Return to the Little French Guesthouse

16

‘Everything okay?’ Alain asked as he reached us, by which time Ryan and I had jumped apart like guilty bunnies.

‘Hi. Er, yes. The plumber was delayed, so Ryan came till he got here. Didn’t you get my second message?’ I asked, dismayed that he’d dropped everything to come to my rescue.

‘Yes, but it just said a plumber was on the way. I didn’t know you had a helper. I thought I’d come over to check you were okay.’

‘I’d better get going,’ Ryan said awkwardly. ‘See you around.’

‘Thanks, Ryan. I really appreciate your help,’ I told him.

He smiled and hurried off to his car.

‘Is Jonathan okay?’ Alain asked.

‘Tired, that’s all.’

‘Well, if everything’s under control, I should go.’ He hesitated and his gaze flicked between Ryan and me.

‘Alain...’ I started.

‘I have a late appointment.’

‘Okay. Thank you for coming.’

‘No problem.’

I watched him walk back to his car. Did he think something might be going on between me and Ryan? It must have looked pretty compromising. Why did he have to turn up at that exact point in time?

When I went inside, Jonathan and Monsieur Bonnet seemed to have everything under control, so I decided there was no point in hanging around and took my leave. But as I drove home, I had Alain’s arrival playing on perpetual rewind in my head, making myself ill with worry. What had happened had only solidified the feeling that I ought to fess up to my fling with Ryan so it was all out in the open. But I wasn’t sure if that was a dangerous thing to do.

I texted Kate to ask if we could chat as soon as she got in from work. Bless her, she was looking out at me from my screen less than half an hour later.

‘Hey! How’s it going?’

I took a shaky breath and recounted the events of the day. She laughed and grimaced and winced in all the right places, and at the end of it all, she shook her head and sighed.

‘So you’re worried about what Alain might think?’

‘Yes.’

‘But he didn’t say anything?’

‘No.’

‘It’s not as though you have anything to hide, Emmy.’

‘But I have got something to hide, haven’t I? There may be nothing going on with Ryan now, but there was once. It feels... dishonest.’

Kate’s voice was stern. ‘You were a free agent at the time and it had nothing to do with him. I’m sure he’s got a past. But if you don’t tell him, it’ll only eat away at you. If you do tell, and Alain doesn’t like it, then he’s not the right bloke for you anyway.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Emmy, I’m sorry, but I’m going out tonight. I need to go change.’ She gave an apologetic look.

I glanced at the time and jumped. ‘I have to go, too. How are things going with Jamie?’

‘Not so good. I’m thinking of jacking it in. I’ll see what happens for another week or so. Good luck with Alain.’ She blew me a sympathetic kiss, and her face was gone from the screen.

Oh, I missed her.

My phone pinged. A text from Ryan. Everything okay with Alain?

I took a deep breath and texted back Not sure.

A couple of minutes went by before his reply. If you need to tell him, Emmy, it’s fine with me. Alain’s a good guy. I doubt it’ll be a problem. x

As I smiled at his understanding, I knew that Kate was right. It would always eat away at me. I didn’t want to feel guilty around Alain, or for things to get awkward between me and Ryan. I remembered what Alain had said about language skills, and I figured it could apply to relationships, too. If the bottom rows of bricks weren’t solid, what came after would be weak at best and dangerous at worst.

My mind was made up. Didn’t mean my nerves were happy about it, though.

‘You were ages at Jonathan’s, Emmy,’ Rupert said as I went through to help him prep for the guest meal.

‘Yes, well, it was all rather unfortunate...’ In more ways than one. I filled him in on the flood and omitted the part about Alain.

Rupert tutted. ‘I ought to pop round there more often. Or have him here, so he can sit in the garden.’

‘I’m sure he’d like that. Did you... Did you know about his family?’

Rupert nodded sadly. ‘Yes.’

‘I don’t understand how they could do that! Why he had to hide it all those years.’

‘Hell, Emmy, it wasn’t just that his sexual orientation was disapproved of. It was still illegal when he was younger. It’s all very sad, isn’t it? That he finally met someone in middle age, and they only had ten years together.’

‘He didn’t have anyone before Matthew?’

‘No. Nothing serious, anyway.’

Some people never found love, I supposed. At least Jonathan had had Matthew in his life, for however short a time.

Julia’s daughter, Wendy, and her husband, Aaron, arrived in the middle of our kitchen endeavours, with a feisty toddler and a very colicky baby in tow. Wendy looked permanently harassed, while Aaron had a kind of resigned air about him that would have better suited someone middle-aged, the poor bloke. As the first lot to arrive by land, they had been designated the task of bringing the promised airbeds for the excess guests, which we pumped up and doled out, along with bedding, taking our single mattress away from the Australians and back to the guesthouse.

When I’d got them settled, I peeped into the newly-decorated gîte with trepidation. It looked so new and clean, and there was barely any paint smell at all. I sighed with relief. My gamble had paid off.

When I went back to the kitchen to help Rupert finish off, I said, ‘Thank you. The gîte looks lovely.’

I got a weary grunt in reply. ‘Nice to know my guests are sleeping in the lap of luxury while I’m sleeping on my own bloody sofa.’

Gloria timed her appearance, as usual, for when the meal prep was done and the guests came downstairs. She was pouring wine and I was entangled in trying to remove my apron, ready to be banished for the evening, when the phone rang.

Rupert answered it in the kitchen. ‘Steve? Yes, he’s here.’

He waggled the phone at Steve. ‘Someone who couldn’t get you on your mobile.’

For a man who had developed a nice tan over the past week, Steve blanched considerably. ‘It can’t be for me. Nobody knows I’m here,’ he hissed.

In contrast to Steve’s pale complexion, young Jess’s was now turning an interesting shade of bright pink.

‘Well, someone does. It’s a woman.’

‘Tell her I’m not here.’

The table had gone deadly quiet, initially waiting for the phone call to be dealt with but now avidly listening for the next instalment.

Rupert belatedly pressed the mouthpiece against his chest. ‘But I already told her you’re here.’

‘Then tell her you were mistaken! Tell her... Tell her I’ve already left!’

‘I’m so sorry, madam, but my wife tells me I was mistaken. Steve was staying here, but they... he... left earlier today.’

The caller’s response was loud and clear, even with the phone against Rupert’s ear. ‘Then why did I just hear his voice in the background? You tell that cheating, Lolita-chasing bastard of a husband of mine to get his arse back here to his three kids, or else I’ll...’

Rupert scuttled into the hall with the phone, but it was too late. Steve’s face now matched Jess’s, except the poor girl also had tears rolling down her cheeks. I handed her a napkin.

‘Excuse me. I’m not hungry.’ She fled upstairs.

An uncomfortable silence filled the kitchen – hardly the convivial atmosphere promised on our website.

Steve pushed his chair back. ‘Would you go ahead without us, please?’ He hared after her.

‘Do dig in,’ Rupert said to the others, hurriedly bringing plates of mini quiches with salad to the table. He’d obviously decided that the least said, the soonest mended.

But Gloria had the opposite view. ‘I do wish that people wouldn’t bring their personal problems to La Cour des Roses. It makes everyone so uncomfortable.’

It was a good job I wasn’t eating with the others. I would have choked on my food.

‘Would you care to join us, Emmy?’ Rupert asked, his eyes pleading for me to stay, as he indicated the vacant spaces at the table.

‘No, thanks. I have somewhere I need to go.’

I drove to Alain’s house like a condemned woman, where he answered the door with a puzzled look and a warm smile.

‘Hi. I wasn’t expecting you. I thought you had a guest meal.’

‘Gloria ousted me. Do you mind?’

‘Of course not. Come on in. Tea or wine? Or do you need something to eat?’

‘Tea, please. I... I’m not hungry.’

‘Everything all right at Jonathan’s now?’

‘Yes. Thanks.’

He didn’t seem tense. He hadn’t asked about what he’d seen. But even so... He turned and handed me a mug.

‘Can we go for a walk instead?’ I blurted.

His brows drew together. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, but I need some air.’

‘Okay.’

We stepped outside. Taking me by the hand, he led me along the quiet suburban streets. ‘Is everything all right?’

Oblivious to the trim gardens we were passing, I took a deep breath. ‘I want to speak to you about something.’

He gave me a sideways look. ‘Sounds ominous. What’s wrong?’

‘Today, when you arrived at Jonathan’s, I... I wondered if you were upset.’

‘Not particularly. I wished I’d known you had a helper so I hadn’t driven round when you didn’t need me, but it didn’t matter. Why?’

‘When you got there, Ryan and I... I was worried about how it might have looked to you.’

He slowed his pace. ‘It... looked as though you’d got the help you needed. That you were upset and Ryan was there to deal with it.’ From the corner of my eye, I saw his chest rise as he took a breath. ‘Should I be worried?’

‘No! But I can imagine how it might have seemed and I... I wanted you to know that there’s nothing going on between us.’

An ominous silence filled the space around us.

‘I can sense a “but”,’ he said, so quietly that I barely heard him.

God, I hoped I was doing the right thing.

‘But. Ryan and I had a brief affair after Nathan left me.’ I kept on walking, not daring to look at his face, but when he stopped, I had no choice.

Open shock. Shit.

I started to babble. ‘I’m talking a few days, that’s all. We agreed to be friends and it ended before I got to know you properly. Before you and I went on any dates together. I just want to be honest with you. This afternoon, when you saw him hugging me, he was only being a good friend... Anyway, he said it was okay for me to tell you if I needed to and I thought that was best but...’

Now it was my turn to be shocked. Because Alain threw back his head and laughed. ‘Oh my God, Emmy!’

‘What? What?’

He shook his head, still laughing.

I batted him, trying to figure out what was going on. ‘Why are you laughing?’

‘You cradle-snatcher! That boy is just a teenager!’

‘He is not!’ I said hotly, still bewildered by his reaction. ‘He’s twenty-four!’

He squeezed my hand. ‘Well, when I moved down here, Ryan was only eighteen and still coming here with his parents for holidays, so I still think of him that way.’ He frowned. ‘Makes me feel a bit middle-aged, actually. And he has all those muscles. I’m afraid I lag behind him in both attributes.’

I glanced sideways at him. He was so tall, his strides were long, and he was lean and fit. I gave him a light nudge. ‘You have your own attributes.’

‘Ha! Well. Maybe.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘So if I thought about it, I could feel pretty good about the fact that I’ve enticed you away from a virile, muscle-bound youth, I suppose.’

‘You’re not... upset?’

He gave me a puzzled look. ‘Why should I be? You had a crap time, and you had some fun, blew off steam. I don’t get a say in what you did before me.’ He caught my gaze and held it. ‘I do have one question for you, though.’

‘What?’

‘You were hurt and vulnerable. Did Ryan take advantage of you?’

‘No! Not at all.’

His expression was one of pure relief. ‘Thank God for that! I might have felt obliged to go and beat him to a pulp or something equally macho, and I suspect I would have come off the worse.’

I gaped at him. ‘Would you have done that?’

‘Well, I don’t know about the beating-to-a-pulp part. But there might have been heated words.’

I felt a little warmer inside. It was nice to have someone looking out for my interests.

As we turned to retrace our steps, he gave me a sympathetic smile.

‘Maybe you should know that Rupert knew,’ I admitted. ‘I didn’t tell him. He guessed at the time.’

I thought that might make Alain uncomfortable, but he only chuckled. ‘That man is unbelievable! He knew you were... liaising with his gardener, and yet he spent every spare minute trying to set you up with me?’

‘Yes, well, he’s not as daft as he looks, is he? He knew the Ryan thing was only temporary. He wanted to find me something more...’ I stopped, embarrassed.

‘More permanent?’

‘More likely, anyway.’

‘And are we? More likely?’

‘I should say so.’ I moved in closer to his side and stopped walking. ‘Do I need to prove it?’

Alain turned, his eyes dancing with flecks of gold. ‘I’m feeling a little delicate after your confession. I may need plenty of reassurance.’

Our lips met, and the kiss was sweet and long. I gave an inward sigh of relief. I had good things to report to Kate tonight.

When we got back, Alain asked me if I’d eaten yet, then smiled when I had to think about it before shaking my head. He threw together a salad for me, and I accepted a much-needed glass of wine on the basis that it would have wended its way through my system by the time I drove home – if I bothered driving home.

‘Do I gather you’ve had a hard couple of days?’ he asked as I ate.

‘Could have been better, could have been worse.’ I filled him in on Gloria and Rupert, and told him about my attempted truce, at which he made a face. ‘I couldn’t let it descend into open warfare, for Rupert’s sake,’ I explained. ‘He has a big decision to make, and I don’t want him to be influenced by anything that’s not relevant.’

He kissed me. ‘Martyr.’

‘Yeah, that’s me.’

‘Talking of martyrs, is Rupert still sleeping on the sofa?’

‘As far as I know. He complains about his back every morning.’

‘I’m surprised Gloria’s allowing that.’

‘She can’t do anything about it, if Rupert sticks to his guns. She can hardly force herself on him, can she?’

‘I wouldn’t put it past her,’ Alain said quietly.

Realising I was only spewing out a litany of woes, I politely asked, ‘How was your day?’

Laughing, he asked, ‘Are you really interested in the ironmonger’s tax returns?’

‘No.’

‘Then I’ll say “better than yours” and leave it at that.’

I took my plate through to the kitchen and added it to the dishwasher. When I turned, he was standing there, watching me. Reaching to wind my arms around his neck, I had to stand on tiptoes to get anywhere near his mouth, but he bent his head to meet me halfway. We let ourselves go a little, deepening the kiss, our bodies pressed close, until Alain placed his hands on my hips and prised us apart.

‘That was quite a kiss, Emmy. Dangerous ground.’

‘Are you saying you can’t resist me?’

He held my gaze, his own soft brown and deadly serious. ‘That’s exactly what I’m saying. But we have work to do. One hour each date, remember? We haven’t been keeping to it very well so far.’

I trailed after him like a sulky schoolchild as he went through to the dining table, where he took an A4 pad and pens from his briefcase. He found his reading glasses and put them on.

‘Do you have to wear those?’

‘Well, I could take them off, but then I’ll only get a headache.’

‘Oh, don’t take them off for me.’ I reached for my wine. ‘Okay. I’m concentrating.’

His lips twitched. ‘Good. So, present tense of verbs ending in –er...’

It wasn’t the post-dinner activity I would have chosen, but I couldn’t deny it was useful, and Alain was tailoring it to my specific needs. But inevitably, there was only so long I could concentrate before I inveigled my way onto his lap and wound my arms around his neck.

‘Forty-seven minutes,’ he remarked when I planted my lips on his. ‘You lasted well.’

‘You have no idea how well.’ I touched the bridge of his glasses with my finger. ‘They do add an extra something.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind if I ever feel your interest is flagging.’

‘I don’t think there’s much danger of that.’

‘Your French is improving.’

‘I have other skills that are improving, too.’

‘Oh, really? Maybe I could test that out later.’

He put on a CD, and we moved across to the sofa to curl up together as mellow notes filled the lounge.

I stroked a finger along the laugh lines at the corner of his eye. ‘This music’s nice.’ I reached for my wine.

‘I thought it was time I educated you in the ways of jazz before the Thomsons arrive.’

I placed small kisses at the corner of his mouth. ‘Where’s your saxophone?’

‘Up in the spare bedroom.’ His eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘Why?’

‘I thought you might play it for me.’

‘Ha. Ah. No, I don’t think so.’

‘Why not?’

‘I... It would be weird. Playing for one person.’

‘But you said you wanted to educate me in the ways of jazz.’

‘You can listen to the CD.’

Shaking my head at his reticence, I did my best, but I only had half an ear on it. My attention was too quick to stray. I began to unbutton his shirt, sliding my hands across his chest, around to his back, pressing my body against his. His reaction was instant and gratifying. I smiled smugly.

Alain kissed the smile away. ‘I think that gives you a power kick, being able to do that to me.’

‘Are you complaining?’

‘No. Upstairs. Now.’

We were naked on the bed in less than three minutes.

The next morning, I made sure I was up early enough to seduce my boyfriend and get to La Cour des Roses in time for breakfast.

When the phone rang, Gloria immediately took it into the hall as a shrill voice sounded across the airwaves.

‘I would request that you stop phoning this number,’ I heard her say tartly into the phone. More shrill noises in return. ‘I cannot force someone to take a phone call, madam, and your personal issues are none of my concern. I would thank you not to call again.’

It wasn’t hard to see that poor Violet and Betty and the Hollands were not happy. I couldn’t blame them. They were on holiday to get away from their troubles, not to spend mealtimes embroiled in other people’s.

I glanced across at Rupert. He’d been eerily quiet all morning and wouldn’t catch my eye... and he looked appalling. His hair was a mess, as though he hadn’t bothered to run a comb through it, and his beard was beginning to straggle. The bags under his eyes were noticeable.

‘You look bloody awful, Rupert,’ I whispered.

‘That’s probably because I feel bloody awful. Didn’t sleep a wink last night.’

I never got the chance to find out why.

Gloria’s head appeared round the doorway. ‘Rupert. Emmy. A word.’

Meekly, we followed her into Rupert’s lounge, where she closed the door.

‘I’m not having it,’ she declared.

‘Having what?’ Rupert asked her.

‘You should have heard that woman! Steve’s wife. She knows they’re here because she hacked into his e-mails, would you believe. Shrieking at me, calling me every name under the sun.’

Rupert trod cautiously. ‘I know it must have been unpleasant, Gloria, but I don’t see what we can do about it, other than screen calls.’

‘Well, now, that’s not my problem, is it? You’re the manager, Emmy, according to the website, so it’s your job to sort this mess out.’

‘Gloria...’ Rupert would have jumped to my defence, but I laid a hand on his arm to stop him as she flounced off.

‘It’s not worth it, Rupert.’

He nodded and followed me back out to the kitchen. Jess and Steve had disappeared in mortification – again. The Hollands thanked us for a lovely stay and went upstairs to pack, promising to leave a review. Rupert accompanied Violet and Betty upstairs to fetch their bags and pack them into their little hired car. The guesthouse was emptying, ready for the Thomson invasion, although Jess and Steve weren’t due to leave till the next day.

‘Does that mean I can swear again now?’ Rupert asked as we waved Betty and Violet on their way, his wife at his side to add to the farewell committee. ‘Twelve days of watching my sodding tongue!’

‘Well, you worked your magic on those two,’ I told him. ‘They’ve already provisionally booked for next year.’

‘Really? Oh, well, that’s good, I suppose.’

‘You certainly get a mixed bag here.’

‘I like it that way. Keeps me on my toes.’

Gloria’s expression was sour. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

Back inside, Rupert asked me if I was okay to clear up by myself. If it meant he might spruce himself up so he looked less like the living dead, I was happy to oblige.

Ten minutes later, the dog pushed her way into the kitchen from the hall.

‘What’s up, sweetie?’ I stroked her head. ‘You know you’re not allowed in here.’

She whined pitifully. I crouched down and nuzzled her face. ‘What’s up?’ But there was no comforting her. Thinking Rupert would have the magic touch, I went into the hall to knock on his door.

My hand stopped in mid-air. Raised voices. Gloria’s, shrill and weepy. Rupert’s, clearly shaken. Had the dog picked up on her master’s distress?

I patted my thigh. ‘C’mon, then. Let’s sit outside for a while.’ I took her out to the patio, where she rested her chin dolefully on my knee. ‘Everything’ll be all right,’ I told her – although I was far from sure of that.

Five minutes later, I heard Rupert’s door open.

‘Ten years, Rupert! I can’t believe you’re willing to throw it all away!’

Despite her dislike of Gloria, the dog rushed through to her master. I started to follow, if nothing else but to pull her away from where she wouldn’t be wanted right now, but I stopped short in the kitchen.

Gloria was in floods of tears. They were streaking down her face, mingling with mascara to make smudged stripes – but for once she didn’t care. She turned to him. ‘I thought if I came back...’

‘Gloria. I’ve explained. Don’t make me do it all again. Please.’ Rupert’s voice was raw with emotion.

Gloria’s hands were shaking as she took her car keys from her handbag. ‘I... I’ll be back for my stuff some time.’ Through a curtain of tears, she stumbled through the front door.

I ran after her, putting out a hand to stop her before she could climb into her car. ‘Gloria. Will you be all right?’

She lifted her chin a little in defiance. ‘Do I look all right? And anyway, why should you care?’

I tried to hold her gaze, but she was looking everywhere but at me. ‘I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.’

‘I bet. Well, you got what you wanted, Emmy. Your precious Cour des Roses. Enjoy.’

And she was gone.