BooksBarbecue
Back Escape to the French Farmhouse
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

I turn back to the hall. Ralph is circling Mr Broderick as he makes his way outside, whistling, carrying one end of the settee with Lexie at the other. As she bends I can just see the top of her leopard-print thong and wonder if I will ever enjoy wearing sexy underwear again. Since we left the UK to make ‘our life in the sun’, I’ve gravitated to cotton midis and Ollie hasn’t noticed, but that may be because he’s been sleeping in one of the spare rooms since week one, ever since he did his back in trying to be Dick – Dick from Escape to the Chateau, that is – and attempting to sort out our blocked drain, creating a leak, a flood and bringing down the salon ceiling. We had to find a plumber, a plasterer and a decorator, and used up nearly all our savings putting it right.

Thankfully, the doctor Ollie saw about his back thought we were here on holiday and treated Ollie accordingly, without us having to worry about big medical bills as well. And that was how it felt: like one long holiday from hell. Everything that could have gone wrong has gone wrong, including Ollie’s plans for working from home, doing business online: our internet is so poor he’s had to drive to the next big town to send emails. It’s been a disaster.

Ralph goes into a barking frenzy, rushing outside, kicking up even more dust as he goes haring down the drive to whoever might be passing.

‘Ralph! Ralph!’ He ignores me and carries on careering down the drive. I know only too well that he has trouble stopping and is likely to crash into whoever he is greeting and knock them off their feet.

I run after him, calling his name. Luckily I’m wearing lace-up trainers with a thick, cushioned heel, three-quarter-length jeans and a V-neck poncho over my white T-shirt. But I can hardly see him in the pink dust the wind is creating. I catch up with my dog, who is barking at nothing but the wind blowing in the trees, grab his collar and turn back towards the house.

Halfway along the drive I stand and look at the stone farmhouse and its lavender-blue shutters, rattling in the wind. I think of all the excitement for the future it came with when Ollie brought me here, telling me he’d found and bought our perfect home while I was working out my notice in the UK.

I look at the peeling paint now and think about the crack that had appeared in the salon ceiling before it fell down. The crack that had been covered with a thick layer of paint to patch it and make it last a little longer. That’s exactly what this house was: a thick layer of paint to patch the cracks in our relationship … and now our ceiling has fallen down.