Escape to the French Farmhouse
Chapters (79)
- COVER
- About the Author
- Also by Jo Thomas
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- SIXTY-ONE
- SIXTY-TWO
- Epilogue
- Acknowledgements
- RECIPES
- Lavender shortbread
- Apricot jam sponge cake
- Lavender lamb
- READ MORE
- Prologue
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING
COVER
About the Author
Jo Thomas worked for many years as a reporter and producer, first for BBC Radio 5, before moving on to Radio 4’s Woman’s Hour and Radio 2’s The Steve Wright Show.
In 2013 Jo won the RNA Katie Fforde Bursary. Her debut novel, The Oyster Catcher, was a runaway bestseller in ebook and was awarded the 2014 RNA Joan Hessayon Award and the 2014 Festival of Romance Best Ebook Award. Jo lives in the Vale of Glamorgan with her husband and three children.
Also by Jo Thomas
THE OYSTER CATCHER
THE OLIVE BRANCH
LATE SUMMER IN THE VINEYARD
THE HONEY FARM ON THE HILL
SUNSET OVER CHERRY ORCHARD
A WINTER BENEATH THE STARS
MY LEMON GROVE SUMMER
COMING HOME TO WINTER ISLAND
Ebook short stories:
THE CHESTNUT TREE
THE RED SKY AT NIGHT
NOTES FROM THE NORTHERN LIGHTS
DEDICATION
To VP, Vicky Palmer, for her passion for books, enthusiasm, laughter and unwavering support in helping me become the writer I always wanted to be and for bringing me to my new home.
And to France, because I have always loved you! Santé!
ONE
Bang! Bang! BANG!
Why today? Of all days? On moving day!
The noise goes right through me, jangling my already shredded nerves, as one of the heavy wooden doors upstairs slams, the wind whipping in and around the house, like a gaggle of overexcited spirits at Halloween, teasing and causing havoc. Except it’s not Halloween, it’s early June. And it’s not spirits causing havoc: it’s the mistral wind that blows regularly here in Provence and has chosen to create mischief today, of all days. I can hear it howling, laughing at me.
‘You really thought you could do this?’
More doors bang. Glasses I’ve yet to wrap fall over on the sideboard. I’m exhausted before the day has even begun. My arms, legs and spirits are heavy, as if I’m dragging heavy sandbags behind me, draining my already depleted energy supplies.
I walk slowly along the empty hall towards the front door. It was the wonderful terracotta floor tiles I’d noticed when we first arrived. Their red is worn to orange in places, and they seem to tell a story of their own, of the many footsteps that have crossed them over the years. We’ve made barely a dusty footprint on them, let alone been here long enough to leave an indentation.
I step outside, holding my face defiantly to the wind, which is blowing up dust and carrying it through the just-cleaned house. My eyes stream and I blink. At least we did it, I think. At least we tried. I wipe my eyes with the corner of my poncho. I’m not sure I have a coat to put on later when we arrive back in the UK.