‘Keep your heart open to dreams. For as long as there’s a dream, there is hope, and as long as there is hope, there is joy in living.’
Unknown Author
From [email protected]
Subject: Not a date!
I told you it’s not a date.
This neighbour Leo is showing me around because, well … I’m not entirely sure. There are some weird undercurrents around here. I’m not sure what’s going on. And no, I don’t mean in a weird sci-fi TV show kind of way. I’m pretty sure I’m not stuck in a time warp alternate existence. Although the shops close at lunchtimes and on Sundays, the village notaire has lizard lips and I’m filled with a strong conviction that I never, ever want to leave … Oh and I forgot the morning alarm call dog and football playing donkeys. Hmm. Maybe we should re-think the sci-fi theory.
Okay, if I spot any demons or aliens I promise to let you know. Or if I die in suspicious circumstances you have my permission to sell the ‘best friend story’ to the papers. If I’m dead one of us may as well profit from it ;-)
You never know, maybe Leo is taking me up into the mountains so I can fall ‘accidentally on purpose’ to a horrible death, and then he can reclaim my house for the Dubois estate?
I’ll let you know how it went later, if I’m not lying at the bottom of a mountain ravine that is!
Love Poppy
xxx
From [email protected]
Subject: Not a date!
Or, you never know, maybe he just fancies you!
xx
P.S. Lizard lips? WTF???
So, I’m outside waiting for Leo and it’s not been the best start to the day. I couldn’t sleep, so at about three a.m. I got up to make a cup of tea and managed to drop my iPhone on the kitchen floor. The lovely old stone tiles may be authentic, but they’re also very unforgiving. My phone screen is now well and truly cracked, so it’s hard to actually read anything. I managed to cut my finger on a glass splinter when I was trying to swipe down to find out about Montsegur, a Cathar castle not far from St Quentin, so I don’t sound too ignorant if Leo takes me there.
Given I couldn’t sleep, it seemed sensible to use the time to gem up on my history. So I lay down on the bed holding the phone above me, squinting at the screen, when Peanut knocked my elbow, leaping on me a little too enthusiastically. The iPhone flew out of my hand and knocked me square in the corner of my right eye.
By early morning the cut and bruise look almost as painful as they feel. It might not have been so bad if I hadn’t later intercepted Pickwick mid-cat chase when I let the dogs out first thing.
I don’t care what Dad says, the dogs are tiny, and I don’t want them getting swiped by the talons of a creature four times their size. So I scooped Pickwick up as he leapt at the giant ginger tomcat vaulting up a tree.
Unfortunately, Pickwick’s snap, meant to be aimed the tail of the escaping feline, caught my upper lip instead as he twisted in my arms, trying to escape. By the time I got back into the house I had blood all down my t-shirt. Once Pickwick calmed down, he sat in a corner shooting me anxious looks. I know he didn’t mean to bite me, but the few choice swear words that escaped my mouth at the time obviously convinced him he was in deep trouble. I tried to reassure him, but by then my lip had started to swell and carried on swelling like a lip plumping injection gone horribly wrong. No amount of ice pack application seemed to help.
So now I’m about to go out on a non-date/maybe-a-date looking like an earthquake survivor or a domestic abuse victim. The dark shadows under my eyes from lack of sleep don’t help. It’s probably just as well Pete isn’t here because of the way gossip spreads in villages. Who’s going to believe I’ve been beaten up by an iPhone and a miniature Yorkshire terrier?
I’ve tried putting on makeup, but nothing helps, so I’ve cleaned it all off and just stuck with my usual tinted SPF moisturiser.
When Leo drives his battered SUV round to my gate and gets out, I can’t help laughing at the look of horror on his face.
“Mon dieu, Poppy, what has happened to you?” His eyes are wide, and in the sunlight I see flecks of amber in with the tones of dark brown.
It’s one of the few times his expression isn’t guarded, that I feel I’m actually meeting the real man, and it feels good. Even with the fat lip.
“I’ll tell you on the way. It’s a bit of a long story.” I shrug as though these things happen to me all the time. Unfortunately, that’s closer to the truth than I’d like. If I can injure myself with an inanimate and totally innocuous object, I will. I actually do walk into doors, usually because I’m in a world of my own.
“Okay to go in my car? I don’t want Maxi slobbering in your Mini.” Leo eyes me with concern. “Are you sure you’re okay? Your voice sounds a bit odd.”
“Yes, I’m fine.” I sigh. The swollen lip does make me slur a little. Sod it, so what. “ And yes, I’d like you to drive if that’s okay. You know the roads.”
I put a small hold-all containing a water bowl, water and other dog paraphernalia in the footwell and then attach the dogs by their harnesses onto a towel on my lap. Peanut gives Leo a regal look when he gets into the driver’s seat, as though he’s the lowly chauffeur. Treacle creeps over and gives Leo’s wrist a tentative lick, and Pickwick settles down for a snooze.
Maxi whines in the back.
“Sorry, Maxi, I can’t fit you on my lap, too,” I call back to him.
I turn to the front and see Leo frowning at my lip.
“So, who exactly has been beating you up?” There’s a tension in his voice as he puts the car in gear and backs down the lane.
“An iPhone and a miniature Yorkshire terrier. Although a cat does come into the explanation, too,” I reply.
It’s almost worth the injuries to see Leo’s jaw drop. It’s always nice when you manage to get a real reaction out of the kind of people who guard their emotions under lock and key.
After I’ve finished explaining the whole story, it takes Leo a while to stop laughing. It’s great to see him laugh. It transforms his face and gives me a glimpse of the man before the family tragedy. It’s only now I fully appreciate how much Leo is carrying – dealing with bereavement, worry about his parents’ grief and his father’s health … plus there’s probably a great deal else I don’t know about.
I remember once when I was with Gran we’d just bumped into a walking stick-wielding battle axe who almost clobbered our legs. Gran mouthed the word “pain” to me and then afterwards said you can never know what someone else is dealing with – an illness, a bereavement, a broken heart, or maybe just loneliness – you shouldn’t leap to make judgements, and you should try to meet grumpiness with kindness.
I’m ashamed I’ve been falling short of that recently, but then I haven’t exactly felt like myself either.
“Well, I’m glad my sufferings have given you some entertainment.” I raise my eyebrow, and my tone is dry, but I actually mean it. I’m glad I gave Leo a laugh. I get the impression he doesn’t do much of that nowadays.
It’s also broken the ice between us. The top layer, anyway. Who knows what icebergs still lurk beneath the surface. I know Michelle thinks I’m being suspicious because I’m suffering from low self-esteem, and maybe I am a little. When you’re rejected, of course it knocks you, unless you’re supremely confident or a sociopath maybe. The idea that someone you’ve shared your body with and entrusted with your hopes and dreams has turned around and said “Nah, no thanks” is soul-crushing.
Leo is pretty damned gorgeous, and my body has certain … reactions to him. The reactions are nothing like I’ve felt before, but it’s just powerful body chemistry.
I think.
I can’t trust it anyway. I don’t know what I can trust.
My body might be giving the green light, but my emotions are stuck on red, with only the slightest flicker to amber – “proceed with caution” – when I’m feeling confused.
I’ve just been betrayed by a man I trusted implicitly. I’m not about to launch into a relationship of any kind with a man whose motives are less than clear. The one thing I think I might be able to trust is my intuition, and it’s been sending me some pretty complex signals since I got here.
I won’t be made a fool of again. That’s assuming Leo even wanted to, well, do more than half kiss me. I turn and pretend to be immersed in the view. It’s not difficult; the rolling green hills and distant mountain tops are beautiful, and as we head towards the Pyrenees the view gets ever more spectacular. It’s not hard to let myself be absorbed.
“How much do you know about the area so far?” Leo asks, breaking into my thoughts.
“A little,” I reply cautiously. “Enough to know I want to find out more.”
“Did you know the Pyrenees were formed about five hundred million years ago?”
I shake my head. “That’s so far back I can’t begin to imagine it. I did hear there were pre-historic cave paintings in the area.”
“There are. I can point them out on the map or take you one weekend if you like. There’s a whole labyrinth of caves, underwater lakes and rivers too if you’re into that sort of thing.” Leo glances at me as if trying to gauge my interest. “Also, they found a lot of dinosaur remains and eggs near Espereza. There were a few intact skeletons, too. They fascinated me when I was younger. I kept begging to be taken back to the dinosaur museum. I think I drove my parents half mad.”
I laugh and tell him about my friend Michelle and the Shaun the Sheep DVD that has mysteriously disappeared.
“I suppose it’s a bit harder to lose a museum,” I add. I want to ask what his sister was into, but I don’t want to spoil the upbeat mood.
“True.” Leo laughs. “I think they tried to distract me by getting me to do odd jobs around the estate and vineyard in return for pocket money so I could save up for dinosaur books. As well as the museum, there’s a large archeological dig that takes on volunteers in July and August if you’re interested. If you’re going to be around then.”
His tone is diffident again. He’s fishing for information, and I can’t tell if he wants me around or gone. Well, tough. I’m here to stay.
“Why wouldn’t I be around?” I ask sharply. If he’s fishing, I’m happy to bite.
Leo shrugs and focuses hard on the road.
I sigh inwardly.
“That sounds like fun. I’d love to volunteer,” I say decisively and resist the urge to glare at him.
“I can send you the website link if you like?” Leo’s words feel like an apology of sorts. At the very least, it’s an acknowledgement he’s offended me.
I wish I could work him out, strip away the subtext and make him give me something real. Maybe I should just come right out with it and ask him directly why he’s bothering with me and what the scene with Jacques was all about.
He’s doing me a favour though, and I do want a day out. So I’ll have to follow Leo’s lead. Maybe he’ll make it obvious. Eventually.
When we get within site of Montsegur, I forget all about confronting Leo and gaze up in amazement at the castle perched so precariously high up on the mountaintop.
“How on earth did they build that castle in the first place?” I peer up, craning my neck to see it.
“I expect a lot of men died building it. Labour was cheap because labourers were dispensable.” Leo pulls into a lay-by so we can get out and have a proper look. I get the dogs out on their leads to stretch their paws and then fetch their travel bowl and water.
“Shall I give some to Maxi?” I ask Leo. “I’ve got dog treats, too.”
“I’m sure he’d appreciate that. Any human treats in that bag of yours?”
“Maybe,” I say to Leo. “If you’re a good boy.”
I hide my smile as I open the tailgate to offer Maxi some water and a dog biscuit.
When I turn back, there’s amusement dancing in Leo’s eyes, with a definite hint of flirt.
“Have I been a good boy?”
His mouth twitches, and I remember how our accidental half kiss made me feel. I can’t take my eyes off his sensuous, wide lips and the strong jaw peppered with stubble.
“I don’t know.” I make a show of deliberating, suppressing with difficulty the stirrings of desire prickling all over my skin, deep in my belly and lower still. “Do you know any tricks?”
“Plenty.” Leo’s laugh turns into a smirk
I roll my eyes and try to slow my rapid heartbeat. What would a full kiss with Leo be like? I’m guessing it would be teasing, sensual and all consuming.
I don’t want to be consumed.
Not now. Not yet.
Not ever, maybe. God, I don’t know, this is so … inconvenient. I want to be focusing on my new life. I’m not looking for a new man.
“Do I have to sit up and beg? Or are there other tricks you’d like me to do?” Leo’s grin widens, and there’s a definite hint of wickedness in his eyes. He knows the effect he’s having on me. I’m pretty sure I’m not here today because he fancies me, but his flirt gene has kicked in anyway. Probably just because I’m female; just because I’m here.
“No need,” I say hastily.
Sensing a growing heat in my cheeks, I lean over my bag and pull out a couple of cans of coke and some ham baguettes I made up this morning. I hand them over before he can be more specific about the tricks he has in mind, though he’s got my curiosity well and truly hooked now. I’m dangling on a line at his mercy, and I don’t know if I want him to free me and throw me back in or…
Peanut distracts me by trying to lick my ham baguette. I sit next to Leo on the wall next to the lay-by and we sit companionably while we eat, looking up at the castle. At some point Leo seems to have budged up closer to me so his thigh is touching mine. The touch seems to brand me in spite of the layers of his cargo style trousers and my denim skirt between us. I don’t want to break the connection. It’s compelling; magnetic even.
Is he playing with me because he can, or is he just as confused as I am?
I stare down at my feet, my leather Geox ballet pumps kicking lightly back against the wall.
“Do you want to go up into the ruin?” Leo eventually breaks the silence. “Or the other thing tourists come to see is the field where the Cathars were burnt. I don’t know if that interests you?”
I have trouble swallowing the lump of bread in my mouth. I chew and chew before I can make it go down. Then I shake my head emphatically.
“Any particular reason why not?” Leo asks, seemingly having no trouble eating while discussing human beings being burned alive for their faith.
“I have too much imagination,” I say sadly. “I know the story, or some of it at least. About how they were persecuted and burnt if they refused to recant their faith. I think if I were actually standing there on the spot I’d feel it too much. Am I making any sense?”
Leo nods, his eyes betraying understanding, reflecting a remembered sadness. “I bet you had to be careful what you watched on TV as a child.”
“Yes, if I saw something upsetting I wouldn’t sleep for weeks. I also have to be careful what I read, even now,” I admit. “An overactive imagination can be a curse. Sometimes I read a book, and when things start to go wrong for the characters I just can’t read anymore. I feel it too much. Don’t worry, I’m used to people thinking I’m weird. You won’t be the first.”
Watching Leo’s face, I see understanding as well as sadness. I wait. He’ll talk if he wants to.
“You’ve heard about my sister Madeline I expect?” Leo says eventually, staring out at the mountains. Lost in the past.
“Yes, and I’m so sorry.” My hands itch to touch Leo, to console him in some way, but I keep the hand not holding dog leads firmly in my lap.
“Her little girl Amelie was like you when it came to books. Madeline always had to read them through to the end first to check they had a happy ending, ever since Amelie cried for days when she read Charlotte’s Web. She was very sensitive. She felt too much, like you said. Once she went to a sleepover and the girls watched The Blair Witch Project. She was only eleven. She refused to go into the woods at the back of the … your house for months.”
I notice the reluctance with which he acknowledges my ownership but let it slide for now. It’s the first time he’s mentioned his sister, and the confidence is a gift. I wonder if his sister was much older than him or if she got pregnant young. The second question is hardly one I can ask.
“So, did Amelie manage to get over it?” I ask. “The woods are so beautiful at the moment. I’ve never seen so many different wildflowers. It seems a shame if the film ruined them for her.”
“In the end we went into the woods with Maxi. She trusted him to protect her.” Leo sits up suddenly and inhales sharply, unable to look at me. “Shall we carry on? We can go near Espereza if you like. Or Rennes Le Chateau…”
“To look for Cathar treasure?” I ask, smiling, understanding how much Leo needs me to change the subject so he can shut the door on his pain, on his inability to protect his niece from the car accident that robbed her of her imagination forever.
“Hey, don’t knock the treasure hunting. The Da Vinci Code and other popular fiction have done wonders for tourism.” Leo somehow manages to smile as he helps me put everything back in the car, his composure and defences seemingly locked back into place. “Or there’s Ax-les-Thermes – there’s skiing there in winter, and all year round you can go in the thermal baths. They’re worth visiting, very relaxing and famed for curing rheumatism and arthritis.”
I glance at him, but there’s no sign he knows about my condition. There’s no reason why he should. I file away the information for another day. I’ll have to check the baths out. Gran used to visit thermal baths in France and Switzerland and said they always helped reduce pain levels. I’m keen to find non-drug therapies to compliment medication once I’m forced to take that route.
“I’d definitely like to use the thermal baths. I haven’t skied before, though I wouldn’t mind learning.”
“So you plan to stay here all year then?” Leo’s voice is tightly controlled, like he’s trying to sound casual but failing badly, like earlier. “You won’t go back to England?”
“Not unless your government throws me out post-Brexit. No,” I snap.
I turn to see Peanut has climbed onto Leo’s lap and has her front paws in a perfect ten and two position on the steering wheel.
“It looks like Peanut plans on driving.” I laugh, my mood lifting.
Leo glances down, and the expression of surprise on his face makes me laugh even harder.
“How did she do that?” he asks. “I didn’t even feel her arriving.”
“It’s because she’s so light,” I explain. “Peanut’s just over two kilos, so I often find she’s arrived on my lap without me noticing. She’s a stealthy little thing, too.”
I gently lift her back onto my lap and strap her harness to my seatbelt.
“You know, a lot of expats come out here and say they never want to leave, but they do in the end when a business doesn’t take off, a relationship ends or they get ill.” Leo’s voice is strained as though knowing he’s prodding a sore spot, but he’s still determined to make his point. He won’t meet my gaze.
My jaw clenches and I accidentally bite my swollen lip, forgetting all about the injury. I squeak in pain.
Leo turns around, startled. “You’re bleeding again.”
I lean down and grab a baby wipe and then a piece of kitchen roll from my bag.
“You really are organised, aren’t you?”
“Yes, I always have what I need for the dogs anyway.” I grimace with pain as I dab my lip. “But going back to your question, I’m not ‘lots of expats.’ I’m just one individual. I know my own mind. I’ve not come out here expecting it to be one long holiday. We did … I did plan it all properly. We had the finance to transfer the outbuildings into gîte accommodation. If we were kicked out after the Brexit negotiations, we had Pete’s flat to go to back in England and could come back to use it for as long as we were allowed.”
I stare at him defiantly but expect the kitchen roll on my bleeding lip is ruining the “so sod you” effect.
Leo doesn’t reply, so I continue.
“I had things planned out. My only mistake was to trust … someone.”
I was going to say “trust a man” but don’t want to sound too embittered. Even if I am.
Just a little bit.
Leo still remains silent.
“I know I’m meant to be here. It feels right,” I declare angrily and check to see if my lip has stopped bleeding.
“Do you make all your decisions based on your feelings?” Leo asks, his own tone a little strained.
“I think we all do really, deep down, whether we admit it or not. Why have you moved back to Saint Quentin?”
“It was the right thing to do,” Leo replies simply, unfazed by my interrogation.
“You felt it was the right thing to do.” I sigh and try to express myself more clearly. “There are feelings intertwined with your thoughts and there are thoughts intertwined with my feelings,” I say. “You might think your approach is more logical and mine is more … instinctual, but really they’re just different aspects, different facets of the same thing.”
Leo doesn’t have an answer for that. I decide to shut up before I accidentally fire any more misdirected anger his way. Friendly fire. Or not-so-friendly fire, depending on how you look at it.
When we pull into another viewpoint next to a precipice on a mountain pass, I’m reminded of my jokey prophecy that he might plan to throw me into a ravine.
He gets out of the car, and I follow him with the dogs, knowing they’re likely to howl if I leave them and they can still see me. They’re all keen to discover new sniffs. I’m keen to root out more honesty; to see real, unguarded reactions from Leo.
He stands with his back to me. I wonder where we are and what the simple cross by the side of the road is in memory of. Then I glimpse the shuttered expression on Leo’s face and wonder where he is. I think I lost him with my clumsy explanations. I know I only had to say the word “feelings” to induce a look of panic from Pete and a sudden recollection that he had somewhere else to be.
I wonder if I’m focusing on all Pete’s bad points so I feel better about him being out of my life. There were plusses – affectionate companionship and enjoying the same things – but I don’t want to start thinking about the good stuff. What would be the use?
Leo points over to a distant mountain range. “That’s the Chemin de la Liberté over there. Have you heard of it?”
I nod. “Yes, I know about the people who risked their lives to help airmen, Jews and people escaping the Nazis. I can’t imagine having to escape on foot.”
So, he’s brought me here to talk about war. That seems kind of fitting.
“There were also men who used the route so they could escape to join the Free French army. That’s what my grandfather did. He was a pilot,” Leo says. “You’ll find crosses and monuments by the sides of these roads and trails to those who lost their lives in the fight. Did you know there was a second front in this area as well as the liberation force that landed in the North? American commandos parachuted in to keep the Germans occupied. You have to search hard to find the stories, but there have been a few books published. I can send you the links to the best ones if you like. You’ll find people from my parents’ generation don’t like to talk about the war. For us it’s history, but for them it’s their parents’ lives, family secrets and stories they are happy to leave buried in the past.”
He eyes me, and I wonder if he’s thinking I couldn’t bear to hear some of the stories. I already have heard some of them – during a house viewing, someone told me about a group of young boys shot because they were found playing with a radio they came across by a stream. And then there was the awful story of how the Germans strapped French villagers to the tops of their cars so that they wouldn’t be bombed. Once you’re told something like that you can’t un-know it. When you’re cursed with too much imagination, sometimes it’s better to remain in ignorance. Maybe I need someone to read to the end and censor things for me, like Madeline did for Amelie.
Thinking about them makes me sad. My anger has subsided to be replaced by a weary depression.
“I don’t know if I could’ve been as brave as the guides who helped people escape in war. I certainly couldn’t be as brave as a Cathar choosing to be burnt alive rather than recant my faith. I’m not a brave person at all.”
“Aren’t you?” Leo turns to me, and the connection when our eyes meet is both instantaneous and shocking. “I think you are very brave. You’ve moved to another country on your own. And I don’t know you well, but my parents already speak very highly of you. I am positive that you have a good heart and you wouldn’t turn away from someone who needed your help. I just can’t see you doing that.”
The current passing between us is electric, and not just sexually; there’s something else. A kind of stripping away of everything else. A bewildering sense that we have known each other forever. I wanted something real from Leo. This is real. His defence of me is so earnest I can scarcely breathe. I look out at the mountain tops, breaking eye contact but still intensely aware of the charged atmosphere between us.
“So you haven’t brought me up here today to throw me off the mountain and claim my house back for the Dubois Estate then?” I ask, while the door to the unguarded Leo is still open.
Leo places a hand lightly on my back, and I calmly turn to examine his expression and see his lips are twitching with amusement.
“See, you didn’t flinch at all. Like I said, you’re brave.” Leo laughs. “I’m not going to kill you, Poppy. I’m trying to be your … your friend.”
I take a deep breath. My heart is pounding, and not because I thought he was going to give me a shove.
“Thank you,” I say, finally. “Both for the not killing and for the friend bit.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies and laughs quietly as we head back to his car.
My mind is reeling as I get back in.
Friend.
Not a date then.