Return to the Little French Guesthouse

by Helen Pollard

‘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.

  17

  Rupert was slumped in his doorway, his face ashen.

  ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ I asked him doubtfully.

  ‘Will you be mortally offended if I say no?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘I appreciate that. If you need me, I’ll be in here.’

  ‘Okay. I... I’m supposed to be meeting Sophie and Ellie for coffee at lunchtime, before I go to the supermarket. Is that still okay?’

  ‘Yes. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye out for the arrivals.’ He hesitated. ‘Perhaps you could set off the village grapevine for me, Emmy? If you start with Madame Dupont, it shouldn’t take long.’ He took the dog in with him, closing the door, so I left her to comfort her master as only a faithful hound could and set off to find Madame Dupont.

  ‘Bonjour, Emie. Ça va?’

  ‘Bonjour, Madame Dupont. I...’

  She frowned. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. Madame Hunter... She’s go
ne.’

  The old woman’s eyes lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘Gone? For good?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But that is marvellous news!’ She clasped my hand in hers. ‘Why aren’t you happy?’

  I managed a wan smile. ‘Because...’ My French really didn’t stretch to this kind of thing. I placed my hand across my heart. ‘For Rupert.’

  ‘He will be fine. You will see. Where is he?’

  ‘In his room. Please don’t disturb him.’

  ‘I wouldn’t think of it! And the dog?’

  ‘With Rupert.’

  ‘Then we shall get to work!’

  I think that was her answer to every problem in life. I’d expected her to gloat about Gloria’s departure as we set about our business, but she didn’t, and I was grateful.

  I took five minutes out to phone Alain, but it went straight to voicemail, so I left him a message, knowing he would be immensely cheered by the news.

  ‘Do you mind if I leave you to finish off?’ I asked Madame Dupont soon after midday. ‘I’m meeting friends for coffee.’

  ‘No problem, Emie. That is good. You work too hard. You should slow down. Make time for yourself and your friends. Time to sit and enjoy the sun and the flowers and each other. I will see you next time.’

  As I drove into town to pick up Ellie and Sophie, I was dismayed to see that the roadworks had been set up a quarter of a mile from the turning onto our lane. I couldn’t tell yet how much disruption they would cause, but I did know we could have done without them.

  With Sophie and Ellie in the car, they directed me towards Saint-Martin. Along the road leading into the town, posters were tacked up on every available pole and surface. I slowed the car as we approached the town centre and pointed to a large field where a covered bandstand was half erected. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘I believe the ticketed events are held in there,’ Ellie told me. ‘People sit on rugs or bring folding chairs.’

  ‘And pray it doesn’t rain?’

  She laughed. ‘I imagine so. And there are free little gigs in town, too – bands set up in the main square and take slots playing to whoever’s passing or wants to listen.’

  We chose a café in the square, with a covered terrace where we could sit looking out at more posters and the platform to be used by the performers. I could imagine relaxing over a coffee, listening to the music.

  Ellie and Sophie were both predictably ecstatic at the news that Gloria had left – and especially that Rupert had been the one to make the decision.

  ‘Well, thank heavens for that!’ Ellie announced. ‘Rupert did the right thing.’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘Cheers!’ Sophie chinked coffee cups with us. ‘To Rupert!’

  Ellie and I echoed the sentiment.

  ‘I wonder what Gloria will do now,’ Ellie mused.

  Sophie frowned. ‘She has... What is that expression? Something about a mattress?’

  ‘You mean she’s made her own bed and now she has to lie in it?’

  ‘Yes! That’s it!’

  ‘You know, I could almost feel sorry for her,’ Ellie said quietly. When Sophie and I gaped at her, she explained. ‘I don’t like the woman. Never have. And God knows she goes about everything in the worst way possible. But as we’ve said before, La Cour des Roses was never what she wanted. It was a recipe for disaster from the minute Rupert bought it.’

  ‘Rupert does feel responsible for the way things went sour,’ I admitted. ‘When she left, she was so upset, it made me think she really did care. But maybe she just doesn’t know how she’s going to survive without him. And I can’t say I’m going to miss all the barbed comments.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have put up with that,’ said Ellie.

  ‘I could hardly fight back with full guns blazing, could I? Rupert had enough on his plate.’

  ‘You are very good, when she is the one who wronged you,’ Sophie said kindly. At that, her perfect brows knitted together. ‘Although I don’t understand why she dislikes you so much. You’ve done nothing to her. It’s the other way around.’

  ‘Jealousy,’ Ellie supplied, drumming her mint-green nails on the table. ‘She’s jealous of Emmy because of her friendship with Rupert – a natural friendship that I’m not sure Gloria and Rupert had as a couple. And she felt threatened. She didn’t want Emmy taking over at La Cour des Roses. Taking her place. Influencing Rupert’s decision.’

  ‘Well, I am glad I never met her,’ Sophie declared. ‘She must have used a different salon in town, but for once I am not sad at this loss of business.’

  Ellie and I both laughed, and I decided it was time for a change of subject.

  I turned to Sophie. ‘A certain hunky gardener was asking about you the other day,’ I told her mischievously.

  Her cheeks turned pink. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really.’

  Sophie’s dimples flashed, even though she shrugged her shoulders. ‘Well, that’s nice.’

  ‘I’m going to be the old maiden aunt at this rate,’ Ellie murmured.

  Sophie gave her a stern look. ‘Then you shouldn’t be so unromantic. It’s your choice.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Ellie smiled, stretching back in her seat. ‘And it’s a choice I’m perfectly happy with, thank you.’

  I wasn’t sure that Rupert felt the same way about his own choices. I thought he’d made the right one, and I was sure most people would agree with me, but that didn’t mean it had been an easy one for him to make.

  But as I sipped my coffee, looking out across the square and listening to Ellie and Sophie joking with each other, I reckoned that if I could see Rupert through this, life was looking pretty good.

  Alain and I had something special, I was sure of it, and with the weight of coming clean about Ryan off my mind it was looking even better.

  And with Gloria gone, my future at La Cour des Roses was now secure. I felt a burst of enthusiasm at the thought of how I could make it work, getting stuck into the things I wanted to change. I needed to make sure that La Cour des Roses was an ongoing success, able to financially support us both (and Gloria’s divorce settlement, no doubt) in a way that kept Rupert happy and healthy... Although with the Thomson weekend looming, it would have to be a case of first things first. Once they were out of the way, I would also renew my efforts at chipping away at my agency until it was up and running.

  The only cloud on the horizon was the flat in Birmingham, but for now that was out of my hands. All I could do was try my best to make things work here in France, hope my savings lasted with regard to mortgage payments, and that I could make the money back somewhere down the line. I would be using my grandmother’s money for the right reasons – to enable my dreams.

  I dropped the girls back in town, and as I pushed a trolley around the supermarket I thanked the heavens that I’d galvanised Rupert into placing several online orders to cover us for the next few days. Still, he’d forgotten to order a few bits and pieces, and there were some things he didn’t trust the supermarket staff to pick out for him.

  Five days’ worth of breakfasts for over thirty people, and three days’ worth of lunches... and the barbeque. Urgh. He’d wanted to place the meat order with the local butcher and get the breakfast pastries from the bakery who usually delivered, but the simple fact was that half of this food wasn’t even being paid for by the booking. I’d persuaded him that we couldn’t afford loyalty this time, but I felt pretty bad about it.

  I was so preoccupied, I was already halfway around before I remembered to phone Jonathan to see if there was anything he needed.

  ‘Hi, Emmy. I haven’t got out yet this week. Can I give you a little list?’

  ‘No problem.’ I scrabbled in my bag for pen and paper. ‘What do you need?’

  Jonathan’s ‘little list’ wasn’t so little, but he was grateful for the errand.

  ‘Thanks, lovey,’ he said when I got there, helping me in his limited way – getting under my feet – to bring it from the car
to the kitchen.

  ‘Have you been to see the doctor about that cough?’

  ‘No. It seems to be getting better.’

  ‘You sound awfully wheezy.’

  ‘I get mild asthma, on and off.’

  I let it go for now. ‘Any chance of a quick cup of tea?’ That should give me long enough to assess this so-called asthma of his.

  When I told him about Gloria’s departure, he looked over the moon and terribly sad for Rupert at the same time.

  ‘You will look after him for me, Emmy, won’t you?’

  ‘You know I will.’ As for his asthma, I wasn’t happy. ‘Have you got your mobile on you?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’ He dug it out of his pocket.

  ‘Phone your doctor to make an appointment.’

  ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘No, you’re not. You’ve had that cough for days, and now you’re wheezing. I’m not going until you do what you’re told. I mean it.’

  ‘Hmmph. Bossy little bag, aren’t you?’

  Under my glare, he gave in, made the call and managed to get an appointment for Monday morning.

  I got up to go. ‘That’s all very well, but if that chest of yours gets any worse, I want you to call us, okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  Stubborn old sod. I’d get him sorted if it killed me.

  When I got back to La Cour des Roses, I noticed the delightful addition of a portable toilet in the corner of the courtyard.

  Rupert came out to help with the bags, and I gestured towards it. ‘That adds a certain je ne sais quoi, don’t you think?’

  He shook his head in despair at the eyesore. ‘You’ve been gone a while.’

  ‘Sorry. I got caught up with Jonathan.’ I explained about the shopping and the doctor.

  ‘Good girl. It’s about time he got that chest seen to. Probably something and nothing, but he is getting on a bit.’

  ‘Are you okay? After this morning?’

  He grunted. ‘I’ll live.’

  My phone rang and I dug it out of my bag. It was Alain. ‘Hi. I got your voicemail. I can’t believe it! What happened?’

  ‘I can’t talk about it right now.’

  ‘Ah. I assume Rupert’s there. Do you still want to come round tonight?’