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

Cyril, the red squirrel, is popping in and out of the bushes around where I’m working, teasing Ralph in a fruitless game of tag. Eventually he loses interest and goes back to chasing little white butterflies. The smell of lavender fills the air. Big fat bumblebees move throughout the original hedge, from bloom to bloom, and I’m hoping they’ll get to work on the new plants too.

In the distance the cockerel is still letting us know it’s another new day, even though it’s mid-morning. I’m stretching out my back, trowel in hand, when I hear the familiar sound of a vehicle coming up the drive and Ralph’s ecstatic welcoming barks.

I hear the door slam. It’s a sound I know well now: Fabien’s van door. My heart skips, even though I know it shouldn’t. But he is my friend, a good friend, and I’m pleased he’s here, but I know I have to speak to him about Stephanie: she blossoms every time he comes here, which he does a lot. Either with something that’s arrived at the brocante he thinks might suit the house, or something for Tomas, like the small truck he found in a house clearance and some cars, which Tomas adores. And Stephanie adores him for it, I can see.

‘Hey.’ I hear his voice and my heart leaps into my mouth.

‘Hey,’ I say, pulling off my gardening gloves.

He steps forward and kisses me on both cheeks. I hold my breath so that I can’t breathe in his deliciously spicy aftershave.

‘They’re looking good,’ he says.

‘Yes, I’m really pleased,’ I say, looking at the few plants, then the rest of the empty red earth, peppered with white stones, like confetti. ‘I just wish I could see this whole field covered.’ I glance at Serge’s.

‘Actually …’ says Fabien.

‘Were you looking for Stephanie?’ I say quickly, realizing he’s not here to chat with me. ‘She’s in town, delivering to Henri, with Tomas.’ I’m falling over my words and cringing at my clumsiness.

‘Actually,’ he repeats slowly, ‘it’s you I’ve come to see,’ and a large lump rises in my throat. Fabien is ten years younger than me. Of course there will never be anything between us. I just wish … What? That I was ten years younger? That I could have a child like Tomas? But I’m not, and I can’t.