French Kisses Read Free

you know?”
    Rachel shook her head. “No, I couldn’t. Not anymore. The kids are more French than English. And there’s the house, my friends and my work . . .”
    “Kids are adaptable and you could easily get some studio space in town.” Mary smiled. “But I understand.” She got up and walked over to the kitchen window where a band of drizzle was starting to blow in off the sea. “Who would exchange all that lovely French sunshine for this?”
    “Oh, we have our fair share of bad weather, don’t you worry. Some of the storms are real humdingers.” Rachel stood and joined her friend by the sink, putting an arm around her shoulder. “But it is my home.”
    Mary patted her on the hip. “I know. So, do you fancy a quick drink at the King’s Head for old-times’ sake or are you expected back at Harold’s?”
    “Nope, I’ve got the night off. Dad has promised the kids fish finger sandwiches for tea so I said I might give that a miss and see what you were up to.”
    “Great. Two large Chardonnays and that fine English delicacy, scampi and chips coming up.”
    “Yum, my favourite!”
    A few hours later, when she had tottered tipsily back to the house, Rachel had found everything quiet and assumed that everyone had gone to bed. Instead she discovered the entire household plus a couple of local kids playing darts in the kitchen.
    “It’s good for hand-to-eye coordination,” her father had said when she’d expressed concern as the sharp objects whizzed across the room and pinged off walls.
    “And I insisted that they all wear cycle helmets to protect their heads,” added Connie, who was safely positioned by the door.
    Knowing when she was beaten, Rachel shook her head, laughing. “Well, there’s not much I can say to that. Goodnight all.”
    Now, sitting under a plane tree in Pelette waiting for the bus to arrive from Dreste, Rachel smiled at the recollection. She knew that her children didn’t yet appreciate how lucky they were to have friends and family in two countries. She had enjoyed her time in England more than she had expected to this year. Michael’s relatives had been kind, agreeing with her that it was important for the children not to lose touch with their cousins just because their parents had split up.
    A creak and rattle indicated that the bus was about to crest the steep, narrow street and make its way into the square. It drew to a halt opposite where she sat. Rachel was always fascinated as she watched the youngsters get off – the girls looked so much more glamorous than she and her friends had been at that age. She’d never had the big hair and perfect skin that these girls had. Alice was turning into a young woman and was worryingly gorgeous. Charlie was only two years younger but was still a boy. As she saw him slouch towards her, Rachel was overwhelmed with love for her children.
    The three of them walked home together, the cats joining them when they reached the church and running alongside.
    Back at the house she prepared supper then went into the studio to carry on with some birthday cards she was designing. The rhythm of work always helped her to think. She wasn’t quite sure how things were going to turn out, but she was determined that her little family would be okay. And was she lonely, as Mary had suggested? Of course not. In any case, she was far too busy with her prints and the kids to think about finding a new man.
    She’d had offers, of course. As soon as Michael had left her, she had been surprised when all kinds of unsuitable men – men who had been friends of theirs for years – rushed around to offer help, and sometimes more. The fact that every available male in the local area turned up at her door was just one more reason for her to be angry with Michael.
    Things hadn’t been going too well between them for some time; they didn’t not get on, things had just become a bit boring. Rachel had secretly imagined that she might make her own bid for freedom when