The Lost Sister, Kathleen McGurl [best desktop ebook reader txt] 📗

So the five of us were all pretty free, free to do what we wanted with life. We were still young enough to be fit and active, although Phil was a bit overweight and not as fit as he ought to be. We were old enough to be financially secure. We were all recently redundant or retired. Our kids were grown-up and independent. We had no elderly parents left that need caring for – my mum was the last to go of that generation.

So I suppose if we had been at all serious about upping sticks and moving to France, it was the right time to do it. But of course we weren’t serious, and in the morning we’d all be dismissing it as a joke, a good giggle but nothing more. At least I hoped so, as I lay searching for sleep in Steve and Manda’s spare room that night. I didn’t want to move to France.

I was the last one up next morning. That’s not unusual – I’ve never been a morning person. The others were sitting in the kitchen, drinking coffee while Steve organised breakfast. All the men in our little group are great cooks. And Manda can bake amazing cakes, cookies and breads. It’s just me who’s a klutz in the kitchen.

‘Morning, Lu,’ Steve said. ‘The full works for you this morning? Phil said you were still out for the count.’

‘I was. And yes please.’ I scanned their faces. Was everyone wondering, as I was, whether the conversation last night had been serious or not? Or had they all forgotten it after a night’s sleep? The latter, I hoped.

Phil put out a hand and pulled me to a seat beside him. ‘All right? There’s fresh tea in the pot. Want some?’ He didn’t wait for an answer but picked up an empty mug and poured me a cup, adding just the right amount of milk. The advantage of thirty years’ marriage is that we know exactly what the other person likes and needs. I smiled a thank-you at him and sat down.

‘How’re everyone’s heads?’ I asked.

‘Surprisingly all right,’ Gray replied. ‘Think we drank about eight bottles between us so we’ve no right to feel good this morning. Not at our age.’

‘Speak for yourself, Gray.’ Manda gave him a playful punch on the arm. ‘You may be knocking on a bit but I’m still only fifty-eight.’ She’d always been the baby of the bunch – youngest by all of two months.

The banter was all very well, but I was dying to know. Were they about to start house-hunting in the Alpes-Maritimes? Or anywhere in France for that matter. I hoped not. Steve was busy flipping fried eggs, and Manda was taking trays of sausages and bacon out of the oven and putting them on the table. There was a bowl of cooked mini tomatoes, racks of toast and a pan of sautéed potatoes. I couldn’t help but grin. A good old fry-up the night after a skin-full of wine was my favourite thing.

Could you even get bacon and sausage in France?

It was as we finished eating, as Manda was making more coffee and I began stacking plates to load the dishwasher, that Steve spoke up. ‘So. This house in France. Are we going to do it, then?’

‘Were we serious?’ Phil asked.

‘I was,’ Gray chipped in, as he munched on the last of the toast.

‘You’re never serious,’ Manda told him.

‘Well’ – he waved the crust of his toast at everyone – ‘I was last night. Honestly, it’d be awesome. We could breakfast like this every day!’

‘We’d be fat as fools in no time,’ I said. My stomach gave a lurch. If they all wanted to do this, I couldn’t be the one to spoil the party. Not now. It’d all fizzle out soon enough anyway.

‘I’m up for it,’ Phil said, looking at me with a raised eyebrow, and I swallowed and nodded. ‘Er, yeah. Sure.’

‘Manda and I discussed it this morning, while we waited for you lazy lot to show your faces,’ Steve said. ‘We think we could make it work. Manda needs something to take her mind off Zoe being away. Phil needs a healthier lifestyle. Sorry, mate, but you do. And you, Lu’ – he nodded at me – ‘need to do something for yourself, after all your years caring for your mum. As for me, I need a project. So I’m happy to do the legwork.’

No one was better than Steve at organising things. He’d been a project manager in a finance company for years and was good at it. And he spoke better French than the rest of us.

‘What about me?’ asked Gray. ‘What do I need?’

‘A new hunting ground,’ Phil said, with a wink. ‘Maybe you’d meet the perfect woman in France.’

‘Mmm, I like the sound of that!’ Gray laughed.

‘Well then,’ Phil said. ‘Let’s go for it!’

There was much cheering and clinking together of coffee mugs, and by the time I had that dishwasher loaded Steve had opened his laptop and begun a search, and a shortlist of potential properties was being drawn up. I watched them crowded around behind Steve and smiled. It would probably all come to nothing, but in the meantime I had to admit it was fun dreaming and planning. In the end the whole thing would no doubt just fizzle out, thankfully, but I wasn’t going to be the one who said no to it. Not while they were all so excited.

Phil and I discussed the idea on our drive home later that day.

‘Moving to France, eh? At our age! Great idea, isn’t it?’

I bit my lip for a moment, not sure how to respond. It was one thing going along with the excitement when we were with all the others, but surely I should be honest about my misgivings with my own husband? ‘Yeah. Lovely idea, but I can’t see it actually happening, can you?’

Phil glanced across at me and frowned. ‘Don’t see why