seen outside of Harrods.
Half Italian, half French, she’s one of those older women who exude charisma and is such fun to be around.
5th February.
I was leaving for my French conversation class today when I literally bumped into Eliosa. Well to be truthful her small French bulldog, Brucie, wrapped his lead around my legs and I fell over. Didn’t hurt myself and had a fit of the giggles.
‘Desolé, desolé,’ Eliosa kept saying as she finally untangled the lead and scooped up the fat bulldog into her arms. ‘Naughty naughty Brucie.’
She trilled with laughter when I told her where I was going. ‘What you need, ma petite, is a French sleeping dictionary.’
When I looked at her blankly she shrugged her shoulders and said. ‘A French lover. Is the best way. I find one for you.’
‘Non. Merci,’ I protested. ‘The last thing I need in my life right now is a man.’
Eliosa wagged a finger at me. ‘Remember this is France. Le cinq à sept. Everyone needs a lover in their life. You come for aperitifs soon. I arrange it.’
Not quite sure what she’s going to arrange – a lover or aperitifs – but didn’t dare ask.
Did ask at French conversation what cinq à sept was though. And blushed as everybody stared at me when Marc the class leader explained exactly what it was. And that was before Tatienne the Tart slyly asked if I was personally planning to adopt the custom?
Couldn’t wait for the conversation to move back to translating useful phrases like ‘What time does the train depart s’il vous plait?’ Although the French for ‘I wish the floor would open up and swallow me’ would perhaps have been more useful.
Le cinq à sept literally translated means five o’clock to seven o’clock. Basically it’s like Happy Hour in English. For the French though it’s apparently time for an illicit rendezvous with your lover after work before going home to the bosom of your family. Who knew?
Wonder if that’s when Ben and Samantha got it together? Like an after work activities club.
6th February.
Hadn’t heard from Katie since last week so I rang to make sure she was all right. Almost wish I hadn’t bothered. Ended up feeling even more guilty than normal about not being there for her.
She did nothing but moan at me for five minutes about living in the same house as Samantha. Hates it. Told her it’s Ben she needs to talk to, not me, as there’s nothing I can do from down here. Can’t even tell her it will get better because the chances are it won’t. Weeks will turn into months, life will go on but whether the situation will improve is debatable.
‘Perhaps you ought to see if you can find a place of your own,’ I suggested. ‘Just until the end of the year when I return. I’ll be getting somewhere big enough for the two of us then.’
‘That’s ten months away,’ Katie snapped. ‘You should be here now.’
Before I could respond, she’d hung up. Hadn’t even asked me how I was.
In dire need of talking to somebody who might care the teeniest bit about me, I phoned Bella. Another mistake. Unlike Katie she was bubbly and cheerful – but couldn’t stop telling me about how well her new job was going, all the contacts she was making and how much fun her new life was.
It was a good ten minutes before she finally asked, ‘How’s life down on the Riviera then? Met any sexy Frenchmen? How’s Jacques?’
‘Oh you know. Life’s a beach down here. Jacques is still in lust. Asks about you every time I see him. Me? I’m still looking to meet that sexy Frenchman,’ I said, not wanting to admit to Bella how miserable I felt when she obviously didn’t really care. Couldn’t believe how insensitive she was being, gloating about her life to me when I don’t have one.
8th February.
Couldn’t stop crying today for some reason. Must pull myself together. Just got to get on with things. After all, I’m not the first woman to have been dumped for a newer model. Or to have family problems. Going to take the camera and go out for a walk along the bord de mer. Breathe in some sea air. Take a few photos.
10th February.
Saw Eliosa today. She’s arranging aperitifs for the twenty-sixth so that’s something to look forward to.
15th February.
Seem to have got into the habit of popping into Jacques’ bar in the early evening and having a glass or two of rosé with him. Helps to pass the time.
25th February.
Wish I knew what people wear to aperitif parties in France. Dressy? Casual? Come as you are? No, definitely not the last. I don’t know Eliosa very well but I do recognise her as someone who always makes an effort to look her best. Remembering her offer of finding me a French lover, I’m more than a little apprehensive about tomorrow evening. I just hope none of her male friends have been primed to offer their services. At least the invitation is for seven o’clock not five o’clock.
26th February.
Thankfully all the men, with one exception, at Eliosa’s tonight had their femmes firmly attached to their sides like limpets, determined to keep them from so much as clinking glasses with this strange, on her own, English woman. This, despite the fact that they were all, with the one exception, well into their seventies. Alone I might be, but desperate I’m not.
The lone exception made no effort to socialise with me and stood clutching his pink champagne, staring moodily out to sea.
‘Zat is my nephew Nino,’ Eliosa said. ‘The family ask him to look out for me when he is here.’ She shook her head. ‘He is not good dictionary for you. He is all at sea.’
Nino clearly had the ears of a hawk because he turned at her words and made his way over to us. ‘Merci for the champagne Tante Eliosa. Duty calls. Look after yourself.’ He kissed her goodbye, gave me a brief smile and left. Shame really. At least he was in the right age group.
‘All at sea?’ I asked Eliosa.
‘He is the capitane of a yacht. At sea more than ashore,’ she said.
I’d asked Jacques what the etiquette was with aperitif parties and he’d reckoned one should stay no longer than an hour, so at eight I said goodbye to everyone, thanked Eliosa and returned to my own apartment across the landing.
Standing out on my tiny balcony watching the rest of the world living their lives, it hit me again how completely alone I am in a foreign country. The evenings are the loneliest. It’s fine to do daytime activities like shopping or going to a conversation class alone – but evenings are different.
Evenings are for couples to stroll along hand-in-hand, enjoying each other’s company, pointing out things of interest, relaxing, meeting up with other couples.
What the hell am I doing down here? I could be back home planning a spa
