‘What on earth is that?’ Angus asked.
Tilly was distracted by not yet having found the end of the roll.
‘Ce sont des sacs à crottes.’ She looked up from the handfuls of soft plastic decorated with paw prints. ‘The bags for picking up the dog poop?’
‘You have a dog?’ Angus turned his head sharply, as if he was expecting a wolfhound to be lying on the back seat.
‘No. My mother has a dog. This is her car.’
A practical, reliable, honest sort of car, which was rather like how Tilly might describe her mother. And her father, for that matter. They might have approved of Angus McLeod because neither of them had had any time for the frivolity or waste of money that romantic gestures represented. There’d never been surprise gifts or declarations of love or impetuous dancing in the kitchen when she’d been growing up. By the time Tilly had watched her parents’ marriage simply crumble around the edges and fade into something too meaningless to be worth keeping, she was firmly convinced that the lack of romance was the reason her family had disintegrated. It was the glue that any relationship with a partner for life needed to succeed.
She was never going to let that happen to herself.
Tilly stuffed the crumpled bags into the door pocket, started the engine and drove towards the exit of the car park. The bar lifted as the technology recognised the number plate. Suddenly it didn’t seem quite so uncomfortable to have Angus McLeod sitting beside her. At least they had a conversation starter that wasn’t going to tread on any overly personal ground.
‘It was much more suitable for an airport pickup,’ she added. ‘And, seeing as she lives in Aix-en-Provence, it was a… a non-brainer.’
‘No-brainer,’ Angus murmured, but there was no malice in his correction. Maybe he was also happy to have something safe to talk about. ‘What do you normally drive?’
‘I don’t, normally.’ Tilly was negotiating a roundabout to start taking them north. ‘I ride.’
‘Ahorse?’ Angus sounded astonished. ‘A motorbike?’
‘Not exactly.’ Tilly was glad of needing to concentrate on the traffic so she had an excuse not to meet his gaze. ‘I have a Vespa.’
‘Ah…’
He sounded as if he might be trying to suppress amusement, which made Tilly instantly defensive. She loved her sage green Vespa Primavera with its basket on the back. It was perfect for zipping around the hills of her hometown, Vence, coping with cobblestones, traffic snarls on market days and the narrow lanes and parking where she lived, in one of the squares inside the walls of the old city.
‘I also have a car,’ she added, ‘because it’s not safe to take a Vespa onto the autoroute. It’s a 2CV van that’s painted purple and has flowers all over it, so I don’t imagine you would want to ride in it.’
It had been simple to change the lovely curly, cursive signwriting on the vintage van Sophie had gifted her along with the business. All that had been needed was to change ‘Marry Me’ to ‘A Promise’. Both her vehicles were, at times, impractical and not entirely reliable and they were both adorned with romantic flourishes. Rather like how Tilly might describe her life, come to think of it.
‘There are only two seats in it, anyway, so…’ She finished her sentence with an apologetic grimace to go with her shrug. She hadn’t intended to remind him of his solo status.
Angus clearly didn’t intend tobereminded. He didn’t turn from watching the countryside and industrial buildings as they skirted the city of Marseilles. ‘Did you manage to find the rental car I requested?’
‘Of course.’
Except it hadn’t been that simple, had it? Tilly had only finalised the hire and delivery of the car this afternoon and hadn’t had a chance to send a message to Angus.
‘A 1966 Alfa Romeo Spider. Like the one you saw on the website.’
‘Red?’
‘Yes.’ Tilly cast him a curious glance. ‘It’s special for you, this car?’
‘Have you ever seenThe Graduate? With Dustin Hoffman?’
‘No.’
‘You wouldn’t understand, then.’
Tilly kept her tone level despite what felt like a put-down. ‘Try me.’
‘Dustin’s character, Benjamin, is driving a red Alfa Romeo Spider. Exactly like that one. He goes searching to find a direction to take in his life. He wants to escape. He wants to find love.’
‘Ah…’ What was so incomprehensible about that? ‘Don’t we all?’
