Page 42 of A French Affair
The happier Alain of last evening had definitely disappeared.
When Marie turned up for work after lunch, Belinda saved everything on the website she’d been working on and returned to the cottage to work. Thankfully there was no sign of Alain. It was late afternoon before she remembered to phone Fern and tell her she was back.
‘You’re here,’ a delighted Fern said. ‘When did you get back? How was it?’
‘Last night. There were one or two unexpected changes, but on the whole it was okay. We need a catch-up. Fancy coming here tonight for a glass of wine. Or do you have guests?’
‘No guests, but Anouk and Scott are here. I could come after dinner. They’re quite happy to spend time together. You wouldn’t believe how competitive they get over a game of scrabble,’ Fern said, trying to organise her thoughts.
‘Excuse me? I’m away for two weeks and you not only move your ex ma-in-law in but a new man as well. This Scott, he’s the American you met a few weeks ago, isn’t he? And now he’s living with you?’
‘Yes that Scott, but he’s not living with me. Well, he is, but he’s a paying guest. I’ll explain when I see you. He’ll be leaving soon anyway. Would you like to come here for supper?’ Fern asked.
‘Another night would be lovely. I can meet Anouk and check out your Scott then. Tonight, I need to talk to you alone and ask your advice.’
‘Right. I’ll do an early dinner and see you about eight, okay?’
‘Perfect. Bring Lady too. And, Fern? Thanks.’
29
Belinda opened the door of the cottage as she heard Fern drive up and went out with BB to greet her and to let the two dogs have a play before they went indoors.
‘This place is starting to look smart again. Love the coloured lights at the foot of the trees,’ Fern said as she looked at the cut-back shrubs and the newly planted flower beds by the office and the cottage. ‘Can I smell a barbecue? I can definitely hear someone strumming a guitar.’ She handed Belinda a plastic box.
‘What’s this?’
‘Cantucci biscuits I made this afternoon. Delicious dunked in wine. Should be white wine, but I personally prefer red – which you have?’
‘I do,’ Belinda said, leading Fern inside and tipping the biscuits onto a plate. ‘It’s in the sitting room. I opened it earlier to let it breathe.’
‘Is Alain here tonight?’
‘He left a message with Marie for me. He’s gone over to check up on his parents. Said he’d be back about ten, so we’ve got the place to ourselves until then. Come on, let’s make ourselves comfortable,’ and she ushered Fern into the sitting room.
‘So how come you’re back so quickly?’ Fern asked as Belinda poured wine into two glasses.
‘Nigel has sold one of the hotels, he’s managing another, and the third isn’t really busy at this time of year, so it made sense for me to come back and help Alain with the final things to get this place up to scratch for the summer. And…’ Belinda paused. ‘There is something I’ve decided I need to do, so I’m quite pleased it worked out like this.’ She handed a glass to Fern. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers.’
‘But first, tell me all about your Scott.’
‘I told you he’s not my Scott.’ Fern swirled her wine around in the glass reflectively. ‘Anouk adores him. He’s really nice. But…’
‘But?’
‘He’s American and that’s where his life is, so there is little point in being anything other than friends.’
‘He might be happy to relocate to Europe,’ Belinda said. ‘Didn’t you say his family are originally from here? Maybe he feels at home here, a pull of the old country.’
Fern shrugged. ‘I don’t think so. Anyway, we’ve not known each other long and I’m not sure whether I’m completely over Laurent, so…’ She took a swig of her drink. ‘What was it you wanted to talk about?’
‘Two things. Let’s get the first one out of the way.’ Belinda took a deep breath and looked at her friend. ‘I finally went through some papers of my mum’s. Some of them are in that envelope on the coffee table.’ She pointed out the envelope to Fern. ‘Have a look through them, will you, and tell me what’s in there.’
Puzzled, Fern looked at her before she reached out for the envelope and emptied its contents onto the table. ‘Birth certificates. Marriage certificates. Death certificates. A decrees nisi. Two old Passports. Normal family official papers.’
‘Agreed,’ Belinda said. ‘You remember my mum left my dad because he had an affair?’ As she spoke, she sorted the marriage certificates into one pile, the birth certificates into a second and the decree nisi into another.
