An Unexpected Affair (6 page)

“I bet they’re not married,” said Jenna, nodding towards an older man wrapped around a younger woman. “More like his secretary, I’d say.”

“And what about that pair by the fountain?” asked Eleanor.

“Lovers. Been together a while. She’s not happy with the situation.”

They were giggling now, like a couple of teenagers. “It must be aperitif time, El. Let’s find a bar for a drinkie before dinner.”

Both the women were tired after their early start, so they decided to be sensible and have just one drink then an early meal. They found a simple bistro near the main square where they could sit outside and watch the world go by.

As they strolled to their hotel after dinner, Jenna yawned. “I want to be nice and fresh for all that lovely shopping tomorrow.”

“I think you mean lovely sight-seeing,” said her sister. “Then if there’s time, I might let you explore the shops.”

“Okay boss.”

Back in their rooms, Eleanor curled up on the sofa to wait while Jenna went into the bathroom to remove her make-up and comb her hair. When it was her turn and Eleanor reappeared wearing a pair of short pink pyjamas, her sister smiled at her.

“You look about twelve years old in those jimjams!”

Jenna was wearing a long, silky nightgown and looked annoyingly elegant.

Eleanor looked down at her outfit. “Don’t worry; I shan’t be going out in these.”

“I think you should. They’re cute.”

“Very funny.” Eleanor kissed her sister goodnight and crept between the crisp cotton sheets of her own bed. Getting to Chevandier had been fun. Now she wondered what their first full day in town would bring.

Chapter
8: Bonjour, mon ami!

Eleanor woke early the next day and read for a while before Jenna roused herself and they went down for breakfast in the hotel’s inner courtyard.

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Jenna, dissecting a
pan
au
chocolat
.

“Well,” said Eleanor, scrutinising her map. “I’d like to visit the Cathedral, and the medieval quarter. Oh, and there’s the city art gallery and you mustn’t miss the Victorian bandstand, which is unique.”

“Sounds exhausting. When shall we have lunch?”

Eleanor frowned at her sister, who just carried on munching.

“There’ll be plenty of time for lunch. And did I mention the vineyard tours?”

“Ah, now we’re talking,” said Jenna, reaching for one of the brochures that Eleanor had collected from the receptionist. “This looks great. Let’s go.”

“I was thinking that we might do that tomorrow,” said Eleanor, sipping her tea. “Oh, and I would like to see what some of the places of my youth look like now.”

“
Mais
oui
,
cherie
,” said Jenna brushing crumbs from her lips, and affecting an unconvincing French accent. “We must not be distracted from our mission to find
ze
divine
Christophe
.”

“Jenna, shush,” said Eleanor, turning to look at the other guests.

“Good heavens, El. I do believe you are blushing at the very thought of seeing him.”

“I’m not blushing, I’m just hot. Shall we go?”

“Sure. I can’t wait to discover what gems this place has to offer – other than lover boy, of course.”

Eleanor said nothing, just handed Jenna a town map. “Here,” she said. “You’ll need that to find your way back to the hotel if I decide to abandon you.”

“I’ll be as good as gold, El, honest.”

“I hope so. Now, shall we start with the Cathedral?”

Despite her protests, Jenna actually enjoyed visiting historical sites almost as much as her sister did. Because she knew the place so well, Eleanor was a well-informed and animated guide, and the sisters had a busy day trekking around the town with plenty of coffee breaks along the way.

As evening fell, they wandered around for a little longer before choosing a busy cafe with tables under trees decorated with sparkling white lights. Strolling down the high street and across the main square Eleanor had had the oddest sensation. The last time she had been in Chevandier she had been in her twenties. She was young, tanned, pretty – she now supposed – and constantly pestered by men. That was until she started going out with Christophe, after which it was as though some kind of secret signal had gone around and the local youths left her in peace. Now, it was almost as though she was invisible, which wasn’t an unpleasant sensation. In fact it was quite liberating: she felt that she could see without being seen.

When she mentioned this to Jenna, her sister sniffed. “Wait until you’re the wrong side of fifty, like me. At ‘a certain age,’ you start to disappear, your hair turns grey, your skin fades and it’s as though you’ve become transparent. People look straight through you. Especially barmen,” she said pointedly. Not many people could ignore Jenna for long and, as if on cue, a handsome waiter with a tray and a crisp white cloth draped over his forearm hurried over to take their order.

“Well cheers, Sis,” said Jenna, clinking glasses. “I’m pooped, but it has been a great day.”

“
Santé
,” replied Eleanor, with a smile. It had been a good day, and there were several more to come. “So where shall we eat tonight?”

“Are you feeling brave enough to search out Chez Christophe?”

Eleanor looked serious for a moment. “You know, I’m really not sure that’s a good idea.” She helped herself to nuts from a chunky ceramic dish on the table, just like the ones she had sold in the gift shop all those years before. Was she mad even thinking of looking for someone she hadn’t seen for more than twenty years? How would she react if she did find him? And what would her reception be like? She had pretty much abandoned Christophe, after all. “It wouldn’t be fair just to appear out of the blue like that.”

“Why not? I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you.”

Eleanor pulled a face. “Or maybe not,” she said, grabbing a few more nuts. “Let’s have another aperitif while I think about it.”

Half an hour later and emboldened by their drinks, the sisters strolled off in search of dinner. After wandering around for a while they found themselves in the narrow streets behind the Cathedral. They squinted at menus and pressed their noses up against windows to see diners tucking into plates of mouth-watering food.

“I’m getting hungry, El. Which one shall we pick?”

“Gosh, I don’t know. There are so many to choose from.” Eleanor took a deep breath. “Actually I think Chez Christophe should be just around the corner. Shall we take a peek?”

“Absolutely,” said Jenna, already setting off down the street, her heels unsteady on the cobbles.

“I just want to see it, not go in.”

“Of course not.”

Eleanor caught up with her sister and they wandered arm in arm down narrow streets that began to climb gently towards the hills that surrounded the city. After ten minutes of walking Jenna was starting to flag. “Is it much further, El?”

“No, it’s definitely around here somewhere.” They turned a corner and Jenna whooped, “There it is!”

Eleanor caught her breath when she saw the familiar building, now with a new sign.

“Come on, let’s see what they’ve got on offer.”

“Wait!” said Eleanor, trying to grab Jenna’s arm as she hurried over to the restaurant. “What if he sees me?”

Jenna stopped and turned towards her sister. “Okay. You wait there and I’ll go and have a look.”

Eleanor breathed a sign of relief and stepped back into the shadows as Jenna confidently walked over and perused the menu. After a second, the door opened and a young man came out and spoke to her, pointing at items on the menu. Eleanor couldn’t hear what they were saying, but then Jenna turned and shouted across at her. “They’ve got a table,” she said, waving. “Come on El, I’m starved.”

Eleanor couldn’t believe what was happening. “We were just supposed to be having a quick look at the place,” she hissed under her breath as she rejoined her sister.

“Oops, I forget,” replied Jenna, disingenuously, as they entered the restaurant. “Don’t worry. He probably won’t be here anyway.”

The door opened onto a dark room with scrubbed wooden floors and small tables covered in red or white linen cloths. On each table was a candle and small posy of flowers in a deep blue vase. The place was almost full with what appeared to be locals, who smiled and nodded a welcome as the waiter led the two women to a table in an alcove at the back of the restaurant.

Eleanor took her place on the banquette, looking into the room. Her stomach felt tight with nerves. “I’m really not sure about this,” she said again.

“El, it has been what – twenty years? You probably wouldn’t even recognise each other.” Jenna handed her the bread basket. “Relax. Eat something.”

Eleanor took the bread reluctantly and spread the napkin on her lap. “You’re right. I’m okay. I can do this.” She lifted the menu and peered over it into the room. Apart from the young man who had lured them in, there was one other older waiter and a fair-haired girl behind the bar. Through the swing doors, a frenzy of activity could be seen going on in the kitchen. Her stomach lurched as she caught a glimpse of small dark man in white ladling something onto a plate. Surely Christophe couldn’t have got so, er, portly? No, she was being ridiculous. The man she had seen was much too short.

She took a gulp of water and looked up at the waiter who had appeared at their side. “
Bonsoir
mesdames
. Are you ready to order?”

“Could we have a couple more minutes please?” said Jenna. “We are not quite ready.”

“No problem,” he said, bowing slightly. “I will bring the wine.”

“What a dish,” said Jenna, her eyes trained on the waiter’s trim form. “If I was ten years younger . . .”

Eleanor laughed, “Ha! Twenty, maybe. You are a shocker.”

The waiter returned with a carafe of red wine. “This is from my grandfather’s vineyard,” he said, pouring a little into each of their glasses. “I hope you like it.”

Eleanor sipped the wine, which tasted of sunshine, long days and the baked earth of the Rhône Valley. “Um, that is really good.”

As the waiter filled their glasses Eleanor began to relax. She settled back onto her velveteen seat enjoying the low hubbub of contented diners around her. Suddenly she felt hungry again. “Okay. Let’s order.”

Jenna waved at the waiter who jotted down their choices on a small pad and flashed them a winning smile. “Excellent choices,
mesdames
. I hope you enjoy your meal.”

“I’m sure we shall,” said Jenna, raising her glass. “What a smoothy he is.”

Yes, thought Eleanor. “Actually, he reminds me of someone.”

Jenna raised a quizzical eyebrow. “You mean Chri . . .”

“Shush!” Eleanor hissed. “Yes. He looks a bit like You Know Who.”

“Do you think they could be related?”

“Gosh, no,” said Eleanor, nibbling on an olive. “Of course not. All the young men in southern France look like that.”

“You know how to make a girl jealous,” said Jenna, looking around the room. “There I was trying to teach algebra to a classroom of horrible spotty teenagers and here you were living in sin with Mr You Know Who.”

Eleanor smiled wistfully. “It was a special time for me.”

“Yum, here comes supper,” said Jenna, as the waiter reappeared with two plates: roast cod with lardons for Eleanor and a hearty casserole for Jenna.

They ate contentedly for a while, then Eleanor stopped and looked across at her sister. “I know this will sound crazy, but I think that Alan was always jealous of Christophe, even though they never met.”

Jenna dabbed her lips with the napkin and took a sip of water. “He wasn’t jealous of Christophe, my love,” she said. “He was jealous of all this.” She swept her hand out and over the table, indicating the cosy room. “He never had the experiences you had. Never travelled, worked abroad or learned to speak French like you did.”

Eleanor nodded. “You’re right. Those were things that made me attractive to him but that he ultimately felt threatened by.”

“Don’t be sad, El!” said Jenna, squeezing her sister’s hand. “It has all turned out for the best, really.” Has it? Alan was now in Toronto married to his brand-new wife while she was here, getting tipsy, stalking someone she hadn’t seen since Wham! were topping the charts.

“You have a great life with the shop, not to mention a new admirer, the lovely Jim.”

“Who is just a friend,” interrupted Eleanor.

“Okay, a lovely new
friend
,” said Jenna, with emphasis. “And we’ve got several more days in France,” she smiled. “Oh and there’s still pudding to come.”

The waiter took their empty plates away and left a short list of desserts, which Jenna studied with interest.

“Jenna, where do you put it? You should be the size of a house the amount of food that you put away.”

“You should see what I look like when I take my girdle off,” she said, patting her flat stomach. “It’s hideous.”

Eleanor laughed and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Okay, dessert for you and coffee for me. I’m just going to nip to the loo.”

Down in the basement room Eleanor studied herself in the mirror. She didn’t look too bad, really. A couple of days in the sun had started to give her some colour, and her hair was still glossy and free of grey. “You’ll do,” she said to herself as she reapplied her lipstick.

Back at the table she saw what looked like two glasses of cognac by their plates. “Jenna, I’m not sure that cognac is a good idea! We’ve got to make our money last a few more days yet.”

“It’s okay,” said Jenna, cupping a glass in her hands and nodding towards the bar. “They’re on the house. The
patron
has just arrived and he brought them over.”

And there he was: still tall and slender, his hair just as dark and curly as she remembered it, and with just the tiniest hint of grey. Eleanor gasped and brought her hand to her mouth.

Seeing her, Christophe ran over. “Madame, are you unwell? Please sit down.”

He pulled out a chair and gently ushered her into it as she stared silently up at him.

“Oh my word,” said Jenna.

Clearly puzzled by the reaction, Christophe looked from one to the other for what seemed like an age.

“
Mon
dieu
,” he said at last. “Ella? Is it you?”

All Eleanor could do was nod mutely.

“Ah, what a surprise! How wonderful to see you,” he said, smiling and grasping her by the shoulders. “You look marvellous. Thomas, bring us some more coffee and cognac.” He sat between them on the banquette, next to Jenna who just stared at him open-mouthed. Composing herself at last, Eleanor introduced Christophe to her sister.