But in all his fantasies, they lived in London – perhaps south London, far enough away from the memories of Muswell Hill, but easily accessible to the children. So when Claire brought up France, it was quite a bolt from the blue.
‘Pete, I’ve been thinking,’ she said, intertwining her legs with his.
‘Mmm?’ he asked, still watching the vapour from his e-cigarette as it disappeared into the air.
‘Remember my dad’s house in France – the gorgeous one near that quaint little village?’
Here we go, he thought, she’s going to ask me to go on holiday with her. Already he was making mental calculations of how he could get away with it, how it would work logistically and how many days he could manage without Kate getting suspicious.
‘I’ve been thinking about restoring it. Doing a bit of a Grand Designs job on it, making it amazing. A bit rural chic. It’s a lovely space, I think it could be amazing. I could even convert the outbuildings into gîtes and rent them out to tourists, turn it into a little boutique B&B business.’
He hadn’t been expecting that. His mind whirred with a thousand questions – was she moving to France? Was she ending their relationship? Or was she just thinking it would be a side hustle? And where the fuck had he heard the term ‘rural chic’ before? ‘Okaaaay,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s certainly an interesting plan but what’s the aim? Would you sell it? Or would you be planning to run this business?’
‘So I was thinking that I would run it. From France. As in, live in France.’
It hit him like a blow to the stomach. She couldn’t leave him, she was his lifeline, his breath of fresh air, his glimmer of hope in his otherwise dull existence. Without her his life would continue to be boring, grey, devoid of any colour or excitement. In an instant he realised how much he had come to depend on her for his happiness. He sat up straight and looked at her, not even trying to hide his alarm now.
‘As in MOVE to France? What the hell, Claire? You live in London, your whole life is in London. And, well I hate to be arrogant and all, but I’m kind of in London too.’
‘Yes, that’s true, but it doesn’t have to be.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you could come too.’
‘To France?’
‘Yes, Pete, to France.’
She’d clearly lost the plot. There was no way in the world that he could move to France. He wasn’t even sure if he was going to leave his wife yet, let alone leave the country. Why oh why did she have to rock the boat? Things had been so perfect and now she was throwing a totally unnecessary curveball. Perhaps it’s just a fantasy, he thought, something that she talks about but will never do. But he had come to know Claire pretty well over the last few months and when she set her mind to something, it usually happened no matter what anyone else thought.
‘Why would I want to move to France?’ he asked her.
‘Why wouldn’t you? You’re always complaining about how much you hate your job and London – well this is your chance to escape it all. Just imagine, you and me in a beautiful French gîte, walking to the local bakery each morning for pains au chocolat and fresh bread.’
‘It’s a sweet idea, Claire, but that’s all it is, just a fantasy. You have to see that there’s no way it could actually happen. If you want to go to France then that’s your decision, though of course I’d be absolutely gutted. But there’s no way that I can do it, no matter how delightful it sounds. Now, do you fancy a Chinese?’
She regarded him for a second, probably wondering if she should push it further before seeming to think better of it. ‘Sure,’ she replied, reaching for her phone.
And just like that, the conversation was over. But as they ate their vegetable spring rolls and chicken satay he couldn’t help but think about what she’d said. It was a totally ridiculous idea that would never happen, he knew that, but just for a second he closed his eyes and allowed himself to indulge in the daydream. When he opened them again Claire was looking at him with an expression that he couldn’t read but he had a sudden and horrible thought that
