‘Hold fast to dreams, for if dreams die, life is a broken-winged bird that cannot fly.’
Langston Hughes
Daydream Designs – Poppy’s blog
It seems like ages since I last blogged. I’ve been so busy settling into my new house, meeting villagers and exploring the area that I haven’t had the time, sorry!
If you’ve never been to this part of the world, you are really missing out. We get three hundred days a year of sunshine, poppy fields in spring and sunflower fields in the summer. If you’re a history buff, there’s everything from ancient dinosaur skeletons to Cathar castles. There are plenty of vineyards for the wine buffs, too.
If you look at the photos of my journal I’ve posted, you’ll see some of the places I’ve visited recently.
If outdoorsy activities are your thing, there are underground lakes and caves and the Pyrenees for skiing in winter or mountain biking and hiking in the summer.
If I sound like a tourist brochure, it’s because I’ve truly fallen in love with the Languedoc. I feel like I’ve come home.
Sadly, my other half didn’t feel the same way, so it’s just me and the dogs living the daydream. I don’t regret it, and from the way the dogs tear around the garden after each other I don’t think they regret it either. The chihuahuas love to sunbathe, and I’m not missing the battle of getting them to go out for walks in the rain back in England and trying to wrestle them into their raincoats.
I’ve added a sketch of them sunbathing here. I’m sketching the dogs more often lately, and the donkeys in the field next door, too. I never realised how much character donkeys have. I actually saw them playing with a football that had been left in the field. I thought I might be hallucinating, but I checked with their owner and she said they love kicking it around.
We visited Carcassonne the other day – I‘ve posted a watercolour sketch here. It‘s a truly magical place, supposedly the inspiration for Walt Disney‘s Sleeping Beauty castle. In high season there are regular jousting displays. I’m a secret history buff and love stories about ancient treasure so was excited to find out a sack of gold coins was discovered buried in the walls of the chateau in my new village.
I’ve got a few new exciting projects brewing. I promise to keep you posted :-)
Within minutes, there are lots of comments on my blog post saying how sorry they are that I’m single now. Well, the women commenters are sorry. As for the men, I’ve had a few, er, interesting proposals from a couple of them, including one love poem and three offers of marriage, so I’ve had to block a few people and disable comments on the post.
It’s so frustrating that I write loads about how much I love my new home and the one thing people pick out to comment on is Pete dumping me. Why do people always fixate on the bad stuff? I’ve always wished there were a news programme that only reported on good news stories. It would balance out the bias towards the negative.
I’ve been successfully avoiding Leo since the date/no date of doom. I’m still giving Maxi treats in the morning but make sure I’m back in bed before Leo goes for his walk. I haven’t taken him up his invitation to join them for the morning walks, or to get a tour of the chateau, which is hard. I really, really want to see around the chateau.
I just can’t bear to take him up on an offer that was only made to soften me up before he asked The Question. At least, I think it was. I keep going over our conversations in my head and replaying the way he looked at me. It’s hard to accept I was being manipulated, that it was all a lie. It felt like the real deal. For the first time in my life, I’ve discovered why everyone makes such a fuss about love.
Now I know why. It’s because love sucks. You’re utterly helpless, in the grip of what the French call a coup de foudre – a bolt of lightning. One minute you’re soaring in the air, like a kite caught by the wind. Then the next minute you’re brought crashing back down to the earth with a bump.
Love sucks. You’re at the mercy of your lover. Unrequited love, though, that’s far worse. You’re at the mercy of someone who doesn’t give a damn.
I’m avoiding Leo not just because I feel betrayed but because I can’t bear the way my body reacts to him, or the hollow yearning that seeing him opens up inside me. I feel ashamed, and I’m afraid he knew full well I was hoping he would kiss me in the car that night. He’s experienced enough to recognise the signs of attraction. He must’ve known the effect he was having on me.
Instead of obsessing about Leo, I’ve been working on a plan for decorating the house and creating a budget. I’ve also nearly finished the work for the next Fenella Fairy book and started on some donkey sketches. It’s amazing what you can achieve if you give up sleeping. Because when I go to bed I think of Leo, and that’s when a teeny tiny bit of obsession kicks in.
Since I met Leo it’s like I’m on heat. Just thinking about his leg pressed up against mine or his thumb tracing circles on my palm triggers, ahem, interesting sensations. So, I have to steer clear of him. He wants me gone, he’s made that clear, and seeing him only feeds the obsession and interesting sensations. I’m worried I might throw myself at him anyway. What if he’d planned to sleep with me to soften me up? My body screams at me that I wouldn’t mind that. That if I could sleep with him just once then I’d get him out of my system and be happy.
That’s a lie though. I know myself too well – I’d just feel used and then wouldn’t be able to block out the knowledge that I’m opening myself up to someone who wants me to get out of his life.
After Pete, my self-respect is at a pretty low ebb already. How can I trust my judgment with men after two such spectacular fails?
I’m focusing on work, but the comments on the blog have dragged me down today. I think I need to speak to someone with two legs instead of four for the sake of my sanity.
I’ve been in touch with Sophie, and she’s going to meet me at the village café for lunch. I think I’ll treat myself to a nice tarte framboise as well as a Parisien baguette, which is basically a ham sandwich, but an extremely nice one. Anya makes all the cakes, and her pastry is to die for – with the raspberry tart, the sweet custard contrasts with the sharp raspberries in a way that sends my tastebuds into a state of bliss. After a morning of “poor you, how will you cope on your own?” comments, I need a pick-me-up.
It’s a beautifully sunny day. A pleasant breeze sends a few puffy white clouds scudding across the sky and rustles the long grass and wildflowers. The dogs are excited about the outing. They know a trip to the café means fuss and probably a few titbits from Anya, as well as any ham they can bribe out of my baguette. If they had their way, I’d be eating a plain butter baguette.
Sophie is waiting for me at an outside table. Anya has already brought out a bowl of water for the dogs, anticipating their arrival. That simple gesture makes me feel like maybe I’m starting to be a part of this village.
I sit down, and the dogs crowd around Sophie’s ankles. She makes a huge fuss of them and produces a chew each for them from her handbag.
“That’s really sweet of you.” I smile at Sophie. “Bribery will buy you undying loyalty. But, to be fair, the dogs already liked you before you gave them anything, so it’s not just cupboard love.”
“Cupboard love? Ah, I understand. They are lovely dogs, so happy. That shows what a great job you have done in rescuing them.”
“Oh, I haven’t done much really, just loved them.”
“Oh, I think you’ve done a lot more than that. From what you say of their histories, they have come a long way, and I like spoiling them.” Sophie smiles. “I wish I could have a dog, but I couldn’t leave it at home alone.”
“If your dog got on with my lot you could leave him with me, like a kind of doggy crèche.” I lean back in my chair and enjoy the sunshine warming me through, mellowing me.
“That would be great if you’re serious?” Sophie looks hopeful.
“I don’t see why not.” I give it some serious thought. “Four wouldn’t be much different from three, especially if they get on okay. If you got a puppy or an older dog that might work, as hopefully none of my lot would feel threatened.”
Sophie beams. “That would be wonderful, Poppy. But how are you? You look very tired. Are you still not sleeping?”
“A couple of hours a night.” I sigh.
Anya comes out at this point and puts food on our table. She’s given me what I always order, and I like that she’s remembered.
“And something for the dogs.” Anya presents me with a saucer with some sliced roast beef on it.
“Thanks, Anya, that’s really kind of you.”
Once she’s gone, Sophie eyes me speculatively.
“So, how did it go with Leo? You went out for the day, yes?” she asks, arching perfectly plucked eyebrows. “You haven’t given me a full account. Your text message was not very informative.”
“It was a … complicated day.” I grimace, trying to decide how much I’m going to say.
“I see. Somehow I’m not surprised. Leo is complicated, and so, I think, are you.” Sophie takes a sip of her sparkling water.
“Really?” I take a bite of my ham baguette and chew thoughtfully. It’s always nice to talk to Michelle on the phone, but getting Sophie’s opinion is invaluable given she actually knows Leo.
“He is still grieving for Madeline and Amelie,” she adds softly. “You know you mentioned before that he keeps asking how long you plan to stay, yes?”
“He wants to buy the house back. He wants me gone.” I say bleakly, staring down at the table, blinking back the hot tears pressing at the backs of my eyes.
“I think he’s confused Poppy. It is not that simple.” Sophie’s tone is gentle.
I look around to check no villagers are within earshot. There’s a girl with long white blonde hair in a ponytail and sunglasses at the next table, but I think she’s a tourist; I’m sure I heard her ordering a coffee in English, and I haven’t seen her before.
“What do you mean, Sophie?” I frown.
“Leo has already suffered so much loss recently. And now his father is ill. Perhaps the idea that he may lose another family member is on his mind.” Sophie keeps her voice down. “Also, maybe a part of Leo is so desperate to get Les Coquelicots back because he feels like he might be getting part of his sister back.”
I nod, feeling choked. What she says makes sense.
“I think that Leo is afraid to become attached to you because you might go back to England and then he will have even more loss to deal with.”
“I didn’t think of it like that.” I stare at Sophie, internally replaying everything Leo has said and done. It all fits, and I feel awful.
“That is because you are still dealing with the fact that your ex-boyfriend deceived you, and you don’t know any longer who to trust.” Sophie’s tone is still gentle. “You do not know Leo very well yet, but I do. I have known the Dubois family for years, so it means I can have a different perspective.”
I swallow down my emotions with difficulty.
“Are you my fairy godmother by any chance?” I manage a weak smile. I picture Sophie as one of Fenella’s fellow fairy friends and get the urge to draw her as a fairy.
“It is easy to be wise for other people.” Sophie shrugs. “With my own problems I am not so, what is the word? Insightful. I would love to be a fairy godmother to your dogs though. It would be easy to grant them wishes. I got a whole pack of chews from the supermarket.”
She pats her bag, and I laugh, just managing not to teeter over the thin line dividing laughter and tears.
“They’d love that, too.” I look under the table. They are all still chewing on their treats. Maybe I’ll get through the rest of my raspberry tart without having to give a raspberry to Peanut. I swear she’s part fruit bat. I still haven’t come across a fruit or vegetable she doesn’t like. Can you believe she even likes broccoli?
Sophie grins and takes another bite of her omelette.
“So, how about you? Do you have a boyfriend?” I decide it’s time to turn the tables on Sophie.
“I have a ‘sometimes boyfriend.’ We are always breaking up and then getting back together again. The make-up sex is good, I’ll say that for him.” She shrugs. “But you will not change the subject so easily. I wanted you to know that Leo is a good man. Don’t write him off. What do your instincts say?”
“That he likes me, too but doesn’t know what to do about it.” As I speak, I realise it’s what I believe, at least when I’m not being paranoid. Maybe I’ve been too hard on him. I need to think like Sophie; to see things from different viewpoints and not make assumptions.
“If it is meant to happen, then it will.” Sophie tucks a wisp of auburn hair behind her ear. My own wavy hair is all over the place with the breeze, but I know Sophie will still look perfect when she walks back to her office. I think her “sometimes boyfriend” must be an idiot.
“Has Jacques ever tried it on with you?” I ask, getting stuck into my raspberry tart with relish.
“Oh yes, but of course. I got my ‘sometimes boyfriend’ to pick me up from work one day.” Sophie grins. “He is in the army, and he has very big muscles. Funnily enough, Jacques has never bothered me since.”
I notice the girl at the next table smile.
“Are you English?” I turn to her and ask.
“Yes, I’m … travelling. Taking some time out.” She smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”
“It is okay. The tables are very close, you could hardly help but overhear. No problem.” Sophie smiles graciously. “I’m Sophie, and this is Poppy.’
“I’m Joanna.” The blonde girl smiles and takes her sunglasses off. I see dark shadows under her eyes and recognise another insomniac. She seems fidgety and anxious, but maybe it’s my imagination, because after she searches our faces she seems to relax and the tension leaves her face.
“You don’t know if there’s any work going around here, do you? Maybe here at the café. Do you know the owner?” Joanna bites her lip.
“I don’t think that Jacob and Anya employ extra help,” Sophie says, eyes crinkling with concern at the girl’s obvious distress. “I’ve never known them to anyway, and there’s nowhere else in the village.”
“Oh.” Joanna’s face crumples. “I was hoping to get some live-in hotel work or any job that came with accommodation. I thought I’d planned things out financially so I had a big safety buffer to pay for a B&B for a month or so if I couldn’t find work, but with the pound crashing against the euro all of a sudden my carefully prepared budget looks like pure fantasy.”
I’m moved by a powerful surge of empathy for a fellow Englishwoman alone in France and feeling stressed. An idea pops into my mind, but it seems a little crazy.
“She might have better luck in Carcassonne maybe?” I suggest.
“Maybe,” Sophie replies doubtfully. “But then if she doesn’t get work the accommodation is more expensive there.”
“I was hoping to stay away from cities and get a taste of rural life. It’s a bit of a cliché, but I need to get away from it all for a bit.” Joanna sighs. “I don’t suppose there’s a B&B in the village I could stay at? I’ve enough to pay for accommodation for a few days or maybe a week, as long as it’s not anywhere really expensive. I’m tired of driving, and this feels like a nice, peaceful place.”
I catch Sophie’s eye and know she’s reading my thoughts. I raise an enquiring eyebrow and she shrugs a “why not” response. It’s nice to be able to communicate with her so easily. It’s as though we’ve been friends for ages.
“Well, I was thinking, this is a bit mad, but I’m planning to do up my house to turn it into a B&B,” I say carefully. “I couldn’t charge you for staying because I’m not registered or certified or whatever it is I need to be. I don’t know how you feel about decorating, but I am going to need some help, if you’re not set on finding café work. I might not be able to pay much, but you’d get bed and board. Is that something that might interest you? We could have a trial period, see if it works out.”
“Would you really do that for me?” Joanna’s eyes are wide.
“Well, you’d be doing it for me, actually. There is one condition though.”
“What’s that then?” She frowns, anxiety creeping back into her expression.
I smile and gesture beneath the table. “Must like dogs.”
From [email protected]étérinaire-saint-quentin-sur-aude
Subject: I fucked up
Yes, I suppose you’re right, as usual! I know Brad and I usually tune out when you start the psychobabble, but in this case you might have a point. Maybe I convinced myself that my motives for spending time with Poppy were to look out for her and keep Jacques away but really, deep down, I just wanted to be with her.
The timing is off for both of us though.
Even if Poppy ever does forgive me for being crass, she’s getting over a break-up. Not that there’s any sign of forgiveness on the horizon – she’s still acting like I’m invisible.
And I’ve got a lot I’m still dealing with, too. I know you said I should see a bereavement counsellor to sort my crap out, but that’s your way of dealing with things, Sarah, not mine.
I can almost hear you in my head saying I’m coming up with excuses about Poppy because I’m afraid to expose myself to the risk of more loss. See, you don’t even need to email me because you’re in my head!
And you’d be right, that is a factor. I am afraid if I get close to Poppy she’ll go back to the UK and then I’ll have even more emotional crap to deal with. It’s not like I can just sleep with her to get it out of my system. Firstly, we’re neighbours, at least for the time being, so it could get awkward. But also this ‘thing’ between us, whatever it is, is far too intense to be a casual, no-strings affair. Poppy isn’t a no-strings kind of girl anyway. She deserves more, and I don’t think I have any more to give.
Leo