One day while running past the old London County Hall building she tripped and fell. Sitting on the grass feeling dazed and slightly nauseous, she was joined by a tall young man with heavy rimmed glasses who stopped to see if she was okay. Her rescuer helped her to gather up her things and hobble to the nearest pub where, after a medicinal spritzer, she felt much better. The studious-looking young man was Alan, and four months later they were engaged.

  Alan was different to Christophe in every possible way. Whereas Christophe was skinny with dark curls, Alan was broad-shouldered with thick blond hair and a ruddy complexion. He was short-sighted but hated wearing his glasses, even though Eleanor said they were sexy and made him look like Clark Kent. Unlike the languorous Christophe he was sporty and was prone to leaping out of bed at dawn to row on the Thames. Sex with Christophe had been fast and exciting, almost like a game. With Alan everything was slower and calmer, and Eleanor enjoyed the unfamiliar sensation of feeling quite small and strangely ‘girly’ in his rugby player’s arms.

  Perhaps the thing she liked most was that she could talk to Alan about all kinds of things because they had similar backgrounds. It had amused her trying to explain the mysteries of English culture such as Marmite and Benny Hill to Christophe, but it was even nicer to have shared interests and experiences with someone.

  Alan had a robust sense of humour and they spent many Saturday evenings at comedy clubs or jammed inside smoky rooms above pubs. Having been away for so long, Eleanor saw the city through fresh eyes and quite ordinary things now seemed new and exciting. If she hadn’t gone away, would she have found Alan attractive? He was certainly not ‘her type’, whatever that was. Jenna had seemed surprised when the two of them had got together though, at the time, the sisters weren’t particularly close and there was nothing said until many years later. Her parents were clearly relieved when Eleanor had returned to England, yet she was aware that some of her friends were disappointed that she hadn’t ‘lived the dream’ and settled in France with her exotic lover.

  Before they were married Eleanor split her time between her parent’s house and Alan’s musty basement flat in south London. After the wedding, they managed to rent a one-bedroom flat at the top of a Victorian mansion opposite a park. It was noisy and expensive, but from their bedroom they could look out over the tops of trees. Eleanor loved the impression she got of living in a tree house, and Alan would take advantage of their seclusion to wander around the flat completely naked on even the coldest of days.

  He had a good job in the City doing something with computers – he had tried on many occasions to explain what, but Eleanor couldn’t help glazing over when he got down to the nitty-gritty. She might not have understood exactly what Alan did, but she knew that he was good at it and well respected by his bosses. Eventually he would earn enough for them to buy a large semi in a leafy part of town along the Thames where he could indulge his love of rowing, but in the early days they lived quite frugally.

  Eleanor got a secretarial job in a legal firm and did some translating from French to English to bring in extra cash. They were happy in their eyrie above the park and life was good. They had never discussed having children – there was simply an understanding between them that one day it would happen. When they found out that Eleanor was pregnant with twins, Alan cried and insisted on telling everyone he met, including comparative strangers. It got quite embarrassing when even the people in the corner shop and the guys from the Chinese take-away were familiar with every stage of the twins’ development.

  They moved into the big house just three weeks before the birth. After Joe and Phoebe were born, things were chaotic: Alan helped as much as he could before and after work but they were both exhausted. Connie and Jack moved in for a couple of weeks to help, an experiment that came close to ending in tears all round. After many more tears, Eleanor was eventually persuaded that they needed live-in help, so a trained nursery nurse moved in. She cost them a small fortune, but Alan insisted on having her, saying that that was what the money was for. Eleanor cried the first time she realised that she had slept right through the night because someone else had fed her babies, but she accepted that the nurse was necessary for all their sanity, not least her own.

  After six months, the babies went to nursery and Eleanor went back to work at the solicitors’ office. She struggled to cope with motherhood and work and had a pretty miserable two years. Many years later she had read an article about post-natal depression and had been shocked when she recognised some of the signs.

  Since deciding on the trip to France, she had found that all kinds of memories were being stirred up, but sitting on the train she was surprised when an episode with the twins flooded back. It was something that she had managed to push to the back of her mind, but now it came to her with a jolt. Eleanor closed her eyes, remembering that awful day. It had been a Sunday morning, the au pair had the day off and Alan was out rowing, so Eleanor was all alone.

  Phoebe was grizzling, but Joe was screaming and there was nothing she could do to stop him. She couldn’t bear his angry, screwed-up face and the noise that pierced her skull and made her brain throb.

  She grabbed her coat, grabbed the keys, looked back once to where the twins stood in their play pen and left the house. Her head buzzing, she ran down the steps to the wide tree-lined street. She could still hear them. Could she? Or was it a radio somewhere? She didn’t know, didn’t care just walked, half running to the Underground station. She got on a train – where to? – she couldn’t remember now. Not sure that she even knew then. Got off. Walked and walked in the drizzle, breathing in the cool, damp air, head down until her breathing settled.

  Eleanor looked out at the French countryside that was spinning past the train window, her chest tight at the recollection. She had never told anyone: certainly not Alan. Not even her mother. How could she?

  Returning to the house, flying up the stairs and into the bedroom the silence had sickened her. When she’d seen the twins curled up asleep she had wept, gulping for breath and not daring to believe that they were okay.

  It had never happened again and she never brought it up. Sometimes she wondered if the children remembered, and years later Joe had had a series of nightmares and refused to be comforted by her. She had felt desolate, but in some way it seemed only fair that Alan should be the one he turned to.

  Eleanor sat up and took a gulp of water, wanting to clear her head.

  Next to her Jenna stretched and yawned.

  “Are you okay, El? You look a bit pale?”

  “I’m fine, Jenna, honest,” said Eleanor. “This trip is just rousing a few ghosts, that’s all.”

  “Friendly ones?”

  “Mostly friendly.”

  Jenna looked at her quizzically. “I hope so.” She peered out of the window. “Where are we anyway?”

  “Nearly at Lille where we can grab a coffee before catching our fast train south.”

  “Then lunch on the TGV? I’m starved.”

  Jenna had the good fortune to be able to eat constantly without ever gaining more than a few pounds.

  “Why not,” said Eleanor. “We are on our hols, after all.”

  Sitting in the station cafeteria later, Jenna caught her sister’s hand. “You know this is the first time that we’ve been away together, just the two of us, since you had the twins?”

  “No, really?” said Eleanor, thinking that Phoebe and Joe had recently turned twenty-three. “It can’t be that long, surely?”

  Jenna just looked at her. “It’s true – I’ve had to spend all my holidays with Kiff and those darned kids.”

  “Whom you adore.”

  “Maybe. But it’s great to have a break from them once in a while.”

  Eleanor sipped her drink. “If we don’t end up killing each other perhaps we could organise another trip next year. Don’t you have any ex-lovers we could track down?”

  Jenna thought for a moment. “Well there was Pete.”

  “And where do you think he might be?” asked Eleanor, warming to the idea.

  “Last spotted in Watford.”

  “Hmm, not classic mini-break territory, it has to be said. Come on. Our train is due in any minute.”

  As the TGV pulled into the station, Jenna had a huge grin on her face. “Wowee, El! This, as my pupils would say, is totally amaze balls.” When Eleanor had booked the fast train she hadn’t realised that it would be one with two floors. She couldn’t help smiling as she followed her sister up the stairs to their comfy seats on the upper deck.

  As the train zapped along, they got fantastic views.

  “The scenery isn’t that exciting, but at least we get to see lots of it.”

  “I’m having so much fun, El. Can we get lunch now?”

  “Sure. Let’s wander over to the cafe-bar and see what’s on offer. It’s bound to be better than nasty British Rail sandwiches,” said Eleanor, leading the way to the cafe.

  They ordered their lunch from the counter and went to stand at one of the high tables where they could watch the French countryside roll by.

  “Well, cheers Jenna,” said Eleanor, clinking glasses and taking a sip of chilled white wine. “Ah, this is the life.”

  “It certainly is. Let’s drink to Christophe, without whom we would not be having this break together.”

  “Amen to that. Ooh, and here’s lunch.”

  They ate their croques monsieur – posh cheese-on-toast, according to Jenna – standing at the tables in the buffet like natives, looking out at the countryside. When they had finished their lunch, the sisters were happy to relax on the upper deck for the final couple of hours of the trip. Eleanor was fascinated by the passing buildings and scenery that she had last seen so long ago, while Jenna was happy to snooze by her side.

  The train arrived in Chevandier right on time. As they stepped off the train and onto the platform, the heat enveloped them. Arriving from the coast with Marie in mid-July back in 1986, Eleanor remembered that it had been one of the hottest places she had ever been in her life. The heat sat around, heavy and enervating. Now, in the late afternoon of a spring day, the warmth was just divine.

  They gathered up their bags and Eleanor let Jenna persuade her to take a taxi to their hotel. It wasn’t far, and the car soon pulled up outside a big old stone house behind the Cathedral.

  Their room was huge; in fact it was a whole suite with high ceilings, two enormous beds and a separate sitting room. Best of all was the balcony, which looked over a shady square where some old gentlemen were playing petanque and chatting. The muted clank of the heavy metal boules on the sand could just be heard from their rooms, where Jenna was laying out her things.

  “Wow, look at the bathroom El. This bathtub is huge. Bagsie the first soak.”

  “Sure, go for it. Then we should go for a promenade along the riverbank.”

  “Perfect,” said Jenna, giving her sister a peck on the cheek, “I won’t be long.”

  Eleanor unpacked her few belongings – unlike Jenna she wasn’t particularly interested in clothes and travelled light. When she had finished she went to sit on the balcony and waited for her turn in the big old bathtub.

  Clean and fragrant from their ablutions, the women stepped out into Chevandier. Eleanor had copied one of the Baedaeker maps and carried it with her along with a stash of more-recent guide books. They walked arm-in-arm through the park and along the riverbank. On benches, young people still sat kissing, just as she and Christophe had done all those years before.

  “I bet they’re not married,” said Jenna, nodding towards an older man wrapped around a younger woman. “More like his secretary, I’d say.”

  “And what about that pair by the fountain?” asked Eleanor.

  “Lovers. Been together a while. She’s not happy with the situation.”

  They were giggling now, like a couple of teenagers. “It must be aperitif time, El. Let’s find a bar for a drinkie before dinner.”

  Both the women were tired after their early start, so they decided to be sensible and have just one drink then an early meal. They found a simple bistro near the main square where they could sit outside and watch the world go by.

  As they strolled to their hotel after dinner, Jenna yawned. “I want to be nice and fresh for all that lovely shopping tomorrow.”

  “I think you mean lovely sight-seeing,” said her sister. “Then if there’s time, I might let you explore the shops.”

  “Okay boss.”

  Back in their rooms, Eleanor curled up on the sofa to wait while Jenna went into the bathroom to remove her make-up and comb her hair. When it was her turn and Eleanor reappeared wearing a pair of short pink pyjamas, her sister smiled at her.

  “You look about twelve years old in those jimjams!”

  Jenna was wearing a long, silky nightgown and looked annoyingly elegant.

  Eleanor looked down at her outfit. “Don’t worry; I shan’t be going out in these.”

  “I think you should. They’re cute.”

  “Very funny.” Eleanor kissed her sister goodnight and crept between the crisp cotton sheets of her own bed. Getting to Chevandier had been fun. Now she wondered what their first full day in town would bring.

  Chapter 8: Bonjour, mon ami!

  Eleanor woke early the next day and read for a while before Jenna roused herself and they went down for breakfast in the hotel’s inner courtyard.

  “So, what’s the plan?” asked Jenna, dissecting a pan au chocolat.

  “Well,” said Eleanor, scrutinising her map. “I’d like to visit the Cathedral, and the medieval quarter. Oh, and there’s the city art gallery and you mustn’t miss the Victorian bandstand, which is unique.”

  “Sounds exhausting. When shall we have lunch?”

  Eleanor frowned at her sister, who just carried on munching.

  “There’ll be plenty of time for lunch. And did I mention the vineyard tours?”

  “Ah, now we’re talking,” said Jenna, reaching for one of the brochures that Eleanor had collected from the receptionist. “This looks great. Let’s go.”

  “I was thinking that we might do that tomorrow,” said Eleanor, sipping her tea. “Oh, and I would like to see what some of the places of my youth look like now.”

  “Mais oui, cherie,” said Jenna brushing crumbs from her lips, and affecting an unconvincing French accent. “We must not be distracted from our mission to find ze divine Christophe.”

  “Jenna, shush,” said Eleanor, turning to look at the other guests.

  “Good heavens, El. I do believe you are blushing at the very thought of seeing him.”

  “I’m not blushing, I’m just hot. Shall we go?”

  “Sure. I can’t wait to discover what gems this place has to offer – other than lover boy, of course.”

  Eleanor said nothing, just handed Jenna a town map. “Here,” she said. “You’ll need that to find your way back to the hotel if I decide to abandon you.”

  “I’ll be as good as gold, El, honest.”

  “I hope so. Now, shall we start with the Cathedral?”

  Despite her protests, Jenna actually enjoyed visiting historical sites almost as much as her sister did. Because she knew the place so well, Eleanor was a well-informed and animated guide, and the sisters had a busy day trekking around the town with plenty of coffee breaks along the way.

  As evening fell, they wandered around for a little longer before choosing a busy cafe with tables under trees decorated with sparkling white lights. Strolling down the high street and across the main square Eleanor had had the oddest sensation. The last time she had been in Chevandier she had been in her twenties. She was young, tanned, pretty – she now supposed – and constantly pestered by men. That was until she started going out with Christophe, after which it was as though some kind of secret signal had gone around and the local youths left her in peace. Now, it was almost as though she was invisible, which wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. In fact it was quite liberating: she felt that she could see without being seen.

  When she mentioned this to Jenna, her sister sniffed. “Wait until you’re the wrong side of fifty, like me. At ‘a certain age,’ you start to disappear, your hair turns grey, your skin fades and it’s as though you’ve become transparent. People look straight through you. Especially barmen,” she said pointedly. Not many people could ignore Jenna for long and, as if on cue, a handsome waiter with a tray and a crisp white cloth draped over his forearm hurried over to take their order.

  “Well cheers, Sis,” said Jenna, clinking glasses. “I’m pooped, but it has been a great day.”

  “Santé,” replied Eleanor, with a smile. It had been a good day, and there were several more to come. “So where shall we eat tonight?”

  “Are you feeling brave enough to search out Chez Christophe?”

  Eleanor looked serious for a moment. “You know, I’m really not sure that’s a good idea.” She helped herself to nuts from a chunky ceramic dish on the table, just like the ones she had sold in the gift shop all those years before. Was she mad even thinking of looking for someone she hadn’t seen for more than twenty years? How would she react if she did find him? And what would her reception be like? She had pretty much abandoned Christophe, after all. “It wouldn’t be fair just to appear out of the blue like that.”

  “Why not? I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you.”

  Eleanor pulled a face. “Or maybe not,” she said, grabbing a few more nuts. “Let’s have another aperitif while I think about it.”

  Half an hour later and emboldened by their drinks, the sisters strolled off in search of dinner. After wandering around for a while they found themselves in the narrow streets behind the Cathedral. They squinted at menus and pressed their noses up against windows to see diners tucking into plates of mouth-watering food.

 

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