fact that he’d maintained eye contact a little longer than necessary?
She dismissed the nonsensical thought, quite sure he hadn’t meant anything beyond what he’d said. And he was right. ‘I shouldn’t be speaking English now, should I? I should make an effort to talk to you in your own language. That’s the only way to get practice, isn’t it?
‘The thing is, whenever I try to speak to anyone here in French, they smile indulgently and proceed to speak in English. It’s…humbling. I’m obviously very bad at it.’
‘Don’t think of it as humbling, think of it as a compliment.’
She gave him a sceptical look.
‘No, really. They are pleased that you have made the attempt, so they are returning the compliment by saving you the trouble.’
‘Oh.’ She laughed. ‘I’ll never get any practice, then, will I?’
‘You can practise on me.’
She tilted her head. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Are you sure I’m not keeping you from anything?’
‘Not at all. I would have been here anyway.’
‘But you would have been reading your newspaper and I’m stopping you from doing that.’ She flapped a hand at it. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise. I have enjoyed hearing about your family.’
‘Really?’
His lips twitched. ‘Really.’ He waved a hand to bring her attention to the newspaper in front of them. ‘Eh bien, let’s begin. Look, there is an interesting story here on page two.’ He pointed it out. ‘What do you think of that? Tell me in French, if you will.’
She smiled before bending her head. ‘Sure, but it will take me a while to read it.’
‘I can wait.’
They read in silence for some time, then discussed the story. With Jacques’ encouragement and lots of laughter, Leonie stopped feeling embarrassed about her mistakes—and there were plenty of them—and started to enjoy herself, certainly a lot more than she’d enjoyed the lessons at the school.
They went on to discuss more stories, partly in one language, partly the other. An hour had gone by when Jacques announced that he had to leave.
Disappointed but determined not to show it, Leonie asked brightly, ‘Back to work?’
He nodded as he rose to his feet.
‘Do you mind if I ask where you work?’
Smiling, he said, ‘Do you know the restaurant La Bergamote?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. Are you the chef?’
He shook his head. ‘The owner.’
‘Oh. But if you own a restaurant, why do you come here for coffee? That’s a coals-to-Newcastle thing, isn’t it?’
‘A what?’
She shook her head. ‘Figure of speech. It just seems a strange thing to do.’
‘It’s a tradition. I enjoy the walk and I like to see my friend.’ He glanced towards Jean-Claude. ‘Also, it’s good to get away from tourists, just for an hour or so between lunch and dinner.’
‘And today you’ve had to put up with me,’ she said with a rueful grimace. ‘I won’t bother you again. I’ll let you enjoy your coffee in peace in future.’ She meant what she said, but she was already imagining how lonely she’d be without their conversation to look forward to.
‘No.’ He frowned. ‘Please don’t. I will look forward to seeing you here again.’
Was he just saying that to humour her? She gave him a direct look and he returned her gaze steadily. Either he was telling the truth or he had a very good poker face.
‘Tomorrow afternoon, yes?’
‘I guess so.’
‘I will be devastated if you are not here.’
‘Devastated.’ She laughed. ‘Yeah, right.’ But she appreciated his kindness. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’
He smiled. ‘Good.’ With a nod at her and a wave for his friend behind the counter, he swung his jacket over his shoulder. She couldn’t help noticing that he was quite solid, masculine. Not big, but even through his white shirt she could tell that he was well defined, strong-looking.
By the time he’d left, Leonie was feeling happier and more relaxed than she had since she’d arrived in France.
Jacques walked away, wondering whether he’d gone mad. He usually had to know people quite well before he told them about Antoine. He certainly never discussed his ex-wife. So, why had he opened up to Leonie that way?
Leonie had been surprisingly easy to talk to. His intention at the start of the conversation had been to make her feel comfortable so that she would relax and talk to him, but she had been the one who’d made him talk.
Well, in fact, they had both talked, and he now knew about her husband. He wasn’t sure whether she was over him yet. And he’d learned about her children. He hadn’t been lying when he’d told her he enjoyed hearing about them, but it was what her words told him about her that he’d enjoyed most. Her pride in them had been tangible, and pleasing.
He was going to take pleasure in helping Leonie to learn his language.
On Saturday, Jacques strode towards the café. He’d met Leonie each afternoon for the past three days, but today he was late. He lengthened his stride a little more. He did not want to miss her.
Just as he’d had the thought the café came into view and he saw Leonie walking away from it, in the opposite direction.
He called out to her, breaking into a jog. When she looked back and saw him, she didn’t appear angry or irritated as he’d worried she might. Instead, she gave him a broad smile.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said when he reached her, more pleased to see her than he had any right to be. ‘I couldn’t get here sooner.’
He stopped to draw breath and Leonie touched his forearm in concern. ‘What happened? Is everything all right now?’
Her sincere expression touched him too, but inside, throwing him off balance.
‘Yes. Yes, it is,’ he said, recovering his equilibrium. ‘Did you get my message?’
She nodded. ‘Jean-Claude told me you’d been held up. That was thoughtful of you, to call the café. When it got so late, I decided you weren’t coming at all today.’
‘I wasn’t sure I’d get here in time. Where are you going? Back to
