Page 30 of Summer at the Château
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Two days later at five o’clock, Jerome interrupted Pixie in the sitting room, asking her to go upstairs to check she was happy with everything and that there was nothing else she wanted done in the room.
‘You like?’ he asked.
Looking around, Pixie nodded. ‘Yes. I love it. It’s perfect.’ The tongue and groove panelling had been painted the same soft yellow as the tower wall and the floor had been relaid with some light oak panels, creating a luminous and airy space. ‘You’ve transformed it. Merci beaucoup. Shall I pay you now or will you send your invoice?’
‘There is little to pay – just the electrician’s bill, which I will send you. Monsieur paid me in advance.’
After Jerome had left, Pixie went back up and stood in the middle of the room, imagining how she’d furnish it if life had turned out the way she and Frank had planned. Her desk would go in the space between the two dormer windows, a French daybed loaded with cushions placed alongside the side wall opposite the shelves, which would be filled with books, a radio and speakers on the top shelf, candles and photographs interspersed between the books on the other shelves. In the fireplace on the back wall, there would always be a large vase of fresh flowers and two white pillar candles standing either side. On the floor, two or three cream deep-pile woollen rugs scattered throughout the room.
‘Oh Frank, I do wish you could be here and see this, share it with me. Thank you for arranging it.’
Close to tears, Pixie closed her eyes in an effort to keep them at bay and sighed. Standing there, she felt a sudden gentle warm breeze, like the one she’d experienced before, drifting around the room and ruffling her hair. She didn’t dare open her eyes in case she broke the spellbinding moment because that was what it felt like – a spell.
‘I thought I’d come and see the transformation,’ Gwen’s voice broke into her reverie.
The breeze gave one last gentle puff before dying away and Pixie opened her eyes, feeling a strange sense of contentment flowing through her body as she turned to smile as Gwen came into the room. ‘It’s exactly as I wanted.’
‘I love the paintwork and those shelves,’ Gwen said. ‘I can see you writing well up here.’
‘Not going to happen. I won’t be using it.’
‘Why on earth not? We’re here for another three months, nothing to stop you using it, if you want to.’
‘There’s no point.’ Pixie shrugged. ‘I’m settled at the dining table downstairs now, and that’s far too heavy to even think about moving it up here, even temporarily. And buying stuff to furnish the room would be a waste.’
‘The point is would it make you happy working up here, which has to be worth something? More memories of the place for a start. Your decision.’ Gwen shrugged and decided to change the subject. ‘There’s a vide-grenier this Sunday at that campsite near the village, Camping dans La Forêt, if you fancy going? Could be fun. One never knows what one might find at these things.’ Gwen looked at her hopefully. ‘Shall we go?’
‘We’ll go, but remember we are only here for the summer, no point in buying anything for the château.’ Pixie gave her a warning glance. ‘Agreed?’
Gwen nodded. ‘Of course. Come on, it’s time you were organising supper. I fancy an aperitif tonight, by the way.’
‘It’s pizza and salad tonight, so not too much organising to do.’
Pixie followed Gwen downstairs, trying to analyse her feelings and pushing the sense of disappointment she felt knowing that she wouldn’t be using her new office-cum-library. Gwen was right, she should use it, but it simply wasn’t practical to furnish a room that she would only use for a few months before selling up.
* * *
Sitting on the terrace half an hour later with a couple of drinks and garlic bread nibbles, watching Justine playing ball with Ferdie in the distance down by the lake, Pixie felt her heart contract and she looked away. This is what the château needed: a family.
‘Annabelle, Harry and Mimi are still definitely coming while Gus is here, aren’t they?’ she said, turning to Gwen.
‘Yes. Why?’
‘This place is perfect for kids to run around and have adventures in. Be a shame for Mimi to miss out this summer.’ Pixie stood up. ‘The oven should be hot enough for the pizza now. No, don’t get up, you stay there. Do you want another G & T or a glass of red with the pizza?’
‘Glass of red please.’
Once she’d put the pizza in the oven, set the timer and thrown a quick salad together, Pixie collected wine glasses, cutlery and plates and took them outside to find that Gwen had wandered off to join the ball game down by the lake. Watching from the terrace, it looked like a classic game of ‘pig in the middle’, with Ferdie shrieking with laughter as he jumped, trying to catch the ball as Justine and Gwen threw it to each other, just out of his reach.
For a few seconds, Pixie contemplated joining them before deciding it would make Justine uncomfortable. She hadn’t seen her to speak to since that brief meeting the night of the Fez Noz. Keeping her distance was proving to be easy, but deep down Pixie was realising it was pointless. In reality, the only way she was going to learn the truth about what had been going on during the last year of Frank’s life was by becoming Justine’s friend, not her enemy. She was the only person who could tell her the truth now.
Every time Pixie saw Ferdie she couldn’t help but look for similarities between him and Frank. She’d already convinced herself that his eyes were the same smokey blue, as for his smile – pure Frank. It was a puzzle really why Justine hadn’t told her the truth in the hope it would stop the eviction. The château, though, was going on the market whatever happened.
Maybe it was time for her to talk woman to woman with Justine, tell her that she’d guessed Ferdie was Frank’s son and that she’d like to get to know him, both of them, better over the summer. Frank, she knew, would want her to make the effort.
Pixie pushed her shoulders back, determining on a plan. She’d stop avoiding Justine, get to know her instead, and then, when they were friends, ask her for the truth about Ferdie.
