Page 28 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘Yeah, I think you might be right,’ Jill concedes. ‘I think it’s officially buggered.’ But no sooner has she said this than ‘Fastlove’ starts booming from the little speaker.
‘Excellent,’ Jill says, clapping her hands and starting to swing her hips. ‘Wow, it’s louder than I thought for such a little thing. You see, that’s why you’ve been feeling depressed. Not enough George Michael, hon.’
‘I’m not feeling depressed,’ Wendy calls back, having to speak loudly because of the music. But as she says it she wonders if her friend might not be right. Because two gin and tonics and George Michael sure feels like a recipe for happiness right now. In fact, the only thing missing is… ‘Cigarette break?’ she asks. ‘We’ve got time, while the spaghetti cooks.’
‘Perfect,’ Jill says, already grooving towards the front door.
They step outside and close the door on George Michael. The night is cold and damp after the rain and, other than a window which vibrates occasionally in time with the bass line of the music, utterly silent.
‘Christ, it’s freezing,’ Jill says.
‘I know, it’s a shocker, isn’t it?’ Wendy agrees as she lights up two cigarettes and hands one to Jill. ‘We’ve had frost a few times – like a proper hard, everything-white frost. I wasn’t expecting that at all in the south of France, but it does make everything pretty.’
‘Yes, I’m sure,’ Jill says.
‘So what do you think?’ Wendy asks. Jill, most uncharacteristically, hasn’t passed comment since they arrived.
Jill studies the view and then turns to Wendy wide-eyed. ‘I…’ she says. She takes a drag on her cigarette and pulls a face. ‘I think I might be speechless.’
‘That bad, huh?’
Jill shrugs and grins. ‘I’d go batshit crazy up here, hon. I mean, it’s lovely. I can see that the nature and everything is… appealing and what-have-you. But I’m at a loss, really, as to why you’re here. I think it’s all a bit nuts, to be honest.’
‘I know,’ Wendy agrees. ‘Sometimes I don’t get it either. And I’m the one who chose the place.’
‘Aren’t you… I don’t know… scared?’ Jill asks, looking around. ‘I think I would be.’
‘Scared?’
‘Yes. Out here in the middle of nowhere. I’d be terrified up here on my own!’
‘Of what, though? Lions, tigers? There aren’t that many of those in France. Though I suppose there may be the odd wolf.’
‘I was thinking more in terms of slipping and breaking a hip and not being able to get to a hospital, actually. Or French rapists, tapping on your windows in the night.’
Wendy laughs. ‘You know I haven’t seen a single man since I arrived. The post is delivered by a woman. The baker is a woman. Even the owner of this place is a woman. Actually, that reminds me. A guy was supposed to come and pick the letters up – the owner’s friend – but he never came. I was quite looking forward to it, actually. I was hoping he might be sexy. The rapist aspect didn’t cross my mind.’
‘Too cold,’ Jill says, an audible quiver to her voice. She stubs her cigarette out on a rock. ‘I’m going back indoors.’
‘Me, too. It’s freezing.’
Back indoors, George has moved on to ‘Freedom! ’90’.
Jill moves to stand in front of the stove and, when she knowsthe words, sings along, while Wendy returns to the kitchen area. It’s then Wendy notices that the letters she’d left on the counter are gone. ‘God, he’s been in,’ she says. ‘Someone’s been in here without me knowing.’
‘What do you mean, someone’s been in?!’ Jill asks.
‘The post,’ Wendy explains. ‘There were three letters here for the owner. The friend must have been in while I was out one day. I’m not sure how I feel about that.’
‘Perhaps he came while you were sleeping.’
‘Well, if he did, I can’t say I noticed,’ Wendy laughs. ‘But I am a very heavy sleeper.’
When she wakes up the next morning, everything seems off-kilter.
She has a headache and a foot is digging into her thigh – those are the first things she notices. She has to raise herself onto one elbow and look to confirm that the foot belongs to Jill. Jill is in her bed. She can’t remember how that happened.
She lies back down and stares at the ceiling, listening to Jill’s breathing which is on the quiet side of a snore.
