BooksBarbecue
Back A French Affair
Chapters (54)
  1. Cover
  2. Dedication
  3. 1
  4. 2
  5. 3
  6. 4
  7. 5
  8. 6
  9. 7
  10. 8
  11. 9
  12. 10
  13. 11
  14. 12
  15. 13
  16. 14
  17. 15
  18. 16
  19. 17
  20. 18
  21. 19
  22. 20
  23. 21
  24. 22
  25. 23
  26. 24
  27. 25
  28. 26
  29. 27
  30. 28
  31. 29
  32. 30
  33. 31
  34. 32
  35. 33
  36. 34
  37. 35
  38. 36
  39. 37
  40. 38
  41. 39
  42. 40
  43. 41
  44. 42
  45. 43
  46. 44
  47. 45
  48. 46
  49. 47
  50. Epilogue
  51. Acknowledgments
  52. More from Jennifer Bohnet
  53. About the Author
  54. About Boldwood Books

Belinda picked up a crusty baguette and prepared a salad to go with the quiche when she got back to the cottage that afternoon. Placing the meal on the table, she called out ‘À table’ to Alain, who’d gone upstairs to take a shower, just as her mobile rang. Fern. They’d only said goodbye half an hour ago.

‘Hi, Fern. Everything all right?’

‘I thought I’d let you know, Anouk heard from a friend this afternoon that your father has been moved into the hospice this morning. So, if you do decide to go and say farewell, you wouldn’t have to go to the cottage. You might still come face to face with Helena at the hospice though.’

Belinda closed her eyes and sighed. The message was clear. Her dad was edging closer to the end. If she was going to see him alive one last time, then she would have to visit soon. She thanked Fern and ended the call as Alain came downstairs and she went into the kitchen for the wine to accompany the meal. She poured two glasses and handed one to Alain.

‘My father has been moved into the hospice.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Did you mean what you said about taking me? If you did, I think I’d like to go the day after tomorrow if possible.’

‘I’ll take you,’ Alain said gently. ‘But you must eat something as well as drink, otherwise you’ll be too weak to go anywhere,’ and he pushed the quiche towards her.

38

The morning of the visit to the hospice, Belinda showered and, feeling foolish, hesitated over what to wear for meeting her dad after such a long time. What did it matter in the scheme of things what she wore? But somehow it did matter. Dad had always liked to see her dressed stylishly. Belinda smiled to herself. He’d have been horrified if he’d ever seen her during her goth phase. The problem was her current wardrobe was purely practical: a couple of pairs of jeans, sweatshirts, T-shirts and two or three white long-sleeved cotton shirts. She felt ridiculously pleased when, having decided on a sweatshirt and jeans, underneath the sweatshirts in the drawer, she found the Breton striped top she’d bought on her visit home and hadn’t yet worn. Perfect with her best jeans and her wedge sandals.

There was no sign of Alain when she went downstairs, but the coffee machine was on and there was a note propped against it. ‘Bernie will have BB for the day. Can you walk BB down to him? As soon as Marie arrives, we’ll go. P.S. You need more than coffee. Have a croissant.’