Page 24 of Summer at the Château
‘I ’ave reserved May for this job and the noise would be kept to a minimum. We close the door too, no dust downstairs.’ Jerome looked at her anxiously.
Pixie laughed. Dust was the least of her worries. Noise, on the other hand, while she was trying to write was far from ideal. But she was two floors down and afterwards she’d have her ideal writing room for the rest of summer and the converted space would surely appeal to any prospective buyers of the château.
‘And you came today ready to start?’
Both men nodded.
‘I’ll leave you to it then.’
Jerome held out his hand and shook it vigorously when Pixie took it. ‘Merci madame. We begin.’
Pixie was laughing as she went back downstairs.
Gwen was in the kitchen making coffee and raised her eyebrows at her.
‘We have the builders in for the next month,’ Pixie said. ‘Frank had apparently arranged for the conversion to be done on the top floor. I didn’t like to disappoint them. I’ll just nip up to the boulangerie for some croissants for our breakfast and for their elevenses. I guess French builders, like English ones, will need feeding during the day.’
* * *
Driving back, a bag of still-warm croissants on the dashboard, Pixie passed Justine and Ferdie going into the village. She held her hand up in acknowledgement, a slight smile fixed on her face, but determinedly didn’t look directly at Justine or the child sitting in the back.
Back at the château, sitting out on the terrace enjoying breakfast, Pixie sighed contentedly. The first morning of her writing routine might have been disturbed but she’d got a good two hours in and the day was still young.
‘Gus sent me a WhatsApp message just now,’ Gwen said. ‘He and Sarah would definitely like to come over sometime in June for a fortnight, Charlie too. Annabel and her family will most likely come for a few days while they are here. That’s okay, isn’t it? I told him it was.’
‘Yes, of course. Oh, this summer is going to be such fun.’ Charlie, footloose and still playing the field at thirty, was fun to have around, while Annabelle, married to Harry, was now the mother of Mimi, an adorable five-year-old little girl. Fleetingly, Pixie wished Frank was still alive to enjoy spending time here with them. He would have adored playing host to them all. She finished her coffee. ‘I’m going to get another hour or two in. Will you sort out the builders for elevenses if I haven’t surfaced by then? Call them down rather than carry stuff up. See you in a bit.’
* * *
Once Pixie had disappeared into the sitting room, closing the door behind her, Gwen cleared up the breakfast things before going upstairs. She could hear the murmur of men’s voices and footsteps pacing around and couldn’t resist carrying on up the next flight of stairs to see for herself what was happening.
Jerome happily showed her the plans and explained. ‘Monsieur Frank, he ’ad wanted it to be a surprise for ’is wife.’
After she’d told them to come down to the kitchen at eleven o’clock for coffee, she left them to it and went to her room, hoping Pixie’s decision to let the work go ahead was a good omen for the future.
Gwen had a shower and pulled on a pair of blue cotton capri trousers and a stripy Breton top, pinning the lighthouse brooch on the left-hand side with a happy smile. She ran a comb through her hair before picking up her phone, the old address book and a notebook and going downstairs. Time to try out the internet connection and to form a plan of campaign for when she could start to do some sleuthing.
* * *
Jerome and his son had been down for their morning break and Gwen had cleared the mugs and plates away and was ready to go back out on the terrace when she heard a vehicle coming up the drive and parking at the side of the château. The scruffily dressed man that greeted her when she went outside was in his sixties, she guessed, and his weather-ravaged face indicated an outdoor life.
‘Bonjour,’ she said cautiously.
‘Bonjour. Je suis Marcel – le jardinier. Today I cut the grass, okay? Then I see to the asperge.’
Nonplussed, Gwen smiled and he strolled away in the direction of the barn, reappearing a moment or two later and giving her a cheery wave as he turned the sit-on mower in the direction of the parkland. Sitting on the terrace watching as Marcel expertly drove the mower up and down the grass, she wondered if Pixie was aware she had a gardener. It certainly explained why the grounds were so tidy.
An hour or so later, when Marcel parked the mower back in the shed and made his way to the old vegetable garden and the asparagus bed, she waited a few moments and then followed him. He was cutting asparagus and placing it in a neat pile and glanced up at her.
‘You ’ave the asperge for lunch today,’ he said.
‘Merci. Have you worked here at the château for a long time?’
‘Oui. I work for Monsieur and Madame Quiltu for many years. My father, he began the garden business and when I left school I joined ’im. Now sadly, he ’as gone and I work alone.’ He folded the pocket knife he was using to cut the asparagus before straightening up and looking at her. ‘I ’ope you are ’appy for me to continue. Monsieur Sampson he assured me that he didn’t ’ave the time to garden. In summer, I come for the day once a week.’
‘You need to speak to my daughter, but I’m sure she will want you to continue.’
‘Bien. Now I weed,’ and he picked up a hoe lying on the ground and began to carefully turn and air the ground around the asparagus plants.
