by Jules Wake
Jason pushed his way through the crowds of good-natured fans reeling with bonhomie, feeling a little punch-drunk himself. Operating on adrenaline after hardly any sleep couldn’t be good for you. The tall, grey-walled sides of the stadium stretched up and he searched anxiously for the small door that led to the admin office suite.
With the place full of fans, security was much tighter. Fingers crossed Georges was there and could help. If not he’d have to blag it.
The unobtrusive door was unmanned. He slipped inside and ran lightly up the flight of stairs.
‘Monsieur!’ The startled girl, sitting in the big empty office, shot a barrage of impossible to understand French at him, with enough ne and pas in there to make it clear, this was out of bounds.
‘Je vuex vois.’ What was the blessed conjunction of to see? ‘Je veux Georges. C’est très important.’
‘Georges Bouthillier?’
Jason nodded. ‘Oui, il.’ He had no idea if it was the right Georges or not.
‘I can page him for you.’ See, why did French people always do that? Let you make an arse of yourself with dodgy French and then speak in perfect effing English.
She picked up a phone and gabbled with high speed velocity down the line.
‘Your name.’
‘Jason, I was here with Siena Browne-Martin two weeks ago. He’ll remember me.’
‘Monsieur Jason.’ Georges greeted him like an old friend. ‘How can I help you? I trust you are not seeking tickets for the match today? They are completely sold out.’
‘No. Not at all. I need to speak to Monsieur Harvieu, Siena’s stepfather. It is very urgent.’
‘This is most unusual. I’m not sure if I can accommodate your request. He has many guests with him.’
‘Please. I need your help. I need to find Siena and I’ve no idea where she lives.’
Georges smiled. ‘It is an affair of the heart?’
‘Yes, yes, yes.’ Jason nodded furiously. The French were famous romantics.
Georges pursed his lips. ‘And it can’t wait until after the game?’
Jason shook his head.
‘I’ll see what I can do. Wait here.’ The older man opened the door to a small office. ‘Take a seat and I will be back directly.’ He closed the door behind him.
Calendars and wall charts filled every space on the walls, blocked off in elaborate colour coded lines. Far, far in the distance he could hear the muted hum of the crowd.
Alone in the room it felt as if he was awaiting a sentence. It took him back to the Place de la Concorde and the conversation with Siena. At least he wasn’t about to face the guillotine. And she’d been right. History didn’t have to repeat itself; you could learn. He’d made mistakes with Stacey. Not been honest with her at the outset. Never told her how important the brewery was to him. Let her assume too many things. Drifted into the relationship. Looked for the wrong things.
He picked up his phone. He should have rung Will, let him know he hadn’t gone AWOL. Shit! He’d bloody done it again. Not set up his phone for roaming. The damn thing was useless.
With a loud crash, the door flew open and bounced back against the wall.
Like a hawk seizing its prey, the man burst into the room and almost dragged Jason to his feet by the scruff of his neck.
‘Where’s Siena? What have you done to her? Is she alright?’
Chapter 30
‘Blimey General, can’t I stop for a minute?’ wailed Al. ‘We’ve been at this for three hours.’
‘Nope,’ said Siena, wiping a dusty hand across her face and putting down the vacuum cleaner hose. ‘Only two more boxes to go downstairs and then I’ll make you a cup of tea.’
‘I’ve finished the kitchen, I’ve put the kettle on,’ said Lisa coming through into the tiny lounge, her tiny figure lost in the over-sized dungarees she’d donned. She’d got into the spirit of things by bundling her hair up in a spotted scarf, which she assured Siena, was very fifties cleaning lady. ‘This place is really nice, although it’s a shame you’ll be in such close proximity to his Lordship all the time.’
‘Lisa, I know you don’t like Will for whatever reason, but he’s been very good to me. Bailed me out and is letting me live here.’ She tried to soften her face; she didn’t want to offend her friend. ‘I hope you’ll still visit me.’
Lisa gave her a hug. ‘Course I will. Anyway I promised to help you with the new job. Tea?’
‘Yes please.’ Al dropped to his knees clutching his hands together in prayer.
‘You wee drama queen,’ said Marcus coming into the room carrying a bulging black sack. ‘What’s this new job? You’re not leaving us already.’
‘No. I’ll still be at the pub but I’m going to be a personal shopper.’
It had been a busy few days since Will had picked her up.
‘Shopping with Siena,’ Lisa bellowed from the kitchen. ‘Fresh from Paris, the leading expert on fashion.’
‘Ooh, that sounds fun,’ said Al getting to his feet.
Lisa appeared with a tray of mugs and they all took the variety of seats in the room. Al and Marcus squashed together on the two-seater sofa, Lisa curled into a beanbag and Siena took an eighties style wicker backed dining chair.
As they drank their tea, Siena gave the small room a satisfied smile, her eyes resting on her very own Christmas tree. She could decorate it any way she wanted.
‘It’s looking a bit sad,’ observed Al, following her gaze.
‘It’s better than nothing,’ said Lisa stoutly. ‘It’s got lights and tinsel and I can filch a couple of the cones from the tree downstairs. It’s easy to knock up a fairy for the top. A doily, old fashioned clothes peg, pipe cleaner and gold spray and hey presto.’
Siena laughed. Apparently those were the sort of things teaching assistants had on tap.
‘I don’t care. It’s all mine.’
Since returning from her night in ‘prison’ as Al insisted on referring to it, all sorts of people had rallied round. Lisa had turned up with a hoover and a mop. The Elmsleys had brought an old sofa and table and chairs. Will had lent her plates and cutlery from the restaurant, Marcus and Al had provided her with an old kettle and an iron, and all of them had pitched in to clean the place up, except Will who turned tail when he spotted Lisa.
‘Aren’t you going to be isolated here?’ asked Lisa. ‘You don’t have any transport.’
‘Yes I do.’ Siena beamed. ‘Mrs Elmsley has offered me the loan of her bicycle. It’s got a basket on the front. So I can go to Sainsbury’s and get food and stuff. How cool is that?’
‘Hmm, rather you than me,’ muttered Al. ‘Have you seen the weather in England?’
‘Shut up.’ Marcus nudged him. ‘She’s going to be fine.’
‘Yes,’ Siena stuck her tongue out at him. ‘Mrs Elmsley gave me her waterproofs.’ She shuddered. ‘They’re hideous but practical.’ She laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have been seen dead in them in Paris but do you know what? I don’t mind now.’
‘But what are you going to do here? On your own.’ Al looked worried.
‘I’m used to being on my own and I’ve joined the library. I’ve got Nanna’s sewing machine and a stack of stuff from the charity shop to alter.’ She and Lisa had reinvested the thirty pounds profit they’d made on the black dress. ‘Lisa and I are going to try out a, what is it?’ she looked at Lisa.
‘Zumba class.’
‘Yes that’s the one.’
‘I’ll come.’ Marcus sat up straighter. ‘I’ve always wanted a go at that.’
‘Oh lordy, spare me from the sight of you in Lycra.’ Al fanned himself. ‘Not sure I can cope.’
As Siena sipped her tea, she smiled. This was enough. For the time being. Until she saw Jason again. He’d not been at the house when she’d slipped in to pack up her stuff. It had been tempting to leave him a note but she’d assumed he’d be coming in to work and she’d see him then. It would be easier to talk face-to-face except, he hadn’t turned up. And sh
e didn’t have her phone. So where was he? Sulking? That didn’t seem like Jason but not even Will had heard from him, even after he’d phoned Jason’s mobile to let him know Siena was safe.
Maybe he’d changed his mind and gone home for Christmas after all.
She knew he’d worry, or rather she thought she knew. There’d been no word from him. So maybe he didn’t care. And she was. Not. Going. To. Think. About. Him.
The others had all been remarkably restrained about asking about him.
‘Right, what’s next?’ asked Lisa.
‘Bathroom. Fifty million spiders have taken up residence in there.’
Al rolled his sleeves up. ‘I’m your man. Marcus is terrified of the wee beasties.’
Marcus nodded, slightly shame-faced.
Lisa rolled her eyes. ‘But you’re ten feet tall …’
By the end of the day, after a Chinese take-away which Lisa had gone to collect, several bottles of beer had been drunk and everything had been tidied away, Marcus and Al said their goodbyes. Lisa curled her legs into the corner of the sofa and looked at the lamp-lit lounge.
‘We’ve done a good job.’
Siena smiled. ‘Yeah, it looks really homely. Thanks so much. I couldn’t have done it without your help.’
Lisa leaned over and gave her hug. ‘My pleasure. I had a great day. I hope you’ll be happy here.’ She paused. ‘Are you going to tell me what happened with Jason?’
Siena pasted a bright expression on her face. ‘It ran its course. It was only temporary. We never made any commitment to each other.’
Lisa raised a disbelieving eyebrow and tucked her legs in tighter. ‘Pull the other one, it’s got bells on.’
‘Seriously. We said at the start. We agreed.’ Siena tried not to let the memory of their last conversation back into her head. She’d revisited the words too many times already.
‘Everyone says that kind of crap at the beginning. It’s like a get-out clause in case it goes wrong. Nothing went wrong with you and Jason, not as far as I could see. Claire gave up pretty quickly when she saw the way he looked at you. And she’d been as tenacious as a tic before that. ’
‘He’s all hers now.’
‘You don’t mean that. I can tell. You two were good together. He’d even started smiling again.’
Siena shrugged, feeling the lump in her throat lodge fast. She could think of plenty of times he’d smiled at her. The dopey grin when he woke in the mornings when his sleepy eyes focused on her.
‘Jason doesn’t need any responsibilities at the moment. He has the brewery, he doesn’t have room for anything else.’
‘Is that what he said, the bastard?’
‘He didn’t have to. Don’t worry, I’m going to be fine.’
‘You will. Look at what you’ve achieved since you’ve come to England. You’ve really established yourself. It feels like we’ve been friends forever and you’ve always been here. The fashion thing could be great.’
‘Yes, I phoned Ruth back. She suggested I do a part-time course on Fashion, Media and Communication, given all my contacts in Paris. And the manager at the Milton Keynes store wants me to do a monthly slot and will pay me for the day. And the journalist who did a piece on it has asked if I might do a regular column.’
‘And we’re going to do a pop up stall,’ added Lisa. ‘Are you sure you’ve got time to work here?’
‘I need to, I’ve swapped my wages in lieu of rent.’
‘Yeah, Will doesn’t do charity.’
‘Actually, he did offer but I refused.’
‘I know he can be nice.’ Lisa’s head dipped. ‘One day I’ll tell you but it’s still a bit too raw.’ Siena scooted along the sofa and gave her a hug. Lisa’s ribs moved as she let out a long soft sigh.
‘No hurry.’
Siena took a deep breath and looked around the room, a quiet sense of satisfaction settling. Such a lot had happened in the space of a few short weeks, since that panicked flight from Paris. A warm glow burned inside her. This was living and she was doing it on her terms.
‘And Nanna and me would love it if you came for Christmas Day. I’m sure my aunt and cousins wouldn’t mind. You might have to kip on the floor but we can squeeze you in.’
‘That’s really kind of you but I’m going to work. We’re open for drinks and nibbles. Regulars only. It’s double time. Marcus says the tips are great and it’ll be fun. Afterwards, we’ll have Christmas dinner in the dining room.’
Even though she’d be on her own waking up on Christmas morning, she was really looking forward to it, already planning to buy in her favourite goodies for breakfast and treat herself to a bottle of champagne. She couldn’t wait to give her presents to Will, Al and Marcus or see the Elmsleys and other regulars on Christmas Day in the pub. It would be a wonderful Christmas.
‘We’re nearly there.’
Harry’s voice roused him from the doze induced by gentle motion of the car. With its leather seats and smooth suspension, it was a hell of a far cry from the Land Rover. His heart started pumping. Siena. He’d stopped worrying about what he was going to say. Kissing the living daylights out of her would be enough to start with. Then he’d tell her he was an idiot, which no doubt she’d agree with.
Once Harry had stopped throttling him and let Jason explain that he was looking for Siena, the older man had swung into action, the rugby matched abandoned. It had been a long journey across France, first class all the way, requiring a chauffeur driven car from the stadium to the Gare de Lyon, a two hour train trip across France and now another chauffeur to the Chateau. They’d done a lot of talking and Harry’s face had become grimmer and grimmer.
A slow, long turn and the car wheels crunched on gravel.
Holy hell. Jason swallowed. This was where Siena lived? The apartment in Paris had been swanky, but this was something else. Stone lions flanked the doors on either side of a flight of stairs in pale stone. Jeez, this place was enormous.
Harry didn’t wait for the chauffeur to open the car door, he was halfway out even before the car stopped. ‘Come!’ he called over his shoulder.
Jason followed as Harry took the steps two at a time.
‘Celeste? Celeste!’
Harry barged past a startled looking butler. ‘Où est ma femme?’
Jason followed and stopped. Two staircases on either side of the entrance hall, bordered with an elaborate tracery of wrought iron and gilt, curved up to meet each other. To the left a twenty foot Christmas tree almost touched the top of the domed ceiling. Blue and silver glass baubles criss-crossed the fir branches in a perfect symmetry of cold uniformity, nothing like Siena’s cheery, glittery pine cones haphazardly cosying up with tiny white fairy lights.
‘Darling, qu’est-ce il y a?’ Immaculate as before, Siena’s mother tapped down the marble tiled floor from a side room. She shot Jason a questioning glance, but maintained her calm expression.
Harry let loose a flood of French from which Jason could pick out Siena’s name.
Celeste shook her head as Harry grasped her elbows and responded in sharp, staccato sentences. The smooth lines of her face creased and she flashed an unfriendly scowl towards Jason, tossing her head in angry denial and a torrent of fierce words.
‘Excuse me.’ Jason pushed between the couple. ‘Is she here?’
Celeste’s lips firmed in a mutinous line, her cheekbones flushed with a line of red. Harry slipped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. Celeste softened and she opened her mouth to say, ‘No, she isn’t. Yves was supposed to bring her home. He said she refused to come.’
‘No, that’s not right. She left with him. I rang her phone. She’s in France.’ If she wasn’t, where the hell was she? ‘Yves must be lying.’
‘Yves comes from a very good family. He came by this morning. To return Siena’s phone.’ Celeste drew herself up. ‘I hope that you’re pleased with yourself, young man. You’ve ruined her chances. What can you offer her? He has a long and illustrious lineag
e, impeccable pedigree.’ She looked down her nose, making it clear that she considered him to be no more than a jumped up mangy mongrel.
‘That includes a history of wife beating?’ snarled Jason.
Celeste looked up at Harry, her expression slipping.
Harry shook his head. ‘I’m afraid Yves has perhaps not behaved as he should.’
Her face paled, her hands clenching into tiny fists. With a small incline of her head, her eyes flitted to where the butler stood. ‘Perhaps we should take this into the drawing room. Jackson, can we have some tea please?’
Sitting in the drawing room was like taking tea in a doll’s house. The spindly chairs just about allowed you to perch on them and the ornate occasional tables were more like well-placed trip hazards. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be able to arrange his long rangy limbs to manage the elegant terrain.
The conversation had been equally uncomfortable, but Celeste had finally agreed to détente, if not cordiale, after which she swept out of the room, reminding them that dinner would be at seven.
‘I think we’re finished here,’ said Harry. ‘It would appear Siena is still in England.’
‘Yes.’ Jason sighed. ‘I need to get back.’
‘I will see to travel arrangements for you tomorrow. There’s a train back to Paris. The chauffeur can drop you at the station in the morning.’
‘Thank you. And sorry for the wild goose chase.’ Jason nodded at Siena’s phone on the table.
‘Don’t apologise. I’m sorry that you had to be the one to tell me what has been going on. I will be calling on Yves tomorrow.’
Jason wasn’t fooled by his calm delivery. ‘I’d like to come with you.’
‘That won’t be necessary.’ Implacable steel flashed in Harry’s eyes and Jason knew better than to argue. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to delay your return.’
‘No.’ Jason gave a rueful smile. He’d wasted a lot of time with Siena because he’d gone charging off, but he’d got Yves off her back for good. So something had come of it.
‘Would you like a drink?’ asked Harry, rising from one of the silk and wood chairs. ‘In my study? It’s a little more,’ he glanced around the room, his expression not giving anything away, ‘masculine. There’s a game of rugby I’d like to catch up on.’
