Celebrating in the time-honoured way, but by keeping their spending to a minimum, not a considered choice it had just happened that way, the run up and their first Christmas together, had been all the better for it. Their only concession to being British, having arrived a few days earlier, in the form of satellite dish and a very obliging installer, which meant that they'd been able to watch British as well as French TV. Films and dramas, most, if not all of which they'd seen before, but at a time when they been on their own and in some cases before they'd even met. Another connection, albeit a tenuous one, but because they had similar tastes, had made the rewatching even more enjoyable.
The Christmas lunch which they'd enjoyed with a bottle of wine, they'd prepared and cooked together. The decorations they'd collected from the hillside at the back of the house and marked the boundary of their land. Holly filled with bright red berries, the sign of a cold winter and more surprisingly, in a small orchard where the apple trees were gnarled to the point that it was difficult to tell whether they were alive or not, bunches of mistletoe.
'Who would have guessed that it grew in such abundance in this part of France?' Harry had commented, as he'd climbed back down the ladder with his arms full and with an expression that suggested Ruth was going to be kissed in every room of the house. The Christmas lights which had been draped around the fireplace and the candles that had adorned the table, bought in the market.
The sum total of which, could have easily led them to bolting the door and putting their feet up, which as nice at that sounded, wasn't they decided a good idea. The solution which soon had them feeling better, was that they went for a walk every morning after breakfast. The distance varying and the height that they climbed lengthening, until it reached the point when after a few days, if they didn't turn back, they stood the chance of being caught out by the weather or for the conversation to veer away from the present and to the inevitable. January and not only because they were getting married. A word that had persisted in creeping into the conversation and most recently, with the message that Harry no longer owned a suit and the soon to be Ruth Pearce, didn't have a dress worthy of the occasion.
Until with January still two days away, arriving courtesy of their regular postman, who could reverse up their drive in his little yellow van, faster than Harry could drive down it, amongst the inevitable pile of publicity, came an invitation to a party. One that would ensure that they turn of the year would be anything but quiet. In the village, three hundred metres higher up from where they lived and more importantly, where going to get married. Open to all residents, who when they read between the lines and because Valerie had suggested that if they wanted to be accepted into the community, that they should make an effort and join in, saw them leaving home just as it started to snow. Not at all sure what to expect, but as with so many other things, it turned out to be a real eye opener. Starting as soon as they walked through the door and Ruth's belief that the French knew how to party, but in an understated way, was confirmed. Because not only was there was plenty of food and drink, provided by the villagers according to their tickets, but the band who were setting themselves up on the stage were clearly locals. In what by the size of the room and by the sheer number of people, suggested that the entire village had turned out to celebrate.
Their own personal choice, which had been to find a quiet corner and settle in for a night of anonymity, not lasting for more than fifteen minutes of them arriving, when the music stopped and the mayor, the man who was going to officiate at their wedding, but whose full-time occupation was that he owned and ran the local garage, mounted the stage, cleared his throat and proceeded to welcome everyone. Everyone who as the room fell silent, included children of all ages. Before he singled out an elderly lady, whose birthday was, 'significant,' he told them. Several heads nodding in agreement and was followed by a rousing rendition of the French equivalent of Happy Birthday to you. Before he told his assembled flock, that, 'last but by no means least, they had two new residents, but more importantly they were English.'
Getting one up on the neighbouring commune, they didn't find out until later was important, whereas now, when with a flourish of his arm that was worthy of an Oscar he identified them, Ruth wanted the floor to open up and swallow her and Harry whispered, 'please tell me they're not expecting me to respond?' Verbally maybe not, but because the women who was sitting closest to them was indicating that they should do something, they dragged themselves to their feet amidst a round of applause. After which and as quickly as it had stopped, the band struck up again and the dozens of pairs of eyes that had been looking at them with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, went back into their sockets.
'When in France,' said Harry, although he had no idea why he'd said that, nerves probably, as opposed to, 'do you fancy a dance?' he offered Ruth his hand. That the music, as it had been in the square a week ago, ranged between things that they recognised and others that they didn't, washed over them. What didn't, was that it was the first time that they'd ever been able to dance together. In this tiny village, where they were just Harry and Ruth. Without constraints, self- inflicted or otherwise, that they were able to enjoy themselves by doing something that slotted into this new normal that they were making up as they went along and Harry proved yet again, he knew how to make a woman feel special. Something which he maintained, even when what could only be describe as an extremely handsome farmer who introduced himself as Louis, asked Ruth to dance. Leaving him to chat to his grandmother. Until the last dance was announced and after that and with midnight fast approaching, they followed everyone else outside for countdown and the fireworks. The snow which had continued to fall, now at a depth which meant that covered their shoes, wrapping itself over the rooftops like a soft blanket. Creating a feeling of real calm and in their case, the added excitement of better things to come. The crowning glory to what they decided, as Harry negotiated the winding road back down the hill, had been a wonderful evening.
.
'Summers are hot and winters is cold, it's only the severity that changes,' Patrick who had come to replace a couple of roof tiles, told Harry, who watching him with a combination of admiration and horror a couple of days later. One of their closest neighbours who just happened to be the local roofer and altogether nice guy, who was walking along the ridge without anything other than his balance from preventing him from plummeting to the ground. The snow which had continued to fall, having stopped for long enough for the work to be done and for Harry to spread salt on the paths and steps that he'd cleared earlier. Muffled up against the cold, whilst Patrick seemed oblivious to it. Ruth, appearing a few moments later with mugs of coffee and in Patrick's case, with a tot of whisky to warm him up.
Prevented from thanking him at this stage, by the arrival of two other neighbours. Who amongst all the multiples of jobs that kept them busy throughout the year, each drove a tractor, which at this time of year was adapted into a snow plough. Ensuring that nobody ended up housebound and in this case with a cheery wave, to which they responded, were opening up the road at the bottom of their drive. Helpful today, because having realised that stocking up was the only way to ensure you didn't run out of essentials, they'd ordered a very large fridge freezer. Due to be delivered before lunchtime and after which, they intended to go shopping.
Something that was curtailed when they heard a shout from what turned to be two university students who had got separated from their friends. Babbling away in German, which of course Ruth could speak fluently, asking her, 'if she knew of anywhere that they could stay for a couple of nights?'
Before Hubert as he introduced himself and Adele his girlfriend, turned to Harry and said, 'your wife is an angel sir.'
Something that Harry agreed with, despite the assumption that he and Ruth were married. How could he not? Because Ruth, who had so recently confessed to needing him to look after her, was the most compassionate person he'd ever known. Danny's selfless death and how she'd refused to leave him afterwards, just one of so many instances when she'd been the person that their colleagues had turned too. In an attempt to influence how he reacted to a situation, was beside the point.
Which in this case was because not only had Ruth said, 'can you speak English,' but she'd followed it up with, 'you can stay here.'
Here meaning in the barn which had already been cleaned and made ready, in advance of Paul, Ellie and Maddie arriving.
Causing Patrick, who had a smattering of English, to slide down the roof on his bum, before disappearing with a cheery goodbye, but not before assuming Harry's previous look of admiration.
Something that would have no doubt continued, had he been there when Ruth arrived with a small box of groceries, sufficient that their guests could make themselves a warm drink and a sandwich. By which time, Harry had agreed that they could stay for three rather than two nights. Because not only had Hubert told him that they were heading for the south coast, but he'd produced passports and documents which prove that they had missed a train at some stage. Harry going back into the house with another much shorter shopping list than their own and having made the offer to drive them to the station when the time came.
Kindness that was repaid in advance when, 'please let me help you,' Hubert told Harry the next morning, arriving just as the tractor pulled up at the top of the drive, with twelve cubic metres of logs that needed to be stacked. The job made far easier and done in no time, under the instruction of the farmer who was stacking at the end, in a way that ensured the load wouldn't tumble. Ruth having taken Adele into the village, to draw some money out of the ATM, while she picked up their order at the butchers and topped the car up with fuel.
Ruth who was still marvelling at the speed in which their life was changing on a daily basis, suggesting that they looked around the market before they went back. Something that Adele was more than happy to do, because they sold very warm winter sweaters and socks at reasonable prices and Ruth, because during the chaos of the previous day, which had seen their new fridge freezer arriving and the bulk buy of shopping, they'd forgotten to buy something for Maddie. Ringing Harry to confirm that they'd be later back than originally planned, for no other reason than he always worried about her driving on what were potentially icy roads, before she relaxed into her new role of playing host. Made easier, because Adele who assumed they had lived here for years, didn't flood her with questions. Parting company more than an hour later, when she parked up in a way that suggested that Adele was right, before they went their separate ways. Ruth into the house where Harry who was warming the back of his legs in front of the fire and Adele to her beloved Hubert.
.
Day three with their visitors who had told them that they were going to relax and read books, was one which Ruth would eventually describe in her diary as blue-sky day. A notch higher than the smiley faces. Not only because the sun was shining brightly, which gave the snow-covered landscape even more magical in appearance, but because dispensing with convention that the bridegroom shouldn't see what the bride was wearing until she walked in, she and Harry were going to choose their wedding outfits together. In what was their Departmental Centre, the highest in altitude of the ninety- five in France and where their application to get married had been rubber stamped. Rodez, dominated by its Cathedral was visible from every approach road, which meant that after they'd parked the car, the access to the shops, was not surprisingly upwards. In this case, via steep and pedestrian only cobbled walkways.
Harry's suggestion that they shop first and then have lunch before they went home, extending beyond looking for what they were going to wear for their wedding. As they climbed the hill, stopping to take a breath every now and then and invariably found themselves walking into shops that had no bearing whatsoever on what they were looking for. A kitchen shop that sold everything imaginable and where they bought a garlic crusher and a set of saucepans to replace the ones they'd inherited. A chocolatier, because Harry couldn't resist it and finally and only because Ruth wasn't happy with what she'd bought Maddie, they went into an upmarket children's store, where they bought a set of books, which although the author was French, had been translated into English. All of which they arranged to pick up on their way back down.
Lunch they kept simple, but there was nothing simple about the view from their table. One hundred and eighty degrees of open countryside, that extended as far as the eye could see, they hadn't expected. Or the patience and almost as if they knew how important these choices were, from the assistants in the shops. Where Harry had eventually come away with a suit, several shirts and ties and Ruth after several instances of, 'what do you think?' her dress.
Only to find when they arrived home loaded with parcels and much to their relief, true to their word and without requiring a lift to the station, their guests had left the barn clean and tidy. A message thanking them and a promise to return one day, in the visitor's book.