L'amour Actually (28 page)

Sunday morning was my lie in, especially when Julien was by my side, so I was seriously annoyed to hear my mobile ringing at seven in the morning. The display showed Lucinda's number which could only mean one thing – a problem at one of the properties.

  'Hi Lucinda, what's up?' I said, a bit over-brightly and trying hard to hide my annoyance.

  'I'm so sorry, I know it's Sunday and it's early, but I've just picked up a message from the guests at Grandes Vignes about a nasty smell round the pool. They left the message last night but I was out so I didn't get it until this morning. Did you notice anything yesterday?'

  'Well, there was a bit of a smell when I put the chlorine tablets in the skimmer. I expect that one of the guests has chucked an old burger under there. It wouldn't be the first time.'

  Lucinda sighed. 'Honestly, what's wrong with these people? You know what I'm going to ask, don't you? It's just that I have twenty people for lunch today.'

  'Sure, no problem. I'll get there as soon as I can.'

  'You're a star. Thank you. I really appreciate it.'

  I went back to the bedroom and flopped down on the bed next to Julien.

  'Duty calls, I'm afraid. Unidentified pong at Grandes Vignes. Will you stay here and keep the bed warm?'

  'If you like I'll come with you. Two noses might be better than one.'

  'Oh would you? Thanks so much.' I planted a big kiss on his lips. 'I'll just get dressed then we can go.'

  Twenty minutes later we were in my car.

  'Don't pull into the drive, just in case they aren't up yet,' I told him as we arrived at the house. 'I'd rather sort this out without their help.'

  Julien parked in the lane leading to the house and we walked quietly round to the garden. There was no sign of life in the house.

  'Great, they're still asleep. Let's see what we can find.'

  As we got nearer to the pool the distinct smell of something rotten became stronger.

  'God, it's much worse than yesterday,' I exclaimed.

  'It is probably just a rat that has died under the decking. How can we see underneath?' said Julien.

  'There's a flap where I put the chemicals in, then there's a gap at the far side where you get to the pipework under the pool.'

  'OK. I'll take the side, you take the top.'

  I lifted up the flap but slammed it down quickly as a putrid smell assaulted my nostrils. 'Oh my God! What
is
that?'

  'It is decomposing flesh. I'd recognise it anywhere,' said Julien as he knelt down to look through the gap and under the decking.

  'I can't see anything but it smells really bad. Can you look down the opening at the top?'

  'If I must.' Taking a deep breath and holding my nose, I opened the flap and leant down as far as I could to peer into the gloom. The smell was revolting.

  'Can't keep my head down here any longer,' I said in a strangled voice, sitting back up and taking a deep gulp of fresh air. 'OK, I'm going in again.'

  Like a deep-sea diver going underwater, I took a deep breath, held it and dipped my head back under the decking. Right in the far corner, I caught a glimpse of red fur.

  'Oh shit!' I sat up quickly, banging my head as I went.

  'What is it?'

  'It's only Mrs Chamberlain's bloody cat. I can't believe it. Another dead cat and I'm in the vicinity. I'll have a fatwa on my head from the Feline Friends in France at this rate.'

  Julien laughed.

  'What's so bloody funny?' I said crossly.

  'You. If you could see the look on your face.'

  'Well I'm sorry, but I don't think this is a laughing matter. More to the point though, how are we going to get the damned thing out? It's right up in the corner. I can't reach it from here.'

  'OK. Now I know where it is I'll try to get to it from this side. Have you got anything long we can use to try and pull it out?'

  'There's a net for the swimming pool. We can use that.'

  I went and got it from the pool house, checking quickly that there was no sign of movement from the guests. The coast was clear.

  '
Bon,
you are going to have to crawl as far underneath as you can.'

  'Me? Why do I have to do it?'

  'You are smaller. I won't fit.
C'est clair
,' Julien reasonably pointed out.

  'Thanks a million. Surely dealing with dead animals is a man's job?'

  'You seemed to have managed with Snoopy quite well on your own.'

  'Oh ha-de-ha-ha. Very funny. Well, if the smell makes me sick you'll be to blame.'

  Kneeling down, I tried to wiggle my way through the small gap in the decking. It was no easy job and the smell was much worse.

  'Pass me the net, will you?'

  Taking it from Julien I reached forward to hook the dead animal.

  'Almost… just a little bit further... got it! I'm coming out.'

  I started to wriggle backwards. With a little help from Julien, I was quickly back out in the fresh air. He knelt down to have a look in the net.

  'You are saved,' he said. 'It's a
renard
, a fox, a young one, not a cat. No fatwa for you. Not this week at least.'

  He emptied out the dead fox onto the ground and we bent down to look at it.

  'Hello there,' called a voice, catching us unawares. I froze. This wasn't the time to be making the acquaintance of the guests.

  'You must be from the
gîte
company. Have you come to get to the bottom of this terrible smell?'

  I looked up to see a heavyset, balding man in a very small pair of swimming trunks walking down the garden. I was so transfixed (in a bad way) by the sight, that I was momentarily struck dumb. There was nothing like a man in Speedos to really upset your equilibrium.

  Coming to my senses, I realised that the guests, who had paid a not inconsiderable amount for their holiday, were unlikely to see the funny side of a dead fox under the swimming pool. With my foot I tried to push it back under the pool, all the while chatting gaily to the guest.

  'Oh hello, nice to meet you. Yes, I'm Mel. I look after the house. It's lovely isn't it? And this is my friend, Julien. You must be Mr Wright. Hasn't the weather been superb? I hope you're having a wonderful holiday.' I stopped to draw breath.

  'Er, we only arrived yesterday,' he replied, momentarily wrong-footed by my verbal incontinence. 'So, have you found anything?'

  I glanced down briefly. The fox was pretty much hidden back under the pool with just its tail sticking out.

  'Look,' I said, rushing towards him in an attempt to distract him from the pool, 'a green woodpecker. We see lots of them around here.' I pointed into the canopy of the trees.

  'A green woodpecker?'

  'Yes, look, up there. Can you see it?'

  Whilst he was momentarily distracted, I gesticulated wildly at Julien to hide the fox's tail. He looked at my blankly. I pointed down to his feet, then waved my hand behind me like a tail. The
centime
dropped and he quickly pushed the errant tail under the pool with his foot.

  'Are you sure?' The guest wasn't looking convinced.

  'It's just that green woodpeckers are ground feeders so you wouldn't normally be looking for them in the trees.'

  'Oh, if there's one thing I know about, its birds,' I blustered, 'I have a wonderful book at home called
An Anthology of Birds in Europe
. Do you know it?'

  'Yes,' he answered tartly, 'I wrote it.'

  'Goodness, then you probably
do
know a bit more about birds than me.'

  'I dare say. Now, what's going on with the pool? Did you find the source of the smell?'

  He turned towards Julien, who was trying to suppress a grin. I glared at him.

  'Yes, I believe we have. It was just some meat that had been left over from someone's barbeque.'

  'But how did it get under the pool?'

  'Oh, I expect somebody just dropped it.' Even to my ears, I knew this sounded unfeasible. 'People do the strangest things sometimes. Anyway, Julien is going to sort it out, aren't you?' I said pointedly in his direction. 'Why don't we go back up to the house for a few minutes?' I suggested. I linked my arm through Mr Wright's.

  'Now did you know that in France some people put fresh meat in their septic tanks? It helps to keep the good bacteria at a healthy level…'

'Glissez, scouff, glissez,'
called the instructor enthusiastically.

  'What did she say?' I whispered to Tracey.

  'Oh, like I speak French!'

  'It's like this,' whispered a woman next to us. 'Slide, scuff your heel, then slide again.' She showed us how to do the step.

  'Chuffin' hell, it's not as easy as it looks is it?' Tracey pulled a face at me.

  'I promise I will never scoff at line dancers again.'

  'Scoff or
scouff
?'

  'Oh you are so funny, Ms Tarrant.'

  I looked around me at the assembled throng of line dancers. They were a motley bunch, some dressed in cowboy boots and fringed shirts and some with 10-gallon hats, but all with their fingers hooked into their pockets. I wondered how I'd got there, doing the one thing I swore I would never do.

  The truth was that Chummy had been on something of a charm offensive since the concert at the lake, bombarding me with phone calls, texts and emails begging me to join the new
danse country
classes in Bussières.

  'It will be so much fun,' she promised, but so far, it was not living up to expectations. I had two left feet and spent most of the time apologising to my classmates as I kicked their ankles and trod on their feet. Tracey on the other hand, was definitely trying to channel Beyoncé and every step she took was wildly exaggerated, with much pelvic thrusting and shaking of her booty.

  Chummy was there, up in the front row, squashed into a pair of jeans and a sparkly top. She reminded me of an oversized glitter ball. You had to love her though. She threw herself into 'Achy Breaky Heart' and the 'Cowboy Shuffle' with the gusto of a woman half her age and a quarter of her size. I smiled to myself. I had developed a grudging fondness for this strident, overbearing woman. Next to her was Muffy, who had dragged her poor unsuspecting husband along. He was looking thoroughly miserable and proclaiming loudly his preference for entertainment that included round balls rather than imaginary lassoes. I wondered if Muffy had withdrawn sexual favours to make sure he came along. He certainly looked as if he'd rather be lying down on the TGV train line to Paris than be here.

  I tried to keep up with the dance moves, hopping to the right as everyone else went to the left and struggling to separate my '
step, itch
' from my '
step, pull shaynge
'.

  'Don't worry,' a younger English woman whispered to me. 'It gets easier when her husband takes over. He's American so there's no problem with the accent. Well, not much of one anyway.'

  'Thanks. It couldn't be any worse!'

  Eventually, half a sweaty hour later, I left the floor to allow the advanced dancers to do some more complicated routines. Tracey, always one for a challenge, stayed put.

  'It's not as easy as it looks is it?' said a voice next to me. I looked round to find the same woman who had spoken to me earlier, pulling up a chair to sit down. She was a similar age to me but as dark-haired as I was blonde.

  'You know, it really isn't, is it? I've always been so disparaging about line dancing but my calves are as tight as iron rods. I'm Mel by the way. I'm here with my friend, Tracey. She's the one who think she's Beyoncé in a cowboy hat.'

  'Hello, I'm Jo.'

  'Are you new here? I don't remember seeing you before. Not that I get out that much, mind.'

  'I'm a returner really. I have a house here but I've been working in Guyane…' she cast around for the right word, 'French Guiana I think you call it, it's in South America.'

  'Gosh, that sounds wonderful.' I said

  'Well, it's actually on the edge of the Amazon rainforest so the climate can be hell but the way it works is that each year you spend in one of the French territories counts as two years towards your pension, so it's worth doing. I'll be able to retire a bit earlier.'

  I looked confused.

  'Oh, I'm French. I know,' she said, seeing the look on my face, 'I don't sound it do I? I was brought up in London. My mum is French but my dad is British, so I'm one of the lucky ones that can speak English without sounding like someone out of a second-rate comedy.'