Page 148 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘I think she means paraffin,’ Harry says. ‘It smells like paraffin to me.’
Wendy laughs and hands him the note. ‘Poor Madame Blanchard. I never did explain the difference between “welcome to France” and “youarewelcome to France”.’
‘Maybe you should have given her English lessons,’ Harry says, reading the note and pulling a face.
‘You know, I never even met her. She could be one of those AI-computer things. Though she would probably speak betterEnglish if that were the case… Anyway, I bet that’s still better than your French.’
‘Huh!’ Harry says, feigning offence.‘Vous… serez – seriez ? – surpris, Madame !’
‘I think you can probablytu-toime, though,’ Wendy says, with a grin. ‘Seeing as we do share a bed.’
‘Merde !’Harry says.‘Bien sûr !’
While Wendy lights the fire, Harry brings the shopping in from the car.
As they unpack and stack the items in cupboards, Wendy asks, ‘So what do you think? You haven’t said a word.’
‘Oh, sorry, no, it’s amazing!’ Harry says. ‘I’m a bit in awe, I think. My little Wens up here all on her own… I’m finding it hard to imagine.’
‘I know,’ Wendy agrees. ‘I can hardly believe it myself. But what about the place? Is it how you imagined it?’
Harry pauses, a jar of jam in one hand, momentarily perplexed as he looks around. ‘It’s weird,’ he says. ‘Cos, I mean, you showed me photos, so it is, obviously, exactly like the photos. But it’s also completely different.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Dunno,’ Harry says, resuming his stacking. ‘I don’t think I ever imagined how the place would feel, I suppose. How it would smell, and sound… all that stuff… But, yeah, it’s very cool indeed.’
‘Fridge,’ Wendy says, handing him a little pile of items containing a bottle of milk, a wedge of cheese and a block of butter.
Harry crouches down and opens the fridge. ‘Ahh,’ he says, pulling a bottle of prosecco from the door and waving it at her. ‘I guess you didn’t tell her about your new healthy ways, huh?’
‘No,’ Wendy says. ‘She never knew about any of that. But that’s fine. You can have it tomorrow with Christmasdinner.’
They heat their so-called ‘luxury’ ready meals in the microwave and once the fairly joyless event of eating these is over (because they don’t taste very luxury at all) they move to the sofa to stare at the flames.
‘So this is where it all happened, huh?’ Harry asks, still constantly scanning the room.
‘Yep,’ Wendy says. ‘This is it. And wait until you see the views tomorrow. I have a fabulous walk in store.’
‘Tomorrow’s going to be strange without the kids.’
‘They wouldn’t have been home anyway,’ Wendy reminds him. Todd and Amanda are on their belated honeymoon in Bali while Fiona is at a friend’s place in Brighton.
‘Well, they promised to call, anyway,’ Harry says. Then, ‘Which reminds me. Must get on the old wifi for WhatsApp. I don’t think I have much EU data in my plan. Does that work?’
‘What, the wifi?’ Wendy says, but by following Harry’s gaze she deduces that he’s referring to the Bluetooth speaker. ‘Oh, yes. It’s a bit fiddly to connect. But it actually sounds quite good.’
Once everything is connected and Harry’s playlist is on, they snuggle on the sofa staring at the fire, Harry’s arm heavy across her shoulders. ‘My God, it’s nice being here with you,’ she says.
‘And it’s nice being here with you, too,’ he replies. And then suddenly he’s on his feet, holding out one hand. ‘Dance with me,’ he says.
Wendy laughs. ‘I haven’t been able to dance since I gave up the wicked booze.’
‘I’m not asking you to do a bloody Charleston,’ Harry says, yanking on her hand. ‘Come on! Gimme a smooch.’
Faking reluctance, Wendy caves in, and she’s relieved to find that their bodies do still fit together, at least enough to slow dance. When Billie Eilish ends and ‘Something’ by The Beatles begins, she jokingly comments, ‘Why, I do believe thou arttrying to seduce me,Monsieur! I’ve never heard this playlist before.’
‘You know me,’ Harry says. ‘I’m like a Scout. Ready for anything.’
