Sense and French Ability Read Online Free

flowers that it had gathered along its way. Here reeds and spikes of brilliant green that would sport flag iris grew at the water’s edge. There a clump of ranunculus would soon have giant waxy buttercup flowers growing in abundance. The grass, soft and springy, looked as inviting as a cushion and with no other soul in sight.
    Fliss spread her blanket. She lay with her eyes closed. The brightness of the sun pierced her eyelids. She very nearly dozed off with the warmth, the sound of the river and the fresh smells of the open countryside all around her.
    She lay and read until the book drooped and she dozed. She read and dozed and read again for a while, until her phone buzzed in her pocket. It seemed miles from civilisation, but even here there was a phone signal. Retrieving it, Fliss looked at the screen. It was Edward. She gave a guilty sigh and took the call.
    “Hello, Edward,” she answered.
    “Fliss, thank God! You’re OK are you?”
    “Yes, of course,” she replied quelling her tetchiness.
    “When you didn’t call I began to wonder if you had arrived alright.”
    “Well I did say I’d call you in a few days once I got settled,” she said.
    “But you might have just messaged to say you were there and safe,” Edward said.
    “Edward, we had this discussion before I left. OK, we’ve been seeing each other for a while, but you know I’m thinking of moving here for a time. You could move to the branch in Lille but you said you weren’t sure you wanted to, so I can’t see where this can go.”
    ‘Give me patience!’ Fliss said a silent prayer.
    She sighed. She hadn’t told Madame Altier about Edward. This was why she needed to get right away, to see things more objectively and clearly.
    “Sorry,” she conceded although she was resentful if she was honest with herself. “I’m fine. The journey was uneventful and I arrived in good time.” She went on to give him a brief interpretation of her accommodation and said enough about her hostess to keep him happy.
    She said that she would telephone him with an update in a few days. “I’m not phoning every day. We don’t speak each day as a rule. You did say you would give me space,” she reminded him.
    Fliss felt distinctly like blowing a fuse, the only person who would understand was Jo. Hadn’t she been saying in unceremonious manner for months that Fliss should dump Edward and move on?
    Fliss thought back to that last outing with him...
    *
    That evening the door-bell rang at precisely 7.30pm. Heading for the door, Fliss viewed his outline against the glass. She greeted him and pasted on a smile. Edward stood there in his corduroy jacket and smart trousers. His smooth, short hairstyle with its receding hairline and his polished shoes were just too perfect. All of a sudden she could perceive him as others might, certainly as her friend Jo did.
    It was a moment of deja-vu. Wasn’t this the same scene as the previous Saturday evening? Edward stood in this spot at the same time of evening and holding towards her the identical bunch of flowers from the local supermarket.
    “Edward. They’re beautiful, as usual,” she said to him, accepting his offering. Not minding that they came from the supermarket at all, but realised it was the sameness that bothered her.
    “And you look smart,” complimented Edward.
    “Come in while I find my shoes and jacket.” She stood to one side, letting him in, and then followed him down the hallway to the sitting-room. As he turned, before he had the opportunity to speak, she volunteered, “Shall we have a glass of wine before we go?”
    Was this the embryo of rebellion to come?
    “We don’t have time for that,” he responded.
    “Shall we go mad and forego the film; chill out here and get a take-away?” She suggested, spur of the moment.
    “Well...,” he hesitated. “I’m not sure about the take-away! That’s a ‘plastic’ kind of alternative. If you don’t fancy the film we planned we could always go to