Poppy's Place in the Sun

by Lorraine Wilson

  Daydream Designs – Poppy’s blog

  I’m so excited :-) Today is the official village inspection day for Saint Quentin sur Aude. We’ve made our proposal and now we’ve got two inspectors from the ‘Most Marvellous Villages of France’ guide coming to see all our hard work. I say ‘our’ which I realise is an achievement in itself. I’m part of a community now :-)

  I can’t believe it’s July already. We’ve had wall to wall sunshine and the sunflowers fields are finally coming into bloom and they look glorious. We are lucky to have them out so early apparently. We are blessed with a microclimate that creates exactly the right conditions. Some areas have to wait until August to see the sunflower fields at their best. Every time I drive out of the village seeing them puts a huge smile on my face. I hope you like the sunflower sketches I’ve attached to the post. I feel incredibly lucky to call the Languedoc my home.

  My guest house Les Coquelicots is finally open for bookings. Yay :-)

  There’s a link to click at the bottom which will take you to our brand-new website. I can only take credit for the artwork, I didn’t do all the clever bits. I can’t believe how quickly we’ve been able to turn it around. I’ve had so much help from the villagers I’ll be paying back favours for a lifetime!

  Also the Dubois Art Gallery will be opening soon. It’s so exciting to have been involved in the discovery of the Goya prints (see link to article in The Daily Telegraph). The record breaking auction in Paris means not only will tourists now get to see an historic collection but also that local artists will have a wonderful space to display and sell their work.

  I’ll report back on how today’s inspection goes. Now I’ve got to go and check on today’s refreshments and the final arrangements.

  When I’ve had a chance to take a breath I’ll let you know about that other project I mentioned. I’ve not had much time to work on it but hopefully when today is over I’ll make progress.

  Wish us luck :-)

  “I would like us to sit down and have a talk today Poppy. It’s important.”

  Leo’s comment startles me so much I drop my hairbrush. We’re up a bit later today than planned. It’s Leo’s fault for waking me up by trailing kisses all over my body and distracting me with a very large morning erection he insisted required instant attention.

  There’s so much to do today before the inspectors arrive. So I was already stressing as I hurried to dress. And now Leo has virtually given me the “we need to talk” line. It feels like one minute I was out for a nice walk, and the next I’ve suddenly stepped off the edge of a cliff.

  “Er, okay, can it wait until later? I’m worried about ticking off everything on our checklist.” I can’t look at Leo. I’m too afraid of what I might see in his eyes. I’m too much of a coward to rip the plaster off in one go.

  It might not be what I think, what I dread. But I can’t think. Not today of all days.

  Not today.

  I’m responsible for everything going well. I came up with the idea and everyone has worked so hard I can’t bear to think of it all coming to nothing.

  Things are still a bit weird between us when we let the dogs out. Maxi slept over at Les Coquelicots last night too. He and Peanut cuddled up in the same dog bed. Now Maxi and the other two boy dogs follow her as she trots around the garden. It’s aflame with colour, bushes and plants I don’t recognise are in flower. Normally the flowers make me smile but today I’m stressed about the arrangements and Leo’s sudden desire to have a serious talk.

  “Merde,” Leo swears, looking at the donkey field.

  The empty donkey field.

  The gate is wide open. Leo picks up his pace.

  “Has Angeline moved them do you think?”

  “No,” Leo replies, frowning.

  It’s then I get a funny feeling in my stomach. With the metal latch and bolt there’s no way the main gate could have come open on its own. Has someone let them out on purpose? Who on earth would do that?

  The dogs head out in front of us, towards the village and café. I try to keep pace with Leo’s long strides but have to jog every couple of steps to keep up.

  Not a good start to inspection day.

  “We’ll need head collars and leads,” Leo calls back over his shoulder. “I’ll go straight to Angeline’s. Can you go into the village and see if you can spot the donkeys anywhere? Spread the word.”

  “What time are the inspectors turning up at the chateau, isn’t it eleven am?”

  “Yes,” Leo shouts back. “We’ll have to be quick.”

  Fuck. I quickly run back for dog leads for my three who are not as sensible as Maxi when it comes to traffic or cyclists, or donkeys for that matter.

  When I do get to the main village it’s chaos. I find two of the donkeys munching the floral displays created so lovingly by some of the village women. There are piles of donkey dung further up the road, towards the field where the refreshment tent has been set up for the inspectors and for the village meal afterwards.

  I try to type a text as I run but given I’m holding dog leads and the dogs are pulling like mad towards the chaos it’s worse than useless. I stop, take a breath and then ring Leo. I’ve already forked out over one hundred euros to have my iPhone screen fixed so I’m not risking dropping it again and a text mangled by autocorrect isn’t going to help anyone.

  I quickly reel off my donkey report.

  “Can you stop them eating the displays?” Leo asks, as though it’s the easiest thing in the world.

  “Not without a head collar and lead to yank them away, no. What do you think I am? The donkey whisperer?” I reply a little tersely. I’m not sure he gets my reference though.

  “Fine, well go and protect the refreshment tent then. Angeline and I will be on our way,” Leo says and hangs up.

  I feel a bit grumpy about the whole escaped donkey situation. Also, the villagers who are around are laughing, not doing anything to help. Have they got any idea how much work has gone into today?

  Then I notice some of the laughter is directed towards me and look down. Pickwick is taking advantage of my distracted state and is rolling in the donkey dung.

  “Fuckity, fuckity fuck,” I growl and tug him away. “I have not got time to bath you today.”

  Sod it. I’ll have to run. When I get to the field my heart plummets another couple of fathoms. There is a donkey rear sticking out of the refreshment marquee and sounds of more destruction inside.

  “No,” I yell and run inside. The dogs are virtually hysterical with excitement at this point and holding them back is taking all the strength of my right hand.

  The donkeys ignore me when I shout and swear at them first in English and then in French.

  There were covers over the food already here. Thankfully the hot food hasn’t arrived yet but why didn’t I think of donkey proof covers for the rest of it? Why is no one here? Shit, it was supposed to be me here, keeping an eye on things and I’m late because I was you-know-whatting with Leo.

  I save what I can and try to shove a few donkey rumps with zero success. I’m not brave enough to go near Yorrick, I like my ribs intact. So in the end I sink to the ground, send an SOS text to Joanna and an update text to Leo as I can’t face talking to him. Then I burst into tears.

  That’s how Angeline and Leo find me.

  “I’m sorry, I couldn’t stop them,” I whisper to Leo who tugs me up with one hand and kisses me lightly on the mouth.

  “It’s okay Poppy, it is not the end of the world. Here, take this.” He hands me the lead of a donkey Angeline has already captured. “Can you ring my parents and get them to stall the inspectors? That will buy us time to clear up all the mess.”

  “Okay.”

  I just about manage the call despite looking after three over excited dogs who’ve discovered there is food on the grass and a donkey who wants to go back to the feast.

  I move out of the tent, tugging all four of them behind me and talk to a totally unflappable Madame Dubois who in
sists that her husband can keep the inspectors talking by telling them the chateau’s history and then moving on to the provenance of every single painting in the collection or until we send them a text to give them the all clear to proceed.

  Joanna turns up soon after, takes one look at me, hugs me and then goes into the Marquee. Sophie turns up soon after to help. It seems the SOS text has done the village rounds.

  I go back to the field with Leo and Angeline. They are having an urgent discussion in French that I can’t make out and I feel excluded.

  What does Leo want to talk to me about? Surely I’m not about to be dumped surrounded by donkey dung?

  “What were you talking about?” I ask Leo once the donkeys are back in their field.

  “We were discussing who might’ve done it. You know, left the gate open.” Leo shrugs. “Not all the villagers are in favour of the bid. They don’t want the increased tourist traffic.”

  “Like who?” I ask.

  “Madame Gilbert for one, she’s been pretty outspoken.”

  “Has she?” I frown. “But she has a business in the village. That doesn’t make sense.”

  Leo shrugs. “It’s just how she is. She hates change. We can’t see her bothering to actually do anything though. She prefers to spread her poison by talk. She’s in a minority though.”

  “So who then?” My mind flits briefly to Jacques but however odious he is I can’t see him doing anything to ruin his professional image. He’s a man who likes his self-importance and the village getting into the Most Marvellous Villages Guide would only boost that.

  “I think it’s the estate manager I sacked,” Leo replies grimly. “I’ve heard he’s been mouthing off about how he’s going to get revenge against my family and saying the bid is just so we can make more money, it’s nothing to do with the village.”

  “But he was the one who stole from you!”

  Leo shrugs again, which irritates me. There’s time for sangfroid shrugging and philosophical acceptance and this isn’t it.

  “But it’s not fair,” I shake my head. “How can you be so calm?”

  Leo laughs. “Oh Poppy.”

  He doesn’t say anything, just strokes my hair and kisses me then tactfully suggests I give Pickwick a quick bath before heading back into the village.

  By the time I’ve bathed Pickwick and changed into clothes not covered in grass stains and pre-bath contamination it seems that the village has pulled together to restore things to more or less as they were before. Anya and Jacob helped replace some of the spoiled and eaten food. I have a sneaking suspicion the chihuahuas helped themselves to some cake while I attempted donkey rump slapping.

  There’s no time for a private chat with Leo as the inspectors have turned up and he is walking down the road with his parents. For some reason I don’t feel confident enough to join them now. I tell myself it’s because my French isn’t good enough but really it’s because I’m suddenly beset by doubts. Has Leo been shielding me from the negative comments in the village? No doubt there are some who dislike an Anglaise marching in and turning their village upside down. But there are lots who seem pleased and have been lovely to me.

  I hesitate and decide to go back home until the village meal starts later. When I get to my front door I’m surprised to be accosted by several men with large, professional cameras and others with furry microphone booms.

  “The main event is back in the village. Dans le village.» I point back in the opposite direction and pick Peanut up to stop her snapping at a man’s ankles. I then have to stop her trying to eat a microphone thrust towards me.

  “Can you confirm that this is Joanna Grant’s secret South of France hideout?” He asks, his accent pure south London.

  “Er, excuse me?”

  “Joanna Grant? Does she live here?”

  “This is private ground, you’re trespassing.” I’m starting to wish I’d let Peanut eat his ankles after all.

  “There’s a right to roam in France, didn’t you know?” He smirks and I feel an uncharacteristic desire to punch his fat, fake, smarmy face. But then it has been a very trying day so far. “Can you confirm, does she live here or not? Has Aiden been here to visit her?”

  Aiden? Is he the reality show bastard?

  “Are you her dog walker?” Another man asks.

  “No comment,” I snap and just about manage to drag the other two dogs into the house and slam the door in the reporters’ faces.

  “Bloody, fucking hell.” I storm into the kitchen and shut the door, wanting another barrier between me and the reporters. I seem to be doing a whole year’s worth of swearing in one day today.

  Why did I say “no comment?” I might has well have put up a big sign saying “Disgraced Reality Star lives here.” Oh God.

  I drop my head into my hands. Peanut leaps onto my lap.

  “Sorry sweetheart, even you can’t make this all better,” I say sadly and send a frantic text to Joanna.

  I’m going to lose her. She’ll move on from here now. And Leo gave me the “need to talk” line this morning. I can’t lose both of them. I can’t.

  I then stop being selfish and feel sorry for Joanna instead.

  I get a text from Leo asking if I’m coming over and reply back that I’ll be a little while.

  The knocking and banging on the front door doesn’t stop and neither does the dogs’ barking. My head is pounding and I feel like crying again. Not good. It’s only when the letter flap opens and I hear Pete of all people shouting through, asking if I’m ever going to open the door, that I get up from my chair.

  I open the door to see him grinning, bearing a bunch of flowers and looking bemused by the presence of paparazzi.

  “Is this Joanna’s new boyfriend, love?” The guy I want to punch asks. Funnily enough the urge is getting stronger by the minute.

  I pull Pete inside unceremoniously and slam the door behind him.

  “What are you doing here?” I cross my arms over my chest and don’t take the proffered flowers.

  Pete is beaming like I should be overwhelmed with gratitude to see him.

  “I, um, changed my mind,” Pete says, staring at the floor tiles and not quite meeting my eye. “I felt guilty about leaving you in the lurch so, well … I’m here now. Better late than never, eh?”

  “You what?” I practically snarl. “You dumped me by text and blocked my bloody number.”

  “I was going through a hard time.” Pete runs his free hand through his hair. I take pleasure in noticing that his receding hairline looks more pronounced with his current hairstyle. “You’ve got to understand I was under a lot of stress at work…”

  “Oh, I’ve got to, have I?” I glare at him.

  He stares back at a loss, wondering where this bolshy woman has come from and watching the tearfully grateful welcome he was hoping for evaporate in front of his eyes.

  “Okay, I’m sorry but, well.” He eyes me nervously. “Now I’m here we could do all those projects we planned. Converting the barns and all that.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve managed on my own, I don’t need you.” It feels so good to utter that sentence but the look of sheer incredulity on Pete’s face makes me boil even more.

  “Oh, I get it,” he says suddenly. “You’ve got someone else to bankroll your schemes now have you?”

  “Fuck off Pete,” I say, barely containing the fury bubbling away inside me.

  “You’re not even going to let me stay the night?” Pete gapes. I’m not sure who’s more shocked by my behaviour, me or him.

  I shake my head.

  He puts the flowers down on the floor as though laying down a peace offering, that or a piece of steak for snarling Doberman he hopes isn’t going to attack when he turns his back.

  “Well I’ll find somewhere local to stay tonight. If you change your mind once you’ve had a think about it you can let me know.” He shrugs and then looks back over his shoulder to the front door, frowning when he remembers the reporters and looking like he
thinks he’s stepped into an alternate universe.

  “You never know Pete,” I say. “Unblock my number and maybe I’ll send you a text.”

  He laughs a little nervously and gives me another bewildered look before letting himself out.

  I pick the flowers up. I’m sure Joanna could do with them.

  When I sink back into my chair at the kitchen table it occurs to me that, even if Leo is going to give me the “I need more space” or “we should slow things down” speech, I don’t want Pete back. If I lose Joanna and Leo it will be hard, it will be bloody hard, but … I am never again going to be in a relationship with someone who likes to cut down tall Poppies. Pete is certainly never cutting down this Poppy again with snide comments, subtle put downs and general dream-crushing, unsupportive behaviour. Not to mention dumping by text and number blocking.

  That’s just rude.

  Maybe Pete met someone else and was having an affair. Perhaps she’s now dumped him so he’s come running back to me. Who knows? I’m not sure I actually care.

  At least Leo wants to talk to me. Then I can’t stop wondering why he wants to talk and sit in a general gloomy slump that even Peanut can’t relieve with her cute acrobatics.

  It’s very telling that the dogs didn’t bother to go to welcome Pete. In the end the chihuahuas both creep onto my lap and curl up, giving me quiet reminders that they love me. Pickwick is still in a bit of a sulk after his bath so sits in the dog bed instead, dividing his time between staring at his tennis ball waiting for a game and looking reproachfully at me.

  I don’t know how long it is before Leo lets himself in and finds me in the kitchen.

  “Are you okay Poppy?” He frowns.

  “Hmm, just tired,” I say and stare down at the table.

  “Who are the flowers from?” Leo’s tone is still concerned but there’s a sharp edge.

  “They are from Pete, he just delivered them himself,” I say, suddenly feeling exhausted. If Leo’s going to put me through the wringer today too I’d rather he got it over with.