مادمازل ون گوگ

Chapter twelve

Mademoiselle Van Gogh

It was so hot that the mountains were a smoky blue against the deep blue of the Provencal sky. Down below me, a field of flowers was dark purple against the orange buildings of a little village. I knew I’d have to go soon, so I worked quickly, trying to make the right colours with the paints I had with me.

Then suddenly I felt a strong hand on my shoulder, and somebody kissed my cheek. ‘Come on, “Mademoiselle Van Gogh”,’ said my boyfriend. ‘We’ve got to get moving.’

I put my paintbrush into the water and turned to kiss Grant on the mouth. ‘OK, OK, “Mr Clock”,’ I said.

There were shouts behind us. ‘Come on, you love birds! Lunch is over! We’ve got mountains to climb!’

It was the summer holidays and I’d returned to Provence to work as a tour leader for Wild Country again. Or at least half a tour leader, because Grant was the other half. He organised everybody, and I kept them happy.

We’re a good team.