Page 91 of Never Too Late
‘She didn’t!’
‘True story,’ he replied with a grin. ‘And she was right.’
The day was warm and I shuffled my chair a little so that I could catch the breeze coming through the door.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Yes, just getting some air.’
‘Do you want to move? We could?—’
‘Tomas, I’m fine. Stop fussing.’
Hugh had been very kind but definitely not a fusser.
Tomas tilted his head to the side. ‘I’m too old to change. Get used to it.’
And in that moment, as our eyes met, my mind spun back through time and I remembered how Tomas had indeed always been, not a fusser, but very attentive. And I’d loved it.
‘I’d forgotten,’ I replied.
‘I haven’t.’
35
‘Did Reine really tell you your painting was shit?’ I asked as we walked along the bank of the Seine later, my arm tucked through his, his hand resting on mine. We’d had an easy day, wandering the streets of Paris, stopping for lunch and coffee whenever we felt like it. I couldn’t remember being happier.
‘She did. I’ve offered to do another to replace it but she refuses. It says it reminds her of how far I’ve come. And it certainly keeps me grounded.’
‘It’s lovely of her to want that reminder.’
‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘Or perhaps it’s a way of making sure I don’t, what’s that phrase you used to use, get too big for my slippers?’
‘Boots. And I don’t think that’s an issue. Unless you’ve very much changed, being egotistical wasn’t one of your faults.’
‘Although there were many others,’ he grinned good-naturedly.
‘Oh, yes. Plenty.’ The tease was easy and fun. From the beginning, I’d felt at home with Tomas and Gabrielle. I’d been able to be myself. Or at least who I thought I was at the time. It was strange really that I’d had more idea who I was back then than I’d had in the decades that followed. But being back here now, back with those friends, made it easier to discover who I was now and what I wanted. People pleasing, it appeared, had dropped dramatically down the list. Thank God. ‘Also, even with all your apparent success, with your sister as your manager, there’s no way on earth she’d have stood for any of that nonsense.’
‘Very true.’ We stopped and leant on the wall of the Pont Alexandre III, both gazing down at the dark water beneath us, the ripples made by the gentle breeze catching both moon and streetlight, making it dance before us.
‘So,’ I said, turning and resting my back against the wall as Tomas remained facing it. ‘How did that come about? Gabby becoming your manager, I mean.’
His eyes fixed on a point far in the distance – or perhaps in the past – and it was a few moments before he spoke.
‘As you know, the grand plan of running the vineyard did not go well. I spent a couple of years travelling, doing an assortment of jobs. Gabby and I had fallen out with our parents and I wanted to take myself away from everything I knew here. Gabby and I stayed in contact, obviously, but she felt the same after our degrees finished. She went off to Milan and I, how do they say, bummed around. Eventually, we reconciled with the family and I took on the position they’d always wanted me to. Even after two years, I couldn’t get you out of my head so I threw myself into it. I thought that perhaps it would be a good distraction in that I had to use every atom of concentration to get my head around the business side of things. I’d worked there growing up and had been happy to do the tours, remember the spiel and answer the questions. But running a business? Knowing that people’s livelihoods depended on me? I struggled with that pressure every day and night.
‘I made a couple of bad decisions then decided to bring in help. I interviewed a financial advisor who came with good references and promises to help turn things around. By this point, profits were already going down. It’s harder than it was in my parents’ and grandparents’ time anyway. Back then, French wine was, what do they say now? The bomb? Or perhaps that was last week’s phrase.’
I smiled and felt relieved when a small smile also flashed on his face, however brief, before it turned serious once more. I could feel the tension in his body build as he’d begun recounting the unhappy time.
‘Now there is much competition from all over the world.’ He stopped and turned. ‘I don’t mean to say that is a bad thing.’ He shifted and gave a furtive glance to the left, then right. ‘Between you and me, one of my favourite sparkling wines is English!’
His expression was so serious, the check around so intense, that for a moment, I had thought there was about to be something of monumental significance to be imparted to me. Something at least worthy of knocking the threat level up a notch or two.
‘Oh, Tomas.’ I sighed and hugged his arm closer. I doubted the French government were interested – although come to think of it, perhaps it was bestnotto pass this titbit on. Tomas was currently their golden child of the art world. Finding out he was partial to an English tipple might be considered close to high treason over here. ‘Your secret is safe with me.’
‘As I knew it would be.’
