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Back Escape to the French Farmhouse Save as PDF
Chapters (79)
  1. COVER
  2. About the Author
  3. Also by Jo Thomas
  4. DEDICATION
  5. ONE
  6. TWO
  7. THREE
  8. FOUR
  9. FIVE
  10. SIX
  11. SEVEN
  12. EIGHT
  13. NINE
  14. TEN
  15. ELEVEN
  16. TWELVE
  17. THIRTEEN
  18. FOURTEEN
  19. FIFTEEN
  20. SIXTEEN
  21. SEVENTEEN
  22. EIGHTEEN
  23. NINETEEN
  24. TWENTY
  25. TWENTY-ONE
  26. TWENTY-TWO
  27. TWENTY-THREE
  28. TWENTY-FOUR
  29. TWENTY-FIVE
  30. TWENTY-SIX
  31. TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. TWENTY-NINE
  34. THIRTY
  35. THIRTY-ONE
  36. THIRTY-TWO
  37. THIRTY-THREE
  38. THIRTY-FOUR
  39. THIRTY-FIVE
  40. THIRTY-SIX
  41. THIRTY-SEVEN
  42. THIRTY-EIGHT
  43. THIRTY-NINE
  44. FORTY
  45. FORTY-ONE
  46. FORTY-TWO
  47. FORTY-THREE
  48. FORTY-FOUR
  49. FORTY-FIVE
  50. FORTY-SIX
  51. FORTY-SEVEN
  52. FORTY-EIGHT
  53. FORTY-NINE
  54. FIFTY
  55. FIFTY-ONE
  56. FIFTY-TWO
  57. FIFTY-THREE
  58. FIFTY-FOUR
  59. FIFTY-FIVE
  60. FIFTY-SIX
  61. FIFTY-SEVEN
  62. FIFTY-EIGHT
  63. FIFTY-NINE
  64. SIXTY
  65. SIXTY-ONE
  66. SIXTY-TWO
  67. Epilogue
  68. Acknowledgements
  69. RECIPES
  70. Lavender shortbread
  71. Apricot jam sponge cake
  72. Lavender lamb
  73. READ MORE
  74. Prologue
  75. ONE
  76. TWO
  77. THREE
  78. FOUR
  79. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING

The seconds tick past slowly. My heart is beating so loudly I’m surprised she can’t hear it. She can’t have taken it, I tell myself.

Slowly I look up at her.

‘Where was it?’ she asks anxiously.

‘Well,’ I say, ‘it was …’ I swallow again. I’m sure it wasn’t her. Please don’t let it be JB either! ‘It was in your handbag.’ I try to say it matter-of-factly.

‘In my h-handbag?’ she stutters. ‘But how?’

‘I … I don’t know,’ I say. ‘Could it have fallen in by mistake? Or someone put it there for safe keeping?’

There are tears in her eyes. Hot, angry ones.

Just tell me, I think, that it wasn’t you and we can find out who it was.

‘You think it was me, don’t you?’ she says, with a steeliness I haven’t heard since we first met.

’No. No. I don’t. I’m just trying to work out …’

My thoughts turn back to the first time I met her, in her bedsit, my biscuits on the table, taking what she needed for her son. But she wouldn’t do that to me or to Henri.

‘You think I might have done,’ she says, in an angry whisper. ‘You know I’m capable.’ She is ashen-faced. ‘A leopard never changes its spots. Isn’t that what that Englishwoman said?’

I look down at the box in my now-shaking hands. Who would do this?!

She stares at me, her face set. Her eyes darken as they did the first time I met her in that downstairs room. When I thought I was doing something to help. Of course I don’t think she would do that to me.

‘No, listen—’ I begin to say, ‘of course I don’t think that,’ I go to say, but she cuts me off, her chin held high.

‘I understand. I understand everything,’ she says, grabbing her bag, ‘and if you believe I could have taken that, I can’t stay here any more!’ She stalks out.

‘Wait!’ But I hear the front door slam. Now what have I done?

She just needed me to tell her that of course it couldn’t have been her. I’m just trying to work out who would have done it. And now I’ve ruined everything! I’ve tried to keep going while Henri has been in hospital. Fabien hates me and, clearly, so does Stephanie.

A huge sob escapes me, and I feel more alone now than I did on that first night here without Ollie.

FIFTY-THREE