Page 59 of Summer at the Château
Pixie looked at Charlie. ‘When Justine gets back, could you take Ferdie for a dog walk or something? I’d quite like to talk to Justine on her own and this might be a good time.’
‘Sure. Talk of the devil. Hello, Trouble. Ready for a walk, Ferdie? Come on then.’
‘That looked suspiciously like my son and puppy being hijacked out of here,’ Justine said as they left.
Pixie nodded. ‘I want to talk to you. We’ll leave this. I’ll do it later, let’s go into the sitting room. I’ve done a lot of thinking recently,’ Pixie said, sitting down and indicating that Justine should do the same. ‘And Jean-Yves pointed something out that complicates everything in one way and yet in another simplifies it. Has Brigitte ever talked to you about French inheritance laws?’
‘No.’
‘Well, as I understand it, French parents cannot disinherit their children. Sadly, as you know, I don’t have any children – either with Frank or with another man. But Frank does: You. Which means you have a legitimate claim on this château and will inherit it eventually, as will Ferdie after you.’
‘But you bought it with Frank.’
‘Doesn’t make any difference to you inheriting it. Anyway, I don’t have a problem with that side of things. You’re family, you inherit. But not yet,’ Pixie said. ‘I plan on enjoying living here for as long as possible. But first I have to ask, are you happy living in the cottage or would you prefer to move into the château with Gwen and me?’
‘I can’t think straight, this is all so unexpected. I never dreamed for a single moment,’ Justine shook her head in bewilderment. ‘Ferdie and I are fine in the cottage.’
‘Okay. Which brings us on to my plan to run retreats et cetera here. I’m hoping very much that you will want to be involved.’
Justine nodded. ‘Yes, I would like that.’
Pixie smiled. ‘Good. Now a bit of a personal question. Do you have anything of Frank’s as a keepsake?’
‘Not really. He did give me my car as a Christmas present and letting me live in the cottage rent-free was wonderful.’
Pixie slipped the signet ring off her finger and held it out. ‘In that case I’d like you to have this as a reminder of the father you never really had the chance to get to know properly.’
Justine slipped the ring onto her finger. ‘Thank you. This means so much to have something like this that belonged to him. I’ll keep it safe and hand it on to Ferdie when he’s older.’ She brushed the tears away and gave Pixie a watery smile.
‘There is one more thing and I will have to talk to Jean-Yves about this, but I do intend to make sure that some of the money that Frank left me is shared with you via some sort of trust or something. He’d like to know that you and Ferdie had some security. It’s something I know he would have had every intention of doing if… if the accident hadn’t happened.’
There was a short silence as Justine fiddled with the ring and Pixie became lost in her thoughts before pulling herself together.
Pixie stood up. ‘Phew. I’m glad that’s sorted. Now we can both start to build a future here. I think I can hear Charlie and Ferdie. By the way, you do realise that my nephew is really smitten with you, don’t you? He’s changed from the footloose, fancy-free man of the last few years since he’s been here and met you. I wouldn’t be surprised if he isn’t planning on settling down soon, becoming a family man.’
* * *
Pixie was upstairs in her writing room adding some more thoughts to the plan of her next book later that same afternoon when she heard a car on the drive. Quickly she stood by the window and watched as Brigitte and William got out and walked over to the cottage. To Pixie’s surprise and inner relief, they were alone. She’d been wrong then in assuming that Brigitte had rushed off to drive the seventy-odd kilometres to Roscoff to break the news of ‘English Gwen’ being alive and well and to bring Augustus back here.
A creak on the landing below and a bedroom door being closed alerted Pixie to Gwen being up and about. There hadn’t been sight or sound of her since Charlie had helped her to her room nearly three hours ago.
By the time Pixie got downstairs, Gwen was in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil.
‘How do you feel?’ Pixie asked. ‘At least you’ve got some colour now.’
‘I feel fine. Better than fine actually. And I’m thrilled that my hunch about Brigitte being who I suspected has proved to be right.’
‘What made you really suspect the connection anyway?’
Gwen shrugged. ‘I’m not sure. There was something about her that resonated with me, made me think even more back to that time in my life. Really it was just a gut reaction, nothing definite to go on.’
‘So what happens now?’
‘Well, of course in my dreams, we’d both be thirty years younger and Augustus would appear on a white horse, scoop me up and whisk me away to live happily ever after. If only.’ Gwen spooned tea into the teapot and filled it with boiling water from the kettle. ‘In truth, I don’t know what will happen. I do know though, that I am happy he is still alive and we might get the chance to meet again.’ Gwen bent down and picked up Milly and Molly from their basket and sat down, settling them on her lap.
There was a gentle tap on the kitchen terrace door. ‘May I come in?’ Brigitte called.
‘Of course,’ Pixie answered.
