Free Sweet Surrender by Mary Moody Page B

disappeared, but she retained the ability to laugh at some of the grim stories she shared with me. Her sense of humour remained intact.
    I planned to leave Canada immediately after Christmas to spend three weeks in France before returning home to start work on
The Catch-Up
. Two days before I left Canada, Ken became quite ill. He was dizzy and short of breath, and appeared exhausted. I was not surprised. Caring for Margaret was more than a full-time job and it was beginning to take its toll. I started to panic about leaving them. How would he cope if he wasn’t well himself? How would he manage meals, and getting Margaret into the shower, and having to do all the shopping and day-to-day organising without help?
    Frantic, I rang a close family member and expressed my concerns. He rallied immediately, and within hours a homecare agency had been contacted. Although Ken had previously resisted the idea of outside help, it now became imperative. By the time I departed a roster of carers had been drawn up and Ken admitted for the first time that he simply could no longer manage the situation alone.
    I left for France with a heavy heart. It was bitterly cold in Vancouver when I boarded the plane there, and freezing in Paris when I arrived half a day later. January is not an ideal month to visit Frayssinet because my small village house lacks central heating; however, the walls are very thick and I have installed a new wood stove which makes conditions comfortable even in the depths of winter. I burn large oak logs bought from a neighbouring farmer, and while they don’t last as long or burn as hot as Australian hardwood they keep the house cosy overnight. I have also hung heavy, well-lined curtains, which help to muffledraughts from the ancient windows that no longer fit snugly. Over time the stone front wall has dropped in places, and the windows and doors are out of kilter. It would take major renovation and great expense to repair or replace them. In any event I love the look of the old frames and the original glass that has a distinctive watery appearance.
    Apart from my emotional desire to spend time in France, the practical reason for this visit was to carry out the stills photography for the French chapter of
The Long Table
, a cookbook I was contracted to write. If the television show indeed went ahead and was a success, I didn’t know when and how I would get away to complete this vital part of the project. I wanted shots taken of the markets and the local region, of my friends and neighbours, and of my kitchen, to illustrate my story of learning the French way of shopping and cooking. I had arranged for my talented French photographer friend, Nadja, who lives in Normandy, to come down for a week so we could collaborate on the pictures.
    But despite the fact I had a genuine reason to go to France, David was not thrilled at my decision to run away yet again, especially when I was facing a critically busy year in which work would often keep us apart. My visits to Frayssinet continue to be a huge source of conflict between us. I am torn by my need to spend time in my little house and by the knowledge that David is unhappy whenever I am staying there. It represents a period in my life that, although often difficult and sad, made a great impression on me. It’s as though that dash for freedom from my marriage and responsibilities has taught me a lot about myself; every time I go back I reconnect with France, yet the fact that I am so far from home and living in a foreign culture also reminds me that my priorities ultimately lie with my family in Australia.
    I also know that the house in Frayssinet is a refuge, a retreat from the hectic pace and expectations of my normal life. I can close the doors and shutters and be alone, or swing them open and have a party. I love driving my beat-up old Peugeot, zipping along the winding lanes,through the woods and villages, and I love the sense of independence I feel living