I almost choked on my broccoli. I had no idea Alain had been married, let alone that his wife had left him.

‘I had no idea you were married.’ There they went again – my thoughts pouring straight down from my brain and out of my mouth.

He shrugged. ‘It was a few years ago now.’

‘How long were you married?’

‘Just under a year.’

‘A year!’

‘I know. Pathetic, isn’t it?’

‘What happened?’

‘She decided she’d married the wrong brother.’

My eyes widened. ‘Oh, Alain, that’s awful.’

‘Not necessarily,’ he said calmly. ‘They have two young kids and are living happily ever after in Kent, where Sabine is popular because she’s considered exotic, being a Parisian.’

‘Do you still see them?’

‘Now and again. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hard at first, but we patched it up. I have a niece and nephew now. Grudges are of no use to any of us.’

‘And haven’t you...?’

‘I’m not still holding a torch for my sister-in-law, if that’s what you’re thinking. Quite the opposite, in fact. I suspect I had a lucky escape.’ He grinned. ‘She bosses my brother around like an army general.’

‘Serves him right! But what I meant was, haven’t you ever...?’ I hesitated, looking for the right words.

‘What? Found anyone else?’

I nodded.

‘I’m thirty-six years old, Emmy, so yes, I’ve dated since, but...’ He paused. ‘It’s a cliché, I know, but I never really felt I’d found the right girl yet.’ He looked down at the table, and an awkward moment passed between us before he looked up again. ‘You’re going to be all right. Rupert told me he’s in no doubt about it, and I trust his judgement.’

‘That only means your judgement’s impaired!’

We laughed, banishing any awkwardness.

‘So, how come you’re half-French?’

‘It’s a very romantic tale,’ he warned me, a glint of humour in his eyes.

‘I can handle it,’ I assured him with mock severity. I wasn’t so sure I could handle him, though – the way his voice flowed over me like velvet cognac.

‘My mother is French. She was on a student exchange in London at the tender age of nineteen and forgot to look the opposite way while crossing the Kings Road. Dad grabbed her hood and yanked her back, saving her from certain death under the wheels of a bus.’

I placed a hand over my heart. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘Sugary sweet, as it turns out – they’ve been inseparable ever since. As soon as Dad finished his engineering degree, he got a job with an international firm outside Paris. They had the obligatory two children and are still living their happy-ever-after existence in the suburbs.’

‘Have you spent your whole life in France? You don’t have much of an accent.’

‘Dad spoke to us in English, Mum in French, so we had double the choice. I chose to stay here.’

‘But your brother lives in England.’

‘He went to university over there and decided to stay. He comes back for family visits, of course... Which is how he met Sabine.’

I waited a second for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, I didn’t feel I could push. ‘Weren’t you tempted by the lights of Paris?’ I asked him instead.

‘I worked for a big firm there for a few years. It’s an amazing city, and I met Sabine there.’

‘So how did you end up in Pierre-la-Fontaine?’

‘My dad had an accountant friend down here – we used to come and stay with them every summer when we were growing up. He asked if I’d like to be his partner. I already loved it here and I was getting tired of Paris by then. Sabine and I had just got married, and she seemed happy to make the move. I think she thought it would be a good place to bring up a family.’ He pushed his food around his plate with his fork. ‘But my brother came for a couple of visits that year and... She decided to have a family with him instead.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I wished I could think of something to say, but words failed me. I thought he might appreciate a change of subject. ‘So, do you still work with your Dad’s friend?’

Alain shook his head. ‘He retired a couple of years ago, and I carried on by myself. I like it here. It’s beautiful. I have good friends and a good business, and I can keep my own hours. What more can a man ask for?’ He paused. ‘Other than someone to share it with, perhaps.’

He gave me a smile and called for the dessert menu before we could take the conversation in a direction neither of us wanted to travel.

‘Will you be busy packing on Friday?’ Alain asked on the drive back.

‘I suppose so. Why?’

‘I wondered if you’d like to go out for the day.’

‘Won’t you be working?’

‘I only have a couple of appointments. I can alter them.’

‘Oh, well...’

‘I know you might have a lot to do on Friday,’ he said, sensing my hesitation. ‘But I’m afraid I have to work tomorrow.’

I thought about spending my last day mooching around at La Cour des Roses, Rupert and I circling each other with the heavy cloud of my departure hanging over our heads, already missing each other before I’d even left.

‘No, I can pack tomorrow instead,’ I said, my mind made up. ‘A day out on Friday would be great. Thank you.’

At La Cour des Roses, Alain left the engine running.

‘Thank you for a lovely meal,’ I managed.

‘You’re welcome. Thank you for your lovely company.’

In the shadows, I couldn’t read his expression. My pulse was racing. It would have been so easy to lean in for a kiss. And yet... What would be the point? For either of us?

I gave him a small smile. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Night, Emmy.’

As I opened the car door, the light slanted across his face, his eyes intent on me, a self-deprecating half-smile on his lips, as though he too had wanted the kiss and was cursing himself for not being forward enough.

I slept in the next morning, but it was an unsettled, fitful doze. It had been a restless night, recalling snippets of my conversation with Alain and haunted by the possibility of a kiss I hadn’t had the courage to taste.

I finally crawled downstairs in my pyjamas – no guests, so why should I care? – only to be stopped at the kitchen door by an even blearier-eyed Rupert.

‘Upstairs. Get dressed. Guests!’ he growled, pointing at the window as a car drove into the courtyard.

‘Urgh. Right.’ Off I scurried to shower and dress, thereby delaying any caffeine or nourishment.

Reappearing twenty minutes later, I plastered a smile on my face for the benefit of the early birds who were enjoying Rupert’s coffee.

‘Emmy – Caroline and Andy Bedford.’

We shook hands and I shot Rupert a silent plea for my morning fix.

‘Emmy’s been helping me out for the past couple of weeks,’ he explained as he jumped to at the coffee machine. ‘Unfortunately, she leaves on Saturday, so I hope you’ll bear with me if things don’t go quite so smoothly once she’s gone.’

‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ Caroline Bedford said graciously. ‘It certainly looks beautiful so far.’ She glanced through the patio doors. ‘Won’t you miss all this, Emmy?’

I followed her gaze out to the garden. ‘Yes, I will.’ For a brief moment, my throat closed over. As soon as I could breathe again, I changed the subject. ‘You made good time.’

‘We set off far too early,’ her husband said, a hint of blame aimed in his wife’s direction. ‘Drove through the night and got to Dover miles ahead of time. They let us take an earlier ferry.’

‘More time here, then,’ I said in as cheery a voice as I could muster. In only two days’ time, I would be heading in the opposite direction, trying to judge how much time to allow and juggling with maps and the satnav and manic lorry drivers. On my own. I took a gulp of coffee and allowed it to potter its way towards my bloodstream.

When they were ready, I took the Bedfords up to their room. Caroline Bedford was bowled over, exclaiming over the fresh flowers and the little antique glass jewellery dish on the dressing table; the lace coverlet I’d found and used as a bedcover; the view over the garden. Her compliments made me feel more homesick by the minute... For here.

Back downstairs, Rupert was busy scribbling lists. ‘Right, Emmy, we need to get a shift on or we won’t get everything done. Good job we were here when they landed. Wasn’t expecting them till lunchtime.’

He sounded as grumpy as I felt, but I let it be. Since I would be out tomorrow, this was his last chance to boss me about and be chauffeured around. Why that should make me sad, I couldn’t imagine.

‘How did your date go?’ Rupert asked as we drove to the supermarket.

‘Fine. Nice restaurant. Delicious meal. Non-stinky goat’s cheese followed by steak.’

‘Anything... afterwards?’

I glanced at him, ready with a tongue-lashing, but his interrogation was frankly a bit lacklustre for him. He looked tired.

I frowned. ‘Coffee and a drive home. Nothing else.’

He only nodded, so I decided to throw him a titbit of hope. ‘Alain’s taking me out for the day tomorrow.’

‘Oh?’ That perked him up a bit. ‘Where?’

‘Dunno.’

‘What time will you be back?’

‘No idea. Does it matter?’

‘Well, you – er – you’ll need to pack.’

‘I’ll do that this afternoon.’

‘Ah. Well, I’m sure he won’t bring you back too late, knowing you have to get off early the next day and everything.’

He fell silent again. Crikey. This conversation was like pulling teeth.

‘When are you going to try driving again?’ I asked.

‘Soon, I hope. Can’t rely on other people forever.’

I gave him a doubtful look. ‘Okay, but I don’t think you should go alone the first time or two. Someone should go with you.’

‘Already sorted. I asked Alain. He said he’d come over when I felt ready.’

‘That’s good of him.’ There was a pause as I negotiated a junction I’d yet to find reliably friendly. ‘You have rung those numbers, haven’t you? The ones Madame Dupont gave me?’

‘Yes, Emmy, I have.’ His tone was impatient. ‘Someone called Juliette will come in on guest meal days and help me cook. Madame Dupont has promised to be in the next day to clear up – except for Sunday, of course, because she goes to church. And some young girl will help her on Saturdays with the gîtes.’

‘Good. And what about...’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Emmy, give it a rest. It’s all sorted!’

My mouth dropped open in shock. Rupert had never spoken to me like that before. For a second, I bit back a retort – and a tear or two while I was at it – but all the sleep-deficient nights and worry were wearing my restraint thin. Beyond thin.

‘How dare you?’ I asked him, my voice low and dangerous.

‘What?’

‘How dare you speak to me like that? After all I’ve done?’

‘Emmy, I...’

‘You ungrateful bastard!’ My knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I fought to keep the tears from blinding me.

‘Emmy...’

‘I have run around after you. I have cleaned for you and cooked for you. I have fetched you your beers and your cups of tea. I have listened to your drunken ramblings with sympathy and understanding. I have tended your guests and your chickens. I have risked my good standing at my job for you, all for another week of the same.’ I shook my head. ‘I only wanted to know if everything was in place so I could go home with a little peace of mind. I didn’t think it was too much to ask.’

‘Emmy, I don’t think you should get so upset when you’re driving.’

‘Oh, you don’t?’ I screeched the car to a halt, half on the road, half on the grass, narrowly avoiding a shallow ditch. The driver behind screamed his horn in outrage as he passed – or possibly admiration, if he was a native.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Apparently, I’m not fit to drive. Perhaps you’d like to take over.’ I unbuckled my seat belt.

Rupert’s face was ashen-grey with shock. ‘You know I can’t.’

‘Exactly. So I suggest you put up and shut up.’ I refastened my seatbelt and screeched back onto the road.

‘Emmy. For God’s sake!’

‘Save it, Rupert. I’ve had enough!’

He took me at my word. Either that or he was too petrified by my driving to speak. We drove on in silence, parked up in silence and trooped round the supermarket with monosyllables and stony faces. As we left the car park, Rupert asked me to turn towards the town centre.

‘You bought chilled stuff. It’ll go off,’ I snapped.

‘No, it won’t. We won’t be long.’

Stubborn old sod. I drove in and parked where I was told.

‘Where do you need to go?’

‘Couple of places. No need for you to come. Why don’t you go get a coffee? I’ll meet you there.’

‘Fine.’

I sat and sulked as I nursed my coffee. I had no idea why he’d got out of bed on the wrong side this morning. Whatever it was, I didn’t see why he should be taking it out on me. I was only trying to help. And inevitably, any satisfaction I might have had when I’d yelled at him was now overridden by guilt at behaving so badly.

Ten minutes later, Rupert reappeared, huffing and puffing – and limping, to add to my guilt. He ordered a coffee and, when he’d caught his breath, startled me by taking my hand.

‘Emmy. I owe you an apology. I was horrid. I’m sorry.’

I didn’t go so far as to pull my hand away, although I wanted to. ‘You’re tired. We both are.’

‘It’s no excuse. I’m not coping with the idea of you going home, that’s all. I didn’t want to say so because you already know how I feel about it and, well, you’ve got enough to contend with.’ He took a sip of his coffee and I noticed his hand was shaking. ‘I don’t want us to fall out, Emmy. Please. We’ve been through too much.’

I fought back yet another deluge of tears. They seemed to want to come thick and fast lately.

I squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m bad-tempered about going home.’

Rupert nodded and drained his cup. ‘Come on, then, love. Chilled goods in the car.’

‘I told you that forty minutes ago.’

By the time we got back, unpacked the shopping and pretended to be interested in lunch, we were more or less on an even keel, but I still felt dreadful about what had happened and I suspected he did, too. Under the guise of his going for a rest – which it looked like he desperately needed – and me going to pack, we went our separate ways.

I dragged my suitcase down from the top of the wardrobe and opened it out on the bed. Gazing into its yawning mouth reminded me of the day Nathan had told me he was leaving, his suitcase open on the floor by the window next door, the dust motes dancing in the sunlight. It all seemed so long ago, another lifetime – and in many ways it was. My life had irreconcilably shifted without my permission or input, and all I could do was go with the flow for now and hope I would come out somewhere nice – or at least somewhere acceptable – at the end of it all.

I started to pack the things I wouldn’t need for the next thirty-six hours, defiantly throwing my stuff into the case higgledy-piggledy. None of Nathan’s precise folding. How he could do that at the same time as telling someone he was leaving them was beyond me. The man was an emotional runt.

I thought about my day with Alain tomorrow and sighed. I had no idea where we were going. Choosing an outfit that might suit all eventualities from my already limited wardrobe wasn’t easy.

Leaving out a smart pair of cream chinos that I hadn’t worn this holiday due to all the manual work I’d been subjected to, a teal T-shirt, light sweater and pumps, I packed everything else so I couldn’t second-guess my choices in the morning.

When I’d corralled my toiletries into one heap in the bathroom and my cosmetics into another heap on the dressing table, I checked the wardrobe and drawers and under the bed for anything I’d left behind. Only one odd sock of Nathan’s languished at the back of his bedside drawer. I fished it out and dropped it in the bin, delighted at how much it must have upset his equilibrium to get to wherever he was going with Gloria, only to find he had an infuriatingly lone sock.

Staring around the bare room made me feel out of sorts, so I mooched downstairs. Madame Dupont was there, so she put the kettle on and we sat down for our usual garbled conversation over lemon tea.

‘Did you enjoy the dinner party?’ she asked with ill-disguised curiosity.

‘Yes, thank you. The food was delicious and it was nice to meet Rupert’s friends.’ I did my best to tell her who was there and what we’d eaten. As she listened, I noticed she didn’t correct me much. Either my French had improved, or she didn’t have the heart so near to my leaving.

‘I went out for dinner with Alain last night,’ I admitted.

Her eyes lit up and there was a string of mischievous praise for the man, with nods and nudges in my direction. The old woman must be thinking along the same lines as Rupert. Heaven knows, she was just as meddlesome – and as well-meaning.

‘Will you be here tomorrow?’ I asked her. When she nodded, I told her, ‘I won’t be, I’m afraid. Alain has invited me out for the day.’

Her face transformed into a combination of smiles at possible future romance and sadness that this was to be our last cup of tea together.

‘Reviens nous voir bientôt, Emie,’ she crooned as she stood up and patted my cheek, then drew me into a tight hug against her wiry little body.

Come back and see us soon.

Heading out into the garden, I went around the corner of the house to the old orchard where I could indulge my misery away from prying eyes, but I was brought up short by the sight of Ryan pulling at weeds. I hadn’t noticed his car or heard him arrive.

‘Hi, Emmy. Are you okay?’

I gave him a wobbly smile. ‘Just had a fond farewell with Madame Dupont. Thought I’d better come out here so we wouldn’t have to do it all again when she finishes her work.’

‘Ah.’ He pulled me in for an affectionate and thankfully, non-sexual, hug. I couldn’t have coped with that right now. Plus, I’d begun to experience the unnerving phenomenon that whenever I thought of Ryan and me rolling around together, along with the accompanying tingle and idiotic grin, a perfect image of Alain’s face would disconcertingly superimpose itself across my memories.

‘You must be an absolute superstar to have softened the old dragon – you know that, don’t you?’ he said as we drew apart.

I shook my head. ‘I only did what anyone would do in the circumstances.’

‘No, Emmy, you didn’t. Most people would have gone straight back home, or at the very least, blamed Rupert for allowing his wife to run off with their man.’ He took my face in his hands, planted a light kiss on my forehead, then bent to pick up his tools. ‘I’m off,’ he said. ‘Have a good day with Alain tomorrow.’

My eyes widened. ‘How did you know about that?’

‘Rupert told me. Have a safe journey home, Emmy. And come back soon,’ he echoed Madame Dupont’s words as he disappeared around the corner of the house.

I dropped down under the nearest tree, my back resting against its trunk, eyes closed against the afternoon sun. As I heard his engine start up, I wondered if Ryan really had finished his stint in the garden or whether he was being tactful, knowing I was upset by Madame Dupont’s farewell and not wanting to prolong ours. He was a nice guy. A little too happy-go-lucky for me, but some woman somewhere down the line would be well blessed with his genuine nature and easy-going personality.

My melancholy drifted towards a doze, until a light patter of feet and a wet something in my lap brought me rudely back to the present and my eyes shot open to find a dog’s nose nuzzling at my hands. When the initial shock had abated and I’d satisfied myself that the stupid mutt wasn’t going to amputate any appendages, I ruffled the curly hair on its head and scratched behind its floppy ears.

This must be my friend of old, the dog who’d come charging through the hedge to bark me awake after my outdoor session with Ryan. Glancing back to where the deed took place, I could see now that it was indeed only a few yards from an open window – presumably Rupert’s bedroom. He must have been able to hear everything. I blushed at the thought, but my embarrassment was softened by the memory of Ryan’s words when I’d questioned the wisdom of the location: “You’re not trespassing. You belong here.” I knew he’d meant as a bona fide guest, but it all seemed so prophetic after Rupert’s invitation to live out here.

‘They’re all barking mad,’ I said to the dog, lifting its muzzle to look into its appealingly dopey eyes. ‘Just like you.’

‘Framboise! Framboise!’ The resigned call came from the roadside.

The dog turned its head towards the sound and, with an apologetic slobber in the general direction of my arm, shot off back through its secret hole in the hedge.

Framboise? Didn’t that mean raspberry? What sort of a name was that to give to a poor defenceless animal? I stood up to brush hair and slaver from my person. Why Rupert was so keen on getting a dog, I couldn’t imagine. Then again, as I thought of its appealing eyes and slave-like devotion to its owner’s voice, I realised there was no contest. I’d choose a dog over Gloria any day. At least dogs were faithful.

When I went back inside, Madame Dupont had gone and Rupert was getting ready to cook. I slipped in to work beside him, neither of us saying much for fear of damaging the fragile peace between us. Once the prep was done, we sat for our customary tea break.

‘I won’t be seeing much of you tomorrow, then,’ he said quietly.

‘I don’t know where we’re going, but...’

‘In that case, there’s something I want to say.’

My heart sank at his serious tone. We were already treading on eggshells. ‘Rupert, I don’t think...’

‘Please, Emmy, let me say it.’

Helpless, I nodded for him to go on.

‘I know you think I’ve been bulldozing you a bit, getting people to side with me about you coming to live out here.’

‘A bit!’ I spluttered.

‘All right. A lot. I wanted to show you that it wasn’t as hare-brained a scheme as you think.’ His brow furrowed as he sought the right words. ‘You know how much I want you to come back, so there’s no point in me going on about it. And I wouldn’t have suggested it if I didn’t think it was viable. But...’

‘But?’

‘At the end of the day, it’s your life. You should do what you want. You should follow your heart, Emmy. That’s all I want you to do.’

‘And you think my heart belongs here?’

He drained his mug and got up. ‘That’s not for me to say, is it?’