Sky's the Limit

by Janie Millman

  ‘I’m afraid what I did next was below the belt but I don’t regret it.’ Elf took the refilled glass and waited for Philippe to sit back down. ‘I told him that I’d already been to your chateau and that you weren’t looking for anyone. You had changed your mind. I may even have hinted that you may not be the best boss to work under.’ He looked a little shamefaced.

  ‘What exactly did you tell him, Elf?’ Beatrice took a long drag on her cigarette.

  ‘I said that the owner was a real tyrant, he never allowed his employees to consume alcohol on the premises, smoking was likewise forbidden and the food was utter merde.’ Elf shrugged. ‘I was angry and I was on a mission. I told him the word on the street was that no one wanted to work at Chateau Fontaine. It had a terrible reputation and paid peanuts.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I told him to try the last chateau I had been to. I told him they were looking for people but they wanted a big chap like him, not a dwarf like me. I told him how friendly they were. It didn’t take long to persuade him, he’s not the brightest match in the box and he was pretty drunk. When he staggered to the loo I stole the paperwork from his jacket, noted the name of the agency and your address, made my way here and the rest you know.’

  There was silence.

  ‘I’m sorry, boss, I just wanted a chance. Just one chance to prove myself.’ Philippe said nothing. ‘Shall I go?’ Elf once more slid down the leather chair.

  Beatrice looked at Philippe. He gave her the merest hint of a smile. ‘Yes, Elf,’ he replied. ‘I’d like you to go.’

  Elf nodded and headed once again towards the door.

  ‘I’d like you to go to the cellar and bring up a couple of bottles of champagne, and give them to Rosa to put in the fridge.’ Elf spun around. ‘We can celebrate the arrival of Nick and Sky along with the arrival of our latest employee.’ Elf stared wide-eyed and Philippe grinned at him. ‘Welcome to Chateau Fontaine, Elf. I’m giving you that chance you wanted, the chance to prove yourself under a tyrant of a boss.’

  Elf sank back onto the chair. The tears sprang up in his eyes again. ‘You won’t regret it, boss.’ His voice was thick with emotion. ‘You will never ever, ever, have cause to regret it.’

  ‘No,’ Philippe said. ‘I don’t think I will.’ He smiled at the young lad. ‘You’ve already saved us from that bruiser Bertrand, and if it’s the same chateau that I’m thinking then he will have the same treatment that you described for him here which, I guess, is a kind of rough justice. God knows where he got the idea that the work is “piss easy” – working in the vineyard is notoriously back-breaking, which is where you hold the trump card, Elf: no bending down for you.’ He grinned at the young lad and then a thought occurred to him. ‘Elf, how old are you really? I want the truth now.’

  ‘Two weeks shy of seventeen, boss.’

  ‘Mon Dieu.’ Beatrice laughed softly.

  ‘Do we need to let anyone know you are here?’ Philippe reached for another cigarette. ‘Your parents, for example?’

  ‘I’ll drop them a quick line,’ Elf replied quickly. ‘We tend not to concern ourselves too much with each other, it’s an arrangement that suits us best.’ It was said lightly but his eyes were dead and something about the tone of his voice struck a chord deep within Philippe.

  ‘I’ll need their address, Elf, I need to know who your next of kin are.’

  Elf just nodded.

  ‘How long have you been on the road, Elf?’ Beatrice asked gently.

  ‘Long enough to know I want to get off it.’

  Beatrice said nothing but raised her eyebrows.

  ‘Two years,’ Elf finally conceded. Once again Philippe and Beatrice exchanged glances. The young lad had been on the streets for over two years. What sort of life had he had?

  ‘Go and get the champagne before they all arrive.’ Philippe’s eyes were a touch misty. Elf saluted him and marched joyfully down the corridor.

  Beatrice raised the pastis glass to him. ‘Good decision, cheri.’

  ‘The only decision,’ he replied.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  I was entranced by the journey from the airport. Luc deliberately chose a back route which enabled us to see more of the countryside.

  ‘It’s longer but much more picturesque and we are in no hurry.’ He was a delightful tour guide, pointing out the landmarks, the famous chateaux, the not-so-famous chateaux, chatting about the wine, the grape variety, the soil and the climate. We were both fascinated.

  ‘I don’t really know what I was expecting,’ I said, looking out of the car window. ‘But certainly not these neat rows of vines. My Italian grandmother used to have vines and my memory of them is of wild untamed plants growing all over the place. I guess I imagined that was what most vineyards looked like. These regimented rows are a total surprise.’

  Luc grinned. ‘How funny, that is exactly what Philippe calls them. He refers to them as his army of soldiers.’ He pulled over to the side of the road. ‘See the big church on top of the hill over there? That is Saint-Émilion. We’ll go there another day, you need full concentration. It is a paradise, for artists, for wine lovers, for food lovers, for just about anyone really.’

  ‘It’s so beautiful here.’ I gazed around. ‘A thousand different colours all gently blending into one another. It’s magical.’

  ‘Wait until we stop at Michel’s chateau, that will take your breath away.’

  Michel’s chateau was indeed magnificent. Situated on top of a hill, it was very imposing and very formal. The grounds were large and exquisitely maintained. I imagined that he must have a small army of people working for him. There was a large swimming pool alongside a BBQ area and outdoor kitchen, there were two tennis courts, a boules pitch and even a small church.

  We sat drinking rosé wine on a huge stone terrace overlooking the beautiful Bordeaux countryside. Michel was a fun guy with a great sense of humour, he and Luc were the best of mates. The time passed very quickly and frankly I was reluctant to leave but when we pulled through the pillared gates of Chateau Fontaine my heart simply soared.

  The cobbled driveway was lined with small round hedges, several fruit trees were dotted around the front lawn and a large and rather incongruous sculpture of an iron bird stood in the centre. A young girl was practising cartwheels on the lawn, watched proudly by a huge dog and a piglet.

  Two fairy tale turrets flanked the sides of the beautiful creeper-clad chateau. Silvery slate roof tiles glistened in the soft morning sunshine and fragrant wisteria framed the arched entrance. Pale grey shutters with their paint slightly peeling surrounded large gracious windows. It was full of charm and character and I very much preferred the slight shabbiness and understated elegance to the grandeur of Michel’s chateau.

  I clambered out of the car and stood gazing around, breathing in the unfamiliar scents. A slight breeze lifted my hair and with it some of the heartache and hurt from the past few weeks.

  The young girl scampered over to us at the same time as Philippe emerged from the chateau. Nick walked over to meet him but I stood still looking around me.

  ‘I’ve started as I mean to go on, Philippe,’ I heard Nick announce. ‘I’ve already sampled the most delicious wine, not a patch on yours but not too shabby.’

  ‘I’d like to have seen Michel’s face as you described his grand cru as “not too shabby”.’ Philippe was laughing.

  ‘Well, those weren’t the exact words I used,’ Nick chuckled. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  ‘And you, Nick.’ Philippe turned to me. ‘Welcome to Chateau Fontaine, Sky. I’m afraid it doesn’t quite match the splendour of Michel’s chateau.’ He came over to kiss me.

  ‘Oh, Philippe you are so wrong, this is absolutely gorgeous.’ I couldn’t help it, I threw my arms around him. ‘This is enchanting, this is magical, nothing could be more perfect.’

  ‘Thank you so much, Sky.’ He looked taken aback and I instantly regretted my exuberance.

  Luc however dropped a light kiss on my head. ‘What a v
ery lovely thing to say, Sky.’ He smiled at me.

  ‘I is Emmie.’ The little girl with the blonde curls stepped forward, her light blue eyes staring straight into mine.

  ‘Of course you are, and this must be Belle and this must be Sausage.’ I bent down to say hello. ‘I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you.’

  ‘Sausage is a pig what is not got to be eaten.’ It was clearly important to Emmie that the rules be made clear.

  ‘Gosh, no, he’s a Sausage to be treasured and loved.’ I tickled the adorable piglet.

  ‘Hi, Emmie, I’m Nick.’ He stepped forward. ‘I’d like to meet Henri’s cat, I believe we have something in common.’ He patted his ginger hair.

  Emmie giggled. ‘Nearly. Cat is brighter.’

  ‘Is she talking hair or intelligence, Nick?’ I said without really thinking, lapsing automatically into our old mode of teasing.

  I sensed rather than saw Philippe’s amazement that I was able to joke and I realised how terrible my behaviour must have been in Marrakech. I must try and make up for it out here, I thought.

  ‘Leave your bags for now and come on through. We’ve a surprise for you.’ Philippe led us inside. We walked down a glorious corridor which ran the length of the house: huge high ceilings, tiled floors and pale grey walls completely covered with paintings. Large doors off either side offered an intriguing glimpse into the rest of the chateau and I couldn’t wait to explore but Philippe marched us straight past an enormous curved stone staircase and into a large, colourful room with French windows opening onto a sun-drenched inner courtyard.

  I could just make out the river glinting in the background and in the foreground orderly rows of vines stretched down to its banks. Glorious sandstone barns flanked the courtyard and behind some rusty wrought iron gates I could glimpse the bright blue of a swimming pool. Wild flowers were growing up between the paving stones and the stone fountain was covered in the same creeper that covered the house.

  Hens roamed around the garden, ignoring the squeals of the piglet, and in a far corner stood an old gypsy caravan. I couldn’t tear my eyes away. There was something extraordinarily special about this place, I couldn’t define it but within minutes it had crept into my soul. It was with great reluctance that I turned back to the room when Philippe called my name.

  ‘Sky, Nick, I’d like you to meet my sister, Stephanie.’ I smiled at her shyly but Nick bounded over to kiss her.

  ‘I’m being very French and kissing absolutely everyone. It’s probably not the done thing but I’m past caring.’

  Stephanie was a female version of Philippe, not exactly beautiful but very striking with gleaming dark hair cut into a shoulder-length bob. She was tall and exuded physical strength. She had the same deep hazel eyes and generous smile as her brother.

  ‘And this is Rosa who manages us all, or so she likes to think.’ Philippe had his arms around a lady who had come in carrying large plates of charcuterie and strong-smelling cheeses. Her jet black hair was peppered with white but her beauty was undiminished and her dark eyes sparkled with vivacity and humour. I warmed to her immediately.

  ‘You will meet Henri at lunch,’ Philippe continued. ‘But in the meantime there is one other person who needs no introduction.’ The door opened and in walked Beatrice.

  I exclaimed with joy and Nick turned to me. ‘Did you know Beatrice was coming?’

  ‘No, but you know somehow I’m not surprised.’ I clapped my hands. ‘It feels absolutely right.’ I danced over to greet her. ‘Oh, Beatrice, how lovely to see you, thank you for inviting me here,’ I said.

  ‘Cheri, it was not me, it was Philippe.’ She hugged me.

  ‘I know.’ I realised I’d been rude. I could feel Philippe’s eyes on me. ‘But I know that you instigated it all.’

  ‘Who rides this?’ Nick was looking with interest at a unicycle propped against the wall.

  ‘Elf rides,’ Emmie replied. ‘I is learning too.’

  ‘Elf?’ Nick looked at her in amazement. ‘You have an elf?’

  ‘Of course they have an elf.’ I laughed. ‘This is an enchanted castle, there are bound to be elves and fairies, witches and wizards. I wouldn’t be surprised to find a unicorn amongst the vines and a fire-breathing dragon in the underground cellar.’ I held out my arms to the little girl. ‘Am I right, Emmie?’

  Philippe looked stunned and once again I realised that this was not how I had behaved in Marrakech. He must have thought I had some sort of split personality disorder. He handed me a glass of champagne and I smiled at him reassuringly but there was a wariness in his eyes.

  ‘And when do we get to meet Celine?’ I asked, trying to break the tension. It didn’t work. He stared at me in astonishment.

  ‘Celine?’ He shook his head. ‘Why do you want to meet Celine?’

  ‘I thought, well I thought, isn’t she, well, isn’t she Emmie’s mother?’ I was puzzled. What the hell had I said wrong now? Wasn’t it natural that we would want to meet his partner?

  ‘Yes she is.’ But he still looked mystified. ‘Are Claude and Celine coming for lunch?’ He turned to Stephanie.

  ‘As far as I know,’ she replied, looking as bemused as her brother.

  ‘Who is Claude?’ Nick asked.

  ‘Claude is our cousin.’

  ‘And is Claude married?’ I asked. There seemed to be a lot of them and I was keen to establish all the relationships.

  There was a moment’s silence. Everyone looked at each other in bewilderment. I’d obviously committed some terrible faux-pas but I had no idea what. Sensing my anxiety, Emmie slipped her hand into mine. ‘Claude and Celine is married,’ she said quietly.

  ‘Celine and Claude?’ I was completely baffled and turned to Philippe. ‘But I thought Celine and you… I mean you said in Morocco… so I assumed…’

  ‘You thought Celine and Philippe were together?’ Beatrice threw back her head and laughed.

  ‘Why on earth would you think that?’ Philippe stared at me open-mouthed.

  I didn’t know what to say. I felt myself turning red. I felt desperately embarrassed. Maybe Celine was his mistress, they were keen on mistresses on the continent, maybe Emmie was his love child, if so it was very much out in the open. I couldn’t think of what to say but luckily Nick came to my rescue.

  ‘To be fair, so did I.’

  ‘You thought what?’ Philippe stared at him.

  ‘I thought that you were with Celine,’ he replied and at that moment I could have hugged him.

  ‘But why?’ Philippe demanded.

  ‘Something about Emmie being like your own child, knowing Celine for many years…’

  ‘Merde, I remember now!’ Beatrice giggled. ‘I remember thinking that you had got the wrong end of the stick but I can’t remember why I didn’t correct you.’

  ‘So if you’re not with Celine, who are you with?’ I wanted to get the facts right.

  ‘I’m not with anybody, Sky.’ Philippe knocked back his champagne. ‘Certainly not Celine.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a match made in heaven, Sky,’ Stephanie whispered softly.

  I wondered what on earth was wrong with Celine.

  ‘Elf is coming,’ Emmie shouted.

  I turned to the window and saw a lean, weather-beaten man wearing a battered straw hat making his way into the courtyard. On his shoulder was a ginger cat and bouncing by his side was a very short young man with a mad mop of unruly curls. He was chattering non-stop, taking three steps to every one long stride of his companion. I assumed they must be Elf, Henri and the infamous ginger cat. Emmie went running out to meet them.

  I turned to the room quickly. ‘I do hope that I’ve not caused any offence by my mistake.’ I gulped at my champagne before turning to Philippe. ‘I’m so sorry, it was a genuine mistake, I hope I haven’t upset Emmie.’

  ‘No offence taken at all,’ Philippe reassured me. ‘I was just a bit surprised, that’s all.’ He grinned. ‘Of all the people you could have picked for me to be having a
relationship with, Celine is certainly the most unlikely.’

  ‘What the hell is the matter with Celine?’ Nick echoed my thoughts. But before anyone could reply Emmie came running through the French windows dragging Elf behind her.

  ‘This be Elf,’ she proudly announced, pushing him forward.

  ‘Hello, Elf.’ I was a little uncomfortable calling him Elf although clearly he was happy with the name. I smiled gently at the young lad who was standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. ‘I’m Sky, I hope you speak English because my French is rather rusty.’

  ‘Your French is very good, Sky,’ Stephanie said.

  ‘Which is why you are all talking to me in English,’ I laughed.

  ‘Elf, I understand that this is your bike.’ Nick gestured towards the unicycle. Elf nodded. ‘Will you teach me? I’ve always wanted to ride one.’ This was news to me but it was typical of Nick to try and put Elf at his ease and he succeeded. Elf was delighted, he was on safe territory here and he promptly began an in depth explanation into the finer points of mastering the unicycle.

  Philippe turned to Henri. ‘Well, how was he?’ Elf stopped mid-sentence and looked around. His smile faded and anxiety crept into his eyes. I wondered what had happened to make him so vulnerable.

  ‘He’ll do,’ Henri replied laconically. ‘But I may have to gag him, he never shuts up.’

  ‘I’m just asking questions.’ Elf was clearly keen to justify himself. ‘Just to make sure I understand everything and get it right. I never ask the same question twice. You never have to explain anything twice.’