Page 31 of A French Affair
‘Why?’
‘That would be his ancestral home. The Kergoëts owned it for a couple of centuries, but eventually it passed out of the family before falling into disrepair. The council own it now.’
Fern took the country-style baguette she’d put to warm in the oven and cut it into chunks to go with the asparagus and pea soup she had put to gently heat on the stove. She carried the plate of cold meats and the cheeseboard with Cantal, brie and a Roquefort out onto the table at the end of the terrace. More than enough food for three people, she thought, especially with the soup, bread and salads. And the special cake she’d made to go with coffee. Plates, cutlery and wine glasses were next before she opened the wine, a bottle each of white and red. She pulled the corks absently, thinking about Scott. That day in the park, he’d told her he was retired but hadn’t mentioned a wife or a family. No doubt Anouk would have obtained that information from him by the end of lunch. Not that it was any of their business of course but Fern couldn’t help wondering.
Fern turned as Scott came from the kitchen carrying the basket of bread and the mozzarella salad. ‘Gosh, what a spread. Anouk said the soup is ready to serve.’
‘Thanks. Help yourself to a glass of wine,’ and Fern went back to the kitchen.
A few minutes later, the three of them were tucking into their lunch. As she finished her soup, Anouk said, ‘Where is it you live in America, Scott?’
‘New York. There’s a vibrant Breton community there, you’ll be surprised to hear. They’re all eager for news about the old country from me.’
‘Anyone in particular? Like a wife? Children?’ Anouk asked the question while Fern was dithering about voicing it. She collected the empty soup plates and placed them on the small serving table to the left of her chair.
‘I’ve been a widower for longer than I care to remember,’ Scott answered quietly. ‘And, no, I don’t have any children. We lost our little boy in an accident when he was four. My wife couldn’t bear the thought of ever losing another child, so…’ he shrugged. ‘I have cousins, a few godchildren and a couple of aunts and uncles.’
Anouk reached out a hand and squeezed his arm. ‘Desolé. So sad for you and your poor wife.’
‘I really don’t know how anyone gets over something like that,’ Fern said. In the silence that followed, she gave Scott a sympathetic smile before excusing herself and taking the soup bowls into the kitchen. She set the oven temperature at 100 degrees and switched it on ready to heat through the Kouign-amann cake she’d made.
Glancing out of the kitchen window, she saw Anouk laugh at something Scott had said. It was the first time really since Laurent’s death that Fern had seen Anouk so animated, her eyes were bright and her whole persona seemed to be charged with new energy. Anouk, Fern realised, had hidden her loneliness from everyone over the past months. Looking at her now, Fern smiled to herself. She was definitely doing the right thing inviting Anouk to move in with her.
Fern was relieved to find the conversation had changed when she went back outside. Scott had clearly asked a question or two of his own and Anouk was telling him about her life. Conversation flowed easily throughout lunch between the three of them and there was a lot of laughter.
When Fern placed the warm Kouign-amann on the table to accompany coffee, Scott looked at her. ‘Is that what I suspect? Heart attack on a plate?’
‘You can call it that. I call it a traditional Breton cake made with local butter, lots of it. I only make one on special occasions, like Easter. I will cut small slices, but if you’re worried about it not being good for you and prefer not to have a slice, that’s fine.’
‘You joshing me? My grandmother used to make it once in a blue moon and I was always begging her to make it more often.’ Scott picked up a plate and held it out. ‘Thank you.’
‘I hope it matches up to your memories of your grandmother’s cake,’ Fern said, as she cut small slices for everyone. This cake was not one to indulge in large portions.
Scott ate his slice before looking up at the sky. ‘Sorry, Granny, but I’ve just eaten the best Kouign-amann I have ever had. And it was made by a wonderful English cook.’
Fern laughed, feeling ridiculously pleased at his words.
Shortly afterwards when Fern started to clear the table, Anouk stood up ready to help.
‘I think I’ll go for my afternoon nap after this,’ she said, taking her stick in one hand and an empty plate in the other.
Scott gently took the plate from her. ‘Why don’t you go now and I’ll help Fern?’
‘Maybe I will,’ and Anouk let Scott take the plate out of her hand before walking into the house.
Fern watched her go anxiously before turning to Scott. ‘You really don’t have to help clear things. It won’t take me ten minutes.’
Scott ignored her words and started to clear up. ‘Take the two of us five minutes then. Do you have plans for the rest of the afternoon?’
‘Walking Lady and, later, cooking dinner,’ Fern answered, following him into the kitchen with empty plates.
‘May I join you and Lady?’ Scott asked.
‘Of course,’ Fern answered. ‘Give me ten minutes to change and to tell Anouk and I’ll give you a walking tour of the immediate area.’
21
Anouk was asleep when Fern went to tell her she was walking Lady with Scott, so she quickly scribbled a note and left it on the bedside table where Anouk would see it when she awoke.
