Page 14 of Summer at the Château
Gwen sat there, her tea cold in its cup, deep in thought, trying to figure out how she could subtly nudge Pixie into changing her mind and not be guilty of interfering. Even as she acknowledged to herself that whatever she did, Pixie would regard it as interfering, she was still determined to try. The question was how? Maybe the direct approach would work best, as long as she was ready to backtrack if Pixie got annoyed with her. If nothing else, it might make Pixie have second thoughts, which would be a good thing.
* * *
Some hours later, as Gwen put cutlery and crockery out on the table and wondered about interrupting her daughter, Pixie wandered into the kitchen, stretching her arms above her head. ‘Gosh is that the time? Six o’clock. I’m starving now and I bet you are too.’
Gwen nodded and picked up a bottle of wine and two glasses. ‘Aperitif on the terrace while we wait for the pasta. I’m guessing you had a good writing session?’
‘Yes, I did.’ Pixie nodded.
‘I saw two deer down by the lake this afternoon. I hope you get to see them before we leave.’ Gwen took a sip of her drink before looking at her daughter. ‘One more day before we leave and I have to ask, are you still set on selling up because…’ she took a deep breath. ‘I think you should seriously reconsider about rushing in to it.’ She watched Pixie’s face, waiting for the inevitable cross reaction. ‘Perhaps even forget about selling at all,’ she added.
Pixie stared at her for several seconds, the silence between them heavy with foreboding, before Pixie gave a peal of laughter.
‘You know what, Mum, I think you’re a bit of a witch.’ She shook with laughter again at the look on Gwen’s face. ‘Keeping this place long-term is not an option, but I was intending to talk to you over supper about spending the summer here and waiting until the autumn to put the château on the market.’
‘You were?’
‘Yes.’ It was Pixie’s turn to watch her mother now. ‘How do you like the thought of spending the next four months here? Because there is no way I’m coming out here and leaving you alone in Devon. Either we both come for summer or I tell Jean-Yves Ropars to put the place on the market before we leave tomorrow.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about me coming too. Go and sit down, I’ll get the pasta,’ Gwen said, playing for some thinking time.
She took several minutes draining the pasta, tossing it with some herbs and butter before placing it in a warm bowl. By the time she joined Pixie out on the terrace to eat, she’d come to a decision, but she needed Pixie to answer a couple of questions before she told her yes or no.
‘Why the sudden desire to spend the summer here?’ Gwen asked.
Pixie didn’t answer immediately and Gwen waited for her to finish helping herself to slices of cold lamb and salad and to swallow a few mouthfuls.
‘Yesterday and today, for the first time since Frank died, I’ve been writing and I realised if anyone needed to go on retreat, it’s me. And I have the perfect place right here. If nothing else, summer here would be a complete break and rest before returning to the UK in the autumn and getting on with the rest of my life. But I meant it – if you don’t come too, I’ll forget the whole idea.’
‘You’re a strong woman and just because you’re now a widow,’ Gwen paused as Pixie flinched at the word. ‘It doesn’t mean you can’t do those things you dreamed of doing on your own. You could still work towards opening the château as a retreat and living here full-time – if you want to.’
‘Right now, Mum, there are two things I want to do. One is to write my next book and the second is to spend the summer here with you. Make some new happy memories. I thought Gus and Sarah might like to come over for a couple of weeks. Bring Charlie, even Annabelle and Harry and Mimi could come, if they wanted to. There’s plenty of room. Be a real family summer.’
Gwen nodded thoughtfully. ‘That would be good.’
‘Please say you’ll come. I know I’ll be busy writing for a few hours every day, but we can go out and about together, especially when the family are here. We can fit lots of fun in.’
‘And the woman living in the cottage? How is that going to affect you?’
‘Ah, the mysterious tenant.’ Pixie swallowed hard. ‘I know I’m going to have to meet her face to face, find out the truth. But as soon as that’s happened, I’ll tell her she has to find somewhere else. She’s nothing to do with me and she’s not my responsibility.’ Pixie picked up the bottle of wine and poured them both a small top up. ‘So are we coming back to spend the summer here or not? We’ve both got neighbours who will keep an eye on our houses, neither of us have pets to worry about, so there’s nothing to stop us, is there?’
‘You can be very stubborn,’ Gwen said.
Pixie smiled. ‘I learnt that on my mother’s knees. Come on, just agree we come, you know you want to.’
‘Okay, but I have one condition,’ Gwen said, twirling the wine around in her glass thoughtfully before looking up at Pixie. ‘You’re a grown woman who I’ve always thought had a compassionate nature. I’ve never seen you being nasty to anyone. I need you to promise me that you will be kind to the woman in the cottage when you meet her. You don’t know the circumstances of why she ended up living here, or why Frank didn’t tell you about her. Find out her story before you jump to any conclusions. Things aren’t always as clear-cut as they may seem. Frank was a good man and he loved you very much, that I know is true.’
Gwen watched the conflicting emotions flit across Pixie’s face before she drained her glass of wine. ‘I don’t know why you’re so bothered about a perfect stranger, but I promise I will do my best to, at least, be civil to her, okay?’
And with that Gwen had to be content.
10
After supper that evening, they’d talked about what needed to be organised on both sides of the Channel if they were to spend four months in France. They’d decided to leave behind all the things like bedding and clothes they’d brought with them on this visit, it would mean having to bring less at the end of the month. During this weekend they’d discovered that Monsieur Quiltu, as well as leaving the château furnished, had left an ancient washing machine and vacuum cleaner in the boot-cum-utility room, and there was even a television in one of the sitting rooms, not that they’d switched it on. So it was really a question of bringing over personal stuff – clothes and a few things to make it feel more like home – and organising an internet connection.
The dawn chorus woke Pixie early the next morning and she stayed in bed for some time listening to the birds and watching the sunrise through the tall unshuttered windows. The short holiday had gone in a flash, but, at least, if everything went according to plan, she’d be back in ten days and taking up residence for the summer. A thought that filled her with happiness.
Today, their last full day, would be a busy one. A visit to town, calling in and telling Fern about their summer plans on the way, a quick visit to the notaire to keep him informed of her plans, lunch in one of the restaurants in town to save buying and cooking more food (supper would be a salad baguette from the boulangerie and a glass of wine), and then back to spend their final afternoon and evening at the château.
