Page 85 of One Last Thing
She looked like a spruced-up flamingo.
I did not say that out loud, instead opting for, ‘I don’t think that’s your colour.’
‘I look like a bag of candy floss,’ she said flatly.
I laughed so loud, the shop assistant looked very put out.
But I have instinctive faith in this intimidating model/ballerina who is now dressing her, and I’m right to. The first dress she appears in is a beautiful blue, fitted number with a Bardot neckline, but although she agrees it’s lovely, she doesn’t think it’s the right one. She should trust her gut, because when she steps out in the second one, the first one is forgotten and we both know it. This dress looks as though it were made for her. It has a halter-neck design with its plunging neckline falling down to a thick waistband where the black bodice stops and the yellow A-line faille skirt begins. It’s dramatic and breathtaking and classy, the kind of dress someone as sophisticated and brilliant as Megan should wear.
I choke back tears.
‘It’s expensive,’ she says apologetically, already knowing from my expression that we’ve both decided on it without either of us saying it out loud.
‘That’s okay,’ I manage to croak, smiling sincerely at her. ‘I owe you a dress.’
***
I’m in desperate need of refreshment but a little too drained to fancy finding a café after the shopping, so I compromise on waiting until I’ve got back to the chateau to sit down at a table outside and order a glass of sparkling water with lemon. Megan has taken her dress upstairs and is hoping to phone Marisa to show her the purchase so I don’t expect her to join me any time soon. Best money I’ve spent in a long time, that dress. The giddy happiness it has brought her is exhilarating. As people bustle around the chateau in anticipation for tonight’s big event, I take a quiet moment by myself to think.
As usual, my thoughts drift to the plot of my new book.
Even when I don’t want it to be the case, a coping mechanism of mine is plotting. It’s infuriating for others when I become distracted by the characters in my head, I know Henry grew tired of it. He’d need me to focus on something important about the house or about Megan’s schooling and he’d realise that I wasn’t noting down a list of tasks during our conversation, I was noting down phrases that characters would have suddenly said in my brain and I didn’t want to forget. When I’m upset or scared about something, I make the decision to focus on a storyline and I easily lose myself in it, physically relaxing as real life takes a backseat and difficult decisions are pushed to an extended deadline.
Now, I do my best to take this tranquil moment to think on the shift in my relationship with Megan on this trip and of Henry’s memory and all the trouble he went to getting me here, but instead I start seeing a scene in a vineyard. Two people who shouldn’t be there, meeting and losing the battle to stay away.
I don’t notice Françoise until she’s right next to me and start at her presence.
‘Oh! Hello,’ I say, sitting up and reaching for my drink.
‘I didn’t mean to frighten you,’ she says apologetically.
‘You didn’t. I was . . . lost in my thoughts.’
I take a sip of my drink and place the glass back down.
‘I was asking you whether you’d like anything else?’ she says, gesturing to it.
‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’
‘And also, to tell you that today, we will be closing this area early in preparation for the event tonight.’
‘Of course.’ I smile graciously. ‘I will finish my drink and be out of your way.’
‘Nico tells me both you and Megan are coming tonight.’
‘It was Henry’s wish,’ I explain, resting my hands in my lap. ‘But I’m sure, even if it hadn’t been, we would be in attendance. We’re looking forward to it.’
‘Yes, Nico has worked hard.’
I swallow, politely noting, ‘I assume you will be there tonight.’
‘Yes, I will be working a little, but hopefully it will all go smoothly.’
‘And Mathieu?’ I add breezily, glancing up at her. ‘Will he be joining us?’
Her jaw tightens. ‘No.’ A beat of silence and then, ‘We’re separated. We have not been together for a year now.’
‘Oh. I’m sorry,’ I say, meaning it but it still comes out flat.
