Page 18 of A French Affair
‘Alain out on the site?’ Hervé asked.
‘No. Was he expecting you?’
‘I said I’d pop in sometime to discuss something with him. Any idea when he’ll be here?’
Belinda shook her head. ‘Afraid not. Was it something to do with the campsite you wanted to discuss or something personal? If it’s about the site, maybe I can help.’
‘Has Alain employed you to help run the place?’ Hervé asked.
Belinda gave him a ‘we’re not amused by that remark’ look straight out of her French grandmother’s repertoire. ‘Alain and I are joint managers for the new owners. So, is it business or personal? If it’s personal, then I’m sorry I can’t help, so I’ll say goodbye.’ Her voice sounded sharper than she intended, but she needed to dispel the man’s notion that Alain was in charge here and that she was merely his employee.
‘Desolé. I didn’t realise,’ Hervé apologised. ‘It’s about the vide-grenier we’ve held here in the past in aid of a few of the local charities. Hoping that we can have one again this year now that Alain is back… now that the place is up and running again,’ he amended hastily.
Belinda, having been to many a vide-grenier in the past, knew that they were France’s equivalent of a car boot sale.
‘We?’ she queried.
‘Yann’s Gang. The bar in the village?’ Hervé added by way of explanation. ‘A few of us help him organise a couple of things throughout the year – a village run, lotto night, music evenings, the vide-grenier, that kind of thing, all in aid of charity.’
Belinda opened the computer diary. ‘I’m sure we can help, but I’m going to need more information. Presumably people pay you for a pitch? Do you pay us for the use of the site? Or is it regarded as a charitable contribution from us? How many stallholders usually? That sort of thing.’ She paused. ‘Do you have a date in mind?’
‘First Sunday in May. Ten o’clock until six.’
‘How many people usually come? And, this is a crucial question, how disruptive is it likely to be to holidaymakers staying on site? I’ll provisionally pencil the date in, but I need you to come back with answers to my questions – and anything else you think we need to be aware of – before we agree. It’s early in the season and I have to warn you that there may well be renovation work still going on around the place.’ Belinda glanced across at Hervé and was surprised to find him staring at her, a look of amazement on his face. ‘What? Why are you looking at me like that?’
‘Are you always like this? Efficiently bossy?’ The words were accompanied by a smile that somehow took any suggestion of criticism away. Despite herself, Belinda smiled back at him.
‘In a word, yes, I’m afraid I am. I try to anticipate problems and prevent them happening.’
‘Will you please come and work for me?’
Belinda laughed. ‘No. Once this place is up and running, I shall happily return to my normal job in the UK.’
Hervé looked disappointed for a second. ‘Mais, you are here for a few weeks yet? Peut-être you and I—’
Belinda held up her hand and cut him off in mid-sentence, anticipating what he was about to say. ‘I’ll certainly be here long enough for you to give me the answers to the questions I’ve asked you and a decision to be taken about the vide-grenier,’ she said, her voice cool and her face emotionless as she stared at him. As attractive as Hervé Bois might be, she had no intention of having anything but a business relationship with him. She could count on the fingers of one hand the number of men she’d dated since her divorce and she wasn’t about to add to them with Hervé. A relationship was the last thing she needed.
He returned her stare before giving a slight nod. ‘Okay. I’ll see you later in the week with the answers you need. Merci. Au revoir.’
‘If you let us know when you’re coming, I’ll make sure Alain is here too,’ Belinda said as he opened the door. ‘Au revoir,’ she added, but the door had already closed behind him.
Hearing voices and car doors slamming as the workers left for lunch, Belinda realised the time.
Alain still hadn’t shown up when Belinda locked up that evening and returned to the auberge. Fern made her a cup of tea and pushed a plate of shortbread biscuits towards her.
‘What’s up?’
‘Alain’s not returned and I don’t know what to do about it,’ Belinda said. ‘I can’t even phone him as he’s never given me his mobile number.’ She made a mental note to insist when he got back that he gave it to her. ‘I can’t phone Nigel to ask if he’s been in touch, as I suspect Nigel doesn’t know he’s taking time off for personal reasons.’
‘Maybe the weather has delayed the ferry? And don’t forget, there’s still the “gilets jaunes” blocking roads and holding things up without warning. I’m sure he’ll turn up for work tomorrow.’
‘Hope you’re right.’ Belinda swallowed a bite of her biscuit. ‘I met someone called Hervé Bois this morning. Wants to organise a vide-grenier on the campsite. Do you know him?’
‘He was a friend of Laurent’s.’ Fern looked at Belinda. ‘I’ve met him a few times. Divorced. Two grown-up daughters. Successful businessman. He’s good company.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ Belinda admitted.
‘He does have a bit of a reputation as a ladies’ man so not a long-term prospect but could be fun while you’re over here,’ Fern said thoughtfully.
