Klein. What would I want with J-Lo? Am I that vulgar? Stop spending your money on it. I know you only get it because it’s in the airport shop.’
Hugh looked at her anxiously. ‘Sorry. I thought one was expected to buy one’s wife perfume at duty free. Clinton does, I’m sure. Chocolates better?’
Olly looked up from his elaborate aeroplane game. ‘Chocolate?’ he echoed, hopefully.
Jo smiled. ‘Chocolates would be better. Nothing would be fine. And whatever Clinton does to make his wife happy, he does it because he’s always got something to hide.’
Hugh nodded and kicked his shoes into the corner. ‘I won’t get you anything then,’ he said lightly. ‘It’s nice to be back.’
Chapter Four
It was pitch black and extraordinarily cold when I went to bed. I could hear the noises of the night outside. Owls screeched. Trees rustled in the wind. Creatures I could not imagine made other-worldly sounds. The building creaked and a shutter blew back and forth, crashing into the front of the house. For a moment I considered going outside to fasten it closed, but the idea was unbearable.
I was used to sleeping alone, since Matt had always travelled with his work. I was used to sharing a bed with Alice, from time to time. I was not, however, accustomed to sleeping on a blow-up bed in a foreign country, particularly not while trying to compute the fact that I was at ‘home’. I could not close my mind. Sleep seemed further away than it had ever seemed before.
It was one in the morning. I was dreading the day ahead. I wanted to keep the doors locked, the shutters closed, until Wednesday. I wanted to hide away with Alice and do nothing. Alice, of course, was two. She did not countenance the concept of inactivity. We had immense amounts to do. I did not want to do any of it. I cringed at the thought of going into St Paul, the local town five minutes’ drive away, because I knew that everybody would look on me as a strange foreigner, an interloper. I did not know anybody and I could not bear the idea of being the object of scrutiny. I lay in our bare sitting room, watching the embers of the fire glowing gently in the blackness, and repeated my mantra under my breath.
‘I want to go home,’ I murmured to myself. ‘I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.’ I must have drifted off to sleep muttering this phrase, and I woke up, at half past four, still whispering it. This project was far too big for me. Matt was only going to be with me for half of the time. I had to be able to live here on my own.
I ran through the tasks I needed to accomplish later that day. I needed to buy a cheap, second-hand car. A Renault, Citroën or Peugeot. For now I was driving a hire car, at vast expense, because Matt had taken our English car to the airport. I needed to go to the school and explain who we were, and ask whether they were willing and able to take in a displaced English toddler and teach her French. I needed to find the local supermarket and do a proper shop, not just a bitty one. The electricity was working now, but the heating was not. I thought the fuel tank was empty. I needed to call the people to sort it out, but first I needed to find a way of making myself intelligible on the phone. Someone had rung up the previous day and I had been unable to understand a word he was saying. Matt and Alice had been out looking for swings and slides and other children. I’d had no idea what to do. I was mortified. I ended up gently placing the receiver down on the floor and walking away from it, blinking back tears of frustration. Half an hour later, I went back to it. It was emitting a shrill shriek. I hung it up.
I was going to have to conquer my stultifying reluctance and do all these things. I knew I had no other option.
Part of me wanted to become a two-year-old again, to stamp my feet and refuse to do anything. I don’t want to do it. So I won’t do it. That was how it worked for Alice. I longed to pack
Hugh looked at her anxiously. ‘Sorry. I thought one was expected to buy one’s wife perfume at duty free. Clinton does, I’m sure. Chocolates better?’
Olly looked up from his elaborate aeroplane game. ‘Chocolate?’ he echoed, hopefully.
Jo smiled. ‘Chocolates would be better. Nothing would be fine. And whatever Clinton does to make his wife happy, he does it because he’s always got something to hide.’
Hugh nodded and kicked his shoes into the corner. ‘I won’t get you anything then,’ he said lightly. ‘It’s nice to be back.’
Chapter Four
It was pitch black and extraordinarily cold when I went to bed. I could hear the noises of the night outside. Owls screeched. Trees rustled in the wind. Creatures I could not imagine made other-worldly sounds. The building creaked and a shutter blew back and forth, crashing into the front of the house. For a moment I considered going outside to fasten it closed, but the idea was unbearable.
I was used to sleeping alone, since Matt had always travelled with his work. I was used to sharing a bed with Alice, from time to time. I was not, however, accustomed to sleeping on a blow-up bed in a foreign country, particularly not while trying to compute the fact that I was at ‘home’. I could not close my mind. Sleep seemed further away than it had ever seemed before.
It was one in the morning. I was dreading the day ahead. I wanted to keep the doors locked, the shutters closed, until Wednesday. I wanted to hide away with Alice and do nothing. Alice, of course, was two. She did not countenance the concept of inactivity. We had immense amounts to do. I did not want to do any of it. I cringed at the thought of going into St Paul, the local town five minutes’ drive away, because I knew that everybody would look on me as a strange foreigner, an interloper. I did not know anybody and I could not bear the idea of being the object of scrutiny. I lay in our bare sitting room, watching the embers of the fire glowing gently in the blackness, and repeated my mantra under my breath.
‘I want to go home,’ I murmured to myself. ‘I want to go home. I want to go home. I want to go home.’ I must have drifted off to sleep muttering this phrase, and I woke up, at half past four, still whispering it. This project was far too big for me. Matt was only going to be with me for half of the time. I had to be able to live here on my own.
I ran through the tasks I needed to accomplish later that day. I needed to buy a cheap, second-hand car. A Renault, Citroën or Peugeot. For now I was driving a hire car, at vast expense, because Matt had taken our English car to the airport. I needed to go to the school and explain who we were, and ask whether they were willing and able to take in a displaced English toddler and teach her French. I needed to find the local supermarket and do a proper shop, not just a bitty one. The electricity was working now, but the heating was not. I thought the fuel tank was empty. I needed to call the people to sort it out, but first I needed to find a way of making myself intelligible on the phone. Someone had rung up the previous day and I had been unable to understand a word he was saying. Matt and Alice had been out looking for swings and slides and other children. I’d had no idea what to do. I was mortified. I ended up gently placing the receiver down on the floor and walking away from it, blinking back tears of frustration. Half an hour later, I went back to it. It was emitting a shrill shriek. I hung it up.
I was going to have to conquer my stultifying reluctance and do all these things. I knew I had no other option.
Part of me wanted to become a two-year-old again, to stamp my feet and refuse to do anything. I don’t want to do it. So I won’t do it. That was how it worked for Alice. I longed to pack
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