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

‘Wanted us to check you were okay,’ says Rhi, more diplomatically.

‘I am, I am.’ I wipe away a stray tear from the corner of my eye and glance in the direction of the caravan. Now they register the little boy clinging to my leg, and stare.

‘This is Tomas,’ I say, picking him up and setting him on my hip, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. He buries his head in my neck. My two friends stare at him, then at me and then at each other. Ralph runs around barking, and Tomas looks up, giggling.

‘So, Tomas,’ says Lou, tall, bottle blonde, her fake tan just a tad too orange. ‘Are you childminding him?’

She reaches forward but he buries his head in my neck again.

‘No, Tomas lives here,’ I say, glancing again in the direction of the clearing and the gypsy caravan. When I turn back, Lou and Rhi are looking at each other. Where Lou is tall and dressed to kill, Rhi is shorter than me, in a sunhat and sensible shoes. She’s usually bubbly, but right now, they both look worried.

‘Oh.’ Then I explain, ‘No, I mean he lives here, but with his mum.’

‘Maman,’ says Tomas.

‘That’s right, Tomas.’ I give him a watery smile. His mum is probably feeling that yet another person has let her down. I must go to her and put things right. Both my friends are still looking worried. ‘Um, I just have to go and speak to Tomas’s mum. Tomas, would you like some milk and biscuits?’ I ask, then again in French, and my two friends raise their eyebrows, impressed.

I lead them all to the kitchen, grab milk, a plate of biscuits and a bottle of rosé, then take them outside to the table where I pour drinks. When everyone is happy, I leave Tomas with them while I run to check on Stephanie.

I knock at the caravan door tentatively. ‘Stephanie?’ I call, but she doesn’t reply.

I open the door gently and see she has packed most of her belongings back into their blue bags. She is lying on the bed, her face in the pillow. The little caravan is wonderfully clean and welcoming. A small vase of lavender sits on the side, filling the air with its scent. She sits bolt upright, her eyes as dark and defensive as they were on that first day.

‘Oh, Stephanie.’ I reach out to hug her but she backs away from me.

‘I didn’t know there was something going on with you and Fabien,’ she says, jutting out her chin.

‘There isn’t.’ I’m desperate for her to believe me, and to convince myself. ‘I promise. We were just …’

‘Just what?’

I sigh.