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

Ollie rants at me some more. But I’m not listening. I’ve never felt more certain of anything. I’m not going back to my old life with him. We’re over. Finally, the cracks are wide open and the ceiling is on the floor. Now all I have to do is work out what kind of ceiling I want to put up. Not the same as before, not that awful, miserable one.

‘We have to go now!’ Ollie says, getting more and more cross.

‘Ollie, I’m not going back with you. Leave me the key. I’ll take it to the estate agent and I’ll let you know my plans.’ I hold out my hand.

‘Do you need a doctor?’ He cocks his head.

Instead of feeling his concern, I feel patronized.

‘No, Ollie.’ I smile. ‘I need what you need … I need not to go back.’

‘You’re being ridiculous! You’re … upset! You’re …’

‘I’m right, Ollie. This is right. You know it. We were just papering over the cracks, coming here. Now give me the key and you go.’

He stares at me and I know he’s not going to argue any more. He’s put up a good show, but I sense that he knows I’m right. He looks at the big ornate key in his hand then slowly, ever so slowly, he passes it to me and swallows, hard.

‘I need to go,’ he says quickly. ‘I need to get the ferry. The removal people are expecting us … me.’

‘You go,’ I say, calmer than I’ve felt in a long time.

‘You’re stressed! It’s just the move, everything else.’

I take a deep breath. There’s a trace of the old Ollie now, the one I married, the one I loved, the one who cared. He pushes his hair off his face and attempts a reassuring smile. ‘It’s your mum, the baby thing. You’ll change your mind, realize this is just madness.’

The baby thing was where life took different directions for us, with me unable to become a mum and losing my own. The Ollie I married left me then.

‘I’m not coming back with you, Ollie.’

‘I’m not staying!’ he retorts. ‘Mad country. Nothing works! Impossible to make a living. I need to get going. Now, I’m giving you one last chance. Are you getting in the car and coming with me?’ He stares at me, challenging me.

I lift my chin and stare back. ‘No,’ I say. ‘I’m not.’

And he throws his hands up into the air. He lets out a huge ‘Phhhhffff!’ of exasperation and stomps to his car. Then he reaches in and pulls out my holdall, with my clothes and wash things in it to tide me over until we’d found a place to live and unpacked. He dumps it furiously on the drive in the dust. I don’t move.