An Unexpected Affair (7 page)

He bowed slightly and kissed her hand. “
Enchanté
, Madame.”

“Likewise, I’m sure,” said Jenna, quite won over by his old-fashioned manners.

“So what brings you to Chevandier after all these years?” he asked, looking at the women.

“We’re just having a little holiday,” said Eleanor quietly.

“Why did you not tell me you were coming? Rosanne would love to see you again.”

Eleanor looked puzzled. “Rosanne?”

“My wife! Don’t you remember Rosanne? You shared a flat with her and Marie. Thomas, call your mother.” So the handsome young waiter was Christophe’s son, after all. “I must introduce you to my boy.” The young man bowed and shook their hands before dashing into the kitchen. “And here is my beautiful daughter, Elena.” He stretched out his hand to the pretty girl they had seen working behind the bar.

Eleanor looked at Christophe. “Elena?”

He smiled sheepishly. “You know that I always loved your name.” As he looked at her from beneath his long lashes she felt a jolt as her body remembered the thrill she had always felt when she was near him.

At that moment a tall blonde woman in chef’s whites came out of the kitchen, looking slightly harassed and wiping her hands on a cloth. When she saw them a puzzled smile spread across her face. “Eleanor?” she said, extending her arms and giving both the sisters kisses. “This is a surprise. Your meal was good, I hope.”

They both nodded and insisted that it had been delicious. After chatting for a while, Christophe clasped his hands together and said “You must come to the vineyard for lunch on Monday when we close the restaurant.”

“Love to,” said Jenna, grinning broadly. “Wouldn’t we, El?”

“Oh, I don’t know . . .”

“It would be our pleasure,” added Rosanne.

“Please come,” said Christophe, looking Eleanor straight in the eyes. “My parents would be so happy to see you again. After all this time.”

Eleanor smiled weakly, completely overwhelmed by it all. “That’s very kind,” she said eventually.

“I will send Thomas to collect you from your hotel at 2pm.”

“Perfect,” said Jenna. “We’ll be ready and waiting.”

“Excellent,” said Christophe. “I’m afraid that I have to close up the restaurant now, but Thomas will walk you home.” And despite their protests, that’s what he did.

In the end Eleanor was glad to have his company. Even though she knew where they were, her mind was in such turmoil that she wasn’t sure that she would have been able to guide them back home that evening.

When they arrived at the hotel Jenna kicked off her shoes and collapsed on the bed. “Wow, what an evening.”

Eleanor peeled back the shutters and went out onto the balcony where she sat with a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, gazing out over the square but not really seeing anything.

“Fancy the divine Christophe being married to the Teutonic maiden.” Jenna had heard all about Eleanor’s house-mates over the years and was intrigued to meet Rosanne in the flesh. “What an amazing cook.” She hauled herself upright, realising that there was no response from the balcony. “El, are you okay out there?”

Was she okay? She wasn’t sure. “Yes, I’m fine,” she called back into the room. “I just need some air.”

She heard the pad of bare feet on the tiled floor as Jenna came out to join her, holding two glasses of chilled water. “Here, drink this.”

Eleanor took hers gratefully.

“Oh Jenna, what have I done?”

Her sister sat down beside here, looking worried.

“What do you mean, El? You haven’t done anything.”

Eleanor recognised that she was a bit drunk but she knew that cognac was not entirely to blame for the huge well of emotion that she felt swirling inside her. She clasped both of her hands over her stomach, turning to her sister. “I just feel, oh, I don’t know,” she looked out across the moonlit square, searching for the right word. “I’ve come all this way and now I feel . . . unsettled. Yes, that’s it: I feel unsettled.” She stood and walked up and down the length of the balcony. “I saw someone tonight that I used to love and, and . . .” she stopped her pacing and lent over the balcony. “And it seems like the ghost of that love is still here somehow.”

Her sister was looking at her like she’d gone mad.

“Do you understand what I mean?”

Jenna shook her head. “No, El, I can’t really say that I do. It has always been Kiff for me.” Eleanor smiled. She envied her sister’s constancy. Keith had been married before but had lost his wife to cancer when they were both quite young. He was older than Jenna who found herself with a two teenage stepchildren when they married. Together they’d created a couple more of their own and now the whole brood lived in domestic, if chaotic, bliss in north London.

“There are no exciting ‘ghosts of boyfriends past’ in my life.”

“Except for Pete in Watford,” said Eleanor.

“Ah yes, apart from him.” She yawned extravagantly. “Can we go to bed now, El? All this excitement has quite worn me out.”

“Yes, of course. I’ll be in in a minute.”

Jenna gave her sister a hug. “Don’t stay out here too long. You need your beauty sleep if you’re going to see Christophe again on Monday!”

Chapter
9: Lunch at the Vineyard

The next day, fortified with several cups of
cafe
au
lait
, a heap of warm croissants and gallons of freshly squeezed orange juice, the sisters embarked on a full day of sight-seeing. Since meeting Christophe at the restaurant the night before, everything seemed slightly surreal to Eleanor: the sights and sounds of the city were much the same as they had been in the late 1980s, but she had changed such a lot. Marriage, children and divorce had taken their toll and she was not the carefree twenty-something who had turned so many heads. But when Christophe had caught her hand and looked in her eyes last night, the thrill she felt had catapulted her back to her youth.

“You look miles away, El,” said Jenna, pausing from examining an array of straw hats in the local market. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, fine. I was just wondering how things were back at the shop.”

Jenna peered at her from over her sunglasses. “You always were an unconvincing liar.”

“Alright – I was thinking about Christophe. And about my life . . .”

“And what might have been if you hadn’t married Alan the Android?”

It
was an open secret that Jenna had never really warmed to her brother-in-law and had not shed many tears when the marriage had eventually broken up. Eleanor opened her mouth to protest, but Jenna held up her hands in submission.

“Okay, okay. I know he was a good husband, a devoted father, blah, blah, but he was bloody boring El, you have to admit. All that running around squash courts with the lads and traipsing across golf courses . . . “

“Keith plays golf!”

“Kiff may play golf,” Jenna agreed, arranging a hat on her head, “but he doesn’t actually enjoy it.”

Eleanor couldn’t help laughing.

“Alan was always so earnest,” she added, handing over a handful of Euros to the stall holder. “Anyway, you are a free woman and your ex-husband is in a much better place.”

“You make it sound as though he’s died!”

“He’s in Canada with a dental hygienist, which I would say was much the same thing.”

“You are of course right,” said Eleanor, looping her arm through her sister’s. “He’s in the frozen north while I’m here in the sun with only twenty-four hours to go before I see my lost love again.”

“That sounds like an excuse for a new outfit to me. Let’s shop!”

“Oh, do we have to?” groaned Eleanor. “You know that I can’t abide shopping.”

“I think that that is pretty obvious from the contents of your suitcase,” said Jenna, tartly. “There’s certainly nothing in there that will do for lunch with the ex and his lovely wife.”

Eleanor thought of the statuesque Rosanne, who looked great even in her chef’s whites with her hair casually piled on her head – and capitulated. “Okay then. But let’s be quick.”

“Absolutely,” said Jenna. “I happened to notice a shop nearby that had some interesting things in the window.”

“Lead the way.”

Jenna had a good eye for a bargain and Eleanor soon found herself with a brand new pair of linen trousers and a scoop-necked top. “I’m not sure about this,” she said, tugging the neckline up over her cleavage. “It’s not my usual style.”

“That’s because your usual style – if one could call it that – is ‘dowdy bookseller’.”

“Well thanks a lot!”

“I’m trying to help you, El,” said Jenna, turning her sister around to get a better view. “That pattern really suits you and the colours are great with your hair.”

Studying herself in the mirror, Eleanor had to agree that she looked rather good. “Hmm, maybe it’s not too bad.” The burnt orange fabric did bring out the highlights in her hair, she thought, and the turquoise details set off her newly acquired tan. She paid for the outfit and they left the shop.

Jenna turned to her sister. “Now we’ve sorted out your wardrobe, what shall we do next?”

“How do you fancy a river cruise this afternoon?”

“That sounds great,” said Jenna. “I especially enjoy sight-seeing that you can do sitting down.”

“You’ll like this bit, too,” Eleanor said, pulling the brochure out of her handbag and peering at it. “It looks like we stop off at a couple of vineyards along the way.”

Jenna clasped her hands together, “It just gets better and better.”

Eleanor led the way down to the riverside where they caught the boat and spent the rest of the afternoon on the water with occasional sallies onto dry land. After a couple of miles, they landed and were led to a kind of barn where smiling young people in smart black aprons offered them tiny samples of local wine. The sisters each bought some. At the next stop, they tasted some more and bought a couple of bottles.

Walking back to the hotel at the end of the trip, Eleanor tested the weight in her hands. “I think we may have overdone it with the wine,” she said, wondering how she would fit it in her luggage.

“Nonsense,” said Jenna. “It will make lovely gifts for Kiff and our new friends in Chevandier.”

“That’s true,” said Eleanor. “And if our bags are too heavy to lift onto the train, we’ll just have to drink the wine first.”

“That’s the spirit,” said Jenna, bursting into giggles. “No pun intended.”

“I think we need coffee.”

That evening, they had another early dinner at a pizzeria on the corner by their hotel. Eleanor had a restless night, wondering what the next day would bring. She awoke early and was up and ready by 7am. She left her sister sleeping and went out for a walk by the river before breakfast. Later, they both went for a wander around town, but all through the rest of the morning Eleanor felt as though they were just killing time until lunch.

As promised, Thomas came to collect them from the hotel promptly at 2pm to drive them to the Vauban family home. Looking at him in daylight Eleanor could see that he resembled his father around the mouth, but had the fine features and grey eyes of his mother. “He’s going to break a few hearts,” were Jenna’s words of wisdom.

As the road climbed out of the city and wound up into the hills away from the river, the air got hotter and stiller.

“Wow, look at that,” said Jenna, as they drove past huge fields full of sunflowers.

Thomas smiled. “We are not far away now.”

A little further up on the left, there was a modest wooden sign at the entrance to the vineyard with the family name decorated in vine leaves. They drove down a rough earth track past rows and rows of vines clinging to steep slopes. Thomas explained that they were mainly Syrah grapes from which his grandfather made the Côte-de-Rhône that they had sampled at Chez Christophe.

“Of course
grandpère
makes other wines, too. You will taste them later!”

He parked the car by an old barn and escorted the sisters to a stone farmhouse where a long table was set out under a shady veranda. Two dusty brown dogs of indeterminate breed lolloped over to greet Thomas, who wrestled with them enthusiastically.

Christophe came out of the house with a huge grin on his face. Beside him was Rosanne who looked cool and elegant in a green print dress. “Welcome to Château Vauban,” she said smiling, and shooing chickens from beneath the table. “I hope you don’t mind that we are a little rustic here.” She smiled again. “Can you excuse me while I finish lunch? Please have a drink and relax. It won’t be long.”

“Come, come and sit down,” said Christophe. Thomas unseated a scrawny grey cat and dragged chairs over to the table. “Please, sit,” said the young man. “I will tell my grandparents that you are here.”

“I feel like I’m in a commercial for olive oil,” whispered Jenna under her breath. “Do these people really live here?”

Eleanor smiled and nodded. “They come here at weekends and for holidays. It’s the old family home. I believe that Christophe’s father grew up in the farmhouse. I remember hearing about it, but I never came here.”

They could hear pans crashing somewhere inside the house then old Madame Vauban appeared in the doorway, followed by her husband carrying two bottles of red wine. It had seemed unlikely that they would remember her, so Eleanor was touched by the warm reception she received from the now-elderly pair whom she had not seen for so long.

Elena came out next, carrying a tray laden with crisp green salad, blocks of homemade paté, chunks of salami and fresh baguettes, which she set on the table. Monsieur Vauban spoke barely any English, so Eleanor translated for Jenna as he told them the history of the house and the vineyard, and explained how his wine was produced. Madame nodded and smiled, correcting her husband when he got something wrong.

In the background, Christophe flitted to and fro, bringing out plates and glasses. Although Eleanor tried to concentrate on Monsieur Vauban’s story, she couldn’t help glancing over at her former lover. She reddened as she framed the word in her head, and Jenna caught her eye, making her feel even guiltier.

Thomas returned with a tray of ice cold glasses on an enamel tray. “Ooh, this is lovely,” said Jenna, sipping the pale pink liquid. “What is it?”

“It is called pineau des Charentes,” he said, “and it’s strong so take care!”

Just then Rosanne appeared with a roast chicken on a pile of potatoes, all cooked in garlic and rosemary. “Please, dig in,” she said, in immaculate English.

Christophe went around the table filling glasses with different types of wine which Jenna and Eleanor duly peered at, swirled around and sniffed before tasting as Monsieur Vauban looked on with evident amusement.

Lunch, which finished with juicy peaches and hunks of local cheese, was delicious and conversation flowed in a mixture of French, English and Franglais, much helped by the wine-tasting. Rosanne and her husband told the sisters about the business and their hopes that Thomas and Elena would continue to run the restaurant and the vineyard as their grandparents had done. Eleanor told them about her children and the shop, and Jenna made them laugh by describing life with Keith and the extended family, including Connie and Harold.

“That was a fabulous lunch,” said Jenna, rubbing her belly appreciatively. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

Rosanne waved her hand, as though it was nothing. “You are most welcome.”

“Let me help you with that,” said Eleanor, starting to collect assorted dishes.

“No, please. You are our guests,” said Rosanne, taking the dessert plates from her hands. “You stay there and talk to Christophe,” she said, shooting a look across at her husband. “I’m sure that you have a lot of catching up to do. Jenna would you like to see the house?”

“Oh, I’d love to!” Jenna gave Eleanor a meaningful wink as she followed Rosanne into the shady kitchen. Monsieur and Madame Vauban also went into the house, miming that it was time for them to take a siesta. Elena excused herself too, jumping on a moped and setting off to visit her boyfriend.

Sitting there alone with Christophe, Eleanor suddenly felt tongue-tied and shy. He grinned and pulled out a pack of Gitanes. “I don’t suppose you smoke any more? All my English customers seem to have given up.”

She laughed. “I’ve given up several times,” she replied, taking a cigarette, “but this is a special occasion.”

As Christophe lit her cigarette, then his own, she studied his face. He was still incredibly handsome. She blushed as he caught her looking at him. They sat in silence for a moment, smiling at each other, enjoying the moment.

“This is such a gorgeous spot.”

“Yes, we are very lucky,” he said, finishing his coffee and yawning. “I think that I must take a walk or I will fall asleep. Would you like to come with me? I will show you the view.”

“There’s more to see?”

“Why yes of course,” said Christophe, as he stood and pulled back her chair. “Come.” They left the patio and he led the way along a path that went around the back of the farmhouse and through a small uncultivated area where the ground was scrubby and rough underfoot. The dogs ran alongside them, occasionally zigzagging off in search of lizards in the undergrowth. To begin with the way was hot and dusty and there was nothing much to see apart from the stony ground and a few ancient olive trees. From time to time as they climbed the hill, Christophe took Eleanor’s hand to steady her. After ten minutes she was beginning to wonder whether he was joking about the view but when they turned a corner, the vista opened up and she found herself gazing down past the red-tiled roof of the farmhouse at rows of grapevines in neat, serried ranks. On either side were dark green fields that rolled down the hill to the river and the edge of Chevandier.

Christophe turned and smiled proprietarily, spreading his arms out towards the view. “
Et
voila!
” He led her to a rough wooden bench under a gnarled old tree and beckoned her to sit beside him. “It was worth the climb, I hope?”

Eleanor, dusty and slightly breathless from the walk, nodded in agreement. “Yes, it’s stunning.” And so it was. The late afternoon sun intensified the colours of the landscape that was spread out in front of them. There was no noise except for the ‘crick crick’ of crickets in the long grass, the complaint of distant goats and a chatter of birdsong.