Page 26 of Summer at the Château
Something banged above her head. Had the builders left the door open, a window unlatched?
There it was again.
Pixie took a couple of steadying breaths, forcing herself to get up and go and check everything was all right upstairs. Opening the door which the builders had closed behind them, Pixie stood on the threshold, surveying the room.
Studwork, ready for the tongue and groove planking to be attached, now lined three walls – the long back wall with its old-fashioned tiled fireplace, one of the side walls and the spaces on the front wall between the two dormer windows. The other side wall, the interior of the round tower, was freshly painted a pale yellow and shelves of varying lengths and depths had been fixed inside the curve.
Pixie moved across to the shelves and gently rubbed her hand along the smooth surface of one. She smiled. It really was going to be the room of her dreams. Frank had always been so good at knowing what she’d like.
She moved around the room, looking to see if something had fallen down. The builders had left their tools in a neat pile by the far window, could one of them have fallen out of place? No, they were so neatly arranged. All the windows were closed and latched. Nothing anywhere to indicate what had made the noise. If it had been louder she’d have suspected one of the many pigeons who inhabited the trees in the parkland had banged against the window, but it hadn’t been that kind of noise.
Turning, she looked at the fireplace and saw that one of the decorative tiles had fallen off and was lying in the grate. Could that have been what she’d heard? Doubtful. It had been more of a door-banging type noise. Thankfully, the tile hadn’t broken. Jerome would be able to fix it back in place, she was sure. She bent down to pick it up and place it on the mantlepiece where it would be safer. Something small and gold in the corner of the grate caught her eye. A signet ring. Pixie picked it up and gave an involuntary gasp as she held it in her hand. How on earth had it got into the grate? It was the ring she’d bought Frank for his fiftieth birthday; the one he’d said he’d lost. His initials were engraved on the front of the square of gold; the date and the words ‘I love you’, followed by her initials engraved in tiny letters, were on the inner side of the chunky ring.
Fingering the ring, she remembered how a week before the accident he’d been upset when he’d admitted to her that he couldn’t find it and had no idea where it had gone. She’d planned on buying him a replica for his birthday this year. She sighed. She missed him so much. Whatever had been on his mind over the last year or so, deep down she knew that they had been the soulmates she believed them to be. If she were honest with herself too, she knew that he would expect her to do the right thing by Justine and Ferdie, for whatever reason they had come into his life.
Pixie took a deep breath. She needed to go and see Justine, warn her about the château being put up for sale soon. Avoiding her because she was afraid of learning a bitter truth and not wanting them in her life was cowardly. She’d go across to the cottage right now and speak to Justine.
Thoughtfully, Pixie stared at the ring she was holding for several seconds before she slipped it on to the middle finger of her right hand. As she did so she was conscious of a gentle breeze, like a happy sigh, blowing through the room.
19
Justine was in the small barn working on a basket while Ferdie played with a set of farm animals and building bricks on a play mat set down in the corner, when a shadow fell across the doorway.
‘I thought we should have a second start,’ Pixie said quietly. ‘I wasn’t exactly friendly before.’ When Justine didn’t answer, she took a deep breath. ‘I wondered what was locked up in this barn. Did you make all these baskets?’
‘Yes.’
‘And this is Ferdie?’
‘Yes. Ferdie, say hello to Mrs Sampson.’
’Hello, Mrs Sampson,’ Ferdie said, concentrating on his play and not looking up.
‘Ferdie, you should look at people when you speak to them,’ Justine said quietly.
‘Hello, Ferdie, it’s nice to meet you,’ Pixie said and received a brief smile before he turned his attention back to his game.
Justine waited for Pixie to speak, but Pixie was looking at Ferdie and appeared to be miles away. In the end, Justine broke the silence.
‘Is this a social visit or did you want something?’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, I was miles away. First, I want to thank you for returning the key.’
‘No point in me having it now that you’re living here.’
‘Quite. There is something I need to tell you though.’
‘Let me guess – you’re giving me notice to quit the cottage.’
Pixie gave a brief nod, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.
‘I thought that was what you wanted to say the other evening.’ Justine hesitated. ‘Would you consider letting me stay as a paying tenant when you return to England at the end of the summer?’
‘It’s not that simple. I’m selling the château after summer, so that’s not possible.’
Justine felt her heart drop at Pixie’s words. ‘How much notice are you actually giving me then? A week? A month? Summer? It’s going to take time to find somewhere to live and to work.’ Justine gestured at the baskets.
‘I realise that. I also realise that Frank wouldn’t want me to put you out on the street, so how about you plan to leave here by the end of September when we’ll be leaving to return to the UK. If you start looking now, you may even find something sooner than you expect.’
