Page 10 of Summer at the Château
‘Fancy a wander down to the lake?’ she said, standing up. ‘It’s right on the edge of my land – the château land,’ she corrected herself hastily. It wouldn’t be hers for long, no point in claiming ownership. ‘We’ll clear the table afterwards.’
Together they walked past the two small barns and a lean-to without bothering to glance inside and wandered along a gravel pathway that led them down to the lake. Lots of rhododendron bushes and azalea shrubs had been planted in a haphazard manner in the grounds and some were already showing signs of flowering.
‘These are going to be glorious in just a few weeks,’ Pixie said, stopping to look and smell a particularly vibrant red-flowered azalea. ‘I hadn’t realised there were so many shrubs and trees.’
Near the lake, oak and beech trees that formed a small copse around it were starting to bud up with new leaves, and dotted around the surrounding land were large swathes of daffodils. The undergrowth of the hedge thirty metres away that formed the boundary between the château land and the surrounding fields was dotted with primroses. A wooden bench was tucked under the shelter of a large willow tree planted near the lake and by mutual unspoken consent Pixie and Gwen walked over to it and sat down.
Sitting there, the lake in front of them with the occasional fish movement rippling the surface, the château back in the distance with the glass of the dilapidated orangery twinkling in the sunlight, pigeons high up in the branches of several trees cooing softly, Pixie closed her eyes and let the peace of the surroundings engulf her. Idyllic was the word that summed it up. She remembered sitting on this bench with Frank the day they’d decided to buy the château. They’d sat there in silence for several moments, both happily lost in their own thoughts, delighting in the prospect of living in this gorgeous setting sometime in the future. Not imagining for one moment that all their dreams and plans would never come to fruition.
Pixie stifled a sigh. No good brooding. Life was what it was.
She opened her eyes and glanced at Gwen. ‘I’m going to pick some daffs. Fancy a bunch for your bedroom?’
‘Please. I’ll give you a hand.’
Half an hour later, walking back, both of them carrying a bundle of daffodils, Pixie took a quick look in the barns. One housed a sit-on lawnmower, a stack of logs, a large granite trough and bundles of willow reeds of various lengths all in various stages of drying.
‘I wonder who uses the sit-on lawnmower. The grass is certainly well maintained,’ she said thoughtfully. The doors on the other, larger barn were closed and padlocked.
‘Mmm, interesting. Another puzzle.’ She sighed as she turned away. ‘I wonder what secrets are locked in there.’
8
Easter Saturday and Pixie drove them into Carhaix for a wander around the large weekly market. The market was the usual mixture of stalls, with local food producers – vegetables, cheese, charcuterie, bread – mixed in with plant sellers, clothing stalls, shoes, hardware, jewellery. The enticing smell of chicken roasting on a large rotisserie with sauté potatoes cooking in the tray underneath wafted over from one of the food vendors on the circumference of the market. Crêpes and galettes were also on offer, including the famous Breton sausage galette. Sweet tooths were catered for with pain au chocolate croissants and cupcakes on sale along with coffee from a mobile catering van.
Pixie and Gwen wandered around for some time simply enjoying the ‘Frenchness’ of the atmosphere, before returning to a couple of the food and vegetable stalls they’d seen earlier. They both enjoyed sampling some local cheese and charcuterie before buying some of each for lunch. The stallholder laughed at them when they both refused to be tempted by the offer of a slice of the infamous andouille sausage as they bought a roll of stuffed pork, some sausages and a leg of lamb for a traditional Easter Sunday lunch.
The cafes around the marketplace were busy and they decided to stop for a coffee in the village cafe on their way back to the château instead. Which proved to be easier said than done when they got there. A young couple had earlier been married in the mairie and now crowds of people were jostling around in the street, taking photographs and throwing confetti.
Pixie pulled to a halt in front of the local shop and she and Gwen got out and joined the happy crowd. A loud klaxon announced the approach of an old tractor, painted in bright red, white and blue stripes and decorated with flowers and balloons, that was slowly making its way through the village. The trailer behind it had a flowered arch with ribbons blowing gently in the breeze, and a bench placed underneath it on a bed of straw. Pixie and Gwen watched it come to a halt and the driver cut the engine, before jumping down and lowering the back tailboard of the trailer, which converted into two shallow steps.
The driver clapped his hands. ‘C’est prêt – allons-y.’
Holding hands, the groom and bride stepped carefully into the trailer and settled themselves on the bench, followed by four tiny bridesmaids, who sat on the straw at their feet. The driver clipped the tailboard back into place before climbing onto the tractor, sounding the klaxon and moving off. Wedding guests started getting into their own cars and a procession was soon following the tractor out of the village, all sounding their horns to accompany the klaxon, which was blaring non-stop.
As the crowd thinned, and the cacophony of noise moved off in to the distance, Pixie saw Fern walking slowly towards them, accompanied by an elderly lady.
‘Hi. Don’t you just love a wedding?’ Fern said. ‘Maria is a local farmer’s daughter, hence the different bridal transport. I don’t think you met Anouk, my first and only mother-in-law, the other evening, did you?’ And she quickly introduced them, explaining that Anouk had been her first husband Laurent’s mother, who now lived with her and Scott.
‘We thought we’d have a coffee here, will you join us?’ Gwen asked, gesturing at the village cafe.
‘Sounds like a lovely idea, but I’m sorry, I have to get back to the auberge to meet some guests who are due to check in. Another time maybe?’ Fern said.
‘Why don’t you both come up to the château Monday morning,’ Pixie suggested impulsively. ‘Bring your husband, too.’
‘We’d like that. Any chance you’d give us a tour? None of us have ever been inside.’
‘Of course. Eleven o’clock all right?’
‘Perfect. I’ll bring cake,’ Fern smiled.
As Fern and Anouk left them, Pixie turned to Gwen.
‘Let’s forget about coffee here and have it back on our terrace.’
They spent the rest of the day happily pottering around the château and eating both lunch and supper out on the terrace. After supper they sat enjoying a red wine nightcap and looking up at the bright stars appearing in a sky untroubled by light pollution, but the chill in the air reminded them it was still not summer. Before the cooler air drove them indoors, they were treated to a spectacular aeronautical show by a group of bats busy flitting between the trees and the roof of the château.
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