Page 76 of The Riviera House Swap

‘To… to break herself?’ she said, not quite sure what he meant.

He flushed. ‘Ah it does not translate perhaps. I mean to go away, perhaps would be more polite?’

‘Ah,’ she said grinning. ‘No, not yet. I can’t seem to bring myself to.’

‘Well, perhaps it is nice to have the stability of this job – and save your adventure for the holidays. Sometimes, I want to be like Sabine, but when it comes to it, I cannot sleep in a van.’

She laughed as he vehemently shook his head. ‘I understand!’ she said. ‘Although it’s not that for me. I’ve always wanted to travel… at least I’ve always felt a bit of an urge to know what it’s like. I just… I suppose I’ve found myself at a crossroads before – when I was younger – and I’ve always taken the safe route.’

Antoine nodded. ‘But there is nothing wrong with this,’ he said. ‘You do what is right at the time. And it does not mean you have to always make the same choices.’

That was exactly it, she thought. She had followed her head, let her logic and tendency to play it safe dictate her life so far. And it hadn’t been a disaster – nothing to be ashamed of. But now that life had spat her out, everything was in flux. And maybe it was time to let her heart dictate her next steps.

‘Thank you, Antoine,’ she said. ‘You’ve really made me think.’

He smiled. ‘I am glad to be of service.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘Mince! Now I must go. I am late for this afternoon’s work.’ He got up and put the cup on the draining board. ‘Thank you for the coffee – and good luck tonight with your boyfriend.’

‘Thanks,’ she smiled. She’d almost laughed at the word ‘boyfriend.’ Pierre was definitely no longer a boy. But then it seemed somehow apt. Because she was in love with the younger man he had been – the one she still saw glimpses of through his more polished, mature veneer. She wondered whether Pierre felt the same. Whether he saw the old Nina still there somewhere under the woman she’d become.

He probably did, she decided. After all, she wasn’t that different. A few more wrinkles, a couple of extra kilos, but essentially still Nina, in spite of it all. And maybe if she followed her heart, let her emotions or chance or fate dictate rather than trying to make everything safe and predictable, she couldrecapture a little of the girl she had been. The one who had hopes and dreams and hadn’t yet been worn down by the dullness of daily life.

Closing her eyes, she tried to imagine a life here with Pierre. What it might look like. Or what might happen if she returned to England and came across to visit as often as she could. Or perhaps what might happen if Pierre came to St Albans? None of it quite felt right. But then, it was early days.

Everything could still all work out the way it was meant to.

40

THEN

Dear Nina,

Your letter gave me so much joy! Now that I know you feel the same way, I feel sure that we are meant to be together. You must talk to your parents and come in the summer. We can spend the holidays together. I am sure my mother won’t mind you staying at my house – she is always wanting me to improve my English, and I know she will love to meet you.

I am working now for my exams, like you. But when they are finished, nothing will stand in our way!

I hope you can write back and say that you will definitely come.

Love, Pierre xx

41

NOW

This restaurant – a Chinese this time – was, if possible, even more hidden away and cramped than the others had been. Nina walked past it four times before she noticed the sign, tucked down a narrow alleyway next to someone’s front door and a tiny antiques shop. She pushed on the door and it opened to a stairway which, once climbed – rather cautiously as it still felt as if it might be someone’s house – opened up into a more recognisable restaurant space. She wondered whether Pierre had chosen the venue as it was safe from passers-by peering through the window – unless his stalker had a drone, they were probably going to be OK.

At first, she thought he wasn’t there. She scanned the restaurant while waiting for someone to come and seat her, and could see only a family in the corner – two small children, one in a highchair and presumably their mum and dad – and an older, middle-aged man sitting alone with a red neck and dark hair. Then, with a jolt of recognition, she realised the man was Pierre. On some level, she had still been searching for the younger, slimmer-shouldered version of him instead of the Pierre he had become.

He looked around and she smiled and started to walk over to him.

Tonight, she was wearing the navy jeans again – she’d worn them on their previous date, but enough time had elapsed for her to bring them back for a second viewing. She was looking forward to the date, less so to the prospect of another meal out. Perhaps she should suggest a different type of date next time – a stroll on the beach if the weather was OK, or a trip to the cinema. Perhaps he might invite her over to his place – he’d never even told her where he lived. Maybe she’d find the courage to invite him to hers – or Jean-Luc’s, she reminded herself. Preferably before she needed to shop for an entire new wardrobe for nights out. She’d put on the necklace Pierre himself had given her, all those years before – the first time she’d given it an outing since her teens, when for a while she’d worn it day and night… It would be fun to see if he noticed.

As she slipped into her chair, a waiter rushed over. ‘Have a seat, madame,’ he said as if giving her permission to do what she was already doing. She wondered if he was put out that she’d taken the initiative to go to a table without being instructed, and smiled at him to hopefully diffuse any ill-feeling.

After he’d taken their drinks order and told them they could go and help themselves from the buffet when they wished, she turned to Pierre. ‘It’s nice to see you again,’ she said.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you too.’ His hands were hidden under the table and he seemed to be rubbing them together, or struggling with them in some way.

‘Are you OK?’ she said.

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