As she said, ‘It’s lovely to see you again’ to Nicola, Jodie couldn’t help noticing the scowl that flitted across Ben’s face when he saw Thierry. Mmm… her husband clearly didn’t like his mother’s friend although he was perfectly polite to him, at first.
Too early in the year to eat supper outside, Annette had set the table in the conservatory that ran the length of the house overlooking the garden at the rear. Small lamps placed in strategic places around the room and candles that flickered down the length of the table, interspersed with bowls of flower heads and floating candles, created a gentle ambience.
The food, a simple lamb stew followed by a pomme tarte tatin, was delicious. Conversation, in a mixture of English and French, some of which Jodie was able to join in with, veered from the weather to the number of tourists the village could expect in the summer. And then, over the cheese course, Ben said to Thierry, ‘I see you’ve got your cottage on the market. Bit expensive even for around here.’
Even though he spoke in French, Jodie understood enough and realised with a start that he was talking about the cottage she liked. She saw, too, the quick, worried look Annette gave Ben and the way her shoulders tensed at his provocative tone as he spoke to Thierry.
‘Are you planning on moving back down south?’
Thierry, for his part, regarded Ben steadily. ‘Oui, it’s a possibility, but a lot depends on other things, and other people,’ he said.
An awkward silence followed before Gilles turned to Jodie and started a new conversation, in English, on how vibrant a city London was.
‘So full of energy. I love my visits there. And did you know London is the sixth-largest French city these days? So many of us have crossed the Channel for work. But now, of course, there are the worries over Brexit.’ He shook his head. ‘Things will change, that’s for sure.’
‘There’s a certain buzz about the place,’ Jodie said. ‘I have to admit I’m looking forward to returning with Ben for the London Book Fair in a few weeks.’ She turned to smile at him. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, which hotel have you booked us into?’
‘Umm…’ Ben bit his lip as he looked at her. A habit of his she already recognised as a sign of nervousness.
‘Or would your agent have done it?’ she asked.
‘Can we talk about this later?’ Ben said. ‘In private.’
‘Of course,’ Jodie said quickly, suddenly aware of the silence around them as everyone tried in vain to ignore their muted voices.
‘Jodie. A drop more wine?’ Thierry asked.
Jodie picked up her glass and held it out. ‘Thank you.’
The mention of London had made her realise just how much she was looking forward to their visit in a couple of weeks. Not just to catch up with Tina and all her news but to take some flowers to her mum’s grave, wander down Oxford Street for some retail therapy, maybe go to the theatre one evening.
Thoughtfully, she looked around
