Read Online The French for Always by Fiona Valpy - Free Book Online Page B

‘I have—how do you say it in English?—the feet that itch. Up until now, though, I’ve always been tied to the farm, having to be there to support my brother, who loves his vines and making the wine, but detests having to sell it.’
    He offered Sara a creamy triangle of Brie and topped up her glass.
    ‘But now things are changing,’ he continued, his eyes still shining with a new expression of hope. ‘Gina Thibault, the wife of a friend of mine, is helping to sell our wines and she has good links to the UK market. Sales are booming, so my job is much easier. With more money coming in, I may be able to start making some trips abroad. Try to develop new markets. And, if it continues to go well, I could take time off to go travelling. I’m planning on starting early next year. By next spring I should be out of here. Who knows, I might even find somewhere I love and live overseas for a while. It will broaden my horizons, for sure.’
    ‘Sounds great!’ Sara grinned at him. ‘It’s funny... Your dream is to leave here to travel the world. And my dream was to move here to see a bit more of the world. I suppose adventures must always depend on your starting point in life.’
    ‘And what about you?’ Thomas handed Sara a perfectly ripe peach and she sliced into it, the sweet juice pooling on her plate. ‘Will you continue with your business here in France on your own?’
    Sara shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. All I can think about at the moment is getting through the next few weeks to the end of the season. Once the weddings are finished for the year, I should have more time to take stock. It’ll depend, too, on what Gavin does next. If he wants his money out of the business then I’ll have no choice but to sell the château.’ She was careful to keep her tone light, but surprised herself with the dawning realisation that she didn’t want to have to sell after all.
    ‘And how would you feel about that?’ What was it with this man? He seemed to be able to read her thoughts; the real, deep-down, essence-of-Sara thoughts, not just the ones she chose to present on the surface.
    She hesitated, watching a leaf swirl slowly by on the surface of the water, considering another throwaway reply to try to deflect him. But something about Thomas’s own honesty made her decide to let down her guard.
    ‘Actually, I’d be gutted. At first I thought I just wanted rid of it—too many associations with Gavin and the way he’s treated me. But it’s funny, having got through that last wedding without him, I now realise how much I love this place: too much to give it up without a fight. All that hard work... and I still have plans for the garden that I’d like to see through. I feel Château Bellevue somehow deserves to be given an elegant setting that’s worthy of its history—not that I know much about it, but, living there, I get the sense that very many lives lived before us and, hopefully, many more to come down the years. I suppose it makes me aware of how transient we are, while the rocks and the stones remain. I’d like to make my mark here. Leave something behind when I’m gone.’ She turned and smiled at him. ‘Sorry, I’m wittering. That’s what comes of plying me with wine at lunchtime!’
    He shook his head. ‘No. It makes sense. And you’re right; rumour has it that all sorts of things have taken place there over the centuries. The previous owners claimed just about every king and queen from Henri the second and Eleanor of Aquitaine onwards slept there at one time or another. There’s even rumoured to be a secret tunnel, full of ghosts, that runs from this very mill up to the cellars of the château!’ He opened his eyes wide, in mock fear.
    ‘How exciting. I’ll have to look out for that,’ Sara laughed.
    ‘Actually there could be some truth in it. The limestone around here is honeycombed with caves. In Saint Emilion they’ve got a whole church underground. And you’ve probably heard of Lascaux,