Return to the Little French Guesthouse

by Helen Pollard

  * * *

  When the Thomsons returned from the final afternoon of the jazz festival, they were buzzing. Rupert made pots of tea for those who didn’t have their own facilities, and they dotted themselves around the garden before worrying about what or where to eat that evening.

  Julia invited me to sit with her and her husband. ‘I wanted to thank you for everything, Emmy. I know we haven’t spoken about it much – I didn’t want to ask personal questions – but it’s fair to say I’ve gathered that Rupert and Gloria had a rather acrimonious parting. Now I can relax a bit, I can imagine how hard it must have been for you two, not knowing what was going on and starting from scratch…’

  ‘Oh, but…’

  Julia laughed, and it immediately lifted all the strain from her face. This woman needed a holiday. A proper holiday.

  ‘Oh, Emmy, I know you tried to hide the full extent of your ignorance…’

  Robert was chuckling, too. ‘You’ve done a grand job so far. The food’s been superb, and it was so good of you to make sure we’ve had some meals together as a family. It would have been impossible, arranging places where all of us could go. Poor Julia’s been a nervous wreck for weeks.’

  I smiled. ‘I’m sure. And I’m glad we’ve managed to accommodate and get round things between us. Have your parents had a nice time so far?’

  ‘Wonderful. They’ve loved the jazz. We’ve just perched them on their deckchairs on the grass and made sure someone was always with them, and they’ve been in their element. They’ve loved driving along the lanes and taking in the scenery, and the family being together. It’s been very special for us all.’

  Robert smiled at his wife. ‘I’m bringing you back here for a decent holiday next year, Julia, and I don’t want any arguments.’

  ‘You won’t get any from me.’

  ‘And we still have the party to look forward to tomorrow,’ Robert pointed out. ‘I bet Rupert’s glad he’s not catering for that!’

  Frank and Sylvia came over to sit with us, Rupert with them, and we all shuffled around to accommodate them. ‘How’s your trip been so far?’ I asked them.

  Sylvia beamed, the thin skin over her cheekbones rosy with the sunshine. ‘It’s been such a lovely treat.’ She reached across to kiss her daughter’s cheek. ‘And having everyone together…’ She teared up. ‘Well, I can’t remember the last time we were all together like this.’

  ‘Especially with Chris and his family at the other side of the world,’ Frank said. ‘I miss him.’

  I swallowed hard, desperately trying to keep my emotions in check – happiness that everything had worked out for them, after all, and satisfaction that Gloria’s ineptitude had been overcome and we had managed to make this work between us. I glanced sideways at Rupert and suspected he was thinking the exact same thing.

  ‘And the party tomorrow sounds perfect,’ Sylvia added. ‘I can’t think of a more lovely location for it. I have a new dress that Frank hasn’t seen yet. I shall wear that.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll look lovely in it,’ I told her.

  Frank leaned across to me. ‘My wife would look lovely in anything.’

  * * *

  That evening, when I visited Jonathan at the hospital, he was half sitting up and there was a little colour in his cheeks, although he still looked tired. We chatted without him falling asleep, which was a major plus… or not, because then he could weigh in on my personal life.

  ‘Why do you and Alain come separately?’

  ‘You get more visitors that way.’

  ‘That’s a side effect, not the reason,’ he wheezed. ‘I may be ill and old, but I’m not stupid. I know something’s going on. And I know something’s up with Rupert, too. More than Gloria leaving.’

  ‘Jonathan, I don’t think…’

  He caught my hand in his, the veins standing out like blue ropes under fragile thin skin. ‘Listen to me. I’ve been nearly eighty years on this earth, and I only spent ten of them with someone I deeply loved. Those ten years meant the world to me, and they still do. The short time Matthew and I were given couldn’t be helped. But this can be helped, I’m sure of it. Don’t let pride stand in your way, Emmy. You’ll live your life full of regrets and what ifs.’

  Exhausted, he sank back against his pillow and closed his eyes.

  I drove home with his heartfelt admonishment imprinted on my brain. But it wasn’t pride that was the problem. It was the tug of war between the growing knowledge that I couldn’t imagine not having Alain in my life and my loyalty to a good friend.

  I told myself that I would get the Thomson stay out of the way and worry about it after that.

  But as I tried to sleep that night, all I could think about was sitting at the back of Alain’s house amongst the hydrangeas, sipping wine as the sun set across the rose field; Alain laughing over my grammar mistakes as I drooled over him in his specs; walking hand in hand along quiet evening streets; cycling past fields of corn and vines. Lying across his bed in the evening light, his hands working their magic.

  I missed him so much. I’d been so busy being angry and upset, analysing and rationalising, telling myself I had to be sure and that there was Rupert to consider… But I hadn’t listened to my inner voice at all. And now, in the middle of the night, it was screaming at me: What if you lose him? What if it’s really finished? Is that what you want? Is it?

  22

  Up ridiculously early the next morning, I let the chickens out, roamed the garden with Gloria at my heels, then sat with my espresso on the Adirondack chair in my favourite hideaway corner, the dog’s head in my lap, until Rupert came out to take her for a quick walk while I began on breakfast.

  As I chopped yet more fruit – we seemed to have gone through a whole greengrocery department these last few days – I could only be grateful that our lunch provision was at least over with.

  And the marquee hadn’t collapsed overnight, which was a bonus.

  As soon as breakfast was over, I drove into Pierre-la-Fontaine to collect the cake. With Jonathan’s words still prominent in my mind, I couldn’t help glancing up the street towards Alain’s office, but I would gain nothing by bothering him at his place of work again. Besides, he’d already made it clear that he would like us to be together. The ball was in my court… and I simply didn’t have time to play right now.

  When the woman at the counter showed me the cake, I gasped. It wasn’t a cake – it was a creation. Simple but elegant, with tiny gold rosebuds and delicate swirls and ribbons. So tasteful and so beautiful. I paid the balance with Rupert’s credit card, wincing as I entered the pin number, and took charge of the boxed treasure with nothing other than complete trepidation. It was market day out there, which meant crowded streets and jostling people and a longer walk than usual back to my car.

  I held the box in front of me as though it would break, gripping the ribbon handle like my life depended on it – but I needn’t have worried. Everyone who passed me guessed there must be something special in that box, and I was given a wide berth. In the car, I placed it in the boot and stuffed old jumpers and a rug around it so it couldn’t slide around, then drove home at half the usual speed.

  La Cour des Roses was deserted when I got back.

  ‘Where is everybody?’ I asked Rupert when he’d duly praised the cake and my careful driving.

  ‘The families with kids have gone to the zoo for the day. Tire them out a bit before the party. The rest have gone off sightseeing.’

  ‘Crikey. Peace and quiet for us, then.’ I let out a huge sigh of relief, making Rupert laugh.

  ‘I’ll take advantage and go to see Jonathan this afternoon, if that’s okay with you,’ he said. ‘I should be back in time for the caterers coming.’

  ‘No problem.’

  Figuring I could spare an hour or so before starting to make sure everything was ready for the party, I took a lounger down the garden and sat amongst huge, floppy-headed, deep pink roses. I closed my eyes and breathed in their scent and do
zed and woke and dozed again, the dog stretched out behind me in the shade, half in and half out of a flowerbed. Ryan would not be pleased at the dog-shaped dent in his flowers, but I figured she could do with an hour off from being nagged, too.

  My bones melted in the sunshine, my blood warmed, my brain allowed thoughts and worries to buzz without stinging. And when I finally came out of my doze and allowed my senses to reorientate themselves before fully opening my eyes, I had come to understand that what mattered most to me about being here was the people. Rupert, Jonathan. Ellie, Sophie. Ryan, Bob. Alain.

  I’d been concentrating so hard on my new role, desperate to improve La Cour des Roses, boost profits, pull us out of every difficulty that had come our way and anticipate future ones. To build my reputation in the community as a woman who could do that stuff, and do it well.

  But the truth was, it didn’t matter if La Cour des Roses hadn’t made quite enough money this season. There was always next year. It didn’t matter if the odd guest gave us a crap review. We would get good ones – far more of them. It would matter eventually if I couldn’t get my business off the ground, and if I used all my savings. But I would have to ensure that didn’t happen. Somehow.

  Right now, what I cared about was Rupert not driving himself into an early grave after the stressful months he’d been through. Helping him come to terms with the aftermath of Gloria. Making sure I made time for all my new friends, just as they had made time for me. Finding a way, if it was at all possible, to reconcile Rupert and Alain, so that I could be with the man I wanted to be with, without feeling like I was betraying my best friend at the same time.

  My much-needed break was ended by Ryan’s arrival. He’d been roped in to string fairy lights around the patio and amongst the hedges and trees around the garden, depending on how far he dared stretch the tolerance of the electricity supply.

  ‘How’s Jonathan?’ he asked me immediately.

  ‘Stable, and a little better. I hope… No, I think he’s going to be okay.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  I went into the house to start dragging wine and soft drinks through to the kitchen from Rupert’s lounge.

  When Rupert got back from the hospital, he was a little pale, a little jittery.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ Alarm made my spine prickle. ‘Is Jonathan okay?’

  ‘Jonathan’s fine, Emmy. Quite chatty, in fact.’

  ‘That’s good.’ I registered his emphasis on ‘chatty’ and frowned. ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Apparently not,’ he grunted, giving me a hand carrying boxes and bottles through. I stopped him and moved to his little kitchenette to make tea. A bit forward of me, but at least we would have some privacy in there.

  ‘What are you doing? I thought we were moving these?’

  ‘We have time for a cuppa,’ I told him. ‘You look like you need one, and I probably haven’t had enough to drink today.’

  ‘Hmmph. I doubt tea will solve that.’

  What on earth was the matter with him? I pushed him onto the sofa and handed him a mug, then sat next to him and nudged him lightly. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  I glared at him. ‘Rupert, we have a big event tonight. You can’t be like this. Get it off your chest now, with someone who’s willing to take it and isn’t a paying guest.’

  ‘Can’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s too close to home.’

  ‘Ah. Well. Makes no difference. I can’t see any other agony aunts around here at the moment, can you?’ When he said nothing, I guessed, ‘Has Jonathan been too honest again?’

  ‘Beyond honest. He was quite belligerent.’

  I smiled. ‘That’s good. Means he might be getting better.’

  ‘Well, I can’t say I enjoyed it. He gave me a stern talking to. Demanded to know what the hell was going on between us all. Wouldn’t let it drop.’

  ‘You… You told him?’

  ‘Yes.’

  I felt so relieved that he was finally ready to talk to someone. ‘So what did Jonathan say?’

  ‘He had to get a fair variety of swearwords out of the way first. That took a good five minutes. Jonathan and Gloria never got on, but even so…’ Rupert stared at his feet. ‘He was very sympathetic, but he was also very cross with me.’

  ‘Cross with you?’

  ‘Yes. For being so quick to give up on Alain’s friendship. For what I was putting you through by doing that.’

  ‘I don’t want you making up with Alain for my sake. It would always be forced and false. If you choose to do that, it should be for your sake, Rupert. For a six-year friendship’s sake.’ When he said nothing, I wondered how far to push it and decided I had nothing to lose. ‘Think about how much that friendship has meant to you. Think about why you’re angry and who you’re really angry with.’

  He heaved a huge sigh. ‘What Ellie told me, Emmy… You were right, it did alter my perspective. I remember how cut up Alain was about his wife leaving. I also remember he was pretty out of it that night. That’s why we left him to sleep on the sofa.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But there’s still the fact of it, Emmy. I’m still angry at him for not telling me. For not saving me from… From everything that’s happened since.’

  ‘Would you have taken it kindly if he had? Would you have believed him? Or would you have believed your own wife? Would you have been happy if it had led to your marriage breaking up?’

  ‘I know it’s not logical. And I know it’s a hell of a lot of blame to put on one person, but…’ He scrubbed a hand across his face. ‘I can’t… My pride… God knows, Emmy, I have so little of it left where my disaster of a marriage is concerned.’

  I nodded, scared to push him any further. He was wavering, I knew it. If I could bide my time, chip away at him…

  I leaned in to peck him on the cheek. ‘You’ve had a hard time, Rupert. And now with Jonathan…’

  ‘Do you know what he said to me when I left?’ he asked. ‘He said, “How many years do you think I’ve got left, Rupert? You’ve been thinking I might die here in this hospital. I’ve thought I might die. Treasure what you have while you still have it, man.”’

  ‘Was he talking about Alain?’

  ‘Probably, the sneaky old bugger. But I guess it could apply to a lot of things, couldn’t it?’

  And in a signal that the soppy moment and heart to hearts were over, he hoisted himself to his feet and carried on where we’d left off with the party preparations.

  The caterers arrived not long after that, with tray after tray of incredible party food – and the dog was immediately banished to Rupert’s quarters for the rest of the evening. When we’d helped them bring it all from the van into the kitchen, Rupert decided we had better ensure the same happened with the labradoodles when they got back with their owners.

  His magic with lights achieved, Ryan sloped off before he could be asked to do anything else, as the caterers’ van left and guests began to trickle back from their various trips and went off to shower and change into their glad rags.

  Julia came into the kitchen to take a peek at the food and clapped her hands in delight. ‘Perfect!’

  ‘Where did you take Frank and Sylvia today?’ I asked her.

  ‘Saumur. Lots of sitting on benches by the river or the castle or the town, and cups of tea. I didn’t want to wear them out.’

  But as Frank and Sylvia ambled along the hall towards the staircase, they looked sprightly enough, and up for their big night.

  As the two waiting staff the caterers had hired set themselves up at one end of the marquee with glasses and drinks, the van with the band arrived. When we’d greeted them and showed them where we wanted them to go, they began to haul out their instruments. Drums, bass, the whole caboodle… They started to set up at the other end of the marquee.

  I turned to Rupert. ‘I thought it was a five-piece band. There’s only four of them.’

  ‘Maybe the o
ther one’s been held up and will follow on. They didn’t say anything.’ He plucked at the sleeve of my T-shirt. ‘Aren’t you going to put a party frock on?’

  I rolled my eyes. ‘Who are you, my grandmother?’ But I dutifully went to change into a dress and slap some make-up on.

  As I did so, my heart was a little lighter and a little heavier at the same time. Jonathan had done a good job today – I could never have spoken to Rupert like that and got away with it, and he’d obviously got through to him a little – but it looked like Rupert was clinging on to his stubbornness by his fingernails, and I wasn’t sure whether it was my place to intrude any further into his feelings.

  Donald came wandering downstairs as I went back into the main part of the house. ‘Are we having fish and chips?’

  ‘Er. No, Donald, I’m sorry. It’s party food tonight. There might be a prawn or two. Is that near enough?’

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘I can’t find Patricia.’

  ‘Is she in your room?’

  ‘Which room?’

  I took his arm and led him back upstairs. Patricia was in her robe.

  ‘Oh, Emmy, I’m so sorry. I only left him for a minute while I had a quick wash!’

  ‘Don’t worry. I don’t think he’d have got very far.’

  ‘Used to be the top sprinter at school,’ he muttered as I led him to the bedroom chair. ‘Faster than that Jack Smith.’

  I left them to it and went back downstairs. Rupert was outside, talking animatedly with the band. I’d never seen him in a jacket and tie, other than in his wedding photograph.

  ‘You look very handsome,’ I told him, smiling. ‘What’s going on here?’

  ‘They’re still one man down. Their clarinet player threw up an hour before they came here. They left him at the campsite and he said he’d follow on if he felt better, but he’s just phoned them. He’s stuck on the toilet and there’s no way he can make it.’

  ‘How much difference will it make?’

  ‘They can still play. Apparently it’s not like losing the drummer or the bass. They still have the keyboard and a sax player. But the sound won’t be as good.’ His shoulders sagged.