Page 35 of A French Affair
Belinda, knowing what her friend really wanted to ask was ‘is he hot?’, which would be followed by ‘do you fancy him?’, deliberately kept her answer work-related. ‘Divorced. He’s a hard worker and has decided views on things. Got that typical male French attitude, you know the type.’
‘Are you telling me he’s all moody Serge Gainsbourg and Gauloises cigarettes?’
‘I’ve never seen him smoke, but yes,’ Belinda nodded thoughtfully. ‘Now you mention it, that sums him up perfectly.’ Seeing the speculative glint in her friend’s eyes and not wanting to discuss Alain any more, she changed the subject back to Jane. ‘So how was the weekend really?’
‘It was mainly good. The grandkids were full on as usual and you know how my beloved mother-in-law tuts when she thinks the kids are out of control. Well, let’s just say she did a lot of tutting this weekend and I ended up as peacekeeper. My daughter owes me big time.’ Jane took a sip of her drink. ‘And don’t think I didn’t notice what you did then. We haven’t finished talking about Alain or the campsite. I need to know more, especially as Brett and I are still planning on being one of your first visitors. I loved the camping holidays my parents organised when I was a child.’
‘I need to talk to you about that,’ Belinda said. ‘I’m not sure if Nigel is sending me back, so if you do go over, I might not be there. And, to be honest, I’m not sure it’s Brett’s scene, or yours come to that, these days,’ Belinda said. ‘It’s being dragged into the twenty-first century, but in May it will still be pretty basic. The cabins do have their own bathrooms, so you’ll at least be spared the shower block. Maybe wait until one of the new glamping pods is installed? Although, as they’re not even on order yet, that could be late summer.’
Jane shook her head. ‘No, I want a nostalgic, old-fashioned camping experience. I want to see it before the place is totally transformed so that when I go back for a posh glamping holiday next time, I can make comparisons. Have to admit though, it won’t be the same if you’re not there.’
Belinda swirled the wine around in her glass at Jane’s words. Would she even be going back to help to Alain? And afterwards, when the site was up and running, would Nigel want her to do a yearly visit to keep an eye on things for him? Although he had said he and Molly were looking forward to visiting when the site was ready, so maybe they would do the necessary checks themselves. If they sold the hotels though, would they keep the campsite? All questions she resolved to ask Nigel and Molly in the near future.
Draining her glass of wine, she picked up the bottle and proffered it to Jane. ‘Top-up?’
Jane nodded and held out her glass.
‘Well, if the site is too basic for you in May, I’m sure Fern would find you a room at the auberge I stayed in,’ Belinda said as she topped up both glasses.
Jane left at ten and Belinda went down in the lift with her to give BB a last walk along the embankment. There was still a chill in the evening air, spring might have arrived, but night-time temperatures were still on the cold side. Belinda shivered as she stood looking out over the gently flowing river. Surely the Brittany evenings had been warmer than this before she left?
Alain had seemed upbeat and pleased with the way things had gone over there when she’d spoken to him earlier. Although she would have liked more detail. Had the weather been kind, had the shop been busy, had the campers been friendly, had… Oh, the list was endless. She was surprised at how involved she’d become with the place in the short time she’d been there.
With a start, she realised she was missing Brittany. The weeks there had passed quickly with all the work, whilst here, yes she’d been busy over the holiday weekend, but with Nigel looking after things at the Torquay hotel, it had been less frantic than previous years.
Standing there, her conversation yesterday with Chloe flitted into her mind. It was true she had never talked to Chloe about Brittany; hadn’t deemed it necessary. What good would it do? It was in the past and didn’t affect Chloe’s life in any way. Why did she need to know about past unhappiness? On the other hand, it was part of their family history. Part of what had made Belinda who she was.
Maybe she’d been wrong to stay silent like her mum, but it had been the easy way out. If people didn’t know, they couldn’t judge. But that deathbed promise her mother had extracted from her – did that mean she’d lived her life feeling guilty over things? Or simply that she wanted Belinda to know the truth?
Belinda gave a small groan. How was she going to find the truth all these years later? She glanced up at the hotel building as she turned to walk back and remembered the box in the cupboard. Perhaps that would hold clues? She quickened her pace. Tonight was the night she’d finally go through the box and examine its contents properly.
Once upstairs, Belinda quickly cleared the debris of the evening away and poured herself the last of the wine before opening the cupboard and dragging the box out. Settling down on the floor alongside it, she lifted the lid off and began to take things out.
An hour later, she was stiff, barely able to move and surrounded by small piles of stuff. A pile to throw away consisting mainly of old utility bills, out-of-date passports (hers and her mum’s), old batteries and several old-fashioned Valentine cards. There was another pile of envelopes containing black-and-white photos. Belinda had spent some time looking through these and had pulled out one of her mami to frame and place on her bedside table. There was a small (very small) pile of home-made cards from her to her mum – birthday, mothering Sunday, Christmas, stretching over about five years. She was touched that her mum had kept those, but she didn’t need to keep them, they were destined for the bin. Her school reports and her Baccalauréat certificate were at the very bottom of the box under a large brown envelope with a lot of official papers.
Belinda put the last envelope to one side while she struggled to her feet and began to tidy up a bit. She’d sit on the settee to go through the final envelope once she’d put all the things to keep back in the box.
She was too tired to do more than a cursory look through of the contents of the envelope before she went to bed. It was full of family birth, marriage and death certificates. A real find if she’d been researching family history. And that was it. The box was empty. It hadn’t been hoarding incriminating papers, or the diary that Belinda had secretly been hoping she’d find. A diary that would hold the key to her mother’s life all those years ago.
She glanced at her watch, nearly midnight. Better go to bed and get some sleep or she’d be fit for nothing at work tomorrow.
But sleep wouldn’t come and she tossed and turned for hours until at nearly four o’clock she found herself sitting bolt upright.
Two vitally important things were missing from amongst everything in the box. Two things that would begin to, if not explain everything, at least give her a starting point. But for that she needed to return to Brittany.
24
Tuesday morning and life was almost back to normal in the auberge. The guests had checked out and Fern had left Anouk and Scott chatting over breakfast on the terrace while she made a start on her after-guests routine of changing linen, cleaning bathrooms and vacuuming everywhere.
The weekend had been so good. Saturday and Sunday had been full of fun, laughter and food, so much food! And yesterday Scott had driven them down to Pont-Aven as he’d promised and they’d had a leisurely walk along the river there and then lunch in the hotel overlooking the estuary. The sun had shone, the tide had been in and, all in all, it had been a wonderful day.
Fern pushed the thought of how much she was going to miss Scott when he left out of her mind. Hopefully organising Anouk to move in with her would keep her busy. Not that Anouk had told her yet what she had decided. Fern was driving her home after lunch and would press her for a decision then. She hoped Anouk’s decision would be the one she was praying for.
Anouk was quiet as Fern helped her into the car after she’d said goodbye to Scott, who’d unexpectedly given Anouk a hug before walking her out to the car. Fern had packed up some food into a basket for Anouk to take home with her, not a lot but enough for a day or two, and placed it in the car. Scott had said he’d walk Lady and then spend time in the garden and read until she returned. Driving away, it was a strange feeling to see Scott standing in front of the auberge waving goodbye.
Anouk waved back. ‘Such a nice man,’ she said. ‘A kind man too.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Fern answered, concentrating on her driving and wondering how to broach the subject of moving. In the end, she decided to ask the question outright, but Anouk spoke first.
