The Little French Guesthouse (18 page)

‘Rupert, I’m going out for dinner, not taking part in a dog show!’

Even so, I scurried up to my room pretty sharpish.

Glancing at my phone on the bedside table, it occurred to me that Kate was due back from the Maldives today. I switched it on long enough to text her to let her know I’d stayed an extra week, but not to worry. She texted back to say she was pleased I’d extended my holiday and expected full details upon my return.

I took my time in the shower, smoothed on body butter, dried my hair, then opened the wardrobe and flicked through its contents. Hmmm. Good moral form prevented me from wearing the blue dress I’d worn for my dinner with Ryan. I’d been flirty with him, and I didn’t want to be that way with Alain. He might be a handsome half-Frenchman, and I might be on the verge of forgiving him for being an accountant, but flirting might lead to complications and entanglements I would do well to avoid. I was going home on Saturday. All I wanted from the evening was to reiterate my apology for my behaviour and ensure he would look out for Rupert to my satisfaction.

I changed three times before I settled on navy linen trousers and a matching cotton shirt.

A
lain called
for me at seven as promised, and we drove into Pierre-la-Fontaine.

As he clambered out of his car, I asked the question I’d had in the back of my mind ever since I first saw him arrive at
La Cour des Roses
.

‘Why do you have such a small car? I mean, you’re a tall bloke. It’s like trying to fit a mackerel into a sardine tin!’

He laughed – a natural, warm laugh that rolled over me and made me feel a little fuzzy. ‘I think it must be the half-Englishman in me. I hate parking, but the French don’t mind how close they get to your bumpers. Since I visit quite a few of my clients in local towns, I tend to feel more comfortable in a smaller, nippier car.’

I shook my head. ‘You’ll give yourself a hernia twisting in and out of it like that.’

Smiling, he led me down the street to the restaurant he’d chosen. The tables were separated by trellises wound with silk roses – a twee touch, but it lent an element of romance... And privacy.

The waiter handed us menus, and Alain surprised me by taking glasses from his pocket and slipping them on. As I surreptitiously studied him studying the menu over the top of
my
menu, I decided they only made him more attractive in that I’m-an-academic-so-I-need-someone-to-look-after-me sort of way that some men convey.

He helped me translate and once we’d ordered, we settled into comfortable chatter. With our mutual apology behind us, it was easy to relax in each other’s company.

I mmm’d over my starter of warm goat’s cheese salad. Remembering the sample I’d tried at the cheese stall, I’d turned my nose up at the idea as I’d studied the menu, but Alain had promised me it would be mild, creamy and delicious, and he was right.

‘Is it good, after all?’ he asked with a twinkle in his eye.

‘Gorgeous!’

‘So. How do you feel about going home this weekend?’

‘I can’t say I’m looking forward to all the explanations and gossip,’ I admitted. ‘But it’ll be good to get back into a routine.’

‘How did you get into marketing? Was it something you always wanted to do?’

‘Ha! Not really.’ He raised his eyebrows in surprise, and I laughed. ‘When I was at school and everyone was choosing university courses, they all seemed to know exactly what they wanted to do, but all I could think was, “Shit, I haven’t a clue what to pick.” I liked most of my subjects, but I didn’t have a favourite. The careers teacher suggested business studies because at least it might lead to a good job. So that’s what I did.’

‘Did you enjoy your course?’

I finished my starter and took a sip of my water, swilling it surreptitiously round my mouth in case I had bits of salad leaves stuck between my teeth.

‘Yes and no. To be honest, I found the economics a bit of a mystery. Too much maths.’ I made a face. ‘And I guess I’m admitting that to the wrong person.’

Alain smiled. ‘I loved maths. And economics.’ He winked. ‘But each to his own.’

‘Hmm. Well, I muddled through those bits, but luckily I discovered I had a flair for other aspects of the course. I got a placement at a marketing agency in my third year, and they offered me a job when I finished my degree. I’ve been there ever since, and I’m assistant manager now. It’s manic and I work long hours, but I enjoy it.’

‘Do you have any plans for the next step? Manager or director?’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Unfortunately, that would involve putting arsenic in my boss’s tea. He’s there for the duration. And as much as Carl is a self-serving idiot with a penchant for stealing the credit, I don’t think he deserves that.’

‘So if you wanted a promotion, you’d have to move?’

I nodded. ‘Probably. It’s been on my mind for the last year or two. But it might involve moving towns, let alone companies, so I never considered it seriously because of Nathan.’ I dropped my head in my hands. ‘Oh God, I don’t even want to think about going back to work. Seeing Nathan there every day.’

‘It will be awkward for him, too,’ Alain pointed out. ‘I certainly hope so, anyway – he deserves it. At least now you’ll be able to think about what you really want to do, where you want to go, without taking him into consideration.’

The waiter arrived with our main courses. I took a taste of tender steak in a mouth-watering mushroom and red wine sauce, and managed not to moan out loud with pleasure.

‘Of course, now you have an extra option to consider.’ Alain looked across and held my gaze.

I rolled my eyes. ‘I really don’t think that’s under serious consideration at the moment.’

He seemed about to say something, then stopped and just nodded.

‘I am worried about Rupert, though. When I go back, I mean. We’re sorting some help out, but I’m not sure he can cope on his own.’

Alain smiled warmly at me. It was a heart-melting smile, and my pulse pepped up the pace a little.

‘Don’t worry too much, Emmy. He has plenty of friends to watch out for him. People are inordinately fond of Rupert, for some reason. Gloria, on the other hand, was not overly popular. Many of Rupert’s friends and acquaintances merely tolerated her for his sake.’

I nodded. I’d suspected as much. ‘I wasn’t sure how to take him myself at first, but he grows on you in an irritating sort of way. Nathan didn’t take to him at all. Then again, I didn’t take to Gloria, but Nathan obviously did.’

Alain closed his hand briefly over mine. When he took it back, I felt a little bereft. I’d enjoyed that brief touch of his palm covering my fingers. ‘If it’s any consolation, I think you’re the better judge of character.’

‘If I was any judge of character, I wouldn’t have moved in with the boring, cheating bastard in the first place!’ I quipped, then immediately kicked myself. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t be. You’re entitled. I felt much the same way when my wife left me.’

I
almost choked
on my broccoli. I had no idea Alain had been married, let alone that his wife had left him.

‘I had no idea you were married.’ There they went again – my thoughts pouring straight down from my brain and out of my mouth.

He shrugged. ‘It was a few years ago now.’

‘How long were you married?’

‘Just under a year.’

‘A year!’

‘I know. Pathetic, isn’t it?’

‘What happened?’

‘She decided she’d married the wrong brother.’

My eyes widened. ‘Oh, Alain, that’s awful.’

‘Not necessarily,’ he said calmly. ‘They have two young kids and are living happily ever after in Kent, where Sabine is popular because she’s considered exotic, being a Parisian.’

‘Do you still see them?’

‘Now and again. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t hard at first, but we patched it up. I have a niece and nephew now. Grudges are of no use to any of us.’

‘And haven’t you...?’

‘I’m not still holding a torch for my sister-in-law, if that’s what you’re thinking. Quite the opposite, in fact. I suspect I had a lucky escape.’ He grinned. ‘She bosses my brother around like an army general.’

‘Serves him right! But what I meant was, haven’t you ever...?’ I hesitated, looking for the right words.

‘What? Found anyone else?’

I nodded.

‘I’m thirty-six years old, Emmy, so yes, I’ve dated since, but...’ He paused. ‘It’s a cliché, I know, but I never really felt I’d found the right girl yet.’ He looked down at the table, and an awkward moment passed between us before he looked up again. ‘You’re going to be all right. Rupert told me he’s in no doubt about it, and I trust his judgement.’

‘That only means
your
judgement’s impaired!’

We laughed, banishing any awkwardness.

‘So, how come you’re half-French?’

‘It’s a very romantic tale,’ he warned me, a glint of humour in his eyes.

‘I can handle it,’ I assured him with mock severity. I wasn’t so sure I could handle him, though – the way his voice flowed over me like velvet cognac.

‘My mother is French. She was on a student exchange in London at the tender age of nineteen and forgot to look the opposite way while crossing the Kings Road. Dad grabbed her hood and yanked her back, saving her from certain death under the wheels of a bus.’

I placed a hand over my heart. ‘That’s sweet.’

‘Sugary sweet, as it turns out – they’ve been inseparable ever since. As soon as Dad finished his engineering degree, he got a job with an international firm outside Paris. They had the obligatory two children and are still living their happy-ever-after existence in the suburbs.’

‘Have you spent your whole life in France? You don’t have much of an accent.’

‘Dad spoke to us in English, Mum in French, so we had double the choice. I chose to stay here.’

‘But your brother lives in England.’

‘He went to university over there and decided to stay. He comes back for family visits, of course... Which is how he met Sabine.’

I waited a second for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, I didn’t feel I could push. ‘Weren’t you tempted by the lights of Paris?’ I asked him instead.

‘I worked for a big firm there for a few years. It’s an amazing city, and I met Sabine there.’

‘So how did you end up in Pierre-la-Fontaine?’

‘My dad had an accountant friend down here – we used to come and stay with them every summer when we were growing up. He asked if I’d like to be his partner. I already loved it here and I was getting tired of Paris by then. Sabine and I had just got married, and she seemed happy to make the move. I think she thought it would be a good place to bring up a family.’ He pushed his food around his plate with his fork. ‘But my brother came for a couple of visits that year and... She decided to have a family with him instead.’

‘I’m sorry.’ I wished I could think of something to say, but words failed me. I thought he might appreciate a change of subject. ‘So, do you still work with your Dad’s friend?’

Alain shook his head. ‘He retired a couple of years ago, and I carried on by myself. I like it here. It’s beautiful. I have good friends and a good business, and I can keep my own hours. What more can a man ask for?’ He paused. ‘Other than someone to share it with, perhaps.’

He gave me a smile and called for the dessert menu before we could take the conversation in a direction neither of us wanted to travel.

‘
W
ill
you be busy packing on Friday?’ Alain asked on the drive back.

‘I suppose so. Why?’

‘I wondered if you’d like to go out for the day.’

‘Won’t you be working?’

‘I only have a couple of appointments. I can alter them.’

‘Oh, well...’

‘I know you might have a lot to do on Friday,’ he said, sensing my hesitation. ‘But I’m afraid I have to work tomorrow.’

I thought about spending my last day mooching around at
La Cour des Roses
, Rupert and I circling each other with the heavy cloud of my departure hanging over our heads, already missing each other before I’d even left.

‘No, I can pack tomorrow instead,’ I said, my mind made up. ‘A day out on Friday would be great. Thank you.’

At
La Cour des Roses
, Alain left the engine running.

‘Thank you for a lovely meal,’ I managed.

‘You’re welcome. Thank you for your lovely company.’

In the shadows, I couldn’t read his expression. My pulse was racing. It would have been so easy to lean in for a kiss. And yet... What would be the point? For either of us?

I gave him a small smile. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Night, Emmy.’

As I opened the car door, the light slanted across his face, his eyes intent on me, a self-deprecating half-smile on his lips, as though he too had wanted the kiss and was cursing himself for not being forward enough.

I
slept
in the next morning, but it was an unsettled, fitful doze. It had been a restless night, recalling snippets of my conversation with Alain and haunted by the possibility of a kiss I hadn’t had the courage to taste.

I finally crawled downstairs in my pyjamas – no guests, so why should I care? – only to be stopped at the kitchen door by an even blearier-eyed Rupert.

‘Upstairs. Get dressed. Guests!’ he growled, pointing at the window as a car drove into the courtyard.

‘Urgh. Right.’ Off I scurried to shower and dress, thereby delaying any caffeine or nourishment.

Reappearing twenty minutes later, I plastered a smile on my face for the benefit of the early birds who were enjoying Rupert’s coffee.

‘Emmy – Caroline and Andy Bedford.’

We shook hands and I shot Rupert a silent plea for my morning fix.

‘Emmy’s been helping me out for the past couple of weeks,’ he explained as he jumped to at the coffee machine. ‘Unfortunately, she leaves on Saturday, so I hope you’ll bear with me if things don’t go quite so smoothly once she’s gone.’

‘I’m sure it will be fine,’ Caroline Bedford said graciously. ‘It certainly looks beautiful so far.’ She glanced through the patio doors. ‘Won’t you miss all this, Emmy?’

I followed her gaze out to the garden. ‘Yes, I will.’ For a brief moment, my throat closed over. As soon as I could breathe again, I changed the subject. ‘You made good time.’

‘We set off far too early,’ her husband said, a hint of blame aimed in his wife’s direction. ‘Drove through the night and got to Dover miles ahead of time. They let us take an earlier ferry.’

‘More time here, then,’ I said in as cheery a voice as I could muster. In only two days’ time, I would be heading in the opposite direction, trying to judge how much time to allow and juggling with maps and the satnav and manic lorry drivers. On my own. I took a gulp of coffee and allowed it to potter its way towards my bloodstream.

When they were ready, I took the Bedfords up to their room. Caroline Bedford was bowled over, exclaiming over the fresh flowers and the little antique glass jewellery dish on the dressing table; the lace coverlet I’d found and used as a bedcover; the view over the garden. Her compliments made me feel more homesick by the minute... For here.

Back downstairs, Rupert was busy scribbling lists. ‘Right, Emmy, we need to get a shift on or we won’t get everything done. Good job we were here when they landed. Wasn’t expecting them till lunchtime.’

He sounded as grumpy as I felt, but I let it be. Since I would be out tomorrow, this was his last chance to boss me about and be chauffeured around. Why
that
should make me sad, I couldn’t imagine.

‘
H
ow did your date go
?’ Rupert asked as we drove to the supermarket.

‘Fine. Nice restaurant. Delicious meal.
Non
-stinky goat’s cheese followed by steak.’

‘Anything... afterwards?’

I glanced at him, ready with a tongue-lashing, but his interrogation was frankly a bit lacklustre for him. He looked tired.

I frowned. ‘Coffee and a drive home. Nothing else.’

He only nodded, so I decided to throw him a titbit of hope. ‘Alain’s taking me out for the day tomorrow.’

‘Oh?’ That perked him up a bit. ‘Where?’

‘Dunno.’

‘What time will you be back?’

‘No idea. Does it matter?’

‘Well, you – er – you’ll need to pack.’

‘I’ll do that this afternoon.’

‘Ah. Well, I’m sure he won’t bring you back too late, knowing you have to get off early the next day and everything.’

He fell silent again. Crikey. This conversation was like pulling teeth.

‘When are you going to try driving again?’ I asked.

‘Soon, I hope. Can’t rely on other people forever.’

I gave him a doubtful look. ‘Okay, but I don’t think you should go alone the first time or two. Someone should go with you.’

‘Already sorted. I asked Alain. He said he’d come over when I felt ready.’

‘That’s good of him.’ There was a pause as I negotiated a junction I’d yet to find reliably friendly. ‘You have rung those numbers, haven’t you? The ones Madame Dupont gave me?’

‘Yes, Emmy, I have.’ His tone was impatient. ‘Someone called Juliette will come in on guest meal days and help me cook. Madame Dupont has promised to be in the next day to clear up – except for Sunday, of course, because she goes to church. And some young girl will help her on Saturdays with the
gîtes
.’

‘Good. And what about...’

‘Oh, for God’s sake, Emmy, give it a rest. It’s all sorted!’

My mouth dropped open in shock. Rupert had never spoken to me like that before. For a second, I bit back a retort – and a tear or two while I was at it – but all the sleep-deficient nights and worry were wearing my restraint thin. Beyond thin.

‘How
dare
you?’ I asked him, my voice low and dangerous.

‘What?’

‘How dare you speak to me like that? After all I’ve done?’

‘Emmy, I...’

‘You ungrateful bastard!’ My knuckles were white on the steering wheel as I fought to keep the tears from blinding me.

‘Emmy...’

‘I have run around after you. I have cleaned for you and cooked for you. I have fetched you your beers and your cups of tea. I have listened to your drunken ramblings with sympathy and understanding. I have tended your guests and your chickens. I have risked my good standing at my job for you, all for another week of the same.’ I shook my head. ‘I only wanted to know if everything was in place so I could go home with a little peace of mind. I didn’t think it was too much to ask.’

‘Emmy, I don’t think you should get so upset when you’re driving.’

‘Oh, you don’t?’ I screeched the car to a halt, half on the road, half on the grass, narrowly avoiding a shallow ditch. The driver behind screamed his horn in outrage as he passed – or possibly admiration, if he was a native.

‘What the hell are you doing?’

‘Apparently, I’m not fit to drive. Perhaps you’d like to take over.’ I unbuckled my seat belt.

Rupert’s face was ashen-grey with shock. ‘You know I can’t.’

‘Exactly. So I suggest you put up and shut up.’ I refastened my seatbelt and screeched back onto the road.

‘Emmy. For God’s sake!’

‘Save it, Rupert. I’ve had enough!’

He took me at my word. Either that or he was too petrified by my driving to speak. We drove on in silence, parked up in silence and trooped round the supermarket with monosyllables and stony faces. As we left the car park, Rupert asked me to turn towards the town centre.

‘You bought chilled stuff. It’ll go off,’ I snapped.

‘No, it won’t. We won’t be long.’

Stubborn old sod. I drove in and parked where I was told.

‘Where do you need to go?’

‘Couple of places. No need for you to come. Why don’t you go get a coffee? I’ll meet you there.’

‘Fine.’

I sat and sulked as I nursed my coffee. I had no idea why he’d got out of bed on the wrong side this morning. Whatever it was, I didn’t see why he should be taking it out on me. I was only trying to help. And inevitably, any satisfaction I might have had when I’d yelled at him was now overridden by guilt at behaving so badly.

Ten minutes later, Rupert reappeared, huffing and puffing – and limping, to add to my guilt. He ordered a coffee and, when he’d caught his breath, startled me by taking my hand.

‘Emmy. I owe you an apology. I was horrid. I’m sorry.’

I didn’t go so far as to pull my hand away, although I wanted to. ‘You’re tired. We both are.’

‘It’s no excuse. I’m not coping with the idea of you going home, that’s all. I didn’t want to say so because you already know how I feel about it and, well, you’ve got enough to contend with.’ He took a sip of his coffee and I noticed his hand was shaking. ‘I don’t want us to fall out, Emmy. Please. We’ve been through too much.’

I fought back yet another deluge of tears. They seemed to want to come thick and fast lately.

I squeezed his hand. ‘I’m sorry, too. I shouldn’t have said what I did. I’m bad-tempered about going home.’

Rupert nodded and drained his cup. ‘Come on, then, love. Chilled goods in the car.’