A French Affair

by Jennifer Bohnet

  ‘I’ll be back by the second week in June,’ Belinda said. ‘And don’t forget you’re coming for a holiday in May.’

  ‘Is that still on then?’

  ‘Don’t see why not, especially now that I’ll be out there. Why not come in the middle of the month, you’re not tied to school holidays yet. Even if Max can’t make it, you and the twins can come.’

  ‘Okay, but please, Mum, do think seriously about coming to France with us.’

  ‘I will,’ Belinda assured her.

  ‘Right. Got to go, one of the twins has woken up. Love you,’ and Chloe was gone.

  Belinda put the phone in her pocket and continued walking for a few moments before turning and making for the apartment. Lots of things to do before she caught the three o’clock ferry tomorrow afternoon. To think this time tomorrow evening she’d be back in Brittany – and she actually wanted to be there this time. There were certain things she needed to face up to, whatever the consequences turned out to be.

  28

  The sun was shining as the ferry pulled out of Plymouth and stayed with them all the way across the Channel. The sea was a little choppy, but Belinda remained out on deck with a coffee and a sandwich to read her book, looking up to people-watch occasionally.

  Six hours later, standing with other passengers on the front deck, Belinda watched the lights of the French coast, and then Roscoff ferry port itself, get closer. This time, there were no feelings of dread, of not wanting to set foot on French soil, churning away inside her despite being at another crossroad in her life. Instead, there was the strange feeling of coming home to a place she recognised and an overwhelming sense of being in charge of things; in charge of her emotions. She’d deal with the package of official papers in her suitcase she’d decided to bring with her, lay a few ghosts and then get on with her life.

  There was no need to set the satnav this time as she collected her car, with BB sleeping happily in the back, before joining the stream of traffic driving down the boat ramp and making its way up to the main road. The traffic quickly thinned out and within the hour Belinda was driving up the campsite lane. A newly resurfaced lane with not a single pothole, she was pleased to note.

  She parked in front of the office and let BB out of the car. The office was closed and locked. Belinda glanced across at the staff house. No lights inside, but an outside one by the door was on.

  The house had a lived-in feel to it this time when she unlocked the door, walked in and switched on the lights. Mugs and plates drying by the sink. A car magazine on the coffee table in the sitting room. The wood-burner stove was warm and the firebed was glowing, taking the evening chill off the air. Milk, ham, cheese, butter, a bottle of white wine and several small bottles of beer were in the fridge when she went to put in the food she’d brought with her. Briefly she wondered if Alain was going to sleep here tonight now that she was back, or return to his parents’ house. She knew that Nigel had emailed him to tell him she was returning early.

  Taking her suitcase upstairs, Belinda was surprised to find that Alain had opted to use one of the smaller bedrooms rather than the one she’d prepared before leaving. She unpacked her suitcase and put things away in drawers and the wardrobe. The envelope she placed on the bedside table. Taking a towel and her toiletries bag, she made her way to the one and only bathroom, intending to leave her things there, ready. A toothbrush and toothpaste were on the shelf by the sink, a large bath towel on the towel rail. She retraced her steps to the bedroom. Probably best to keep her personal stuff in her bedroom.

  A door slammed downstairs.

  ‘Belinda?’

  Alain was waiting for her in the small hallway as she went downstairs. ‘Welcome back,’ he said. ‘Good trip?’

  ‘Thank you. And yes, it was.’

  ‘You ’ave eaten?’ he asked. ‘I think to have a sandwich and a beer before bed. Peut-être you join me?’

  Surprised at the offer, Belinda nodded. ‘I’d love a sandwich and a glass of wine,’ she said and followed him into the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of wine and opened a beer for Alain while he buttered some bread and made some ham sandwiches. Minutes later, they were sitting companionably on the settee in front of the fire, which Alain brought back to life with a few small logs.

  There was something different about Alain tonight, Belinda decided, trying to work out what it was. Sitting there with BB sprawled across his feet waiting for stray crumbs and the odd crust that Belinda realised Alain was feeding him, the man looked positively at home. Definitely more relaxed. Definitely friendlier. Definitely happier.

  ‘Nigel and I had a good discussion yesterday about the camp, about what needs doing for the season,’ she said. ‘We’ve got a busy few weeks ahead of us. I’ve come back with revised plans and a new budget. We’ll go through it together tomorrow. Nigel said the glamping pods were cancelled until next year and that you had suggested building a couple of tree houses?’ She looked at him questioningly.

  ‘Much more in keeping with a family-orientated site, don’t you think?’ Alain said.

  ‘They won’t bring in as much money as pods.’

  ‘It’s not all about the money though, is it?’ Alain asked quietly. ‘I know the site ’as to be profitable, but it needs a balance too. We’re in the ’eart of the countryside ’ere, people should be able to enjoy the things nature offers. Rather than a plastic bubble filled with luxuries.’

  Belinda watched him as he drained his bottle of beer and replaced it on the table. Why was he so set on everything being as nature intended? This was the twenty-first century. They needed some technology to be available for campers.

  ‘It’s all coming together. Everything that needed painting and smartening up has been done. All the white goods ’ave arrived for the cabins, new furniture is on order and the grounds are looking spring-like. Bernie, he ’as been working hard with me on them,’ Alain said.

  ‘Do we have anybody staying on site at the moment?’ Belinda asked.

  ‘Six camper vans and one caravan.’

  ‘I’ll wander round tomorrow and take some photos for the website,’ Belinda said. ‘We need to keep it up to date. Now it’s live we’ll soon start to get some bookings and money in.’ She finished her sandwich and stood up. ‘That was good, thank you. It’s been a long day, so I’ll say goodnight, see you in the morning.’

  ‘I’ll shut the fire down and lock up. The bathroom’s all yours.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Belinda was in and out of the bathroom in five minutes flat and back in her bedroom with the door closed. She hadn’t shared a house or bathroom with a stranger since college and then, being long before the days of unisex accommodation, it was an all-female house share. Maybe they should sort out some sort of rota for the two of them if he continued to stay in the house?

  She gave a quiet laugh. She could just imagine Alain’s reaction to that.

  Belinda, awake early the next morning, could hear Alain singing in the shower so stayed where she was until she heard the water being turned off and Alain making his way back to his room. When she got downstairs half an hour later, the coffee machine was on, but there was no sign of Alain. She made herself a coffee and drank it standing up looking out of the kitchen window at the limited view of the forecourt area in front of the office. Alain’s car was parked next to hers, the office light was on and the door open.

  She picked up her tote and the file with all the new paperwork, locked the cottage door behind her and went over to the office.

  Alain looked up briefly as she walked in before returning his attention to the computer screen. ‘Bonjour.’

  ‘Bonjour,’ and Belinda put the file on the desk. ‘I’m planning on having a walkabout, seeing what’s happened while I’ve been away, taking those photographs I mentioned for the website. Do you want to come with me, or shall I leave you the file and you can go through the paperwork and new budget Nigel has given us, ready for a discussion when I get back?’

  ‘
I’ll go through the file,’ Alain said. ‘Ready for the argument when you get back.’

  Belinda shook her head at him, irritated by his attitude but then realised when she saw his lips twitch that he was teasing her. ‘No arguments. Discussion.’ She took her camera out of her bag. ‘Right. I’ll see you in a bit.’

  With BB excited to be back and enjoying the freedom of being off the lead, Belinda wandered down the path, leading to the tent area, knowing it was empty. Still barely past eight o’clock, she didn’t want to disturb the people in the camper vans or caravan.

  The shower block and the toilet block were positively gleaming with their new paintwork and tiles. The pathways were clear all round the camp, the shrubs cut back, wooden signs painted, windows of the cabins freshly washed and their wooden decking freshly varnished. Belinda took photo after photo. The transformation of the site was amazing.

  She’d only been away for less than a fortnight, but so much had been achieved. The entertainment area had been pressure-washed and the picnic tables cleaned and put in place. The outside of the restaurant had been washed down, but peering through a window, Belinda could see the inside was still a shambles. Getting that ready for the season would be top of her agenda now, especially as Nigel had decided to employ staff to run it rather than lease it out.

  Wandering on down through the site, Belinda stood and looked out over the river and remembered Fern saying something about an annual fishing competition. Fern. She needed to let her know she was back and arrange to meet up. See if she could give her any advice on how she should approach finding the missing link to her past.

  As she turned to walk back past the cabins, BB bounded ahead happily and barked joyfully at Bernie sitting drinking a coffee at the table in his patch of garden. He raised his cup and pointed at it, looking at Belinda nodding and smiling. Belinda smiled back but shook her head, gently refusing what she took to be an offer of coffee. ‘Merci, Bernie, but non.’

  If only he spoke French he could probably tell her something about the fishing festival. Maybe he liked to fish. Belinda remembered Fern saying she thought he understood simple French, he just didn’t like speaking it.

  She gestured in the direction of the river. ‘Pêchez-vous?’

  Bernie nodded vigorously.

  ‘Avez-vous pêche au festival de la pêche ici?’ Belinda said slowly and clearly.

  Bernie’s face broke into a big smile at her words. He held out his arm and hand towards her, indicating he wanted her to wait and dashed into the cabin. Seconds later he was back and handed her a photograph of himself proudly holding a big fish and a plaque that said 1st Prize.

  ‘Félicitations,’ Belinda said, smiling as she handed the photo back. She tapped her watch. ‘Le travail. À bientôt.’

  Leaving Bernie, Belinda made her way back to the office, hoping that Alain would be there and free to discuss the things in the file. Half an hour later, she was regretting that hope. They’d gone through everything, including the siting of the tree houses to replace the pods, except the plans for a newly refurbished restaurant. It was then the discussion turned into an argument.

  ‘There isn’t time to refurbish the restaurant for this season, so it makes sense to keep it as a basic café and employ a couple of people to work there for us. I’ve had an idea too about sourcing food, which I need to research more. Then, at the end of summer, we can organise a complete renovation,’ Belinda said. ‘After that, we can advertise its availability for functions in the spring.’

  ‘Functions? Why? And what sort?’ Alain almost snapped at her.

  ‘The restaurant refurbished, with decent tables and chairs, a bar and a sound system would be a wonderful place for weddings, parties, even some of those bonding weekends that companies are so fond of these days. Revive the old fishing festival maybe. It’s a way of keeping the site open and paying for itself all year round. It would all bring in good money.’

  ‘You’re turning it into the kind of campsite I don’t want to run.’ Alain glared at her.

  ‘Well, as this campsite is Nigel’s, he gets to make the final decisions, so if you’re not happy, maybe you’d better find yourself another one,’ Belinda said quietly.

  Alain looked at her, opened his mouth as though to say something, before changing his mind and walking out.

  The happier Alain of last evening had definitely disappeared.

  When Marie turned up for work after lunch, Belinda saved everything on the website she’d been working on and returned to the cottage to work. Thankfully there was no sign of Alain. It was late afternoon before she remembered to phone Fern and tell her she was back.

  ‘You’re here,’ a delighted Fern said. ‘When did you get back? How was it?’

  ‘Last night. There were one or two unexpected changes, but on the whole it was okay. We need a catch-up. Fancy coming here tonight for a glass of wine. Or do you have guests?’

  ‘No guests, but Anouk and Scott are here. I could come after dinner. They’re quite happy to spend time together. You wouldn’t believe how competitive they get over a game of scrabble,’ Fern said, trying to organise her thoughts.

  ‘Excuse me? I’m away for two weeks and you not only move your ex ma-in-law in but a new man as well. This Scott, he’s the American you met a few weeks ago, isn’t he? And now he’s living with you?’

  ‘Yes that Scott, but he’s not living with me. Well, he is, but he’s a paying guest. I’ll explain when I see you. He’ll be leaving soon anyway. Would you like to come here for supper?’ Fern asked.

  ‘Another night would be lovely. I can meet Anouk and check out your Scott then. Tonight, I need to talk to you alone and ask your advice.’

  ‘Right. I’ll do an early dinner and see you about eight, okay?’

  ‘Perfect. Bring Lady too. And, Fern? Thanks.’

  29

  Belinda opened the door of the cottage as she heard Fern drive up and went out with BB to greet her and to let the two dogs have a play before they went indoors.

  ‘This place is starting to look smart again. Love the coloured lights at the foot of the trees,’ Fern said as she looked at the cut-back shrubs and the newly planted flower beds by the office and the cottage. ‘Can I smell a barbecue? I can definitely hear someone strumming a guitar.’ She handed Belinda a plastic box.

  ‘What’s this?’

  ‘Cantucci biscuits I made this afternoon. Delicious dunked in wine. Should be white wine, but I personally prefer red – which you have?’

  ‘I do,’ Belinda said, leading Fern inside and tipping the biscuits onto a plate. ‘It’s in the sitting room. I opened it earlier to let it breathe.’

  ‘Is Alain here tonight?’

  ‘He left a message with Marie for me. He’s gone over to check up on his parents. Said he’d be back about ten, so we’ve got the place to ourselves until then. Come on, let’s make ourselves comfortable,’ and she ushered Fern into the sitting room.

  ‘So how come you’re back so quickly?’ Fern asked as Belinda poured wine into two glasses.

  ‘Nigel has sold one of the hotels, he’s managing another, and the third isn’t really busy at this time of year, so it made sense for me to come back and help Alain with the final things to get this place up to scratch for the summer. And…’ Belinda paused. ‘There is something I’ve decided I need to do, so I’m quite pleased it worked out like this.’ She handed a glass to Fern. ‘Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers.’

  ‘But first, tell me all about your Scott.’

  ‘I told you he’s not my Scott.’ Fern swirled her wine around in the glass reflectively. ‘Anouk adores him. He’s really nice. But…’

  ‘But?’

  ‘He’s American and that’s where his life is, so there is little point in being anything other than friends.’

  ‘He might be happy to relocate to Europe,’ Belinda said. ‘Didn’t you say his family are originally from here? Maybe he feels at home here, a pull of the old country.’

  Fern shru
gged. ‘I don’t think so. Anyway, we’ve not known each other long and I’m not sure whether I’m completely over Laurent, so…’ She took a swig of her drink. ‘What was it you wanted to talk about?’

  ‘Two things. Let’s get the first one out of the way.’ Belinda took a deep breath and looked at her friend. ‘I finally went through some papers of my mum’s. Some of them are in that envelope on the coffee table.’ She pointed out the envelope to Fern. ‘Have a look through them, will you, and tell me what’s in there.’

  Puzzled, Fern looked at her before she reached out for the envelope and emptied its contents onto the table. ‘Birth certificates. Marriage certificates. Death certificates. A decrees nisi. Two old Passports. Normal family official papers.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Belinda said. ‘You remember my mum left my dad because he had an affair?’ As she spoke, she sorted the marriage certificates into one pile, the birth certificates into a second and the decree nisi into another.

  Fern nodded. ‘Yes.’

  Belinda handed her a pile of papers. ‘These are marriage certificates for my great-grandparents through to me. Birth certificates, again from my great-grandparents through to me. Look there’s my father’s name – Enzo Belrose. And this single decree nisi is mine.’

  ‘Where are you going with this?’ Fern asked.

  ‘I didn’t realise a couple of papers were missing at first. There’s no marriage certificate or decree nisi for my parents,’ Belinda said quietly. ‘I don’t think my parents were ever married.’

  ‘Maybe your mum kept them in a different place and you didn’t find them. Or could your mum have destroyed them in a fit of anger after your father’s affair?’ Fern asked.

  ‘I went through the house methodically, I would have found them. I did think about her wanting to be rid of them, but I don’t think she did destroy them.’ Belinda put everything back in the envelope. ‘Ever since I realised they were missing, I’ve been thinking about my mum. She never talked to me about her wedding day. Even when I asked her a direct question – what was her dress like, for instance, or where did they go on honeymoon – she’d brush me off. Called me an old romantic.