The Little French Guesthouse (12 page)

Still feeling that Rupert was somehow to blame for the disastrous way things had panned out and knowing I was being unfair, I stayed out of his way for the rest of the afternoon, occupying myself with making up the room for the Kennedys who were due to arrive tomorrow. My parents would have to take the Hendersons’ room, and since there was nothing I could do about that until the hateful, stuck-up pair left in the morning, the following day would be far more hectic than I’d anticipated.

Dinner was a somewhat strained affair, with Rupert still shell-shocked from his dealings with my mother and me still sulking. In a sudden stroke of genius that would get me out of the house
and
reduce tomorrow’s workload, I demanded his shopping list for the following night’s guest meal and went out to do a late-evening shop.

By the time I started back from the supermarket, I was exhausted, stressed out, furious with Rupert and furious with my parents. As I rubbed at the tension in my neck, I remembered Ryan’s healing touch in the garden yesterday. Ryan. Mmm. His place was only a little out of my way. It would be rude not to drop in and say hi, wouldn’t it? A slight detour here, another little detour there...

‘Sorry to drop in without phoning first,’ I said as he opened the door. Belatedly, it occurred to me that he might have company. ‘Are you busy?’

‘I am now.’ He took my hand and pulled me in. ‘Any particular reason for your visit? Anything I can do for you?’ His eyebrows wiggled suggestively, and my tension began to melt away like a switch had been flicked.

I flopped down on the sofa. ‘I’m staying another week. I phoned work this afternoon. My boss wasn’t happy.’

Ryan perched on the arm of the sofa. ‘That’s good. That you’re staying another week, I mean – not that your boss is pissed off. I’m glad you’ll be around a bit longer.’

I looked up at him. He seemed to mean it, and inwardly I sighed with relief. Ryan and I hadn’t yet defined the boundaries of our... liaisons, and as I’d driven to his place, I’d worried my news might panic him. I didn’t want him to think I was staying because of him, and I made a mental note that we ought to discuss it sometime. But for now, he seemed at ease with the situation – and I had enough on my plate without rocking my already-capsizing boat.

‘There’s more,’ I said sulkily. ‘Nathan’s boss phoned
La Cour des Roses
and Rupert told him Nathan had left, so Nathan’s boss phoned Nathan’s mother who phoned my mother who phoned Rupert, and now she and my father are descending on us tomorrow.’ My shoulders slumped in defeat.

‘Ah. All that tension we got rid of yesterday has come right back, hasn’t it?’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ I rolled my shoulders. ‘I wondered if we could have another therapy session. You know, so I could relax.’

‘No problem. I’m feeling kind of tense myself.’

I slapped playfully at him. ‘You’re never tense.’

‘I hide it well. I get tense here.’ He lifted my hand and placed it on his chest, where I could feel his heart thudding against my palm. My mouth went dry. ‘And here.’ He placed my other hand... Well, it’s safe to say there was nothing relaxed about where he put it.

‘In that case, I’d better get to work on you,’ I said in my best sultry manner. ‘You obviously need a thorough going-over.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so.’

‘I like a woman who knows her own mind.’

‘That’s good, because I know exactly what I want right now.’

And I took it. And Ryan had no complaints.

I
t was late
when I got back, and as I ferried the shopping from the car to the kitchen, I hoped against hope that Rupert might have gone to bed early so I wouldn’t have to explain myself.

No such luck.

‘You’ve been a long time, Emmy,’ he said, limping into the kitchen to give me a hand shoving the now thoroughly-unchilled chilled items into the fridge. ‘I was beginning to think you’d got arrested for shoplifting.’

‘Ha ha. It took ages, that’s all. There was
such
a queue at the deli counter. And the cheese counter.’ I grasped at straws. ‘Then the girl at the checkout put something through twice and it took me forever to get her to understand, and she had to call someone over.’

‘Still, the supermarket closed an hour ago. Get lost on the way home?’

I gulped and tried to ignore my suspicion that there was a glimmer of mischief behind his innocuous enquiry. ‘No, but it was such a nice night that I decided to go the long way round. I was enjoying the drive and the breeze through the window.’
Change the subject, Emmy, before you dig yourself any deeper. ‘
Anyway, let’s get this lot unpacked. I need to get to bed. I’m exhausted.’

‘Yes, you must be.’ He allowed a melodramatic pause. ‘You go on up. I’ll do this.’

‘Thanks.’

‘No worries. You’ll need all your strength for tomorrow. Parents coming and all that.’

I groaned and headed off to bed. I was shattered. I thought holidays were supposed to be less stressful.

B
y the time
I flopped down for lunch the next day, I ached all over. My body wasn’t used to all this continuous physical activity. The frenetic combination of housework and rampant sex was either going to leave me incredibly fit or finish me off altogether.

Madame Dupont had come for a cleaning stint in the morning and soon picked up on my agitation.

‘What is wrong, Emie?’ she asked as we made
thé au citron
and took a break. ‘You are working too hard!’

‘My parents arrive today,’ I explained in my halting French. ‘They found out about Nathan and they’re coming for the weekend.’

‘Won’t that be nice for you?’

I shrugged. ‘Maybe. My mother... She asks a lot of questions.’

Madame Dupont gave an unladylike cackle. ‘And you don’t want to tell her all the answers, no?’

‘No.’

She reached across to pat my hand. ‘Mothers always know the truth.’

‘You’re right.’ I sighed. ‘I need to get back to work.’

‘Why do you need to clean so much? Because your mother is coming?’

‘I want to please her, I suppose.’

Madame Dupont shook her head. ‘You will please her by being
you
, Emie. Not by polishing.’ When I frowned uncomprehendingly at the last word, she mimed it and showed me the tin of polish, making me repeat after her.

I finished my tea. ‘You don’t know my mother. It could go either way.’

Rupert wasn’t at all remorseful about being partially responsible for my mother and father descending on us. He delighted in making me miserable throughout lunch by regaling me with all the outrageous things he would say to them, including hinting that he and I were involved in a passionate affair to make up for our partners’ infidelity.

‘That’s hardly likely with your leg,’ I told him as I devoured my sandwich.

‘Tell me about your parents. After that conversation with your mother yesterday, I feel the need for advance information so I can prepare my defence strategy.’

I grinned. ‘Mum’s in charge of that partnership, if you hadn’t already guessed. She’s the one who organises us and gets things done.’

‘And how does your father survive this onslaught?’

‘Quietly and uncomplainingly.’ I hastened to jump to his defence. ‘He’s not downtrodden, though. He’s placid, I suppose, and contented – happy to let Mum take charge because he can see that’s what makes her tick. He works hard, and I think he has enough of being in charge at work. When he gets home, he’s happy to hand over the reins to Mum.’

‘What does he do?’

‘He’s the accounts manager at a big manufacturing company.’

Rupert spluttered out a laugh. ‘What is it with you and accountants? I thought you’d had enough of them with Nathan!’

‘Yes, well, Dad came first, didn’t he?’ I scowled. ‘It was Nathan that was one accountant too many in my life.’

Tactfully, Rupert changed the subject. ‘Does your mum work?’ He shuddered, as though imagining what devastating effect she might have on her work colleagues.

‘No. She was a secretary when they first met, but Dad earned enough for her to stay at home when we were small, which she dutifully did, although I don’t think she enjoyed not being in the thick of things. By the time we were old enough for her to go back to work, she ran so many committees and charity whatnots, she didn’t have time.’ I smiled. ‘When I was a teenager, I was
so
embarrassed by them. I thought my mother was too loud, too bossy, and I wished Dad would stop being a wimp and stand up to her. But then I had relationships of my own, and I developed a kind of admiration for what they have. They both
like
the way things are. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, I suppose it is.’

We both fell silent, as I contemplated my
so
not-made-in-heaven match with Nathan, and Rupert no doubt did the same about his relationship with Gloria.

‘You look tired, Rupert. You need to go for a rest.’

‘Yes, Nurse.’

He winked as his mobile rang. Digging it out of his pocket, he answered as he limped off to his room.

‘Alain! Good to hear from you. I’ve been thinking about what you said, and you’re quite right. We do have a lot to discuss. Yes, maybe we should meet...’

God, that accountant was a pest. Like a dog with a bone.

I hurried upstairs to clear out the Hendersons’ room. Since they were supposed to vacate by ten, I’d hoped to get it done earlier – but of course the wretched couple didn’t leave until midday. They made no apology, just took their own sweet time packing their fancy matching luggage and distracting Rupert from his chores with a detailed itinerary of their imminent assault on Paris. Heaven help the Parisians.

At least they paid up without a quibble. I’d half-expected them to demand a discount for mental trauma caused by their fellow occupants’ domestic crises, so I was startled when they complimented Rupert on how well he’d provided for them under the circumstances. They shook his hand, asserted they would be back next year, shot me a curt nod and left.

‘I didn’t even get a thank you!’ I spluttered.

Rupert surprised me with a kiss on the forehead. ‘You can have one from me instead. For helping me keep the hardest customers of the year happy.’

I’d just finished their room when the phone rang. Knowing it was too much to hope that my parents’ flight might have been cancelled, I picked it up with a gruff,
‘Bonjour.’

There was a pause. ‘Emmy?’

‘Yes?’

‘Hi there, big sis. Wasn’t sure it was you, for a minute. Had visions of a sexy French maid.’

I rolled my eyes. My little brother, the playboy. ‘Hi, Nick. What’s up?’

‘I believe it’s me who should be asking you that question. At least, that was one of the many instructions I received at seven minutes past eleven last night.’

‘Ah. Mum got to you already. Eleven-o-seven precisely?’

‘Yup. I know, because I was in the middle of something important and didn’t appreciate the interruption. You have a lot to answer for.’

‘Sorry. Who was it this time?’

‘Ginny. You don’t know her. Neither do I, now – not in the way I wanted to. Has Nathan really sailed off into the blue yonder?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

‘How’re you holding up?’ His joshing tone was gone. My brother might be a perennial teenager despite his twenty-nine years, but he wasn’t uncaring with it.

‘I’m okay, considering. I’m over the shock, getting past the anger and heading into oh-my-god-what-am-I-going-to-do-now.’

‘You’ll be fine. We Jamiesons are resilient folk. Besides, Mum has no intention of letting you fall apart. Are they there yet?’

‘No. They’re due any minute, though.’

‘Don’t let her bully you. Phone me if you need moral support.’

‘Okay. I will.’ I felt the tears threaten and swallowed hard. A big hug from my little brother wouldn’t have gone amiss right now.

‘Oh, and Emmy? Just so you know. I always thought Nathan was a bit of a dickhead.’

I laughed. ‘I know you did.’

‘Oh. Do you think he knew?’

‘Yes.’

‘Ah. That might explain why we never hit it off. Bye, sis.’

‘Bye, Nick.’

As I put the phone down, I glanced in the hall mirror and winced. I looked awful. My hair was scraped back in a stubby ponytail for cleaning purposes, the dark bags under my eyes could rival Rupert’s, and now my eyes were red from the effort of fighting back tears. Conscious that my ever-perceptive mother would be here soon, I ran upstairs to shower, apply concealer and blow-dry my hair into some vague semblance of the style Sophie had so effortlessly achieved for me. I needed to look confident and capable and serene. My mother was already fired up by the melodrama of my predicament. I didn’t want to add fuel to it by looking like death warmed up.

M
y parents landed at three
, although it was clear they’d hoped to arrive sooner – I could hear my mother berating my long-suffering father for his snail-pace driving before she even got out of the rental car.

‘Hello, Mum.’ I ran down to give her a kiss.

‘Hello, darling.’ Holding me at arm’s length, she scrutinised my appearance. ‘You’ve had your hair cut.’ She tilted her head to one side as though to judge better, then made her pronouncement. ‘I like it. Makes you look younger.’

I heaved a sigh of relief. Not wanting to risk her spotting something she
could
make an issue of – such as the luggage-sized bags under my eyes – I broke away and went round to my father’s side.

‘Hello, Dad.’

‘Hello, love.’ Dad gave me a peck on the cheek. While he unloaded their bags, my mother’s eagle eye took in the house, the garden and the
gîtes
across the courtyard.

‘Lovely, isn’t it?’ I said brightly.

She pursed her lips. ‘I suppose so.’

Dad winked at me. ‘It looks delightful. I can see why you wouldn’t want to rush away, even after... Well.’ He coughed and hoisted the bags up to the house.

I led them upstairs. Their room was the best in the house, as befitted the Hendersons. It overlooked the full sweep of Rupert’s garden, from the patio with its ceramic pots of lilies to the lawn dotted with random flower beds like islands of colour in a green ocean, the odd weeping pear or willow adding graceful height and shade, and on to the chicken run amidst the shrubs down at the far end.

‘It’s beautiful, Emmy,’ Dad said. ‘Are you sure Mr Hunter didn’t mind us coming at such short notice? Your mother was rather forceful with him on the phone.’ He shot her a look of disapproval, but it was like water off a duck’s back.

‘No, Dad, it’s fine. The people who were in this room left at lunchtime. Another couple – the Kennedys – are due today for a long weekend like you two, and the Stewarts leave on Tuesday. Rupert’s pretty busy – he gets a lot of repeat business.’

‘Yes, I imagine he does.’ Dad stared dreamily through the window.

‘Did Nick phone you?’ Mum asked, keen to know whether her instructions had been obeyed.

‘Yes, he did,’ I assured her.

‘Good. He seemed rather distracted last night. I wasn’t sure if he was listening properly. He must have been asleep when I rang.’

‘Maybe.’

Suppressing a smirk, I caught Dad’s eye and saw that he, too, was trying not to smile.

‘Come down when you’ve unpacked,’ I said. ‘I’ll go and make a pot of tea.’

As I turned away, I saw Mum surreptitiously run a finger across the dressing table. I almost laughed at the disappointment on her face when her finger came away clean.

As I headed downstairs, I heard Dad say, ‘Well, she seems happy enough, Flo,’ followed by my mother’s impatient ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Dennis, you can’t judge by appearances. I hope the shower works.’

Those two never changed. My dad, so quiet and thoughtful and calm, permanently bossed around by my larger-than-life, opinionated mother. And I’d never come across a happier couple.

When they came downstairs, I had tea waiting for them on the patio. There wasn’t a better way to show off the place than this. The late afternoon sun cast a deep yellow glow across the garden; the hens clucked peacefully; insects buzzed and zinged around the roses.

Dad sighed contentedly. ‘The garden’s glorious. Does Mr Hunter do it himself?’

‘Some of it, but there’s a bloke who comes in the summer.’

‘French chap?’

‘No, English. His mum and dad own a holiday house a couple of miles away, and he spends the summer out here doing gardens. In the winter, he goes back to England, labouring or something.’

I blushed, trying hard not to think about Ryan’s taut muscles and tanned torso, and prayed he wouldn’t turn up for a stint in the garden.

‘Sounds like a grand life,’ Dad said wistfully.

‘How are things at work?’

‘Oh, okay. We have a new client taking up all my time. He’s an awkward old sod, actually...’

‘Never mind all that, Dennis.’ My mother bristled impatiently. ‘We didn’t come all this way to listen to you witter on about work. Now, Emmy, what’s all this about Nathan?’

‘You didn’t have to come all this way, Mum. I could have explained over the phone.’

‘Rubbish. I know you, Emmeline Jamieson. You’d have told me bugger-all over the phone. This way, we can sort it out face-to-face.’

I poured tea and settled myself in for the long haul. ‘There’s not a vast amount to tell. Nathan thought we should separate. He’s gone off and I stayed here. Then I decided to stay an extra week to help Rupert, because he’s damaged his leg and can’t get about.’

Mum huffed. ‘Now, Emmy, that’s not all there is to it. People don’t just go off in the middle of their holidays. Nathan’s mother tried to blame you, of course, what with her thinking the sun shines out of her son’s backside, but I gave her what-for.’

I bet you did. ‘
Perhaps it might be easier if you tell me what you’ve heard already, Mum. You were a bit’ – I searched for the least offensive word – ‘overwrought when you rang.’

She sipped her tea, then put her cup back in the saucer with relish. ‘Well, the first
I
heard was when Dorothy phoned. Heaven forbid I should hear major family news from my own daughter’ – her accusatory glare bore right through me – ‘but no, I have to hear it from that dreadful mother of his. Anyway, she told me...’

Mum was an expert at monologues. I’d got the gist when she phoned, but this was the unabridged version and took a good ten minutes.

I was happy to listen. It delayed me having to give my side of the story, and besides, I needed to know everything she knew and where she’d heard it from so I could decide how much I could tell her without giving away any more than necessary. There was always a great deal of strategic planning involved when dealing with my mother.

She finished her tale and poured more tea to rehydrate her voice box, waiting with ill-disguised impatience for my version.

My mind raced. She was right – boyfriends don’t disappear in the middle of a holiday just because things aren’t going too well. And Madame Dupont was right, too – there was no point in lying to her. She had that innate ability, as all mothers did, of knowing when I was not being entirely truthful. I couldn’t avoid telling her that Nathan had run off with another woman, but I certainly wasn’t going to tell her in lurid detail about the night I found Nathan and Gloria having wild jungle sex.

Tweaking the timeline of events, I explained that there had been some strain at the beginning of the holiday due to the owner being rushed into hospital, and Nathan had injudiciously decided that comforting the owner’s wife was the way to go.

Mum butted in at this point. I was amazed she’d stayed silent for so long. ‘Do you mean to tell me that Nathan has run off with Mr Hunter’s
wife
?’

‘Yes, Mum. Her name is Gloria.’

She raised her eyes heavenwards. ‘Well, that explains it.’

I wasn’t quite sure what Gloria’s name had to do with anything, but logic had never been my mother’s strong suit.

‘And how old
is
this dreadful creature?’

‘Mid-forties.’

‘Well, for goodness’ sake, I can’t imagine what’s got into the boy, going off with a woman like that when he’s got a perfectly good
young
girlfriend.’ She squeezed my arm in sympathy. ‘Don’t you worry. It’s just some silly midlife crisis. He’ll soon be back.’

The idea that she might pity me made me feel queasy. I didn’t want her to see me in the role of helpless victim.

I took a deep breath. ‘I’m not sure he will be back, Mum. And to be honest, I doubt I’d want him.’

My mother looked flabbergasted. ‘Well, really. What are you talking about? Men dally around all the time, don’t they, Dennis?’

She looked across at my father, but he remained his usual implacable self. ‘It’s no good asking me, dear. I wouldn’t dream of it.’

I smiled, but Mum was not to be waylaid.

‘Well, they do. It’s a disgrace, of course, but that’s the way they are. You’d be in a different position if he’d run off with some young secretary he’d got pregnant and intended to set up shop with, but as it is, it sounds like this
Gloria
’ – she spat the name out – ‘is far too old for him. He’ll get it out of his system. Nathan knows which side his bread’s buttered. Once he realises she’s mutton dressed as lamb, he’ll come running back with his tail between his legs, you mark my words.’

She paused for breath, sipping more tea to lubricate her throat before the next onslaught, while I wondered how many more clichés she could squeeze into the conversation. But all we got was, ‘Well, Emmy, I don’t know what to say.’

She sighed, patted my knee, then drew me into a voluminous hug. As I looked across at my father, I saw the glint of a tear in his eye.

‘I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m fine.’

Her soppy moment over, she said, ‘I don’t see how you can be fine.’

‘Well, I am. I wouldn’t say I’m turning cartwheels in the garden, but I’m okay under the circumstances. I know you’re both cross with Nathan, but I’ve had longer to think about it than you. I can’t say I’m not upset – I was livid at first, and surprised because it seemed out of character for him. But things were pretty rubbish between us already.’

Mum looked me in the eye. ‘You don’t love him any more.’

Returning her honesty, I shook my head. ‘No. Not any more.’

She reached across to take my face in her hands. ‘If that’s the case, Emmy, then there’s nothing you or he can do to change it. Life’s too short to go through it pretending to love someone. You deserve better.’

I was spared further interrogation by Rupert’s timely appearance. Looking much better for his rest, he limped out with his best greet-the-guests smile fixed in place.

‘Mr and Mrs Jamieson. What a delight.’ He shook their hands. ‘Welcome to
La Cour des Roses
. I’m so glad you came.’

Dad jumped up, smiling warmly back. ‘Mr Hunter. Good to meet you. You have a beautiful place here. It’s good to know Emmy is somewhere like this at such a difficult time.’ Ever the gentleman, he pulled out a chair for Rupert to sit.

My mother’s polite smile was on the glacial side. No doubt she thought Rupert was more than a little to blame for what had happened; that he should have kept his wife on a shorter leash.

Rupert sensed it and turned the charm up a notch. ‘I can only say what an absolute godsend Emmy has been the past few days, Mrs Jamieson. She’s a real gem. You must be incredibly proud of her.’

Amused, I watched my mother thaw, despite her attempts not to. Pouring Rupert some tea, I sat back to enjoy his expertise as he melted the last of her defences with compliments, concern for their wellbeing after their journey and hopes that they would enjoy their stay.

I caught Dad’s eye and he winked. He liked Rupert, I could tell, and I couldn’t be more pleased. It was important that he understood why I wanted to stay and help. And once more, it highlighted the chasm between Nathan and me – that my dad and I could both appreciate the man’s charm and fun, taking him with a large pinch of salt along the way, while Nathan hadn’t taken to him at all.

Lost in my thoughts, I dangerously took my eye off the ball for a moment. When I came back to the game, I was horrified to hear where my mother was headed.

‘…can’t think what’s got into Nathan, running off like that. And with a woman nearly old enough to be his mother.’

‘Mum!’ I shot her a stricken look.

‘What?’ she retorted. ‘I’m only stating facts.’

‘Quite so.’ The advantage of Rupert’s thick skin was that he was rarely offended.

‘Haven’t you heard from either of them?’ Dad asked.

‘Not a peep,’ Rupert admitted.

‘Well, we know Nathan’s phone has been off for days. That’s how I found out about this mess.’ Mum shot me a reproachful look. ‘Although I suppose we would have found out eventually, when you didn’t come home on Saturday.’

‘I only decided I was going to stay two hours before you rang! Of course I would have phoned. You beat me to it.’

Mum turned her frustration back on Rupert. ‘Have you tried to contact your wife at all, Mr Hunter?’

‘Mum! That’s none of our business.’

‘Of course it’s our business, Emmy.’

‘Your mother’s quite right,’ Rupert put in smoothly. ‘And please, it’s Rupert. Yes, Mrs Jamieson, I have tried to contact Gloria.’

My eyes widened in surprise. This was news to me. Since I’d taken the stance that I would make no effort to reach Nathan, I’d assumed Rupert felt the same about Gloria. I’d no idea he’d been trying to get hold of her. Rupert played his cards pretty close to his chest, but so far he’d given me the impression he knew deep down that she’d gone for good. Had he tried to contact her to beg her to come back? Or to tell her to go to hell? I resolved to find out the next time I could get him alone.

‘Her mobile’s always switched off,’ he said now. ‘I also phoned some friends who live further south, but she isn’t there. I don’t know where she and Nathan are. They’ll resurface when they want to, I suppose.’ Rupert reached across and patted my hand. ‘The important thing is that Emmy and I are coping perfectly well without them.’ He hoisted himself to his feet. ‘Talking of which, we need to make a start on dinner. Couple of minutes, Emmy?’ He limped back into the house.

‘Seems like a nice chap,’ Dad said. ‘Shame about his health. I hope he gets better before you leave.’

‘So do I, Dad.’

‘What did he mean, make a start on dinner?’ Mum queried.

‘Just that. I need to help Rupert cook. You and Dad relax out here. You must be tired.’

My mother, won over during Rupert’s presence, frowned again. ‘Exactly how much are you having to do here, Emmy?’

Taking a deep breath, I weighed up the pros and cons. She knew I’d agreed to stay another week to help Rupert, but she had no idea how much hard graft I was putting in. I knew she wouldn’t like it – that she would think Rupert was taking advantage of her darling daughter’s better nature. I could play it down, but since they were going to be here until Sunday, they would see for themselves.