Page 31 of A French Country Escape
‘I’m one of those philistines who, whilst admitting it’s brilliantly written and liking du Maurier’s other books, didn’t get on with it. Be interesting to see what our French friends make of it. Are you having coffee or wine tonight?’
‘I always offer both. It’s rarely more than one bottle.’
‘I’ll get the glasses out ready,’ Penny said.
Two hours later and the small sitting room was crowded. Penny greeted everyone as Ingrid was trapped in her chair because of her leg. Peter made coffees and Penny poured the wine.
Once everyone had a drink and had caught up with the latest gossip, Ingrid tapped her glass and opened the discussion. ‘How did you all get on withRebecca?’
Everybody seemed to have something to say and there was a lively discussion before people gave their final thoughts about it.
‘Didn’t finish it,’ Benjamin said. ‘Not my sort of book at all. But Suzie liked it, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, I liked the psychological thriller element to it,’ Suzie said.
Jean-Paul thought that Maxim de Winter was a bully and hadn’t enjoyed the book at all. Sasha loved the way he shyly apologised to ‘les Anglais’ for not liking it.
Eliza said something in French, which made Josette laugh.
‘The rough translation is that Eliza is glad that the English people she has met no longer have the same attitudes. Mostly!’ Ingrid said laughing. ‘Now, the next book on our list isTender is the Nightby F. Scott Fitzgerald. Everyone happy with that?’
Murmurs of assent were heard before Benjamin and Suzie stood up and apologised for leaving early, but they’d agreed to meet a friend at a new pizza restaurant in the next village. Josette and Robert took the opportunity to leave early as well, once again blaming their early morning start at the boulangerie. As the door closed behind them, Ingrid turned to Eliza.
‘I cleared out the tack room recently for Colette to use, and I have a box of miscellaneous things from when the stables were well-known in the horse world. I would love to learn more of the history of the château from someone who has lived here a long time. I know they were renowned for years, decades, for their race-winning French trotting horses. I don’t want to upset you, but may I show you what I’ve found?’
Eliza gave her a sad smile. ‘I would like to see. William threw out so much when the horses were taken from him and sold.’
Penny pulled the box out of the corner and placed it in front of Eliza on the coffee table. She carefully pulled open the flaps, as everyone crowded round.
‘If there is anything in here you’d like, please feel free to say. It is a real hotchpotch of things. Here’s a racing programme from the early 1930s. Several rosettes, a jockey’s weigh-in book – oh, that’s from the sixties. A poster from the twenties. A racecard – there are a few of those from various decades.’
‘The one you’re holding is one of William’s, I think,’ Eliza said, holding her hand out. ‘Yes. It was when he was riding for the Ermotte family who stabled their trotting horses here.’
‘I didn’t know Grand-papa was a jockey!’ Alice said, astonished. ‘I knew he was the head groom and trained thehorses, but not that he actually raced those dangerous chariot-like contraptions.’
Eliza shook her head. ‘No, no. He didn’t race a sulky. He thought they were dangerous too. But French trotters are a breed that are equally good ridden or driven in harness. He rode them in several races on the flat. Won a few times too. But the Ermottes left when they sold the château at the end of the sixties, taking their horses with them. They wanted William and me to go with them to Ireland, but your mother was tiny and…’ Eliza shrugged. ‘William didn’t really want to leave Brittany. So we stayed and he worked for the new owners. That’s when he became head groom and helped to train the trotters, because they concentrated totally on the harness racing.’ Eliza sighed. ‘He loved his horses. As long as he could work with them, he was happy.’ She glanced across at Ingrid and Peter. ‘He would have been so happy to see horses back on the estate.’
‘Just the one so far,’ Ingrid said. ‘But I’m sure there will be more in time. Eliza, I have to ask: your surname, Albertini, is very Italian-sounding; was William Italian?’
‘Half Italian from his father, but his mother came from Caen, here in France. William, like me, was born in Caen and his mother stayed when World War II broke out. William’s father was called up to fight in the Italian army. Sadly, he was killed in the last few months of the war.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Ingrid said softly.
Lucas, who had been rummaging in the box, held up a black and white photograph. ‘Do you know who these people are, Grand-maman?’
Eliza studied the photo intently for several seconds before giving a broad smile. ‘It’s Grand-papa William holding the bridle of his favourite horse after winning a big race on him. I can’t remember the name of the race. The couple on the other side are the Ermottes. They were so proud of that stallion thatthey had a marble statue made of it. Used to stand at the top of the driveway. Often wonder what happened to it. It simply disappeared. Probably sold on for a lot of money.’
Ingrid gave Peter a startled look. ‘Eliza, do you remember the name of the horse?’
‘Its stable name was something like “Grey Owl out of Lady Anne”, but William nicknamed him Merlin because he always said he was magical. A ride on him was wonderful every time,’ Eliza said, still studying the photograph. She looked at Ingrid. ‘C’est possiblefor me to have this – orpeut-êtrea copy?’
‘Of course,’ Ingrid said. ‘I’ll have a copy made and you can have the original.’
Peter stood up. ‘Eliza, you haven’t been in the château since we’ve lived here, have you? Would you like to come with me? There’s something I’d like to show you.’
Eliza looked surprised at the unexpected invitation but happily got to her feet. ‘I’d love to see what you’ve done to the place.’
Peter opened the connecting fire door and took her through.
