A French Affair (34 page)

Sally didn’t speak for a few seconds. ‘What does Matthew say about it all?’

‘I haven’t actually talked to Matthew about it much.’

‘Why on earth not? You’re together, aren’t you?’

‘If this has failed, well, I’ll feel he’ll think I’m just a failure too. All fur coat and no knickers – you know the sort of thing.’

‘He was lovely at the do, though. I saw him being really chatty with a group of old ladies.’

Sally’s surprise at Matthew’s ability to make conversation amused Gina. ‘Just because he’s not gobby like you—’

‘Or you. By the way you looked sensational. You must wear that dress again.’

‘The opportunities don’t come up that often and it is a bit fragile . . .’

‘I’ll copy it for you. I saw Matthew look at you with his tongue hanging out.’

Gina giggled again. ‘That doesn’t sound like Matthew.’

‘You know what I mean. He obviously fancies you like mad.’

‘Good. Now, Sal, I must get on with my arithmetic.’

‘You know how to turn your phone into a calculator, don’t you?’

‘Yes. But I’ve got a calculator.’

‘Let me know when you’ve got the answer. If we’ve won we’ll have champagne.’

‘Absolutely. Now goodbye.’

Gina set off for the French House late the following afternoon. She’d rung to check when Matthew would be
there and this was the earliest time. She’d been quite happy to have their meeting postponed, though. She didn’t have good news to impart.

‘Is he in the flat?’ Gina asked Jenny, who was dusting a table of figurines, presumably before she closed up the centre.

‘Yes.’ Jenny smiled. ‘It was a lovely evening, wasn’t it?’

Gina returned the smile. ‘Yes, really lovely.’

‘Everyone enjoyed themselves so much. And what an amazing house! I knew about it, of course, from Matthew and his father, but I never thought I’d get beyond the front door. It was brilliant.’

Inside, Gina was slowly dying, but she had to keep on chatting to Jenny as if everything was fine. Jenny would find out soon enough everything wasn’t but Gina had to tell Matthew first.

‘Shall I just go up?’ she said eventually when Jenny had finished saying what a triumph the event had been.

‘Do. He knows you’re coming.’

As she made her way up the stairs Gina was just grateful Andrew wasn’t around. They’d spoken on the phone, of course, and he was more than thrilled with everything. Gina had withheld Nicholas’s telephone number from him ‘for reasons of confidentiality’ but she knew it was only a matter of time before he and Nicholas got together, and then they’d be staging a musical version of
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
on the lawn and rigging up wires so the fairies could really fly. Until Matthew knew the bad news she didn’t want to talk to anyone else about it.

‘What’s that dog doing there?’ she said, the moment she was in Matthew’s sitting room. Oscar got up and
gave her a reproachful look. ‘I don’t mean you, Osc. That bloody Foo dog!’ It was sitting in the middle of the coffee table and the sight of it twanged her already pinging nerves.

Matthew picked it up protectively and put it on top of a bookcase. ‘You’ve never liked that dog.’

Gina sighed and tried to smile. ‘I know. It just isn’t you, somehow. It jars on me.’

He stood looking at her. ‘Am I right in thinking you’ve got bad news?’

She nodded.

‘I can’t say I’m surprised. Now, come and sit down.’

His matter-of-fact tone maddened her. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean, I’m not surprised we lost money. Did we at least break even?’

Gina had been putting on a brave and positive front for everyone except Sally. She’d been dreading telling Matthew they didn’t raise as much as they needed but his calm assumption the whole event had been a huge, exhausting waste of time was too much for her. Didn’t he trust her at all? As she hadn’t slept much or eaten for some days she lost it.

‘Yes, we fucking broke even. We made money. Just not quite enough money.’

‘No one’s denying you did a really good job—’

‘Don’t patronise me. I know just how good a job I did. I know how hard I worked to get as much as possible for nothing. And I know how easy it would have been to lose money. But I didn’t. I made money.’

Matthew stood looking at her. She couldn’t know what he was thinking but she could guess. He thought she was
a foolish woman who thought she could save the world just by putting on a party. He obviously knew better.

‘Just not enough.’ He paused. ‘Gina, I know how hard you’ve worked, you’ve been brilliant, but we have to face facts. I can’t hold out any longer. I know you think I’ve been sitting on my hands but I have been doing my best to delay things legally. Well, I’ve used up my last tactic. The French House has to be sold.’

He was trying to put it kindly but Gina felt she was being stabbed. ‘There must be another way! Can’t you talk to Yvette?’

He shook his head. ‘I
have
! But I’ve done all the talking I’m going to do and I won’t beg. It’s time to let go.’

She became aware of a number of boxes. He appeared to have started packing already. ‘Have you already spoken to Carmella?’

‘Not yet. I will soon.’

So it had all been a horrendous waste of time and energy. She had worked so hard to save the French House and it was going to be sold anyway. It was too much. She either had to burst into tears or lose her temper. She went with the temper option. She strode across the room and picked up the Foo dog from the bookcase. Then she dashed it to the floor, at the last minute aiming for the corner of the room where it wasn’t likely to damage anything else. The noise it made was hugely satisfying. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, not remotely apologetic. ‘It was either that dog or me.’

‘Rainey gave me that dog.’

‘I can’t imagine why. It’s hideous.’ She refused to apologise although she did feel guilty.

Matthew stood there like a statue, refusing even now
to show any emotion. ‘There is no point in getting upset and throwing things. I’ve known for a long time I’ll have to pack up and sell the house. Yvette wants her money. I just have to get on with it.’

‘Well, at least you won’t have to pack that bloody ornament.’ Gina was still furious – with Matthew, with Yvette, with the world.

‘I’ll get you a drink. It might help you calm down.’

Gina realised there were no words less likely to make anyone calm down than those. ‘You know what? You’re bloody lucky I didn’t throw the dog at your head! I did everything I knew how to do to make that event a success—’

‘It was a success – a huge success! No one is denying that.’

‘And it was hugely hard work.’

‘I’m not denying that either.’ He was starting to pick up on her anger now. He stalked across the room to the table where the drinks were kept. He took out a bottle of whisky and poured two large measures.

‘But you’re not prepared to do anything yourself to help? You’re just going to roll over and sell the house?’

‘I’ve just told you I tried! Anyway, you don’t know anything about it.’ He handed her a glass.

She didn’t much like whisky but she took it anyway. ‘Then explain. Why couldn’t you get a mortgage, for instance?’

Matthew spoke slowly, as if she was an idiot. ‘When my father died there was a huge amount of inheritance tax to pay. I had to raise a mortgage for that and it’s a struggle to keep up the payments every month. The extra thirty grand would make everything impossible, even
if the bank would increase the amount I owe. It was bad enough when I had to sell my cottage to pay off Yvette. And now she’s after the house. I’ve fought long enough to keep it and recently I’ve wondered why.’

‘You’ve wondered why? Isn’t it blindingly obvious? It’s your home, your business – you were brought up here. Other people need it for their businesses. And anyway, we did raise something. It’s a start; it might help with the bank.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘The event raised five grand.’

‘I didn’t realise. I just assumed you’d—’

‘What? Raised a hundred quid or something? Wrong, Matthew.’

‘I said I was sorry!’ He frowned. ‘Although I realise I don’t exactly sound sorry. And although it’s impressive, it’s still not enough.’

‘Well, I’m quite sorry about the dog. Not extremely, but a bit. I didn’t realise Rainey gave it to you.’

‘You don’t sound sorry.’

Gina nodded ruefully. ‘I know. I’m just so angry that you seem to be giving in.’

‘There’s hardly anything I wouldn’t do to prevent having to sell the French House and I have done an awful lot – sacrificed an awful lot, actually. But you can only go on banging your head against the wall for so long. I’m exhausted, Gina. Even with the money from the event – and I’m not sure I should take it, honestly, not now. I still owe Yvette twenty-five grand. She won’t wait any longer. It’s better for me to sell the house so I can start again.’

Gina understood what he was saying and her heart
ached to see the weariness settle over his impassive, handsome features. But she still wasn’t satisfied. ‘I always prefer to be pig-headed to giving up myself.’ She took a sip of whisky and while she didn’t like the taste she liked the jolt of courage it gave her. She no longer felt as if she might cry, but she felt cheated and let down.

She got up. ‘If you tell me where to find a dustpan and brush I’ll sweep up the bits of Foo dog.’

‘I’ll do it.’

‘No, let me. I threw it, after all. Is there a brush and things in the kitchen?’ She went into the kitchen to look and found them quite easily.

Matthew stood by the empty hearth, nursing his whisky, brooding in a way that made Gina want to throw something else. He was like someone in a play, being strong and silent and proud. Gina thought being proud was all very well – she could see how integral it was to personality – but she thought he should be angry too, and do something proactive.

But of course throwing things wasn’t the answer and as she knelt and began clearing up she realised that however bad she felt about the French House being sold it must be a trillion times worse for Matthew. She reached for one of the bigger shards and then stopped. ‘There’s something – papers – in among the bits!’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know!’ She picked up the paper carefully and tipped the bits of china that were on it into the dustpan.

‘Let me look.’ Matthew was by her side in seconds. He took the papers from her.

Gina was torn between finishing the job and demanding
to know what the papers were. But she didn’t let herself hope for anything much. She straightened up. ‘So? What is it?’

‘It’s two things. It’s a letter—’

‘From Rainey? God, Rainey and her letters. And what’s the point of writing one if you hide it in a china dog? It might never have been found.’

Matthew muttered something about a strange conversation he’d had with Rainey before she died now making sense. ‘The other bit is in French and written in really difficult handwriting,’ he said to Gina.

‘Oh. How disappointing.’

‘It was never going to be a treasure map, now was it?’ Setting the letter aside he went on perusing the paper that was in French.

‘Maybe if I had a look at it? I’ve got French GCSE,’ she snapped when she could bear the suspense no longer. Then she remembered Matthew spoke it fluently and took another gulp of whisky.

He took the letter over to where the light was better, under a standard lamp. She followed him and tried to read over his shoulder. ‘I see what you mean about it being difficult,’ she said a couple of moments later. ‘It looks like it’s a poem or something. It has a title, and it’s obviously work in progress because of all the corrections and things. Is there a signature?’

Matthew turned the paper over. ‘Yes. It seems to have been added later because the ink is different but it’s the same writing. And it’s dated.’

‘What do you reckon it says?’

‘Jean something,’ said Matthew after a bit.

‘I’d got that far. I meant, what’s the surname?’

‘Something beginning with R,’ said Matthew. ‘Not enormously helpful. I suspect this is a poem dedicated to Rainey by one of her many lovers. A French one, obviously.’

‘Hang on, I’ve just thought of something.’ Threads of memory were gathering in Gina’s mind. ‘I think I remember there being a family story about Rainey and a French pop star of some kind. And Clare said Rainey had a secret lover in France, remember. I’ll ring Dad, he might know.’

She saw Matthew opening the letter while she was dialling, but when she heard her mother answer the phone she lost interest in what Matthew was doing. ‘Mum? I don’t suppose you can help me. What was the name of Aunt Rainey’s French lover who was a bit of a sleb? If you can’t remember can you get Dad? I need to know.’

‘Gina darling, hello. I’ll get Dad, but why do you want to know? And how was France?’

‘Oh, fabulous, and I’ll tell you why I want to know about Rainey’s wicked past when I have a bit more information. How are you?’ Suddenly it seemed churlish to ring up her mother and not actually speak to her.

‘We’re fine. You?’

‘You know, busy, but well generally.’ Churlish or not, she didn’t really want to talk just now. ‘Could you get Dad? This is urgent!’

She had long enough to wonder why Matthew was looking amused before her father was on the phone. ‘Jean Reveaux,’ he said immediately. The name of Rainey’s secret lover had been known to her family, at least.

‘Thank you, Dad. And was he famous?’

‘Oh yes. In his day, he was enormously famous. He still has a huge following. Why do you want to know?’

‘I’ll get back to you,’ she said and disconnected.

‘Jean Reveaux,’ she said. ‘He was terribly famous and still has a following.’

‘We’ll Google him,’ said Matthew, who was no longer smiling but was wiping his eyes. She wondered why. ‘I’ll get my laptop from the office. In the meantime, you’d better read that.’ He handed her Rainey’s letter.

Dear Matthew,

If you’re reading this you or someone has broken the Foo dog you hate so much. I know you wouldn’t be able to live with it for long! Don’t feel guilty. I only left it to you to see how long you could stand it, and because it was hollow.