Page 18 of Summer at the Château
Gently she put the brooch back in its bag and pulled the drawstrings tight. She’d take it to France and wear it while she was there. Perhaps it would act as a sort of good-luck talisman – not that she believed in things like that – and give her the courage to take the step she’d tried to take years ago and failed.
She slipped the bag into the elasticated pocket of the suitcase, alongside the address book. Maybe this summer she would talk to Pixie about the best summer of her life. She’d also do her damnedest to try to find out the truth about what had happened to make that long-ago summer come to such an abrupt end. Her twenty-year-old self deserved to know the truth even after all these years.
13
Justine took Ferdie to the école maternalle school before driving back into the village to meet her friend Carole for a quick chat in the cafe. Pushing open the cafe door, she smiled as she saw Carole already sitting at one of the tables, nursing a large hot chocolate.
Buying herself a hot chocolate at the bar, Justine carried her drink over to Carole and pulled a chair out. They’d slipped into a routine of meeting up here one morning a week during term time after they’d taken their children to their respective schools. Lola, Carole’s daughter, had recently moved up to the école elementary on the outskirts of the village, which meant there was no meeting up at the school gate in the mornings.
‘How’s things? Heard from your good “landlord” recently?’ Carole wriggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Justine smothered a sigh. She wished Carole would stop being so leery about her landlord. Almost from the moment the two of them had become friends and she’d told Carole she lived in the château’s cottage, she’d made innuendoes about her ‘good landlord’.
‘He brings you flowers and chocolates, he gives Ferdie presents. You mark my words, he’s not doing that out of the kindness of his heart. One day he’s going to expect you to say thank you.’
‘Stop it. Honestly it isn’t like that. And no, I haven’t heard recently,’ Justine said, briefly wondering what Carole’s reaction would be if she told her the car she drove was a Christmas present from him. She might long to be able to talk about the situation but she’d made a promise and until things could be out in the open for everyone to know, it was better to hug the truth to herself. In an effort to change the subject, she said, ‘Ever since we got back from Mum’s, Ferdie has been going on and on about getting a dog like my mother’s. He’s driving me mad, perpetually whining why can’t we?’
‘The farmer near us will be looking for a home for some pups soon.’
‘Not helpful, please don’t mention it to Ferdie. I haven’t got time for training a puppy.’
‘It’s good for kids to have pets. Besides, you’re quite isolated where you are, be good to have a dog.’
Justine shook her head. ‘Maybe. But life is busy enough right now without adding a puppy into the mix. Perhaps in the summer when Ferdie is off school, but then I’m going to be busy doing the markets and earning some money.’
Carole glanced at her. ‘You still bringing Ferdie to mine after school on Friday?’
‘Yes please, if it’s okay?’
‘Of course.’
A few minutes later, Justine finished her hot chocolate and stood up. ‘Better get going. I’ve a couple of orders to finish by the end of the week.’
* * *
Driving home, Justine mentally organised her working day. Now Ferdie was back at school four mornings a week, she could settle down into her own working routine again. The two orders that needed finishing were the priority and then she could begin a new basket and make a start on some woven place mats.
She parked behind the cottage and, grabbing her bag and keys, made straight for the barns. She unlocked the padlock on the door of the small barn and slid it open. Different types of baskets were piled alongside each other or hanging by their handles from long display poles Justine had hammered into the wall. On an ancient kitchen table, there were piles of woven bowls of all sizes, wastepaper baskets and square holders. Along the shelves at the side were all her ready-to-use materials: willow, wicker, raffia, alongside the tools she used.
Justine opened her favourite music channel on her phone before sitting down on the three-legged stool and pulling a low working table towards her. Within minutes, she was absorbed in her work, finishing off the first of the commissioned baskets and oblivious to any outside sounds. Two hours later, she’d finished the two baskets and had made a start on a set of six raffia place mats when her rumbling stomach reminded her it was lunchtime.
She stood up and stretched her arms above her head. A good morning’s work. With luck, after lunch she’d finish at least three of the place mats before leaving to collect Ferdie.
Not bothering to close the barn door behind her, Justine went to walk around the side of the barn onto the path that led to the cottage, glancing across to the château driveway as she did so, and stopped in surprise. There was a car parked there. Not Frank’s car, unless he had changed it, but the car did look vaguely familiar, with its English plates.
She stepped back and stayed out of sight, watching for a few moments as two women went back and forth to the car, before she remembered why the car seemed familiar. It was the English car she’d given way to at the village crossroads when she was coming home after Easter. She recognised too, the elderly lady who had been a passenger.
Justine shivered as a cold band of fear caught her in its grip. Who were these women? What were they doing here? She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself, and wiped her sweaty hands down her jeans. Only one way to find out.
Pushing her shoulders back, she began walking towards the car, as a deep-rooted fear inside her that something momentous was about to happen, began to fill her body. Whatever it was, she hoped she was strong enough to deal with it.
14
Pixie stopped the car in front of the château with a happy sigh. ‘We’re back. Summer officially begins today,’ she said, glancing at Gwen.
‘The shutters are open on the cottage. Your tenant has returned,’ Gwen said, looking across the drive.
Pixie felt her spirits drop as she too looked across at the cottage. Happy as she was to be back at the château, she was aware the time of reckoning was drawing closer and she was dreading the confrontation she knew she had to have with the mysterious tenant in the cottage. ‘Never mind that for the moment. Let’s start getting the car unpacked and sort ourselves out some food, it’s lunchtime and I’m starving.’
