Page 56 of The Riviera House Swap

‘Hang on,’ she’d said, trying to give the impression of someone also racking her brain. ‘You’re not… is it Pierre Dupont?’

‘Yes!’ he’d said excitedly. ‘That is me!’

‘Oh my goodness!’ she’d feigned. ‘I never imagined you’d still be living here! I just… I remembered the great time I’d had hereand wanted to visit the town again. But…’ she trailed off under his intense gaze.

‘But we found each other. Perhaps just by chance, by our love of pétanque,’ he’d smiled.

‘Um, yes.’

He’d reached up his hand that until that moment had been tucked in his pocket and brushed her hair slightly from her face. ‘And you look just the same,’ he’d said. ‘If not, even more beautiful.’

She’d felt her face get hot. ‘So do you,’ she said. ‘Look the same, I mean.’

Then it was his turn to throw his boules. It was almost painful waiting for him to return. But as soon as he’d thrown his – remarkably accurate – shots, he’d been back at her side. ‘We must catch up!’ he said. ‘I do not remember why we did not keep talking all those years ago.’

She decided not to fill him in on the fact that, she supposed, she’d ghosted him, although at the time, it wouldn’t have been called that. ‘Uh huh,’ she’d said, as if for her, too, the reason she hadn’t come to him had been lost in the mists of time.

‘You are single?’ he said, nodding towards her left hand. ‘Or are you here with your husband or boyfriend, perhaps?’

‘No,’ she’d said. ‘I mean, no husband, no boyfriend.’

It seemed almost too easy. His asking her that upfront so early on in their conversation. As if he wasn’t afraid of revealing his hand. Of revealing that he was still interested even after all these years. ‘And you?’ she asked, emboldened by his courage.

He’d held up his hand. ‘No ring, sadly,’ he’d said. ‘Perhaps, as they say, I have been waiting for the right person.’ And he’d held her gaze long enough for her to feel a quiver inside.

Then it had been her turn to throw boules. And she’d completely lost any semblance of an aim she’d had – one of her throws ended up on another court. But although it had beenembarrassing, it hadn’t mattered. He was here, he remembered her and, in some ways, it was as if she’d never left him.

She’d hoped he might stay afterwards, ask her for lunch or a drink or to walk somewhere, but he’d had to go. But not before he’d arranged for them to meet for an evening meal the next night and exchanged phone numbers. She had a date with Pierre. She. Had. A. DATE. With. Pierre!

She practically burst into the house, desperate to either see Sabine or to ring Bess or something – she had to let the joy and nervousness and the unreality of it all out to someone. So, when she saw her friend, dressed in pyjama bottoms and a vest top, her hair scruffy from bed, drinking coffee at the table, she was so glad she was there to confide in she almost jumped into her arms.

‘Sabine!’ she gasped, causing her new friend to almost slop coffee all down her front.

‘Oh my God!’ Sabine said, placing the mug on the table and looking up. ‘You have almost killed me.’ She peered at Nina’s face, her brows furrowing. ‘Is something the matter?’

‘No!’ Nina almost cried. ‘No! Just the opposite!’

She sat down, realising she was trembling slightly with it all, and recounted the details of the morning. Her initial nerves, Pierre’s late arrival, her struggle to talk to him and then the moment they connected. ‘And he remembered me!’ she said. ‘As soon as I mentioned that I was here once on French exchange, it all came back to him!’

‘And was he mad at you for stopping the letters? For not coming to be with him?’

Nina shook her head. ‘That’s the best bit!’ she said. ‘He seems to have forgotten all about it, or if he hasn’t, he’s forgiven me and doesn’t want to bring it up.’ She realised she was babbling but couldn’t seem to stop. ‘Sabine, he’s single and he’s invited me on a date tomorrow evening!’ She felt almost giddy at how easily,how readily things had fallen into place. Perhaps fate did exist. Perhaps she’d been so sure of herself, so convinced that things never really happened for reason, that she’d blinded herself to signs, to life events that had pushed her to exactly this place. A second chance, twenty-three years after what might have been the worst mistake of her life. She thought back to the lucky dog and bird poo incident. Perhaps fate had been trying to give her a clue after all? Then again, perhaps it was better to think of it as written in the stars than spelled out with animal excrement.

‘This is wonderful!’ Sabine said. ‘I am so very happy for you! And we must choose you something beautiful to wear, no? I have started to pack some of my bags, but I have a scarf that perhaps you can borrow?’

Nina felt something sink. ‘You’re packing?’ she said.

‘Yes, I am starting to. I am not leaving for a small time but I will need to start thinking about it, if I want to visit all the places I wish and be in Vienna for the markets,’ she said. ‘And I have the fidgets.’

‘The fidgets?’

‘Yes, an expression. For needing to go. I do not like to sit still for too long.’

Nina nodded, wondering why she felt suddenly flat.

‘But do not worry! I will help you for this date, and I can go knowing that you have everything you came for!’ Sabine said brightly. ‘I will leave with a smile on my face, and I can tell everyone that romance does exist because I have a friend with a magical story.’

Nina smiled. ‘Thank you,’ she said.

---