Is a change as good as a rest?

When married couple Fern and Aiden have a windfall, their reactions could not be more different. While Fern is content to pay off their mortgage and build a nest egg before starting a family, her husband is set on travelling the world.

Fern’s not much of a back-packer so, before she knows it, the idea of a ‘marriage gap year’ takes shape. And, as Aiden heads off to the wilds of Australia, Fern chooses the more restful Provence for her year out.

Set amidst the glorious French scenery, Château de Vernon offers a retreat from the hustle and bustle of normal life, and Fern agrees to help out in return for painting lessons from the owner – renowned, but rather troubled, painter Nico.

As their year unfolds in very different ways, will the time apart transform their marriage, or will it drive Fern and Aiden even further apart…

Let Lucy Coleman whisk you off on a heart-warming, sun-drenched and magical French adventure.

Available on multiple platforms in various formats. For Amazon UK and US click on the buy links below:

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Audio link:

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READ CHAPTER ONE:

April 2018

Stroud, Gloucestershire

 

Chapter 1: The Wind of Change is Blowing

 

Is it a blessing, or a curse, to be born with an inner voice… one that pipes up unbidden, filling you with a sense of uneasy expectation?

The situation isn’t helped by the fact that my head has been pounding all day. But for the last hour, I’ve had a familiar shooting pain in my right eye and now it’s becoming relentless. It’s building, whatever is coming, and the stress of it is making me sick to my stomach.

When it finally reveals itself to me, my instincts are screaming that everything will change. Every little thing I take for granted is going to be threatened.

Change can be exhilarating, but what I feel is a heaviness beginning to descend upon me and I’m fearful about what is coming.

* * *

Buzz. Buzz. Buzz. The phone skitters across the desk, making me jump. I’ve been trying to read the final page of this report for the last twenty minutes, but the words keep swimming in front of my eyes. I don’t want to answer it because it’s taking all my resolve to sit here quietly reading, let alone engage in even a simple conversation. Maybe it can wait. It’s too late in the day for it to be my boss and I scan around, realising everyone else has already gone home.

I retract my hovering hand, leaning over instead to check the caller ID. It’s my sister, Hannah. Instantly I panic and my mouth goes dry as I snatch up the phone, pressing it to my ear. At the moment, she’s a constant worry and it’s just one thing after another as she lurches from one emotional crisis to the next. Hormones have a lot to answer for, don’t they?

My voice is uneven, a gravelly rasp I barely recognise.

‘What’s up, Hannah?’ I pause to clear my throat. ‘Is everything okay?’

Thud goes my heart in slow motion, as if it’s mechanical and in need of rewinding. I know I should have quit working an hour ago to go home and dive beneath the duvet to ride this out.

‘Fern, I can’t believe you’re still at work. Do you know what time it is?’

The haze of pain around me clears a little as the warm lilt in her tone reassures me she’s fine.

‘I… I’m leaving soon.’

Closing my eyes to fight the nausea as another wave of pain washes over me – even my teeth are now hurting. I ease back my shoulders to release the tension in my neck, but it doesn’t help.

‘I’m with Aiden. You need to come home right now. I checked the lottery ticket pinned to the fridge door while we were waiting for you.’

I can hear a jumble of voices in the background, which confuses me as I fight to process her words.

‘Ticket?’ What ticket?

Oh. The one I bought at the supermarket on Friday. It’s… Monday, no, Tuesday. The days roll through my head with absolutely no connection to anything.

‘Well?’ She laughs, excitement raising the pitch of her voice and making me wince.

‘Well, what?’ The pounding is now excruciating and I realise if I don’t take a migraine pill, I’m going to keel over.

‘Fern, you sound half asleep. You only matched one number, but you flippin’ won the Millionaire’s Raffle!’

My stomach begins to churn and I slump forward, wracked with pain, until my forehead touches the desk.

‘Lovely. Tell Aiden I’ll be home soon, promise.’

Click.

Why is Hannah at the house? Why isn’t she at uni? Then I remember that it’s the Easter holidays. It’s fine. All I need to do now is to get home in one piece.

* * *

‘You look awful, Fern. Are you fighting off a migraine attack?’

I nod, dropping my bag on the floor and gratefully sinking down onto one of the chairs. It looks like I missed a party. The breakfast bar is littered with glasses, two open bottles of Prosecco and an assortment of snacks.

Aiden is staring at me. ‘Tea?’ he asks, gently.

‘Yes please.’

My body feels heavy now that the pain is under control, but the side effects aren’t pleasant. My jaw, neck and shoulders feel bruised, as if I’ve hit something with force. At least my stomach has stopped churning.

‘Where’s Hannah?’

‘She had to head off as she’s meeting up with her room-mate for pizza, remember? Your mum and dad popped in to drop off the coat you left at their house after Sunday lunch and they offered her a lift.’

Oh, yes. ‘And the drinks?’ I nod in the direction of the mess Aiden has begun to clear.

‘Georgia from next door knocked to say hello when she spotted your parents’ car parked on the drive. Hannah had just checked the lottery results on her phone and was buzzing with the news. She texted Steve to join us after Georgia said she’d stay for a drink. It turned into a little celebration and I kept hoping you’d walk through the door.’ He carries a mug of tea across, placing it in front of me on the table. ‘Sorry about this morning,’ he adds, casually, as if wasn’t a big deal. But his apology is tinged with guilt and he’s avoiding eye contact.

Does he think I stayed away on purpose? In the seven years that we’ve been married, we’ve never rowed at breakfast before. In fact, we rarely argue, but recently… I’m beginning to feel I don’t know him any more.

‘You must be feeling really awful if even the thought of a million pounds hitting the bank account doesn’t raise a smile. Have you had it all day?’ He wrinkles his brow and his reaction tugs at my heartstrings. I love every little inch of that expressive face; including the silvery white scar on his forehead, a reminder of the boisterous young toddler who drove everyone mad with his antics – or so I’m told. And those hazel eyes and the closely cropped, dark brown hair he daren’t grow out as it has a life of its own, is imprinted on my mind. For the briefest of moments, what I see isn’t a twenty-nine-year-old man standing in front of me, but how he was when we first met. A seventeen-year-old who thought he was a man already. In those days, he only had two hairs on his chest and now it’s in serious need of waxing, in my opinion. The thoughts running through my head make me smile.

‘More or less,’ I admit.

‘You should have phoned. I don’t like you driving when you’re like this.’

‘Like this?’ I frown as I look up at him, the effort involved in processing his words is hard work.

Seeing the concern etched on his face triggers a memory from this morning. As he stomped around in a bad mood, I felt he was simply waiting for me to leave. My presence seemed to annoy him, for some reason I couldn’t comprehend. All I did was ask him what was wrong.

‘In a full-blown attack, babe. You don’t always realise your judgement is impaired. Remember the time you got the car wedged up against the pillar as you pulled into the garage?’

It was one incident. Probably five years ago. And yes, that day, I shouldn’t have attempted to drive myself home. I’d forgotten my tablets and I didn’t want to cause a fuss.

I’d inherited these sick headaches from Dad, who warned me that stress was a big trigger for him. Which didn’t help at all. Who can avoid stress?

I remember having to abandon the car before I finally staggered inside. Aiden came back to find me collapsed on the floor in the hallway. The following morning he said I’d scared him, and he made me promise I wouldn’t take that risk again.

Well, at least Aiden still cares, so whatever is going wrong between us, that’s a comfort, I suppose.

He slides into the chair opposite me, looking sheepish.

‘Hannah was right, I double-checked the ticket myself. We’ve won, Fern.’

Wrapping my hands gently around the mug of tea for a few seconds, I allow the almost scalding heat to shock some life back into me. The migraine pills leave my senses feeling muted, as if there’s a slight disconnect – a fuzziness that won’t be shaken. As the heat builds, I withdraw my hands and drop them down onto my lap. With fingers tingling, it’s good to feel something that pulls me sharply back into the moment.

It’s only money: the words jump into my head, unbidden. Money won’t fix the fact that something has changed in Aiden and my fear is that he has fallen out of love with me.

‘We’ll be able to pay off the mortgage. And clear the credit cards.’ He draws to a halt. Aiden’s tone is gentle and as I watch his expression, I can see he understands it hasn’t fully sunk in yet. My brain doesn’t seem able to process the words right now, and I look at him blankly. ‘Come on. What you need isn’t tea, but sleep.’

He stands and, in two strides, a pair of strong arms lift me up out of my seat and steer me towards the door.

‘Promise me you won’t take that risk again, silly thing. You might be superwoman, Fern, but I suspect even she has an off day every now and again. We all need a little help from time to time and that’s what I’m here for.’

I needed to hear that. Oh, how I needed to hear that. With his arms around me, a sense of relief, of being rescued, allows me to let go. Like a balloon deflating, suddenly I feel empty and my husband is in control. My rock is still my rock.

Aiden lowers me onto the bed and helps me undress. As soon as my body sinks back onto the soft, cool surface of the crisp cotton sheet and my head hits the pillow, I’m spirited away. The darkness is like a cocoon and I welcome it…