Into the Dark (ORIGINAL AND UNEDITED EDITON)

One

The smell is the main thing I love about France.

It smells like Shere only warmer and sweeter, as though the fragrance of a hundred billion grapes being ripened over the landscape has infused with the air.  It smells distinctly French. Almost like you could get drunk on the air itself - though god knows I don't need any help with that. I get drunk quite easily from the wine and the heat alone.

The shop isn't far, about two miles max but mum doesn't trust French drivers and so she'd argued with me to take the car instead of the bike.  Dad and Nick had then accurately pointed out that the only person to be involved in a car accident on this particular road in the last ten years was her - and so she'd dropped her argument and flounced back out to the patio and left me to it.

To be honest I was using the bike to prolong the journey. I needed the quiet. Not to think about him, because that was forbidden during the day, but because spending a fortnight in a house with five other people was hard work - especially when they were your family.

I'd practically jumped at the opportunity at spending some much needed time on my own.  I welcomed the peace and quiet away from the noise of other people who knew nothing about the other louder noises that had been wailing through my head since that day. Since the day I knew I couldn't love him. 

Delmar's shop is somewhat bustling when I get there, as is always the case in summer - maybe because it's the only proper shop within about 10 miles or so from our house . I say bustling, it's rather small so with the seven or so people milling about right now it looks crowded.

"Ah Alex! Bonjour ma belle!" He shouts as I come in. Delmar  is about sixty I think, but looks a lot younger despite his weatherbeaten complexion and slightly reddened nose. I wave back at him feeling a little self conscious at the way several heads and pairs of eyes turn curiously in my direction and turn my attention back to the shelves.

Squeezing my way around the circumference of the shop, I place all the things mum asked me to get carefully into the blue plastic basket, as well as some things she never asked me to get: A copy of Vogue, a box of those macarons Nick liked and some lip balm for Tash because she'd been stealing mine since hers ran out a week ago.

By the time I'm done, the store has calmed a little and I make my way to the till where Delmar is chatting animatedly in French to a tall dark haired man. The fact that he's conversing with Delmar fluently indicates that he's French, but there's also something about the way he's using lots of hand gestures and the way he's holding himself that confirms he's a native.    I don't catch everything they're saying - my french isn't that fluent - but they appear to be talking about land and produce and weather which makes me think he might be a vintner. He doesn't look like a vintner though  - he looks more like a businessman than a grape farmer. An attractive businessman in fact - tall, broad shouldered and very smartly groomed.

I realise I'm staring at him a little too hard - Delmar notices too - and so I hastily turn my eyes away and move forward to place my basket up on the counter.

"Alex, this is Laurent. Laurent owns La Maison Jaune." Delmar tells me his thickly accented English. Delmar and I made a deal a long time ago that we would always converse in English whenever I came in, apparently because he found the English accent "charming" when 'spoken properly' - which apparently I did.

I nod in surprise and turn my eyes back to our neighbour, who regards me now with a smile that seems to be coming from just his eyes. His eyes are cornflower blue and stand out brightly against a healthy tan and the sprinkling of freckles peppered over his cheeks and nose.

When he smiles at me, revealing a row of perfect white teeth (notably no sharp ones on any side) I feel an unwelcome heat creep up the neckline of my yellow dress. "Bonjour Madame," he says softly, inclining his head slightly.