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

She was suddenly defensive again, shattering our new-found trust. I could have kicked myself. ‘We didn’t all have the perfect French upbringing, you know! We didn’t all go out and buy bread every day, sit around the table with grandparents, learn to cook at our mother’s knee!’ she snarled angrily. ‘You’ – and by ‘you’, I’m presuming she means we Brits – ‘you think life over here in France is so perfect, but not for all of us! Some of us had to learn to bring ourselves up. Some of us don’t have family homes to go to. Some of us are still fighting to feed ourselves and our loved ones in any way we can.’ She stopped, angry tears in her eyes. I thought of the homeless by the river. She was right. I’m the lucky one.

‘Don’t worry,’ I said, trying to soothe her. ‘I don’t need you to cook, just to help me.’

‘If you tell me what to do, I can do it.’ She lifted her chin again. ‘I work hard!’

‘Then we’ll be fine. We’ll help each other.’ I smiled, the storm seeming to have passed. I turned back and opened the big wooden front door to the tiled hall.

Now we’re standing in the empty bedroom, with windows looking out over the trees and the field sloping away.

‘You said you had room!’ says Stephanie, flatly.

‘I do!’ I stutter. ‘I just don’t have …’ How could I have been so stupid? A spur-of-the-moment decision, thinking I could make a difference, giving her false hope.

‘You have room,’ she agrees, ‘but no furniture. Not even a mattress!’ She looks around the big room, taking in the view, imagining, perhaps, what it could have been like. The sun is setting and the sky is turning pink and baby blue. What on earth can I do? I can’t let her go back! If the landlord would even have her! She’s in an even worse position than she was before. At least there she had a mattress to sleep on.

‘I’ll sort something,’ I say. I wonder if this is how parenting feels: you have to do something, but you’ve no idea what.

Stephanie gives the room a final look as if glimpsing a life that might have been, then having the door shut in her face.

I brought her here. I’m responsible for this mess. But I remember that room she lived in and know I did the right thing. I just have to think of another right thing.