Free Hand On Heart: Sequel to Head Over Heels by Sara Downing

Tracey again?’  She pointed to another couple of unsuspecting men, propping up the bar with a pint each and chatting amiably.
    ‘No, don’t you dare, one of them is a dad from school!  No, Alex, I’ll never live this down if you do!’
     
     

Five – Grace
August 2015
     
    ‘Are we there yet?’ Jack griped from the back seat.  ‘I’m bored.’  They were several hours into the long drive to the chateau in France and everyone was ready for a break from the monotony of one motorway after another.  France really was a bloody huge country, even more so when you were crossing it with small children, Grace mused. 
    She passed him another biscuit, cascading a torrent of crumbs into the rear foot-well.  Fortunately she didn’t have the kind of husband who was totally obsessed with his car.  Tom wasn’t the sort to make a fuss about a bit of mess that could quite easily be vacuumed up.  Although it might take a full complement of industrial strength car valets to get their car clean when they got back from this holiday.  The biscuit seemed to do the trick for Jack, and he sat happily munching and gazing out of the window as mile upon mile of French countryside whizzed by, before putting his headphones back on and tuning into the film he and Lily had been watching.  
    ‘Mummy, Lily’s going to sleep,’ Jack piped up.  Grace glanced round to see her daughter dozing off, head lolling as she succumbed to tiredness and boredom. 
    ‘Bless her,’ she replied.
    ‘Can I wake her up?’ Jack asked, clearly missing his sister’s company the moment it was no longer available.  ‘I need her to watch the film with me.’
    ‘No, darling, leave her to sleep.  We’ve still got a long way to go.’
    It was still miles to go; they’d only just reached that massively long stretch of motorway that started south of Paris and ended in the Périgord region.  It took them through mile after mile of countryside which was undoubtedly beautiful, but all pretty much indistinguishable and lacking in landmarks.  There was no doubt as to the efficiency of the French AutoRoute system; you could put your foot down – speed cameras and hidden Gendarme patrol cars permitting – and clock up a very healthy average speed.  It was just that it was so unbroken by a landmark of any sort that everything started to look the same, like some kind of very dull and monotonous Groundhog Day.  No wonder there were so many service areas dotted at regular intervals; no one could drive for long in this part of the world without nodding off at the wheel and needing a large shot of caffeine.  Grace was bored stiff, but it would soon be her turn to drive, so she daren’t have a nap; she’d be out cold and Tom would never be able to wake her up.
    Grace was glad they had decided not to travel in convoy with the Brookes.  There was nothing worse than following the same car’s rear end for miles, overtaking when they overtook, making sure no one squeezed into the gap between them.  She for one couldn’t concentrate properly on the road if she had to follow someone.  Much better to set their own Sat-Navs and just meet up at the chateau tonight, or en route if they happened to coincide with meal breaks. 
    ‘I hope this is going to be OK,’ Tom said nervously, referring to the imminent holiday, not the road.  Grace knew he still had some reservations about holidaying with the Brookes family.  The Parrys had never been ones to share their precious family fortnight away with anyone, so this was a first for them all.  Grace wondered too how they really would adapt to living with another family for two whole weeks, even one they knew as well as the Brookes. 
    ‘Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,’ she replied, trying to convince herself, as much as Tom.  ‘The chateau is huge; we’ll probably only see them for meals and stuff.  And the girls are really up for babysitting.  You never know, we might even get a few evenings out on our