You Me Everything Read online

  The benefit of staying in the end cottage of Les Écuries is that we have more space to ourselves than the others do. When you step out and walk round the side, it overlooks a meadow that swishes with soft green grasses, and before that is a stony patch into which we can extend our sitting area. Adam brought over half a dozen folding chairs and a spare table earlier, and we’ve pooled the plates and cutlery from both our cottages.

  The kids play tag on the grass, as the smoky heat from the grill rises into the sky. Becky finishes topping up everyone’s rioja before joining me at the barbecue.

  “What is that?” she asks, as I pick up a pair of tongs.

  “Meat. That’s all I can tell you, I’m afraid.”

  “Seb’ll eat it, don’t worry. He’s got a stomach like an industrial grinder.” Poppy wriggles away from her and runs to her daddy, who scoops her up and tickles her neck, as she convulses with infectious laughter.

  “It’s lovely to see the boys getting along so well,” Becky says. “William’s such a calming influence. I hope it lasts.”

  The outburst between James and Rufus earlier was not an anomaly. I realize it’s normal for all siblings to fight, but these two are sworn enemies who could’ve been born on two different planets: James is earnest, studious, a fan of One Direction, Barbie and The Sound of Music. Rufus is a rough-and-tumble five-year-old who loves WWE, rugby and being as loud as possible. They’re both gorgeous children, until you put them together, when they turn into a couple of psychopaths.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to take over?”

  Adam is suddenly next to me, so close I can smell the sunshine on his skin. I edge away and pick up my tongs.

  “It’s all under control,” I tell him, turning over a steak.

  He looks resolutely off duty tonight, in long shorts and an olive crew that skims his torso. I’d assumed he’d be bringing Simone to show off to Seb, but he tells us she’s decided to have an early night and has gone back to the flat she rents with Ben in Sarlat. I can’t deny this is a relief. I hope we’ve all moved on from the excruciating incident in Adam’s cottage, but being in the company of old friends is easier, sweeter somehow, when you’ve got them all to yourself.

  “I really wouldn’t mind,” he perseveres.

  Becky bursts out laughing. “What is it with men and barbecues?” She nudges me. “Jess, you are clearly in what he considers his domain.”

  He grins at her. “Only offering to help. But now you mention it, I’m sure if you handed over those tongs to me—”

  “Get lost,” I laugh, flicking him away with a tea towel. “If you really want to help, you can do the salad.”

  “Oh, I see. So you get to stand at the barbecue turning rib eye steaks, and you’re sending me inside to arrange a bowl of rocket. This could be the most emasculating thing you’ve ever said, Jess.”

  “You’ve clearly never heard what she says behind your back,” Becky says.

  “Fine. I’ll make a salad. But just so you know, it’ll be a really manly one.”

  Becky chuckles as he walks away, then stops abruptly. “Sorry,” she whispers. “He’s just funny. Still a tosser though. Definitely a tosser.”

  Chapter 30

  As a starry night descends upon us, we drink wine and reminisce with the laughter of three tired but happy children ringing out across the meadow. It’s nine thirty, and Poppy is fast asleep in her pajamas in her pushchair, cozy under a blanket. It’s technically past bedtime for the other children too, but they’re determined to stay up late, and nobody is in the mood to refuse them, even if it means Seb and Becky have to referee the odd argument. The adults sit around a table flickering with citronella candles, all of us full of food and booze and the sheer magnificence of being surrounded by people you love.

  “Are we okay after what happened the other day?” Adam is leaning into me. I glance up with a start, before looking straight ahead, refusing to watch how the light from the candles illuminates his face and flickers in his dark eyes.

  “Of course we’re okay.”

  “If it means anything . . . I hear everything you’re saying.”

  That aftershave is new. He used to wear a Hermès one I bought him for Christmas, even years after we were no longer together.

  “Okay, good.”

  “And I will spend more time with him while you’re here.”

  “That’s great to hear. Thanks.” I think about leaving the conversation there, but I can’t. “So . . . when?”

  He shifts in his chair, as if I’ve put him on the spot. “Well, I’ll have a look at the diary.”

  I feel myself deflate. “Just do what you can, Adam. That’s all I ask.”

  “Dad, will you come and play a game?” William appears next to us. He hasn’t asked for even a moment of Adam’s attention all night. And he hasn’t got it either—Adam’s been talking to Seb all evening.

  “Good idea. How about gin rummy?” Adam produces a pack of cards from his back pocket.

  “We were thinking maybe . . . cricket?” William says.

  “It’s too dark for cricket. Come on, sit down. James and Rufus: why don’t you come and join in too?”

  The kids plod over, more exhausted than intrigued, as he deals out the cards to all of us.

  “So you’re obviously only allowed to play for money,” Adam tells them. “There’s no point otherwise.”

  This, it turns out, is an entirely different prospect. The three boys’ interest is suddenly piqued. “So, William, the question is this: how much have you got and how much are you prepared to bet?”

  “I’ve got some pocket money Granddad gave me,” he offers, standing up to go and look for it.

  Adam puts his hand on his arm and gently pushes him down. “Just this once, I’ll bankroll you.” He pulls out a handful of coins.

  We play for cents and, despite the dark air leaving a chill on our shoulders, part of me doesn’t want it to end, which is saying something given that I’m repeatedly trounced by a five-year-old.

  It’s as Rufus is celebrating another triumph that I realize the light has gone on in Charlie’s cottage opposite.

  “Perhaps we need to keep the noise down,” Natasha says, gesturing over in that direction.

  “Shush, everyone,” I urge them.

  But as the game resumes, nobody is making the slightest bit of effort to keep the noise down, including Adam who celebrates one victory over the kids far too enthusiastically. “Wanker,” I whisper in his ear, only a bit drunk and half joking.

  He bursts out laughing. “Oh, come on. I let them win five rounds; I had to retain some dignity.”

  “I hate to break this to you, but you’ve failed.”

  “I’m just helping them grow up to be well-rounded individuals. Plus, I’m running out of money.”

  By now, Charlie is on his terrace, the light from the window illuminating the back of his body as he stands, absorbed in something on his phone. He lifts up his head, and I glance away as Natasha gives me a nudge. “Go and say hi from me.”

  I’m suddenly feeling brave. Or possibly tipsy.

  “Excuse me a moment,” I say self-consciously, pushing out my chair. But Adam is already dealing another hand of cards.

  I stroll into our cottage, pause long enough to maintain my charade, then slip out to cross the courtyard to Charlie as he’s finishing his call.

  “I’m sorry about the noise. Are we keeping you and Chloe awake? We’re going to put the kids to bed soon.”

  “Not at all, don’t worry. Chloe’s still up reading, and I never go to bed until after one in the morning anyway.”

  “Are those normal hours for a solicitor?” I ask.

  “They’re normal hours for an insomniac. I’ve got way too much to think about.”

  There’s an odd but not uncomfortable silence between us as laughter clatter
s behind us. “Would you like to join us for a drink?” I offer.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude. You’ve clearly got a lot to catch up on.”

  “Well, we have, but that doesn’t stop anyone joining in.”

  He doesn’t reply at first, and I feel silly for even asking. Then he smiles. “Okay. Just one. I’ll let Chloe know where I am.”

  Chapter 31

  I return to the table in time to hear William asking Adam for a quiz question. “Biology this time.”

  Adam thinks for a moment. “Okay, got one: which animal eats its mate immediately after they’ve, you know . . . procreated?”

  I tut. “Only you would come up with something like that.”

  “What? It’s a genuine question. The answer is a praying mantis. Or you could’ve had a black widow. Either way, it amounts to a very bad date.”

  “You didn’t give me a chance to answer,” William protests as I usher Charlie into the group and make some rudimentary introductions.

  “Ah, you’ve been playing cards,” Charlie says. “Who won?”

  “Rufus has won loads, but I won the last one,” William replies.

  “I let him,” Adam says, nudging his son.

  “In your dreams, Dad.” William grins, shaking his head.

  Over the course of the next hour, we sit and talk and drink, and I get cold enough to need the jumper I’d packed but never thought I’d actually use. Although we’re in a group, in our tête-à-tête, Charlie and I feel somehow separate, as he tells me about a full and genuinely fascinating life—about how he walked the Great Wall of China to raise money for Asthma UK after his brother died. That he’s a keen tennis player who was once semiprofessional. That he turned forty-two this year. And that he’s thinking of moving to Devon to be near Chloe, but is torn because his elderly father lives in Manchester and “if I’m honest, he needs me more.”

  It’s gone midnight by the time everyone else has turned in. Yet Charlie lingers, helping me to clear up glasses as the cicadas buzz around us in the darkness.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I tell him. “I didn’t invite you over to do the washing up.”

  “Actually, I like washing up.”

  “Really?”

  “Well, no, not really.” He picks up another bottle. “It’s a feeble excuse to stay a little longer.”

  Heat rushes to my cheeks, but if he notices, he doesn’t let on.

  “I wondered if you might be able to get someone to look after William, one lunchtime perhaps.”

  “Possibly. Why?” I ask, even though I already know what he’s getting at. I want to be 100 percent clear that he wants to go on a date before I say yes to one.

  “I hoped you’d be interested in going for a bite to eat.”

  I’m holding my breath as I walk to the barbecue and pick up the tongs. I’ve had no desire to contemplate anything like this for so long. I didn’t think there would ever be room in my head again. And perhaps it’s the wine, or the tingle of sunburn on my shoulders, but something is making me want to say yes.

  “I’d love to,” I reply, and the swoop in my stomach feels both strange and welcome.

  “Great. How about a drive out somewhere for lunch on Saturday? I’ll pick you up at about twelve.”

  Chapter 32

  There was something about the way Charlie looked at me last night that reminded me how to feel desirable. I floated inside after we said good night, feeling light-headed as I crawled into bed in my underwear. I slept better than I have in months. Now, as the sun filters through the windows, I lie with my eyes closed, drifting in and out of thoughts as I try to remember what it would be like to have a man’s hands on my skin again.

  Then someone knocks on the window.

  I tug the sheet up to my neck and blink at the glass, realizing that I left the shutters open. I blearily make out a figure outside, the outline of someone looking in as the sun shines fiercely behind, before he ducks down. “Argh!” I shriek, scrambling to slam the shutters closed. I grab a dressing gown, wrestle with it briefly, then abandon it and pull on a T-shirt and jeans before groggily stumbling to the front door.

  Adam is on the doorstep, looking maddeningly un-hungover.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Good morning to you too.” He steps inside, uninvited.

  “Why were you looking into my window?” I demand.

  “I wasn’t looking. I’d knocked at the door three times and was about to give up when I saw the shutters were open and assumed you were up and about.”

  “I’d forgotten to close them last night, that’s all.”

  “Well, I hadn’t meant to impose on your privacy,” he says.

  “Good.”

  “Especially not when you were enjoying yourself so much.”

  I cross my arms over my T-shirt. “What do you want, Adam?”

  He takes a deep breath. “I’ve decided to give Ben a temporary promotion and put him in charge this morning. Which means I have the morning off to do something with William.”

  “Oh. Well, he’s asleep but—”

  “I’M UP!” William enters the room in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes.

  “Hello, buster,” Adam says, as if he’s three. “Do you fancy going to a castle today?”

  “He’s already seen a castle with me. In fact, he’s seen several. He should have a PhD in medieval architecture at this rate.”

  Adam refuses to be discouraged. “Yeah, but this is a really good one.”

  “That’d be great,” William says enthusiastically. “Are you coming too, Mum?”

  I briefly remember the conversation with Charlie last night. “Um . . . okay. Though there’s no chance you could do this on Saturday instead, is there? Without me?”

  “Why?” William asks.

  “I might have something else on, that’s all, so I thought you could have that boys’ day out.”

  “What have you got on?”

  “Just . . . I said I’d help Charlie out with something.”

  “Is Charlie that guy from last night?” William asks. “What are you helping him with?”

  I feel myself redden. “Nothing . . . I . . . He’s thinking of joining a Grit class, like the ones I go to, and I was going to tell him all about them.”

  “Does he want you to show him how you do the exercises?” William asks.

  “No.”

  “Oh, that’s good. You might want to spew up again.”

  I’m about to protest when Adam speaks first. “I’ll sort something out on Saturday too, if you like. I’ll still have to be here, but William can help me out with some jobs.”

  For a bewildering moment, things feel awkward between us. It’s stupid, really; it’s not as though Adam’s shy about his own love interests.

  “So are you coming today, Mum?” William repeats.

  “Does it involve any wet suits or waterfalls?”

  “None at all,” Adam reassures me. “It’ll just be a nice family day out.”

  My lips part at the use of the phrase; I instinctively want to object to it. We’re not a family. We are two fragments of a broken couple, superglued together by the most beautiful mistake we ever made.

  * * *

  —

  We leave Natasha making plans to spend the day with Joshua and drive to Château de Beynac, which sits in austere splendor, high on the limestone rocks above the river Dordogne. It’s a huge medieval fortification, the ultimate theatre of war, with a vast drawbridge and turreted ramparts. Inside, a labyrinth of cavernous dungeons weaves beneath secret spiral staircases, which we explore as William becomes increasingly fascinated by its gory history. We emerge into daylight at the top and are rewarded with a sweeping view across the valley, the glittering blue of the river snaking through lush green trees.

  “Richard the Lionh
eart managed to conquer this castle,” Adam tells William, gesturing to the sheer cliff ahead. “He climbed all the way up here.”

  William frowns uncertainly, trying to work out if Adam’s pulling his leg. “No way.”

  “It’s true.”

  “My favorite period in history was the Vikings,” William continues. “Did you know that to stop the color coming out of their clothes, they used to wee on them?” William goes off on a gruesome trail of historical thought, firing bloodcurdling information at Adam, including the fact that you could toughen up a sword by leaving it in a dead person’s stomach.

  I follow the two of them round the outside of the castle, William’s relentless chatter peppering the air as they shuffle through throngs of tourists.

  “Hurry up, Mum!” He reaches the foot of a steep, winding staircase and starts heading up with Adam right behind.

  “All right!” I laugh, as I grab the rail and place my foot on the first narrow step, feeling the temperature drop in the dim light. My blood starts to pump the higher I climb up the cold, uneven surface and it’s just as I reach the top that I lose my footing. I’m not sure how it happens; all I know is that one minute I’m trying to channel the words of my Grit instructor—“Push into your glutes!”—the next I’m clattering down five or six stairs, pain searing through my hands and knees before I come to a stop. I register a hand on my shoulder and glance up to see the blur of a young woman’s face next to mine. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I manage, shuffling onto my backside. “Thanks though.”

  “No problem.” She smiles uncertainly. “Take it easy.”

  As I stand up, the back of my neck is prickling and my underarms are wet with a cold sweat. I look down at my hands and realize one of them is bleeding, and both knees are scuffed.