Page 34 of A French Affair
Fern stood up. ‘I must check lunch. Talk amongst yourselves for five minutes.’
Once she’d checked the roasties, and taken the lamb out to rest, Fern stood by the kitchen window looking out over the terrace. As she watched, Anouk threw back her head and laughed at something Scott had said. They seemed to be on the same wavelength for lots of things, no cultural or generation gap between them. Just a genuine friendship. Anouk had been pleased last night when Fabian had rung to wish her a Happy Easter and had had a naughty tone to her voice when she’d thanked him and said it was promising to be the best Easter for several years.
Indeed, this weekend was turning out to be different to the one Fern had planned for her and Anouk, but she wouldn’t change a thing. It was a long time since she’d had so much fun. And that was down to Scott, with his American go get ’em attitude, although it was clearly toned down these days. A polite version, Fern thought. He still oozed enthusiasm for life though and that all-American college-boy vibe that certain men carried off so well – Scott amongst them.
Fern smothered a sigh. It was good to have a new friend, even knowing that it could never be more than a long-distance friendship when he returned to America. She’d enjoy his company while he was here, and take comfort from the fact that technology united everyone these days at the press of a smartphone button wherever in the world they happened to be.
And tomorrow another fun-filled day beckoned. Scott was taking them both down to the historic and picturesque coastal town of Pont-Aven, famous for the presence of the artist Paul Gauguin back in the nineteenth century. Fern was looking forward to showing Scott around the town she’d always loved visiting with Laurent.
23
Early evening on Easter Monday, Belinda wearily stepped out of the lift that stopped on the floor below her flat, unlocked the door marked private and climbed the hidden flight of stairs that led to her flat. She’d forgotten what it was like to be so busy that she couldn’t even stop for a break. Being short-staffed for the last day of the holiday hadn’t been in the plan and she’d had to help out on reception and in the restaurant. She couldn’t kick her shoes off quickly enough and change from her work clothes into her PJs – or leisure suit, as the advert had called them when she’d ordered them online. Once that was done, she fed BB, poured a glass of wine and stepped out onto her little secret terrace outside the sitting room.
The terrace was one of her favourite things about the flat. Big enough for a small circular table and two chairs and a lilac tree that was budding up to blossom in the terracotta pot she’d placed in one corner, she had a wonderful view of the inner harbour and river, but she herself was so high up and set back from the front of the hotel as to be unseen by the ant-like people she could watch below walking on the quayside. With a sigh of relief, she sank onto a chair, took a sip of wine and glanced at her watch. Jane had sent a text earlier saying she was back after spending Easter with her family and would see her about eight o’clock.
Time to make a phone call, take a shower and generally relax before Jane arrived. She’d asked the kitchen to prepare a supper tray for two people – slices of quiche, a salad, and chocolate mousses – which Jane would collect on her way through the hotel and bring up. A bottle of chardonnay was already cold in the fridge.
Belinda picked up her mobile, but her finger hovered over pressing Alain’s number. Would he regard it as an intrusion if she phoned him? After all, this wasn’t an emergency. But they were working colleagues and she wanted to know how the Easter weekend had gone over in Camping dans La Fôret – whether there had even been any campers turn up. She’d worked hard to help get the place set up and she wanted to know about the first visitors. She didn’t need an excuse to phone him. Defiantly, she pressed the button and listened as the call rang out.
‘Bonjour, Belinda, you are missing me a little, mais non?’ Alain’s voice held a teasing note.
‘No, of course not,’ Belinda protested. ‘I was simply wondering how the weekend went. Did anyone turn up and stay after you’d explained about the lack of facilities?’
‘Half a dozen caravans and three camper vans. Two of the caravans are staying on for another week. No tents.’
‘How was Marie?’
‘Good. And Easter, it was good for you and the hotels?’
‘Usual mayhem, with the added problem of staff shortages thrown into the mix. I’ve only just finished today. At least it will quieten down tomorrow.’
‘Your daughter and the grandchildren? ’Ave you spent time with them?’
‘Yes.’ Belinda hesitated. She wanted to ask him more about the campsite: whether the weather had been good, whether things had gone smoothly or whether they had overlooked anything important, whether Bernie had been useful. But Alain was already winding up the conversation.
‘I ’ave to go. Everything, it goes like clockwork here, so no need for you to worry. Take care. Bye Bye.’
Belinda smiled at his heavily accented ‘Bye Bye’ as she echoed it. She’d phone one morning later in the week, maybe Alain would have more time then to chat and answer her questions.
Right, time to jump in the shower and get dressed.
* * *
The fairy lights Belinda had looped around the door frame outside on the terrace were twinkling and Belinda was putting glasses and cutlery out when Jane buzzed the door. She quickly ran down the stairs to let her in and to take the tray from her. Five minutes later, they were settled on the terrace and they both tucked into their supper.
‘Phew,’ Jane let out a deep breath, ‘I really envy you this little hideaway. I love my family dearly, but after three days of 24/7 with them, this is just what I need,’ Jane said. ‘Wine, food, just you and me. Perfect.’ She waved her fork in the air. ‘I bet you missed this view when you were in France.’
‘To be honest, I was too busy to have much time for views. My bedroom at the auberge I stayed in looked out over countryside and that was pretty lovely too.’
‘So how is the campsite?’
‘Pretty run-down and basic, but we’re slowly getting to grips with it. It’s going to be a rather special place, I think.’
‘We?’ Jane looked at her, eyebrows raised.
‘Alain who will be in charge when I return here permanently.’
‘What’s he like? Married?’
