Return to the Little French Guesthouse

20

When I pulled up outside Jonathan’s, the curtains were still drawn and there was no answer when I knocked. Worried, I scrabbled in my bag for Rupert’s spare key and let myself in. There was no sign of him in the lounge or kitchen, so I went up to his bedroom. Tapping lightly, I poked my head around the door.

Jonathan was in bed. He turned to face me, but it set off a paroxysm of coughing. When it stopped, his breathing was laboured.

Hiding my alarm, I crouched down so that I was at eye level with him. ‘Jonathan. Are you all right?’

‘I’ll be okay, Edith. I just need to rest.’

Edith?

‘How long have you been in bed?’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘When did you last eat?’

No reply.

‘What day do you think it is?’

He seemed to drift off, then said, ‘Tell that ruddy dog to shut up, will you?’

I couldn’t hear anything. I glanced at the empty water glass by his bed and remembered that old people could get confused when they were dehydrated. It had happened to my gran a few times, especially in the evenings.

‘I’m going to make us a cup of tea, okay?’

‘I don’t like Bakewell tart. Never have.’

‘Er – right. I’ll remember that.’

Down in the kitchen, there were no used mugs or plates by the sink, suggesting he might not have eaten or drunk anything in a while. I made two mugs of tea, adding a little cold water to Jonathan’s, and took them upstairs.

‘Jonathan, you need to sit up. I want you to drink this.’

‘That woman always made Bakewell tart. Never could stand the stuff.’

‘Who always made Bakewell tart?’ I tried to lift him into a sitting position, but he was a tall bloke and it wasn’t easy, especially without his full cooperation.

He seemed to have forgotten what we were talking about. ‘Stop fussing, Edith!’

When I’d got him as upright as I could, I placed the tea in his hands. His breathing was loud in the small room, and it felt stuffy.

I went across to pull back the curtains and open the window, then sat back down beside him. Now the room was lighter, I didn’t like what I saw. Jonathan’s skin was white, but he had a flush across his cheekbones. I felt his forehead with the back of my hand. It was burning hot.

‘Have you got a thermometer?’

‘Nope.’

I went to dampen a flannel with cold water, placed it on his forehead, then nudged the tea to his lips. Maybe I shouldn’t be giving him a warm drink, but he needed something. He seemed uncoordinated, and I had to help him aim for his mouth.

‘Does your chest hurt?’

‘When I cough. Tight when I breathe too deep.’

‘Okay. I’ll be back in a minute.’

Downstairs, out of earshot, I phoned Rupert. I could hear a racket in the background. The lunch crowd must have descended.

‘Emmy, I don’t—’

‘Jonathan’s really ill, but I don’t know what to do.’ I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘Should I get hold of a doctor, or should I take him to the hospital?’

‘Tell me his symptoms.’

I did.

‘Don’t like the sound of that at all.’ He hesitated. ‘A&E, Emmy.’

I swallowed down panic. ‘Do we call an ambulance, or do I take him myself? I… I’m not sure I could manage to get him downstairs and into the car.’ My voice wobbled.

Rupert cursed. ‘I’ll come over. Give me half an hour.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous! You can’t leave all your guests to fend for themselves in the middle of lunch.’

‘I can in an emergency.’

‘We don’t know how much of an emergency it is yet, and too much has gone wrong already with that lot. Julia clearly wasn’t happy that you weren’t there to greet them when they arrived yesterday, or for the barbeque. You really should stay there, Rupert.’

‘Okay. I’ll call an ambulance for you. Keep me informed, and I’ll join you as soon as I can.’

‘There’s no need. You’ve got your hands full there. I’ll be fine,’ I lied.

‘How are you going to cope with the French? With the paramedics? With the paperwork if they want to admit him?’

‘I – er.’

‘Call Bob.’

‘Bob’s away tonight. He told me yesterday. He won’t be back till tomorrow, I don’t think.’

‘Phone Ryan, then. That way, you get a French speaker, and I get to stay here for a while longer, okay?’

‘Okay.’ My throat was tight with panic.

‘And Emmy? I want you to phone me if Jonathan takes a real turn for the worse. I mean it.’

‘I will. Bye.’ I clicked off the call, and with shaking fingers, I phoned Ryan, thinking that this was the second time in a week I’d needed his help and feeling ridiculous about it.

He answered almost immediately, sounding puzzled. ‘Emmy?’

I explained.

‘I’m so sorry, but I’m fifty miles away, at lunch with some friends of my parents. We only brought one car. I presume you’ve already tried Alain?’

‘I... Don’t worry, Ryan. I’ll find someone. Thank you.’

‘I’m sorry I can’t help. Good luck.’

I scrolled down my phone in a panic. Sophie would probably be in the middle of tinting someone’s hair. Ellie would be at work.

Before I could think twice, I dialled Alain. He, too, would be at work – but maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t have any appointments this afternoon.

He answered almost immediately. ‘Emmy?’

‘Alain, I...’ No tears, or he’ll think you’re crying about your crap relationship. ‘I need your help. Jonathan’s really ill.’ I explained as calmly as I could.

‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

I allowed myself a couple of minutes’ misery, then splashed cold water on my face and went back upstairs.

‘Rupert’s called for an ambulance.’

‘What the hell for?’

‘Just do what you’re told, Jonathan. Please.’

Sensing the desperation in my voice, he reached out and patted my hand. ‘Don’t worry, Edith.’

I’d love to know who this Edith was.

Pulling myself together, I thought about what he’d need if they took him to hospital – and I was in little doubt that they would. Clean pyjamas. Toiletries. I rummaged in the bedroom and bathroom while Jonathan lay placidly in the bed, occasionally directing me with an ‘In that drawer over there, Edith.’

Alain arrived five minutes later. ‘How is he?’

‘Not good.’ My lip quivered. ‘Thank you for coming.’

He rested a reassuring hand on my cheek. ‘You’re welcome.’

We stood for a long moment as mutual understanding passed between us. This wasn’t about us. It was about Jonathan.

‘Emmy!’ A shout from upstairs.

It was an improvement on Edith, anyway. I rushed back up, Alain hot on my heels. ‘Yes?’

‘There was a rat at the window.’

‘What?’ I went over, but I couldn’t see anything. ‘You mean on the sill?’

‘On the glass. Climbing up. Can you shut the window?’

‘Jonathan, surely rats can’t climb on sheer glass? Or up a whole storey?’ I assumed he must be hallucinating, but my knowledge of rodents’ gymnastic abilities was on the inadequate side. I looked to Alain for help.

‘We don’t want to close the window, Jonathan,’ he said calmly. ‘You’re too hot. We’ll stay in here with you and keep an eye out.’

‘Is that Alain?’

‘Yes.’

Jonathan nodded, exhausted from the exchange.

We sat in silence, Jonathan breathing heavily and staring into space, Alain pale and shocked by his condition. I glanced at the window every now and again to check for glass-scaling vermin.

The paramedics, when they arrived, were young and kindly. Allowing Alain to translate, I explained about the chest infection, his fever, his confusion. I stepped out of the room while they examined him, pacing the landing until I was called back in.

‘The chest infection getting worse is what’s led to the fever,’ Alain told me. ‘And the fever’s probably causing the confusion. They’re worried about pneumonia. They’re taking him to hospital.’

I bit back panic as Alain closed the window (the paramedics disconcerted at Jonathan’s mention of rats), and we waited downstairs while they got Jonathan sorted and carried him out to the ambulance.

While Alain drove, I phoned Rupert to give him an update.

‘I don’t like the idea of pneumonia,’ he said, shaken. ‘I’ll get down there as soon as I can.’

‘There are two of us already.’ I failed to tell him who the other party was. ‘No need for you to drop everything. I’ll keep you updated.’ I clicked off.

‘Is Rupert okay?’ Alain asked awkwardly.

‘He’s worried. He wanted to drop everything and come, but we’re doing lunches every day of the jazz festival for all the guests. Jonathan doesn’t half know how to time his crises.’

‘I’m glad you phoned me,’ Alain said, his eyes fixed on the ambulance ahead.

By the time a muddled Jonathan had been checked in and they were running tests, the adrenalin was fading and I felt like crap.

Alain fetched plastic cups of black tea from somewhere and we sat, waiting and sipping.

‘You look shattered, Emmy.’

‘It’s been a long week, and now this... I’m so worried about Jonathan.’

Alain reached out to take my hand, but stopped himself. ‘He’s in good hands now.’

‘Do you know what they’re doing to him?’

‘They said something about blood tests and an X-ray.’

I couldn’t deny that I was grateful for Alain’s company. Solid, reassuring and French-speaking. All great qualities right now.

I thought about the admissions forms. ‘I had no idea that Jonathan’s nearly eighty. I know he has his health struggles, but with all that hair and his full set of marbles, it’s easy to forget his age when you’re with him, isn’t it?’

‘If you ask me, there’s plenty of life in the old dog yet.’

Eventually, the doctor came out to speak to us. Well, to Alain. As I got more and more frustrated that I couldn’t understand better, I heard rapid footsteps and turned.

Rupert, ignoring my advice as usual, was storming towards us.

Great.

Alain turned too, and he and Rupert stared for a long moment at each other, their faces shuttered.

‘Alain.’

‘Rupert.’

A tense silence.

‘I couldn’t get anyone else,’ I explained to Rupert, knowing but unable to help that Alain would be offended to find out he was the last person on the list.

‘What did the doctor say?’ Rupert asked him.

‘Jonathan’s got pneumonia,’ Alain told us. ‘They’re worried it could lead to pleurisy.’

‘Oh, God,’ Rupert muttered, scrubbing his fingers through unkempt hair.

‘How bad is it?’ I asked.

‘It’s not good at his age. They’re putting him on an antibiotic drip and he’ll get fluids by drip, too. Oxygen as and when he needs it. They want to bring his fever down, make sure there aren’t any complications. We can pop into his booth and see him for two minutes, but the doctor says there’s no point in waiting after that. It will just be a question of transferring him to a room and starting treatment.’

My eyes filled, but Alain’s voice was stern. ‘You can’t cry if you want to see him, okay?’

I took several deep breaths. We plastered smiles on our faces and shuffled into Jonathan’s cubicle.

‘Now then, old trouper, what are you up to, causing all this worry?’ Alain said cheerily. ‘I know we all want to see Emmy’s French improve, but this is a drastic way to go about it. Good job I was on hand to save her.’

Jonathan smiled weakly. ‘Thanks, you two.’

I popped a kiss on his cheek. ‘You’re welcome. Do what you’re told while you’re in here.’ I reminded him that I’d brought him a bag and that his mobile was in it. ‘Phone us if you need anything.’

He spotted Rupert hanging back, and lifted a hand weakly in greeting. ‘I won’t eat Bakewell tart. You’ll tell them, won’t you, Edith?’

‘I will. Don’t you worry.’

Alain and I left Rupert with Jonathan, and walked slowly along the corridor towards the exit. Not yet, Emmy, not yet. Round the corner... Safely out of earshot, I burst into tears.

Alain started to put his arms around me, then stopped. ‘Yes? No?’

‘Yes,’ I mumbled, burying my head against his chest, feeling the comforting thud of his heart against my ear. A few minutes couldn’t hurt, surely.

When I’d hiccupped away the tears, he pulled away – as soon as he could have decently done so. That only made me want to cry more.

I scrubbed my face as we continued to the exit. Rupert caught up with us in the car park, where I was in an awkward dilemma. Did I go back with Alain to fetch my car from Jonathan’s, or Rupert?

Rupert came to my rescue. ‘Come back in mine to the guesthouse, Emmy. We can drive back to fetch your car later. You’re tired.’

I turned to Alain. ‘Thank you,’ I managed, my voice small.

‘You’re welcome.’ And he was off, long strides across the car park, his tall frame slightly stooped.

I got into Rupert’s car, allowing my head to fall back against the headrest. Feeling sick, I opened the window to let in some fresh air.

‘Why did you call Alain?’ Rupert asked.

‘Because Ryan was fifty miles away,’ I snapped.

‘It’s fine, Emmy. I’m glad you had help. And it was good of him to come.’

I closed my eyes. ‘How did you get away from your guests?’

‘It wasn’t as hard as I thought. They’re a nice bunch. Sylvia overheard me talking to you on the phone about ambulances and didn’t like to interfere, but she could tell I was antsy, and after a while, she spoke to Julia and they all ganged up on me. They insisted they were perfectly capable of serving themselves dessert and hot beverages, and that I was to get off. It was good of them.’

‘Did you eat anything?’ I asked, concerned.

‘A mouthful or two. Couldn’t face much.’

‘Try not to worry about Jonathan. They said he’s stable.’

‘They said he’s stable, considering. He’s an old man, and his health isn’t fantastic in the first place. Pneumonia... There are no guarantees, love.’

‘Stubborn old men who won’t go to the doctor when they’re told. It’s enough to drive you mad!’ I said angrily.

He grunted. ‘I bet you haven’t eaten anything either, have you?’

I thought about it. ‘No.’ That was probably why I felt so travel-sick.

‘I want you to have something when we get back, Emmy. I don’t need you keeling over on me.’

Back at La Cour des Roses, I followed him into the kitchen. He stopped dead in the middle of the room and looked around in astonishment. As did I.

The table had been cleared, the cloth neatly folded in one corner. Leftover food had been covered and put away in the fridge. And every single glass, plate, and dish had either been loaded into the dishwasher or washed, dried and neatly stacked at one end of the kitchen.

The innate kindness of strangers. That was when Rupert allowed a tear to fall.

I spent half the night worrying myself sick about Jonathan, and the other half about Rupert’s distress. Finally, after opening the shutters so the morning sun could slant across the bed, I allowed myself to worry about me. Or more specifically, about me and Alain.

Our unexpected time together yesterday had been unsettling. When I thought about the gamut of emotions I’d gone through over the past few days – anger at Gloria’s revelation, disappointment at Alain’s presumed weakness, disdain at his betrayal of his friend, understanding and confusion over his explanation – I was surprised I hadn’t had a complete nervous breakdown. But all along, I had ruthlessly pushed to the back of my mind – and my heart – how much I cared about Alain, and that you can’t turn that kind of thing off like a tap.

Yesterday, he had responded to my phone call without question. He hadn’t run when Rupert appeared. He hadn’t comforted me without asking permission, and when given permission, he had given that comfort without expectation of more, then walked away.

And that last thing affected me more than I could say. Part of me had wanted to run after him and climb into his car and go home with him and make love with him and make the whole ugly rest of my world go away.

And the sensible part had told me that unless I could come to terms with the fact that he might have slept with Rupert’s wife, and figure out my conflicting loyalties between him and Rupert, that could never happen.

‘Who’s Edith?’ I asked Rupert over double-shot espressos on the patio. Heaven knew we needed them. The tent foursome had once more sung and strummed their guitars until nearly midnight, while Gloria whined her accompaniment. She was already banished from being in the orchard or garden unless she was properly chaperoned, partly because of the two labradoodles and partly because she couldn’t be trusted not to explore the tent’s interior and avail herself of any tasty morsels left lying around. The singing must be topping it off for the poor animal.

‘Edith?’ Rupert asked, puzzled.

‘Jonathan kept calling me Edith yesterday.’

‘Hmm. I’m not sure. It might be his sister.’

‘Do you think we ought to try to contact his family back in England, with him being so ill?’

‘I thought he told you about that? That he hasn’t seen hide nor hair of them in twenty-five years?’

‘He did. Are you saying that if I phone his sister or brother and tell them he’s on death’s door, they won’t come?’

‘I’m saying that his brother or sister may not even be alive. His sister was older than him by a few years, his brother by a couple of years.’

‘But he has nieces and nephews.’

‘Who will have been indoctrinated against him for the past quarter of a century. Besides, what are the chances that anyone lives at the same address or has the same phone number after all this time? More to the point, we would be going against Jonathan’s wishes. He’s had a hard life, Emmy. It’s his choice how to live out what’s left of it.’

Upset, I stared out across the garden. Down on the lawn, Sylvia’s cousin Fred had a group of kids gathered around him, and he was trying to keep them entertained with badly performed magic tricks. In reality, he was keeping them entertained because they could see exactly how he did them, which delighted them. Both sides seemed happy with the arrangement, and his wife, Annie, looked on indulgently.

‘Right then!’ I said suddenly, making Rupert jump.

‘Don’t do that, Emmy. I’m not up to it.’

‘Jonathan does have family. He has us and Bob and Alain.’ I ignored his sour face at Alain’s name. ‘There are plenty of us for hospital visits, and when he’s well enough to go home’ – my voice quavered, since that was not necessarily a given – ‘then we’ll all have to chip in. What do you think?’

Rupert smiled warmly. ‘I think, Emmy, as ever, that you are a very kind girl. And I’d like to apologise for that ridiculous show of emotion last night. It was pathetic. But it had been such a long day and I was worried about Jonathan...’

‘Is this another of those stupid generational things, Rupert? Were you brought up to believe that men shouldn’t cry?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, it’s bollocks. Everyone has feelings, and everyone’s entitled to express them from time to time. I don’t think anyone would have been surprised, least of all me, after what you’ve been through these past few weeks. You’ve had the worst time imaginable. Heaven knows Gloria’s delightful burst of sudden honesty would be enough to make anyone cry. But now your friend is in the hospital and you’re worried he might... That he might not pull through. You’re entitled, Rupert, and if you can’t let go with me, then it’s a poor do. Understand?’

Startled by my outburst, he smiled. ‘Yes. Thank you. You’re quite scary when you’re cross, you know.’

‘Hmmph. If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few weeks, it’s that if we didn’t have an outlet for everything that’s been going on around here, we’d all go stark-raving mad!’

We decided that Rupert would phone Bob to put him in the picture, I would visit Jonathan that afternoon and Rupert would visit in the evening if Bob wasn’t back in time. He didn’t mention Alain and I didn’t dare bring it up. I’d been impressed by the way he’d put his animosity aside yesterday to put Jonathan’s needs first, but I didn’t want to push it.

No gîte changeover on a Saturday seemed like a luxury to me. And to Madame Dupont – she’d taken advantage of this unexpected treat to spend a long weekend with her sister. But Rupert and I had instead battled our way through breakfast for over thirty, and we couldn’t yet contemplate lunch.

Ellie phoned just as I was thinking we should make a start on it. ‘Emmy. So sorry you couldn’t make it for drinks yesterday. Everything okay?’

Urgh. ‘Oh. Not too bad, thanks. It’s just been so busy...’

‘It sounds like you’re having quite a weekend of it. Sophie and I were wondering if you could get away for a while. Maybe have a drink tonight? It would do you good to relax a bit.’

‘Ah. I... Er.’ Oh God, this was awful. The last thing I could do was meet up with those two. The whole sorry saga would come pouring out, and I couldn’t do that. For Alain’s sake. For Rupert’s sake. I needed to be more together before I risked it. My mind scrabbled and lit on a genuine excuse. ‘I’m so sorry, Ellie, I’d love to, but you see...’ I told her all about Jonathan and how busy I would be with hospital visits.

‘Oh, Emmy, I’m so sorry to hear that,’ Ellie said with genuine concern. ‘If you need me to do anything, to fill in on a visit if you or Rupert can’t manage it, please just let me know.’

‘I will. Thank you.’

When I arrived at the hospital that afternoon, I was stopped short by the sight of Alain striding down the corridor towards me.

‘Hi. I didn’t know you were coming. Is Jonathan all right?’ I asked him.

‘I couldn’t see him. They asked me to come back in a little while.’

Panic hit me. ‘Why? Is everything okay?’

‘They’re doing some routine stuff with him and preferred privacy, that’s all.’

I blew out a puff of relief. ‘I’ll wait, then.’

‘I was going to take a walk outside. Do you want to come with me?’

I almost said no, that I would wait indoors, but that would be petty. And I disliked hospitals at the best of times. ‘Okay.’

We negotiated the corridors in silence.

‘Did the staff say how Jonathan is?’ I asked as we began a circuit of the car park. I felt a pang that his hands were shoved in his pockets instead of holding mine.

‘He’s stable.’

That was good news compared with the terrible thoughts I’d had during the night.

‘Was Rupert okay yesterday?’ Alain asked.

‘He was upset about Jonathan.’

‘Understandable. It can’t have helped, me being there.’

‘He was grateful that you could help, Alain.’

Another silence, and then, so quiet that I could hardly hear him, ‘I’ve lost one of my best friends. For good.’

I didn’t answer. I had no answer.

‘You know, when that awful night happened, I’d only known Rupert for a year. I didn’t feel it was my place to jeopardise his marriage over something I wasn’t even sure had happened. The irony is, the closer we became, the worse I felt about it, and the more I felt I couldn’t say anything. But I think he knows what Gloria is now, and if he knew what really happened...’

‘I tried to tell him what you told me. He didn’t want to hear it.’

He nodded. ‘I don’t blame him. But thank you for trying.’

After a while, we turned back and made for Jonathan’s room. There were two beds, but the other was empty. Jonathan lay with an oxygen mask at his side, attached to drips and looking as pale as the white pillowcase.

‘Jonathan.’ Hiding my upset, I went over and kissed his cheek.

Sweetly, Alain did the same, then brought two chairs over.

‘How are you?’ I asked.

Still wheezing, he announced, ‘Feel awful.’

‘I’m not surprised. You gave us quite a scare.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be sorry. Just get better.’

He drifted off for a few minutes, and the next half hour was spent that way – a few words, and then Jonathan would doze. I glanced across at the empty bed and wondered if it would have been nice for him to have another patient for company, or just more distressing.

When we stood to leave, I took his hand. ‘Jonathan. Is there anyone you want me to phone?’

‘No!’ Short and sharp.

‘Okay. I… I needed to check.’

‘Thanks, Emmy.’ And his eyes were closed again.

‘What was all that about?’ Alain asked as we walked to the exit.

I filled him in about Jonathan’s family.

Alain shook his head. ‘Poor bastard. What a thing to go through.’

We reached our cars and stood for a long moment, saying nothing, until Alain dared a peck on the cheek. ‘Bye, Emmy.’

When I got back, I told Rupert about Jonathan, then went to my room to update Kate, remembering to ask about Jamie first.

‘I called it a day.’

‘Oh, Kate. I’m so sorry.’

‘I’m not. Neither of us is heartbroken. Unlike certain people I could mention.’

She fixed me with a glare and demanded to know what was happening with Alain, so I told her about his explanations and Rupert’s refusal to listen.

She shook her head sadly. ‘All this hurt that Rupert’s carrying around, it should have been directed at Gloria, or at least shared out between all relevant parties, but it’s being directed at the one person he thinks he can blame. I never met Gloria, but that sounds just like her, doesn’t it? Alain was drunk and he was hurting.’ She paused. ‘Surely it must have changed the way you feel about this?’

‘Yes, but…’

‘But you’re not going to forgive him?’

‘I may not have anything to forgive him for, Kate. Besides, it’s not really my place, is it? That’s up to Rupert, and he’s a stubborn bastard. He won’t relent. Even if Alain and I made up, I’d be shuttling between two people who can never reconcile. I don’t think I can handle that.’

‘You’re making yourself choose between Rupert and Alain.’

I sighed. ‘I suppose so. And at the moment, as the innocent party, Rupert’s ahead of the race.’

Kate considered for a long moment. ‘Can I be blunt?’

I smiled. ‘When were you anything but?’

‘I think you’re allowing Gloria to ruin your life.’

‘What?’

‘She wrecked your last relationship – not that that was a bad thing – but now you have a real chance of happiness, and you’re allowing her to ruin that too, with something that may or may not have happened such a long time ago. Don’t let her win, Emmy. She’s not worth it.’