Chapter 2, Saturday
I stared at the mass of congealed scrambled egg and felt my stomach turn. It was early and Richard and I had been lucky enough to get on the 7am ferry to Calais, our only penalty for being late a small surcharge.
It was a beautiful day and the sun was already hot by the time we drove onto the huge cross-channel ferry, the air full of diesel smells and the oily sea. Breakfast was the first event on my husband's agenda and I listened as he flirted with one of the cafeteria staff.
He was in good form this morning and although he hadn't mentioned Jake to me, I knew that soon enough the subject would be raised. We carried our plates over to a table by the window and sat down on the hard bench-like seats.
"How do you feel this morning?" Richard asked, pouring out coffee for us both. "I have to say I feel great. Slept better than I have for ages."
I hid a smile. Maybe it had something to do with the sex and I had to admit we did feel a lot closer after the intimacy of last night. I put the image of Jake firmly out of my head and hoped that Richard would forget the idea of making the detour to the Dordogne.
"How long will it take us to get to Burgundy?" I asked.
"Oh, about five hours, I suppose," Richard replied, munching on a slice of toast. "I'll put my foot down and we can make up for a couple of hours of lost time."
I sat back in my seat and watched my husband finish his breakfast. A slight quiver of anticipation ran through me as I thought of the journey ahead and the hotel we had booked for a couple of nights.
"Anyway, I never asked what you thought of Jake..."
I felt myself blush as I avoided looking at Richard. "Well, he was OK, I suppose. He looked older than you."
"Ah, that might be because he is. About three years I think." Richard looked at me and smiled. "You fancied him, didn't you?"
"Don't be stupid, of course not."
"Oh, Louise, come on...admit it. Good-looking guy, rolling in it by all accounts..."
"Forget it, Richard. OK? I don't find him attractive at all. He's not my type" My husband grinned and I had a sudden urge to hit him. "Well, I've arranged for us to go and visit him at the weekend. I thought it would be good to catch up on old times and the money we save can go towards some more wine."
I felt my stomach flip over with sudden anxiety and dread. The two week break on our own was about to be ruined and even though Richard could sense my annoyance, the silly grin refused to leave his face.
"What's up? I thought you'd be glad of a chance to get to know him better as well."
Through gritted teeth I replied, "I do not want to stay there. Do you understand that?"
"Well, it's all sorted now. His wife's flying over so you won't be alone with him." He sniggered and I stood up.
"I'm going out on deck. I need some fresh air."
"Ok, darling. I'll be in the lounge."
I made my way quickly out onto the sun deck, the tears springing to my eyes as I went. I imagined the two of them last night making a joke of me, my husband laughing as he arranged the visit, knowing full well that I was never comfortable in other people's houses. We never arranged to stay with friends as I hated feeling like an intruder in someone else's house. I was furious with Richard for putting me in this position and for a crazy moment contemplated flying home while he stayed for the weekend. But I knew that would put our marriage on an even more precarious footing and our relationship would deteriorate rapidly.
Leaning on the deck at the very back of the ferry I watched the white wake churned up by the boat's propellers. It reminded me of a beautiful path over the sea, but with every inch we travelled, I realised I was leaving England behind, and with it everything I held dear.
* We drove in silence for most of the morning, our only words relevant to the journey. Outside, the heat of the June day intensified and although we had air-conditioning in the car, the glare of the sun made us both tired and grumpy by lunchtime. Ahead of us the autoroute shimmered in a heat haze and all my offers to drive were met with refusals.
"I think we should pull off in a minute and find somewhere for lunch," Richard said as I picked up the map. "Find the next exit and then we'll head for the nearest village."
"We're not far from Reims," I said, studying the map, my eyes blurring as I tried to make sense of the lines. "I think there's an exit coming up in a minute."
We pulled off and wound our way through country lanes overflowing with summer flowers, the roads devoid of any traffic. "Is there a village marked?" said Richard with obvious irritation. "Or am I going to travel on aimlessly, just wandering around the French countryside?"
I looked at the map again and twisted it around, trying desperately to see if we were near anywhere of any size. "I think there's a village coming up."
Richard sighed and pressed his foot down hard on the accelerator, his face back to that grim determination I was beginning to recognise.
After a couple of miles of silence, a small village appeared, the church spire rising out of the surrounding fields. It was deserted, the only movement a sly cat moving furtively along a sunny wall.
"Maybe we should have stopped on the motorway."
"Oh yeah, and paid through the nose for a greasy plate of inedible food?" Richard looked at me and then stopped the car, grabbing the map from me.
"Where are we?"
"There." I pointed to a tiny village on the map and he sighed.
"God, this looks like a desolate little place. We'll have to turn around and see if we can find somewhere else."
"Why don't I drive and then you can navigate?" I said sweetly through clenched teeth.
"Just look at the map, Louise! It's not bloody hard!"
With a squeal of tyres he reversed and headed back in the direction we had come. The sun beat down on the car, making me squint as I stared out of the window. I rummaged in my bag for my sunglasses and instead pulled out a toy car of my son's, a lump in my throat as I pictured his sweet face.
My hands were trembling when I put my glasses on, and Richard noticed. "Oh hell, Louise, I'm sorry. It's just that I imagined us at some little roadside bar, sipping a cold beer and relaxing."
His words were too much for me and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I was missing the children so badly and even though I knew they were well looked after, a sense of guilt was coming back to me time after time.
Richard pulled up in a field entrance and took my head in his hands. "Come on, let's forget that, shall we?" He kissed my cheek and I managed a smil. "We'll find somewhere, don't worry and I'll treat you to a glass of champagne." I nodded and he put the car into drive and pulled away again smoothly. I concentrated on the map, hoping that we'd come across another, bigger village and find what we were dreaming of.
Half an hour later, we had found it. An old bar with shuttered windows and small tables set out in the tiny garden. Richard raised his glass to me and I smiled as the cold bubbles slid down my parched throat. The young waitress was making her way over to us with plates of pate, bread and olives and my stomach rumbled at the thought of lunch, the greasy ferry breakfast long since forgotten.
"See? Told you we'd find it!" Richard grinned and took a bite of crusty baguette. "France!"
I smiled back and relaxed in the warmth of the sun. The half bottle of champagne lay cooling in the ice-bucket next to us and I watched as a French couple talked to the waitress, their faces animated and happy.
"Would you like this life?" I asked.
"What? Living in France?"
"Yes, why not?"
Richard thought for a moment and shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I like where we live."
"What about the stress?"
I watched his face and saw a momentary grimace. "Stress?"
"Oh come on, Richard! All our neighbours work terrible hours, there's always this huge pressure to have the "right" car, the "right" holidays. Sometimes I get fed up with it."
He looked at me in surprise. "I thought that's what you wanted? The big house, the right school for the kids?"
I sat back and closed my eyes, the wine glass glinting in my hand as it caught the sun. "It must feel wonderful to be free of that pressure."
Richard grunted and finished his baguette. "The work I do pays the bills and pays for this." He waved his hand around the garden.