Her Mediterranean Makeover. Claire Baxter

curls hid them anyway.

      She chewed her lip, wishing she’d let the hairdresser work her magic on those roots.

      But why? Did she see the point now? Was Jacques the reason for her out-of-character critical scrutiny?

      No!

      She hoped to see Jacques again, true enough, but only because he was someone to talk to. Someone friendly. So what if she looked her age? He did too.

      Hmm, like there was any comparison. Men aged differently from women, and he looked great.

      She sighed. If he was superficial enough to object to the way she looked, he wasn’t someone she wanted as a friend. She couldn’t help being over forty, and there was nothing wrong with that anyway.

      Leonie pushed open the café door and was rewarded by the sight of Jacques, in another pristine white shirt, his dark suit jacket draped over the back of his chair. He rose to his feet and waved her over.

      She sighed with relief. At least there would be no awkwardness such as deciding whether to go up to him or not.

      ‘Good afternoon, Leonie.’

      He pronounced her name ‘Lay-o-nie’, with the emphasis on the first syllable. She was about to correct him, when she changed her mind. It sounded different, and she liked it. Different was good.

      ‘Hello, Jacques.’

      Goodness, he was even more gorgeous than she’d remembered. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea?

      But then he grinned, a grin so genuine and boyish it made her heart stand still. And she knew she couldn’t walk away.

      He placed a chair next to his and held it for her. She gave him a questioning look. Why would she sit next to him like that?

      He shrugged. As if he’d read her mind again, he said, ‘I thought we could read the newspaper at the same time. You can point out anything you have difficulty with and I can help you.’

      ‘Oh, but you don’t have to—’ She stopped, because it was thoughtful of him. She smiled. ‘Thank you. That’s a nice idea. I appreciate it.’

      After she’d settled at the table and Jacques had fetched her a coffee, Leonie took her reading glasses from her bag and slipped them on. Then she watched Jacques reach into his jacket pocket and do the same thing.

      Grinning, she said, ‘It’s a drag, isn’t it? A sign of old age creeping up on us.’

      ‘We have a lot of life in us yet.’

      ‘Oh, I don’t know about that.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe you do, but my best years are well and truly gone.’

      He frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’

      ‘It’s a fact. I’ve been married, had my children, now I’ve turned forty and I’m heading towards…’ With a pang, she realised she didn’t know what she was heading towards. ‘Well, grandchildren, I guess.’

      He made a scoffing sound. ‘You are not old enough to be a grandmother.’

      ‘Well, technically I am, but, more to the point, I wouldn’t like either of my kids to have children yet. I hope they’ll get an education and live a little before they settle down to raising a family.’

      She sighed, looking away.

      ‘You miss them?’

      ‘I do. I miss them so much. Yesterday, I was seriously considering going home. This…’ she waved a hand meant to encompass the café, the city, the course…everything ‘…this is so not me. I’m a mother first and foremost, and I can hardly believe I’ve left my children to fend for themselves while I’m here, pleasing myself.’

      She shrugged, then took her phone from her bag, flipped it open and brought a photo of Sam to the screen. ‘This is my daughter, Samantha. She’s the elder of the two.’

      He smiled. ‘She is very pretty. She takes after her mother.’

      Leonie’s eyes widened, just for an instant, but then she reminded herself that it was the sort of thing people said to be polite. He was right about one thing, though. Sam was very pretty. But she was sweet too.

      With a proud smile, she nodded. ‘She’s a lovely girl. She’s studying social work at university. It’s always been her ambition to help people.’

      ‘You must have raised her well.’

      ‘Oh, no. It’s all her own doing. Even as a toddler she was like that. At kindergarten she used to get terribly upset if one of the other children fell and scraped a knee. Empathy. That’s her strongest trait.’

      It felt so good to talk about her kids. Her fellow students were barely older than Sam and Kyle and had no interest whatsoever in her maternal ramblings. But Jacques didn’t seem bored.

      He gave her an encouraging nod as she brought up a picture of Kyle. She turned the phone to face him.

      ‘He does not look so much like you.’

      ‘He looks just like his father did at the same age.’

      Shane had been just the opposite of Jacques. Taller, and lanky. His limbs had seemed too long for him at school and he’d never really grown into them. Blond, with a serious face. It was the seriousness that had attracted her to him in the first place. He was different from the other boys at school.

      Jacques gave her a curious look. ‘You said you had been married? You are no longer…?’

      ‘I was married to Shane for twenty years. Till he died. Three years ago.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      She nodded. ‘He’d been ill for a long time.’ She took a sip of coffee.

      After a pause, he said, ‘Three years is not such a long time. You must miss him still.’

      ‘Oh, I do.’ Yes, she missed Shane, and she always would, but she no longer woke during the night shocked to find he wasn’t there. She hadn’t done that for months now. She’d even taken her wedding ring off, and tucked it away safely in her jewellery box at home. She was getting used to being alone. ‘I do miss having him there to talk to about the kids, and to make plans with. Though, to be honest, we hadn’t really made any plans for a long time.’

      She stopped for another sip of coffee.

      ‘Tell me about your son,’ Jacques said.

      This brought a smile to her face again as she looked up, and she guessed that had been his intention.

      ‘He’s great too, but in a very different way from Samantha. He’s such a boy.’ Then, not sure that Jacques would understand what she meant, she went on. ‘He loves action movies and football and off-road driving with his mates. He drives Sam to distraction. When they were kids he used to torment her with creepy crawlies and the like, but he thinks the world of his sister and wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.’

      Physically, at least, she thought. There was nothing Kyle or she could do to stop Sam being hurt by people who took advantage of her soft heart, as they’d discovered already.

      Sighing, she lifted her head to look into Jacques’ brown eyes. ‘And what about you? Married? Children?’

      He hesitated, then reached into his pocket and pulled out a wallet. After opening it, he gazed at it for a moment before turning it so that Leonie could see two photos. ‘My son. Antoine.’

      She leaned forward to get a better look, and saw a boy who obviously had Jacques’ genes. ‘Oh, gosh, he looks just like you.’

      And being in his father’s arms made it that much more obvious. But as she had the thought she also registered that he was kind of big to be carried by his father.

      Shifting her eyes to the second picture, she saw the reason. In this one, Antoine was on his own, and in a wheelchair.