L'amour Actually (36 page)

  As I watched them drive away, it suddenly occurred to me that if they had managed to get into the hamlet then the road must be passable. Julien would surely be around soon. I ran my hands through my greasy hair and sighed, wondering how I could manage to wash it. Quickly throwing on some clothes, I jumped into my car to drive down and check out the situation. Sure enough, the floodwaters had gone down dramatically. The valley was still flooded but it looked as if the road might be passable in the right vehicle, which wasn't, sadly, my aged
bagnole
. I turned round, feeling even more despondent, and headed back up to Les Tuileries.

  As I turned into the drive, I saw Martine standing on my doorstep. I parked the car and got out, calling
'bonjour'
to my neighbour. As soon as Martine turned round, the look on her face told me that something was wrong. Very wrong.

  I stopped mid-stride. 'What it is Martine? Is it Laure? Is everything OK?'

  'Could we go inside? Please?'

  'Well yes, of course. I'm sorry I look such a sight but four days without washing my hair…' I led Martine into the lounge.

  She took my hand and led me to the sofa. Basil jumped up onto my lap and started kneading me with his little paws. My hand slipped down to stroke him.

  'Please, Martine, what is it? You're making me nervous.'

  'There's been an accident.'

  I felt my blood run cold. 'What accident? Who? Not Julien?' I shook my head as if to rid myself of such a ridiculous idea. Martine watched me with tired, sad eyes.

  'A fire. A barn was struck by lightning during the storm. He went to help…'

  'No, stop. Don't say anything more. Please, not Julien. I couldn't stand it.' Huge tears spilled over and ran down my cheeks. I felt sick. 'Is he…?'

  'No, he's not dead but he has been badly hurt. I'm so sorry.'

  'No, it's not Julien. It can't be. How could you know anyway? The phone lines are down and there's no mobile signal. How could you possibly know? Anyway, it might be Louis, I mean, they are so difficult to tell apart.'

  My voice was desperate as I twisted the sleeves of my jumper into tight knots. Even the kitten had fallen silent, sensing something wrong.

  Martine pulled me towards her, wrapping her arms around me.

  'I'm so sorry but it is Julien. Louis came over earlier to tell me. He couldn't face telling you himself.'

  'I have to go to him, Martine. Where is he?'

  'He's in the clinic in Villeneuve but I don't think you should go, not today at least.'

  'I have to, Martine. I have to.' I could feel panic rising like a tsunami in the pit of my stomach. 'Please, Martine, will you take me?'

  'Are you sure?'

  'Yes please,' I whispered, my voice barely audible.

  'OK, but you can't go looking like that. I have a generator arriving shortly. Come up to my house in half an hour and you can have a shower and clean yourself up. Will you be OK?'

  I nodded numbly. Martine hugged me, then took my shoulders and looked hard at me. 'You must be brave,
ma biche
.'

  I nodded again, unable to speak. 'I'll see you later, yes?'

  As the door closed behind me, I slumped down on the sofa. My mind raced. Was he in pain? Was he conscious? I imagined the worst possible scenarios. Life without Julien. How could I survive? I had not realised until that moment how completely and totally I had fallen in love with him. Hot tears ran down my face relentlessly but I didn't even have the will to wipe them away. They dropped in my lap, wetting my clothes. Basil climbed back onto my lap, mewling to me but I couldn't even lift a hand to stroke him. My heartache was a physical pain but with it came a numbness that made even the slightest thing a titanic effort.

  I had no idea how long I had been sitting there but suddenly the need to see Julien became so acute that it was all I could do to stop myself running up the road to Martine's. I went into the bedroom and grabbed some clean clothes and then ran as fast as I could all the way to Martine's.

  Laure opened the door and stood back to let me in, her own eyes red-rimmed from crying. She touched my face gently. 'He will be fine. I know it. He is strong and he has much to live for.'

  I tried to smile at her but my strength failed me. Martine came and took my arm, leading me to the bathroom and handed me a pile of towels that had been warming on the kitchen range.

  'Take these. There is shampoo in the bathroom.'

  I nodded and took them.

  As the scalding water pounded my body, I washed my hair and scrubbed my body, removing the dirt of the past few days. I wanted to look perfect for Julien when I got to the hospital.

  After the shower, I sat in front of the dressing table mirror in Martine's bedroom, as she gently combed out my hair then dried it while I sat there staring blindly ahead of me, crying silently.

  Laure came in and started to speak but Martine shook her head and spoke to her softly in French. She turned and quietly left the room.

  Finally dressed, Martine led me out to the car, opening the door and guiding me in. I had barely uttered a word since my arrival. She reached across and took my hand and I squeezed it, grateful for the human contact and only letting go when Martine had to change gear.

  'I, I don't know how bad…' she stopped mid-sentence. After a few moments she spoke again.

  'You must be brave. Whatever you have to face, you can get through it. You are a strong woman. You gave up your comfortable life to come and live in a country you barely knew. You left behind your friends and your family. You are resourceful. You can overcome this.'

  I looked at her and smiled. 'Thank you, Martine. Thank you for being here.'

  I looked ahead and the dark clouds of despair that had engulfed me earlier descended once again.

  At the hospital Martine took charge, finding out where Julien was and leading me down the maze of corridors until we found him. Louis was standing in the waiting room, leaning against the wall, his head hanging. He looked up as we arrived. 'How is he, Louis?' I asked, my voice breaking. 'What happened?'

  Louis looked exhausted. He ran his hands through his hair as tears welled up in his eyes. 'There was a fire in a barn on the farm next to us. We were trying to put it out but the roof collapsed. Julien was hit by a beam. He has some burns to his back, they are not serious, but he also has a head injury. He will live but…'

  'Where is he?'

  'He's in the room at the end,' he told me, pointing down the corridor.

  'Thank God,' I said. It felt as if a curtain of despondency was being pulled aside to let some hope in. I went to pass Louis but he grabbed my arm.

  'There's something I need to say…'

  'Let me pass, Louis,' I said, twisting out of his grip.

  'Please, wait a moment,' something in his voice made me stop, 'this is not the right time.'

  'I have to see him, Louis, please don't try to stop me.' I walked towards the door of Julien's room, stopping to look through the window to prepare myself for what lay ahead. It was an image I would never forget. Jo, the girl I had met at line dancing, the one who had told me all about her fiancé, sat at Julien's bedside, holding his hand to her cheek. A sudden stillness descended on me. I paused for a moment then turned back, pushing past Louis and Martine who were blocking my way.

  Martine raced after me. She caught up with me by the car.

  'It all makes sense now,' I cried bitterly. Everything was falling into place. The way Louis treated me; the hostility of Julien's friends; his absences which he had told me were because of the harvest but which just so happened to coincide with Jo's visit. Maybe even Tracey's strange behaviour.

  'So, his childhood sweetheart?'

  'Don't.'

  'Don't what exactly, Martine? Don't worry, there's plenty more fish in the sea? Don't torture yourself with the fact that the man you love is actually engaged to someone else and nobody told you?' An irrational anger was starting to replace the shock I had been feeling.

  'Why didn't you tell me? I feel so stupid.'

  Martine was silent.

  Eventually she sighed, 'I tried to, many times, but you were not ready to listen. Anyway, Jo had been away for nearly three years. I didn't know how strong their relationship was. For all I knew, he planned to leave her and be with you. It was not my place to say. It was Julien's to be honest with you.'

  'Ha! What would he know about honesty? I hope… I hope…'

  'No you don't,' Martine put my hand on my arm. 'Come on. Let's go home.'

  We travelled home in silence, Martine occasionally glancing anxiously at me. I stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the road.

  We turned into Les Tuileries and she stopped in front of the cottage. I got out of the car and, without a backward glance, ran to the front door, slamming it behind me. Inside, the tears that I had tried to keep at bay on the way home from the hospital started to fall. I leaned against the door, then slid down to sit on the floor, sobbing as if my heart would break. It was broken. I was sure of it.

I stood in the Arrivals hall at the little airport. It was the first time I had been back to it since my own arrival eight months before. The naive young woman who had stepped off that plane in a pair of ridiculous heels was long gone, replaced by someone who was more down-to-earth, far less bothered by material possessions. I had swapped handbags for hens and could split logs like a lumberjack. I had the callouses on my hands to prove it. And my heart really had been broken. Six weeks after that fateful day, Julien was out of hospital having made a remarkable recovery from his head injury. He had tried to contact me, leaving messages and texts asking if he could come over and talk to me, but I had ignored them. Eventually he had given up. I heard on the grapevine that Jo had been far from happy when the truth of Julien's relationship with me had come out, but had decided to stand by her man.

  The loss of Julien was like a yawning gap in my life. I felt it like a raw, open wound in the fabric of my being, like a part of me was missing. I had loved him completely and without compromise. It was something I had never felt before and which I wondered if I would ever feel again. Even all these weeks later, the sense of loss was huge and overwhelming.

  'Hey!' called a familiar voice. I looked up to see Charlotte waving madly from the passport queue. I smiled, more pleased to see her than I ever thought. I had missed my best friend and been so wrapped up in my new life that I had neglected the people in my old one. I wondered whether it was too late to try and rebuild those friendships.

  After a few minutes she came flying through the doors from customs, flinging her arms round me and hugging me hard.

  She let me go and held me at arm's length, studying me closely.

  'Well you look like shit, don't you?'

  'Ah, thanks, I love you too.'

  She hugged me again. 'God I've missed you.'

  I felt my eyes start to mist over.

  'I've missed you too. More than you'll ever know. It's so good to see you.'

  I released her from my embrace. 'Come on, let's get going. I've got so much to tell you. I can't wait to show you Les Tuileries... I did mention about the toilet, didn't I?'

  In no time we were pulling into the gravel drive.

  'Well... what do you think?' I asked as we stopped outside the cottage.

  Charlotte was quiet for a moment. 'It's a bit remote, isn't it?'

  My heart sank. I had so wanted my best friend to see the beauty of the cottage and understand why I loved it so much here.

  'Obviously you're not seeing it at its best. It's glorious in the summer. Come on, let's get inside.'

  'Yes please, its bloody freezing! I thought the South of France would be warmer than this in winter.'

  'South west,' I corrected, 'there's a world of difference.'

  Charlotte unloaded her bags from the boot of the car while I unlocked the cottage. 'Ta dah!' I said, throwing the door wide open. 'Come on in.'

  I did the guided tour of the cottage, studiously avoiding the bathroom facilities – there'd be enough time to face that little trauma. Sadly though, not quite as much time as I had hoped.

  'I'm bursting for a pee. Is this the bathroom?' asked Charlotte, pushing open the only door that had remained closed during my tour of the estate. Won't be a minute.'

  I went back to the lounge to wait for the explosion. I didn't have to wait long.

  'Jesus bloody Christ, someone's nicked your toilet,' she called from the bathroom.