Return to the Little French Guesthouse

13

When I arrived at Alain’s, I found him sitting at the dining table, working.

‘What are you doing that for, on a glorious day like this?’

‘I needed to do something complicated to take my mind off Gloria.’

‘Has it succeeded?’

‘No. Come here and help me out.’

I gave him an innocent look. ‘I don’t think my maths is up to it, Alain, to be honest.’

‘Not interested in your brains.’

‘Charming!’ I went over and sat across his lap, snaking my arms around his neck. The kiss was long and much needed by both of us.

‘Better?’ I asked him.

‘Mmm. Better.’ He leaned in for another. ‘Ouch. I’m getting cramp.’

I slapped at him. ‘I’m not that heavy.’

He stood and moved past me to the kitchen, patting my backside on the way. ‘No. You’re just right. Lunch?’

‘Please.’

He put together a tray of cold meats, tomatoes, olives and bread, and we took it outside.

‘You’d better tell me the whole story,’ he said in a resigned tone as we helped ourselves.

So I did. Alain needed to know what was going on, and I needed an outlet for the numerous emotions that Gloria’s return and her attitude had provoked in me.

When I’d brought him up to speed, he was as wound up as I was. ‘Are we presuming that Nathan left her?’

‘I can’t imagine she left him only to come back to somewhere she hated enough to run away from in the first place. But the whys and wherefores don’t matter. What matters is that she’s back, and she thinks all she has to do is to snap her fingers for Rupert to welcome her with open arms.’

‘Surely he won’t?’

‘I don’t know, Alain. When she left him, he admitted their marriage was already on shaky ground, but even so, he was really shocked by her desertion. What bugs me is that he’s been going through a kind of healing process since, in his own way, and I didn’t think he was too unhappy.’

‘But?’

‘Well, it’s possible that he’s lonely, isn’t it? I don’t get that impression – he once told me he wasn’t designed for marriage. And even if he is lonely, taking Gloria back won’t solve that. I don’t see how their relationship would be any different from before.’

Alain stood and began to pace.

‘We could do some French,’ I suggested. ‘It might take our minds off Gloria.’

‘How many swear words would you like to learn? Because I have a fair few at the tip of my tongue right now. Anyway, I have a better idea.’

He took my hand and led me to the large shed at the bottom of the garden, where he dragged out two bikes. His and...

‘Yours, temporarily. If you like it, yours to buy for fifty euros.’

I stared at the foreign object with panic and dismay. ‘What?’

‘One of the neighbours is selling it, so I said you might like to try it. This is the perfect opportunity, don’t you think? We need a distraction, and we need physical exercise to get rid of tension.’ Seeing my expression, he laughed. ‘Not that kind. Not yet, anyway. You can come closer. It won’t bite. Climb aboard so I can adjust the saddle.’

Gingerly, I straddled the bike. I hadn’t been on one since I was ten, when my friend fell off hers and knocked a front tooth out, pouring copious amounts of blood onto the pavement in the process. I pointed this out to Alain, to no avail.

‘You’ll be fine, I promise.’

He fiddled with spanners, adjusting various parts of the bike until he was satisfied that it was suitable for me, but I remained unconvinced, thinking wistfully about the day I’d originally imagined us having. I’d assumed he’d asked me to wear shorts and trainers for a country stroll, then there would have been more lounging in the garden, an afternoon ‘nap’... Instead, I was going to get all sweaty and permanently damage all the muscles you use for cycling, which in my case hadn’t been used in years.

We set off, Alain in the lead. I was a bit wobbly at first – a lot wobbly, in fact – but the residential streets were Sunday-quiet as we cycled past neat family houses surrounded by lawns parched yellow from the sun, and by the time we were on a proper road out of town, I was confident enough – unless a car went past at speed, when I had a habit of closing my eyes and praying, something that did nothing for my steering.

Alain turned off onto a country road with less traffic, and I began to relax and almost enjoy myself, daring to take my eyes off Alain in front to take note of what we were cycling past. It was obvious, of course, but it was a much better view cycling than driving. My walks from La Cour des Roses had only passed farms and fields, but now we cycled past vineyards and I could see how perfectly straight the rows of vines were, a deep summer green. Beyond them, on a slope, stood a huge cream-coloured house with a grey roof, several round turrets lending it a castle-like appearance, honey-toned wood shutters at the tall arched windows and doors and large weeping willows standing guard at every corner – presumably the vineyard owner’s residence. Very formal and fancy.

Alain turned to check that I was okay every few hundred yards, and stopped now and again to hand me a bottle of water he had fixed to his bike. The road was reasonably flat, the weather hot, but the movement of the bike meant that a light breeze caressed my face. Eventually, he turned off onto a dirt track, which had its advantages and disadvantages – no traffic to contend with, but the rougher surface meant harder work for my legs, and the odd pothole added the extra excitement of wondering whether I might fly over the handlebars. Even so, the enjoyment of it slowly came back to me – that childhood freedom of pedalling along with no real destination in mind and no worries to plague you. The sun was hot, a gorgeous man was by my side, leaves tickled my arms and the rushing air cooled my face as I whizzed along, loving every minute.

Finally, Alain came to a stop and handed me a banana. ‘For energy. Enjoying it, after all?’

I gave him a sheepish smile. ‘Yes.’

‘Good.’

‘It might not be, if my legs collapse under me when I try to get out of bed tomorrow morning.’ I grimaced. ‘I am so unfit!’

‘What makes you say that? You’ve kept up with me all right.’

‘Yes, but I never do any of this stuff. You go running every morning and you enjoy cycling. I only have the odd stroll and chucking the occasional ball for Gloria to keep me fit.’

He laughed. ‘Does she fetch them for you?’

‘I meant dog Gloria.’

‘I bet you’re a lot fitter than you think. Much fitter than when you were working ten hours a day in an office. You do more than your share of physical work at La Cour des Roses. And you must be burning off a fair number of calories with me.’

His smile was wicked and my pulse, already racing from the cycling, pepped up the pace even more as I thought about what my reward for my exertions might be.

Alain’s eyes flashed with laughter and desire, the gold flecks reflecting the sun. His smile was wide in his handsome face, his legs and arms long and strong and tanned. I’d never made love in a field before, but I wished I had a more devil-may-care attitude now.

Tearing my eyes away before I suggested something uncomfortable and possibly illegal, I turned and peered over the hedge behind me at the field beyond. This tall crop had been bothering me as we whizzed past on our bikes – I couldn’t work out what it was.

‘What’s that?’ I asked him, scrambling closer to get a better look.

‘Cob corn.’

The minute he said it, it was obvious. Between the large, dark green leaves, I could see the stringy husks clinging to the tall, thick stalks.

‘Come on, country girl, we’d better turn back before you get too tired.’

Back at the house, with an unspoken agreement, we climbed the stairs hand in hand – but at the door to his room, I hesitated, practicalities knocking at the small section of my brain that wasn’t filled with him.

‘Alain, I...’

He groaned. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. Please.’

I aimed a pointed glance at the bulge in his shorts and smirked. ‘No. But can I have a quick shower first? I’m sticky and disgusting.’

‘Me too. You go first and I’ll follow you in.’

When my eyes widened, he laughed. ‘The bathroom’s not big enough for that, Emmy. I meant one at a time.’

Mindful that I didn’t want Alain’s... enthusiasm to wane, I was quick. When I left the bathroom wrapped in a towel, he kissed me briefly on the lips and sent an appreciative glance my way before going in there himself.

As I heard the shower running, I felt slightly awkward. Last time, things hadn’t been this premeditated – we’d just fallen into bed together. Should I perch demurely on the edge of the bed? Or should I lie wantonly across the bed, my towel gaping enough to flash a little thigh and cleavage?

When he came in, I was standing at his bedroom window, looking out across the rose fields and catching the breeze from the open window. I turned to see him standing there, a towel anchored on his hips and an enquiring look on his face. A jolt of lust punched through every nerve ending I possessed.

His mouth twitched. ‘I don’t think this is going to work if you stay over on that side of the room.’

When I reached him, he took my mouth in a heated kiss, and with a flick of his fingers, the towels dropped to the floor. One light push and I was on the bed, Alain hovering above me.

‘Will you be murmuring endearments in French again?’ I enquired.

‘Do I do that?’

‘You do. And let me tell you, for a girl from Birmingham, it’s very sexy.’

‘Alors, ma chérie.’ I shivered with pleasure as he nuzzled my neck. ‘Mon petit chou-fleur.’ He moved to the pulse in my throat. ‘Ma jolie artichaut.’

‘Did you just call me a cauliflower? And maybe even an artichoke?’

‘You said it turns you on when I speak French. You didn’t specify what kind of French.’

I laughed and slapped at him. ‘Do it properly, or I won’t play.’

And he did. So I did.

This was one way of learning French that I had no objection to.

We sat outside in the cooling evening breeze with a lazy pizza and salad.

‘Can you stay over?’

‘Not tonight. You know, the first of the Thomson party are arriving tomorrow and I need everything to be in order. And I don’t trust Gloria. I... I feel like I need to keep an eye on Rupert.’

He nodded his understanding. ‘You should take every Sunday off. I know your hours are fluid, but it’s not unreasonable to have one day a week to yourself. There’s so much we can do together. Châteaux, all that sightseeing stuff. It’s busy at this time of year, but it would all be good to put on your website.’

I smiled at his tactic of appealing to my business goals as a way of getting some downtime with me, but it wasn’t as simple as that. ‘Sounds great, but making plans like that at the moment...’

He rolled his eyes. ‘You’re back to worrying about Gloria.’

‘Yeah. It’s unsettling enough moving to a new country and starting a new job and a new relationship without it all turning upside-down just a few weeks in.’

‘I can’t believe he’d give it all up for her.’

‘She’s his wife. He chose to marry her, to spend his life with her. In the long run, that might mean more to him than bricks and mortar.’

‘La Cour des Roses is more than bricks and mortar. It’s what defines Rupert, almost.’

‘I know. But maybe Gloria means more to him.’

Alain curled his lip. ‘If she finds a better option, she’ll be off again, and then where will he be?’

‘But that’s his decision to make.’

‘What will you do if Gloria stays?’

I would have the rug swept out from under me. No job. Nowhere to live. The thoughts I’d managed to push to the back of my mind ever since I’d spoken to Rupert that morning poured out in a torrent.

‘I’d have no salary, Alain. We have no tenants in Birmingham. My business is making progress, but it’s not live yet, and there won’t be any income for a while.’ I sighed. ‘I’m wondering whether I should put it on hold for now. There’s no point in getting people on board for something that might never happen.’

His expression was one of shock. ‘Are you... Are you saying you might go back to England if Gloria stays?’

‘I’m saying I don’t know.’

He looked at me for a long time. ‘But I only just found you.’ A frown. ‘I thought you had savings?’

‘I do, but my grandmother left me the money, and I really hadn’t wanted to use it for something like this.’

‘May I ask why?’

‘Because she didn’t leave me it to squander on a flat I’m not even living in!’

‘Are you sure about that?’ He looked at me in a considered way. ‘Tell me about your grandmother.’

I smiled and remembered Gran: reading to me sitting on her lap; striding through mud in wellies ahead of us all; bringing me a hot water bottle and talking me through my first heartbreak. ‘My dad’s mum. I loved her to bits, and the feeling was mutual. She was unfailingly encouraging – never put me down or laughed at my ideas, even if it was something daft like wanting to be a model or a surgeon. She would just listen quietly and give a considered opinion.’ My voice hitched. ‘She told me all she wanted was for me to be healthy and happy; that money was all very well, but it was nothing compared to those things. She wanted me to find a nice man who would care for me. Thank God she never met Nathan. But I think she would have liked you.’

Alain squeezed my hand. ‘How old were you when she died?’

‘Twenty-two. It was awful, Alain. She just withered away from cancer. I remember her lying there, so thin and frail, saying she would rather have had a quick heart attack and be done with it.’ A tear rolled down my face. ‘A couple of weeks before she died, she told me she was leaving me a little money for a rainy day.’

‘Do you think she would class this as a rainy day?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘What would she have said about you coming to France?’

‘She would have told me to go for it.’

‘And if you could ask her whether she would rather you went home with your tail between your legs, job hunting and living with your parents like a twenty-year-old, or persevered with your dreams by using some of the money she left you, what do you think she would say to that?’

‘I... I think she would want me to use it.’

Alain’s face was still tense. I liked it so much better when he was relaxed, his lips curved, the smile lines fanning out from the corners of his eyes. He stood and ran his hands across my back, finding the knots and kneading gently at them with his thumbs, then smoothing over the sore spots. ‘Don’t go, Emmy. If Gloria gets her way? Don’t go.’

‘Did you have a good afternoon off?’ Rupert asked me the next morning as he scrubbed burnt eggs from a pan at the sink. That worried me. Rupert never burned eggs.

‘Yes, thanks.’

‘Then you should do it more often. It’s put a bit of colour in your cheeks.’ He waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

‘That would be the cycling.’

‘Cycling? Are you into that kind of thing?’

‘Not since I was ten,’ I admitted. ‘But I enjoyed it. Are you okay?’

‘Hmmph.’ He lowered his voice. ‘My back’s getting worse. That sofa is not comfortable, Emmy.’

‘I know. But I’m proud of you.’

He looked away.

‘Rupert, I know you’ve had bigger things to worry about, but you do know the first of the Thomsons are arriving tonight?’

He nodded. ‘We’ve covered everything we can, Emmy.’

‘What’s all this whispering, you two?’ Gloria came over, having driven Marcus and James away with her expertise on the possibilities for retail therapy in the area.

‘Nothing important.’ Rupert scuttled outside to feed leftovers to the birds.

‘Take a lot of time off, do you, Emmy?’

I took a deep breath. ‘Firstly, Gloria, my hours are fluid. Nobody complains when I’m washing dishes at midnight or doing laundry at weekends, so the occasional late start is hardly an issue. Secondly, and more importantly, you are not my employer. I take orders from Rupert, not you.’

‘Not for much longer. If you haven’t noticed, I’m back.’

‘Yes, you are. And if you ask me, you’re also counting your chickens. Excuse me. I have work to do.’

But Gloria didn’t take the hint. ‘I see you altered the lounge.’

‘Yes. It was unwelcoming. Nobody ever went in it.’

‘And you think a few cushions and throws will make a difference?’

‘They already have. Several people have actually set foot in there this week.’ This was true, and I couldn’t be more pleased. ‘I have further plans, but it’ll do for now.’

‘Why on earth have you got decorators in at this time of year?’ She gestured at the van out in the courtyard.

‘There was some damage. It wouldn’t wait, and we had a few days’ leeway.’ I certainly didn’t want to get into the Thomson booking with her at this stage.

‘Hmm. Enjoy your evening at your boring accountant’s, did you?’

‘Yes, I did. Very much. Thank you.’

Gloria lounged against the patio doors, watching me up to my elbows in the sink with eggy skillets and grill pans.

‘Feel free to muck in any time, Gloria, if you’re at a loose end,’ I snapped before I could stop myself.

‘You’re paid. I’m not,’ she said. ‘I’m not here to work. I’m here to spend time with my husband. I don’t see how scrubbing pans will assist a reconciliation, do you?’

Luckily, she flounced off before I could open my mouth.

As I went around the outside of the house to my room to fetch my bag for going into town, I found Ryan dragging his stuff from the boot of his estate car.

‘Hi. Is the wicked witch still...?’

‘Yes. She is still, I’m afraid.’

Alain’s blue hatchback pulled into the courtyard, making me frown.

He climbed out. ‘Emmy. You left your mobile last night.’

‘Did I? I hadn’t even noticed!’ I took it from him. ‘I think I’m going senile with everything that’s going on around here. Thanks.’

Ryan came over to shake hands with him. ‘Gloria tends to have that effect on people. Morning, Alain. How was your trip?’

They chatted for a few minutes, while a growing sense of unease crept over me. I hadn’t thought about my ex-lover and my current lover being on such friendly terms before – or how that would make me feel. I had no regrets about my fling with Ryan... but Alain didn’t know about it, and the whole thing made me a little antsy. When Alain set off back to work, I breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Madame Dupont arrived as Rupert and I were about to leave for Pierre-la-Fontaine. She must have spotted Gloria’s car in the courtyard, because she looked at me askance when she walked in, and made no bones about how she felt. Greeting Gloria with a minimum of politeness, she wished her a pleasant stay, then crooked her finger, beckoning me to follow her upstairs.

In the first room she found empty, she shut the door and rounded on me, her wiry little body stiff with outrage.

‘What is that terrible woman doing here? She isn’t staying, is she? Rupert won’t permit her to come back, will he?’

‘I don’t know,’ I admitted.

‘Mon Dieu!’ She sank down on the edge of the bed. Gloria’s reappearance seemed to have the same unfortunate effect on everyone.

I battled through a fairly appalling French version of Gloria’s arrival on Saturday, then took her hand and gently squeezed. ‘Don’t worry, Madame Dupont. Rupert isn’t stupid.’

‘Ha! He is stupid when it comes to that woman!’