hunt.
‘Nathan not up yet?’ Rupert asked as he handed me a cup of wonderfully strong coffee.
I’d heard Nathan go downstairs before I had my shower this morning, but since I’d assumed Rupert would be up to deal with the Hendersons’ breakfast, I hadn’t worried about it.
‘Yes. Well before me,’ I answered carefully.
‘Hasn’t had any breakfast. Nor has Gloria. Hope they’re not sickening for something.’
They were pretty sickening, alright. What were those two up to? A quickie in the henhouse, maybe?
When they both came into the kitchen a few minutes later, I found myself looking for evidence of straw in their hair or chicken poop on their backs – but Gloria wasn’t at all dishevelled, and Nathan was smartly casual as usual in tailored shorts and polo shirt. Hmm.
Rupert, bless him, was as oblivious as ever. ‘Changeover day for the gîtes tomorrow,’ he announced. ‘Two to clean out, and we’re full next week so all three to get ready.’ He looked across at Gloria.
‘Madame Dupont will be here, won’t she?’ she asked defiantly.
‘Hope so, but it usually takes her and the two of us. Do you want me to ring her? See if she can get anybody to come with her tomorrow? That niece of hers might want a few euros. What do you reckon?’
For a moment, Gloria seemed distracted. Then – completely out of context, it seemed to me – she smiled.
‘Don’t worry, Rupert. I’m sure Madame Dupont and I will manage.’
‘Sure, Gloria? It’ll be hard work.’
‘We’ll be fine.’
You could have knocked me over with a chicken feather.
After breakfast, Rupert and Gloria disappeared to their quarters, leaving Nathan and me to stare at the table or floor – anywhere but each other.
‘So what’s it to be?’ My question hung between us, suspended on air thick with animosity.
‘Not here.’ He grabbed me by the elbow to steer me upstairs. It was the first time he’d touched me in days, but there was nothing loving or intimate about it.
As he pushed me indelicately into his room and closed the door, trepidation uncurled in my gut. The sun shone brightly through the window, highlighting the dust motes that danced above the dark wood furniture. I thought how quaint and pretty they made the room look.
Nathan stood with his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked slightly sick, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed. Despite the warmth in the room, my arms felt cold and goose-bumped. I rubbed them absent-mindedly.
‘Nathan?’
‘I’m leaving.’
‘Sorry?’ I looked at him blankly.
Nathan let out an exasperated sigh, as though I were a child who couldn’t understand the simplest concept. ‘For heaven’s sake, Em.’ He gestured past the bed to his open suitcase on the floor by the window, and to drive his point home, he started emptying drawers and shelves and packing his case in that neatly-folded, anal way of his.
I experienced a wave of relief that he was finally thinking along the same lines as me.
‘Thank goodness for that! Do you want to try and get a room somewhere else, or should we cut our losses and go home? I’m veering that way myself, but I think we should phone the ferry company first to make sure we can get the booking changed.’
Nathan stood across the room from me, his arms full of socks. ‘You’re not listening. I said I’m leaving. Not we. Me. And I’m not going back home. Not yet, anyway. I’m just leaving this place.’
There was a sickening pause. My heart thudded in my chest. I knew what he was going to say a split second before it came out of his mouth.
‘I’m leaving you , Emmy.’
The silence in the room was so stifling, I thought I could hear my own heartbeat, yet proof that everyday life was still going on all around us drifted in through the open window. Chickens clucking in the garden, a tractor rumbling over a nearby field, that indefinable scent of early summer: a promise of flowers and sunshine and all things sweet.
It
‘Nathan not up yet?’ Rupert asked as he handed me a cup of wonderfully strong coffee.
I’d heard Nathan go downstairs before I had my shower this morning, but since I’d assumed Rupert would be up to deal with the Hendersons’ breakfast, I hadn’t worried about it.
‘Yes. Well before me,’ I answered carefully.
‘Hasn’t had any breakfast. Nor has Gloria. Hope they’re not sickening for something.’
They were pretty sickening, alright. What were those two up to? A quickie in the henhouse, maybe?
When they both came into the kitchen a few minutes later, I found myself looking for evidence of straw in their hair or chicken poop on their backs – but Gloria wasn’t at all dishevelled, and Nathan was smartly casual as usual in tailored shorts and polo shirt. Hmm.
Rupert, bless him, was as oblivious as ever. ‘Changeover day for the gîtes tomorrow,’ he announced. ‘Two to clean out, and we’re full next week so all three to get ready.’ He looked across at Gloria.
‘Madame Dupont will be here, won’t she?’ she asked defiantly.
‘Hope so, but it usually takes her and the two of us. Do you want me to ring her? See if she can get anybody to come with her tomorrow? That niece of hers might want a few euros. What do you reckon?’
For a moment, Gloria seemed distracted. Then – completely out of context, it seemed to me – she smiled.
‘Don’t worry, Rupert. I’m sure Madame Dupont and I will manage.’
‘Sure, Gloria? It’ll be hard work.’
‘We’ll be fine.’
You could have knocked me over with a chicken feather.
After breakfast, Rupert and Gloria disappeared to their quarters, leaving Nathan and me to stare at the table or floor – anywhere but each other.
‘So what’s it to be?’ My question hung between us, suspended on air thick with animosity.
‘Not here.’ He grabbed me by the elbow to steer me upstairs. It was the first time he’d touched me in days, but there was nothing loving or intimate about it.
As he pushed me indelicately into his room and closed the door, trepidation uncurled in my gut. The sun shone brightly through the window, highlighting the dust motes that danced above the dark wood furniture. I thought how quaint and pretty they made the room look.
Nathan stood with his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked slightly sick, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down when he swallowed. Despite the warmth in the room, my arms felt cold and goose-bumped. I rubbed them absent-mindedly.
‘Nathan?’
‘I’m leaving.’
‘Sorry?’ I looked at him blankly.
Nathan let out an exasperated sigh, as though I were a child who couldn’t understand the simplest concept. ‘For heaven’s sake, Em.’ He gestured past the bed to his open suitcase on the floor by the window, and to drive his point home, he started emptying drawers and shelves and packing his case in that neatly-folded, anal way of his.
I experienced a wave of relief that he was finally thinking along the same lines as me.
‘Thank goodness for that! Do you want to try and get a room somewhere else, or should we cut our losses and go home? I’m veering that way myself, but I think we should phone the ferry company first to make sure we can get the booking changed.’
Nathan stood across the room from me, his arms full of socks. ‘You’re not listening. I said I’m leaving. Not we. Me. And I’m not going back home. Not yet, anyway. I’m just leaving this place.’
There was a sickening pause. My heart thudded in my chest. I knew what he was going to say a split second before it came out of his mouth.
‘I’m leaving you , Emmy.’
The silence in the room was so stifling, I thought I could hear my own heartbeat, yet proof that everyday life was still going on all around us drifted in through the open window. Chickens clucking in the garden, a tractor rumbling over a nearby field, that indefinable scent of early summer: a promise of flowers and sunshine and all things sweet.
It
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