Return to the Little French Guesthouse

by Helen Pollard

  ‘What was all what about? We bumped into the mayor, that’s all.’

  ‘We did not bump into him. You engineered it. You were looking out for him.’

  ‘Yes, well, that’s true. It’s time you met him on an informal basis. You need to get to know who’s who in the town, Emmy. And you definitely want to be on the right side of Patrice Renaud in particular, and the Mairie in general. He’ll be happy to know that Alain is your accountant. He knows Alain won’t cut corners, so you’re in his good books already.’ He cast me an annoyingly smug smile. ‘No need to thank me, Emmy.’

  ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him as we drove back. ‘Was Jonathan a bit too... honest with you?’

  ‘He didn’t say anything I didn’t expect. And as a good friend, he’s entitled to express an opinion, after all.’

  ‘Not if it upsets you so much.’

  ‘I’m already upset, Emmy. I hadn’t expected to see Gloria again, other than within some kind of legal setting, and now she wants me to take her back. It’s a bit of a turnaround in one weekend.’ He paused as he negotiated a busy junction. ‘I just don’t know what to do.’

  Staring out at the tree-lined street, I tried to think of something to say that didn’t come out of my obvious bias. ‘What about that good old standby, gut instinct? Does it feel right, having her back?’

  He puffed out a breath. ‘The honest answer is “not really” – but that’s understandable after what happened with Nathan.’ He glanced across at me. ‘I’m no spring chicken, Emmy. And Gloria is the only woman I loved enough to marry. If I turn her down now, I figure that’s me done in the relationship department for good.’

  I frowned. ‘I don’t think that’s necessarily true. But if you take her back, it should be because you want to be with her, not because you’re scared of the future.’

  We fell into silence as I consulted my own gut instinct, which was currently screaming at me that there was a very real danger that Rupert would indeed take Gloria back. And as much as I didn’t want to bring my own situation into the equation, I couldn’t ignore the knowledge that if he did, I would be out in the cold.

  I thought about my hostile exchange with her this morning, and it occurred to me that it was a good thing Rupert hadn’t been around to hear it. Gloria’s attitude to me was crystal clear, but I was descending to her level with my side of the conversations – if you could call them that. Not only did I not want to be that person, I didn’t think Gloria and I sniping at each other like fishwives would help Rupert in making his decision. And it was stretching my already-stretched nerves to breaking point.

  And if I wanted to be really grown-up about all of this, Gloria may have done some pretty shitty things, but if it hadn’t been my boyfriend she’d run off with, and my job in jeopardy, would I be this set against her? Yes, she could be poisonous, but Rupert had shown me a different side to her. It wasn’t her fault the man she married swapped their swanky, jet-setting lifestyle for a place she didn’t like, in the middle of nowhere. It was hard to understand her perspective, because her hell was my heaven, but the truth was La Cour des Roses was not what she signed up for. I let out a big sigh. I was never going to like Gloria, but maybe I was letting my bias blind me to the complexities of the situation.

  When we got back, Madame Dupont had left a note explaining that she’d only had time to press the bedlinen and hadn’t got to the rooms. Whether this was because she’d cut short her stint due to Gloria’s presence was unclear.

  ‘I need to do the rooms straight after lunch,’ I told Rupert, flapping the note at him.

  ‘Ah. I meant to speak to you about that. You need to be careful with Jess and Steve’s.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I think they’re “afternoon” people.’

  ‘Afternoon people?’

  ‘Yesterday, when you were out at Alain’s, and Saturday when you were busy with the gîtes, they were enjoying a... siesta.’

  ‘Maybe they were tired?’

  ‘If I was his age, with a girlfriend her age, I’d be exhausted! But I don’t think they were getting much sleep.’

  ‘Urgh. It’s like the Jacksons all over again, except at a different time of day.’

  ‘We’re here to provide a service, Emmy, and if that means guests accessing their room at any of time of the day for sex, then so be it. People bonk more on holiday. It’s a natural phenomenon. Surely you’re not embarrassed because we have frisky guests? Anyway, it’s your fault.’

  ‘My fault?’

  ‘If you didn’t make the rooms so welcoming, people might be inclined to spend less time in them. Just make sure you let Madame Dupont know, in case she goes blundering in there, will you?’

  ‘Okay.’

  As I headed for the den, I bumped into Gloria.

  ‘Emmy. Fun day at the market?’ Sarcasm dripped from every word.

  Here we go again. ‘Yes, thanks. Er – could I have a quick word, Gloria?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘If you must.’

  We went into the den, where she stood waiting for whatever diatribe I was about to spew. The startled look on her face almost made me laugh when I said, ‘I’d like to call a truce.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Gloria, you and I are both harbouring a lot of resentment towards each other. I’m not going to forget what you did to me in a hurry, and I know you see me as a threat here at La Cour des Roses. But I need you to understand that I’m not.’

  At that, she snorted with derision. ‘Oh, really?’

  I reined in my temper. ‘All I’ve done is to provide an understanding ear if Rupert needs one, and I won’t stop doing that, but I’m not trying to influence him. And I don’t think you and I being at each other’s throats is helping him. Can we try and be civil?’

  A stunned silence. She finally opened her mouth to say something, then seemed to think better of it. A simple nod.

  Well, wonders never ceased.

  When she’d gone, I took out my phone to get on to the letting agents again. I wanted to know if the couple who had been ‘interested’ had been suitably persuaded yet. But when I saw a missed call from Sophie, I called her first.

  ‘Hi, Sophie. Did I miss a call?’

  ‘Yes. I promised Ellie I would phone you. Are the rumours true? That Gloria’s back? Ellie heard from Philippe who heard from Martine who heard from the owner of Rupert’s café who heard from Jonathan.’

  I couldn’t help but smile. Half of Pierre-la-Fontaine was in on the act. ‘Yes, it’s true.’ I filled her in on Gloria’s reappearance.

  She tutted sympathetically. ‘Is it awful for you? Having her back, after what she did to you?’

  ‘I’ve called a truce, but I doubt it’ll last.’

  ‘Do you fancy a coffee on Wednesday lunchtime with Ellie? We could drive to Saint-Martin for a change?’

  ‘I’d love to.’

  My conversation with the letting agents did not go quite so well.

  ‘No, I’m sorry, Ms Jamieson, but of course, there’s no point in showing any prospective tenants around the flat at the moment anyway.’

  ‘Not showing? What do you mean?’

  ‘Due to the damage. That will all need to be fixed before we could even consider—’

  ‘What damage?’

  ‘Well, I – er – I assumed you knew about it. Your partner told us he would e-mail you. We would have done so ourselves otherwise. Although I would add, Ms Jamieson, that we don’t appreciate acting as go-betweens between two... differing parties.’

  ‘That’s fine,’ I snapped. ‘Thank you. I’ll deal with it.’

  I clicked off the phone and checked my e-mails. One from Nathan, sent mid-morning while I was out in town.

  * * *

  Emmy

  I thought it best to stick to e-mails, as our phone calls inevitably end acrimoniously. I’m writing to let you know that there is no prospect of tenants in the flat for the next few weeks. The flat above has had a slow leak in the bathroom for weeks, whi
ch has flooded under their floorboards and now down into our ceiling, causing serious damage.

  The good news is that their insurance will pay for all repairs, replastering, redecorating etc.

  The bad news is they won’t compensate us for lost income, as we had no tenants signed.

  I’m not happy about taking sole responsibility for this. I’ve had to take time off work to go up to Birmingham and deal with it, aside from the many phone calls and e-mails. I will follow this through, Emmy, but if anything else major happens, it will have to be you who deals with it, whether you’re across the Channel or not. There is a limit to what you can expect.

  Nathan

  * * *

  I sat staring silently at the screen for a few long minutes while my stomach slowly relocated itself somewhere higher than my feet.

  Nathan had made no mention of Gloria leaving. No mention of where he was staying now. Was he still at Rupert’s flat? Surely not! But my curiosity was dampened somewhat by my panic over the mortgage.

  I thought about my small inheritance, and what Alain had said about it. That my grandmother may well have approved of me using it this way. I hoped she did. Because that’s what I was going to do. There was no point going at this whole life-in-France thing half-cocked. I wanted it, and I would do what I had to do to keep it. I had to avoiding wallowing and do something constructive.

  Checking the rest of my e-mails, I saw one from Ellie, forwarded from one of her former clients who had replied to her round-robin e-mail about my agency. He had converted his property into a complex of gîtes and was interested in listing with me. Could I phone him to make an appointment?

  I did. Jerry Barnes sounded most keen – so keen, in fact, that I arranged to go round the next day.

  I texted Nick. Could we chat about the website some time?

  He phoned back five minutes later. ‘Hi, sis. Taking a break. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I don’t want to hassle you, but I’m starting to get some genuine interest.’

  ‘That’s great!’

  ‘Yes, it is. And I know we won’t be ready to go live for quite a while, but I wondered if there was any chance of some sort of prototype – you know, sample pages so I can show people how it might look when I go to see them?’

  ‘That’s what I was hoping to do for you. I can probably send you the page with La Cour des Roses on it, although I’m still working on an availability facility. And maybe that page with the château? And your home page. Would that do for now?’

  ‘That would be brilliant. Thanks, Nick. Er... any chance of that by tomorrow?’

  I smiled at his good-natured but unrepeatable response. It was good to know that I was making progress with something, and it reminded me that I needed to put the things that I couldn’t do anything about to the back of my mind and focus instead on the things I could do something about.

  * * *

  Early evening saw the first arrivals of the Thomson brigade. Obliged to fly halfway across the world, Chris Thomson was Julia Cooper’s younger brother. He had in tow his wife Michelle and three teenagers. Chris’s English accent stood out like a sore thumb compared with his very Australian family, making me smile. All were tall and tanned and excited about their holiday. Chris hadn’t been to France since he was a kid, and Europe was a complete novelty to the rest of them. I hoped they would have a wonderful time.

  Lacking an airbed until it was brought over by someone driving, they had planned for the two girls to share a single bed for the first night, but Rupert wouldn’t have it, so he and Chris carried one of the single mattresses from the twin room in the guesthouse to use temporarily.

  They’d only been there an hour when Julia phoned to double-check that everything had been okay for their arrival, and to triple-check all the arrangements we’d already double-checked.

  I held my irritation in check. This woman had gathered together ten separate family groups and put together an event to remember, all whilst doing a full-time job. She obviously cared about her parents very much, and was willing to make a huge effort to get this right. Patiently, I went through her concerns. Again.

  ‘Well, Emmy, I know I’ve not been entirely happy at times, but I must say that you and Mr Hunter have done your best to ensure that everything goes as smoothly as possible. I do appreciate it.’

  ‘You’re more than welcome.’

  Once I’d put the phone down, it belatedly occurred to me that Gloria could have answered that phone call just as easily as me – and then heaven knew what havoc she might have wreaked. As Rupert walked past me, I grabbed his arm.

  ‘Have you spoken to Gloria about this Thomson thing?’ I whispered, not knowing whether she was in earshot.

  ‘No. I thought it was best left alone. We have enough stuff to argue over, without bringing up her total lack of interest in our livelihood.’

  He had a point. ‘That’s fine by me.’

  I hadn’t been off the phone two minutes when Alain rang to ask if I’d like to go round that evening.

  I was torn with indecision. Truth be told, I was still feeling out of sorts after his encounter with Ryan that morning. Should I tell him? Shouldn’t I? Why should I? Why shouldn’t I? Urgh.

  I took the coward’s way out for now. ‘Alain, I’m sorry, but I’m feeling a bit under the weather. I could do with a quiet night.’ And that wasn’t an outright lie.

  He took it at face value. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

  Feeling guilty at my pathetic avoidance tactic, I laid it on a bit thicker than I might have done about the latest developments with the flat in Birmingham.

  ‘Damn, Emmy. That place is jinxed!’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Don’t worry. It might not take too long to fix. And the agents could still be lining up interested parties, I reckon. It sounds like Nathan’s on top of it, anyway.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Get some sleep.’

  ‘I will.’

  As the evening wore on, I worried more and more about my reasons for avoiding him. It was ridiculous. I needed to make a decision and stick to it.

  I needed Kate.

  But when I texted her to ask if she could chat, she texted back to say she was out with friends – could it wait till tomorrow?

  Ah, well. What was one more night of panic and introspection to the queen of these things?

  15

  Violet and Betty were tearful as Marcus and James packed their car the next morning. They went outside to see them off, kissing their cheeks and wishing them a safe journey.

  ‘Such nice boys,’ Betty announced as they came back in to the fresh pot of tea that Rupert had solicitously brewed for them.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Violet chipped in. ‘It’s so nice to see brothers getting on so well together, isn’t it?’

  Rupert snorted, and several guests around the table turned their laughter into coughs and sneezes.

  Bless the old souls.

  ‘I think you should leave as soon as you’ve helped Rupert prep for dinner tonight,’ Gloria told me as I cleared up. ‘Now I’m back, there’s no need for you to stay for the meal.’

  I tried very hard to count to ten. So she was perfectly happy for me to slave in the kitchen then be sent away without enjoying the end result? And yet her only contribution was to grace the table with her presence, playing hostess? The cheek!

  But I supposed I had called a truce with her yesterday, and there was a remote chance she was trying to be considerate. Hmm.

  I glanced across at Rupert.

  ‘You’re welcome to stay, Emmy, but you’re equally welcome to the night off. Gloria can help me clear up afterwards.’

  Yeah. Right.

  When Madame Dupont arrived, I had the embarrassing task of explaining en français about Jess and Steve’s daytime liaisons sexuelles – something she told me she was quite used to at La Cour des Roses but made her cackle anyway.

  While she went off to see whose rooms she could do, I went to find Rupert. That
e-mail from Nathan yesterday had me seriously worried. I didn’t want to push Rupert into a decision, but a little prodding each day to see which way the land lay wouldn’t go amiss.

  He was faffing in the chicken run, most likely hiding from the new – or rather, old – thorn in his side. He did have a Gloria in tow, but since it was dog Gloria rather than wife Gloria, I could live with it.

  When he came out, he praised her for waiting patiently outside for him – as opposed to following him in and decimating the fowl population – and we walked up the garden together.

  ‘Can we walk the dog?’ I asked him.

  The poor thing was being referred to as ‘the dog’ more and more to avoid confusion, which I felt was a bit ignominious for her, even though I never used her name myself.

  ‘Why? I only walked her a couple of hours ago.’

  ‘I thought we could have a chat.’

  ‘And what am I supposed to tell Gloria?’

  ‘Tell her you feel like going for a stroll. She’s not your keeper. She doesn’t have to know I’m going with you.’

  ‘Fine.’

  I shoved my trainers on, met him in the courtyard, and we set off down the lane, Gloria sniffing at every interesting clump of grass until she decided which to pee over. This palaver over, we veered onto a path between farms, some of the harvested fields looking a little barren without their crops.

  ‘The decorators are moving the furniture back as we speak,’ Rupert told me. ‘So if you do a quick clean of that gîte and put on bedding before this evening’s arrivals, and the same with the decorated one first thing tomorrow, we should be all set.’

  ‘Does it smell of paint?’ I asked worriedly.

  ‘Not too badly. And the windows can stay wide open for now.’

  There was an air of melancholy about Rupert that I could almost touch. We walked in silence for a while at Gloria’s speed, which was impressive. She stormed along the narrow path like a racehorse nearing the finishing straight, and my lungs were complaining. No wonder Rupert was getting so fit. He reined her in a little so I could catch my breath, and stretched out his back.