Page 34 of Summer at the Château
‘Yes. I’ve given her until September to find somewhere else.’
‘That’s a generous amount of notice.’
Pixie shrugged. ‘It’s not actually a problem her living there, we rarely see her, and the little boy is a sweetie.’ The fact that she was still hoping to learn the truth about Ferdie’s parentage before they left was immaterial.
‘So you are still intending to sell the château?’
‘Yes. One summer in France and then it will be back to England and reality.’
Jean-Yves gave her a philosophical shrug. ‘C’est la vie, I guess.’
He took his leave of them ten minutes later, saying he had some paperwork to catch up on before work in the morning. Pixie walked to his car with him.
‘Thank you once again for playing delivery man.’
‘My pleasure – any time I can help, you only have to ask. Au revoir for now.’
The intense look he gave her left Pixie in no doubt that he was serious about helping her, but she was left with the strangest feeling that behind his words there was something more he wanted to say. Something important he wasn’t telling her.
23
Pixie was busy for the next few days, getting ready for the imminent arrival of the family. She was determined that this summer should be one to be remembered, full of fun, laughter and memories – happy ones to carry with her once she’d sold the château and returned to England.
She spent a couple of hours online researching pizza ovens and gas barbecues before heading into town to put her newly acquired knowledge to the test and ended up ordering a combined barbecue and pizza oven, that she fell in love with to be delivered the next day. Telling herself it was a practical solution and would look wonderful on the terrace, she managed not to baulk at the price as she handed over her card. A new fridge-freezer from the electrical shop on the industrial estate was next on the list. When Gwen gave her a quizzical look on seeing the list of proposed purchases, Pixie shrugged. ‘Fixtures and Fittings.’
One afternoon, when she was finishing making up the last bed ready for the family, she heard the throaty roar of a motorbike coming up the drive. Gwen was downstairs so she’d leave her to deal with whoever it was, she decided, before she heard a man’s voice and a deep laugh. She knew exactly who that was and ran downstairs to be immediately picked up and swung around in a bearlike hug.
‘Charlie, my favourite nephew! How lovely.’
‘I’m your only nephew,’ Charlie protested.
‘There is that. Your dad said to expect you anytime, but I didn’t think you’d arrive this early. I warn you now, you’re going to be put to work. I have a long list of things to do before everyone arrives.’
‘And there I was thinking about leisurely lunches in the French countryside and fine dining of an evening under the stars,’ Charlie said as he released her.
‘Oh, you’ll get those and more,’ Gwen said. ‘Right now though, coffee and cake do you?’
‘You bet, Grandma. Then I need a tour of this place. It looks amazing.’
Sitting out on the terrace, Pixie and Gwen listened as Charlie filled them in on his current news, the major piece of which was he’d been made redundant from the estate agency where he’d worked for five years.
‘So at thirty I’m jobless, footloose and fancy-free.’ He hesitated. ‘I haven’t told Dad yet, but I’ve also given up the London flat.’ He glanced at Pixie. ‘Hoping I can stay around here for a bit longer than the planned holiday?’
‘We’re here until September and you’re welcome to stay but the place is going on the market then.’
‘What about the plans you and Uncle Frank had to live here?’ Charlie asked.
‘Things change, as you’ve discovered. Any idea what you’re going to do in the future?’ Pixie said, turning the conversation back to him. ‘Find another agency to work for?’
‘I was thinking of something completely different, like doing a cookery course. I don’t want to be a chef in some poncy restaurant, but I quite fancy a pub restaurant serving good food.’
‘You’ve always liked cooking,’ Gwen acknowledged. ‘And I’ve taught you everything I know, so you’re off to a good start.’
Pixie and Charlie looked at each other and laughed. Gwen’s disasters in the kitchen had been well documented down the years, although, to be fair, she had improved.
‘We’ll happily be your guinea pigs while you’re here,’ Pixie said. ‘Consider yourself in charge of the kitchen from now. What are you like with barbecues?’
‘I’m a man – I’m a brilliant cook with barbecues.’
