Page 11 of A French Inheritance
‘Jeannie,asseyez-vous, the table is for you and your daughter.’ Odette, the patron of the café, bustled over as they hesitated. ‘We saw you coming on the road. Welcome back.’ She kissed Jeannie on both cheeks, muttering condolences in her ear over the loss of Giselle, before turning to Briony and kissing her.
‘Merci,’ Jeannie smiled.
‘We talk later. For now, I fetch your plat de jour –beef en daube Provençal.’
Jeannie pulled out a chair and sat down with a happy sigh. ‘It’s good to be back, despite Giselle no longer being here.’ A quick look around at the other customers to see if she knew any of them, and there he was, sitting alone at a table on the far side of the restaurant. Her heart skipped a beat. It had been so long since she’d last seen him in the flesh so to speak, she’d almost forgotten how handsome he was. She hoped he would come over when he realized they were there.
Odette’s teenage granddaughter appeared with a basket of sliced baguette, two glasses and a carafe of red wine.
‘Merci,’ Briony said.
While they waited for their meal, a constant stream of people approached the table, offering their sympathy over Giselle and welcoming them back to the village. Once theirdaubearrived, people politely left them to eat in peace.
‘Mum, there’s a man over on the far end of the terrace who I feel I know, but I can’t place him.’
Jeannie knew who Briony meant instantly but gave a quick glance, smiled and waved her hand in acknowledgement. ‘Yes, that’s Yannick.’
‘Uncle Yannick? Dad’s old friend and my godfather? Gosh, he used to be such a bear of a man.’
‘Evette, his wife, died some months ago; she was a great cook. I suspect he’s missing all the patisseries she used to bake. I’ll go over and see him once I’ve finished lunch,’ Jeannie said.
But Yannick came over to them as they finished dessert – a delicious tarte tatin – and Jeannie stood up to greet him, smiling and holding out her hands, which he took and held before kissing her on both cheeks.
‘Yannick, fancy seeing you here.’
‘Where else can I eat my lunch?’ he said, returning her smile. ‘It’s lovely to see you here again, even though Giselle is no longer with us. Losing someone you love leaves a huge gap.’
Jeannie squeezed his hands. ‘It does.’
Yannick turned to Briony. ‘You look a lot like yourgrandmère, who was a lovely woman. She’s missed. It’s lovely to see you too back in the village.Bon.We’ll talk another day,’ he said, looking at Jeannie.
‘Come for lunch at Owls Nest tomorrow,’ Jeannie said.
‘Merci, butnon désolé. I go tomorrow to Paris to visit Pauline, my daughter, for a day or two. You remember Pauline?’ he asked Briony. ‘The two of you had fun when you were small.’
Briony nodded. ‘It would be lovely to see her again.’
‘Peut-êtreif you both visit one day at the same time, it will happen,’ Yannick said, turning to smile at Jeannie hopefully. ‘We have lunch another day?’
‘Definitely. We’re here for another five or six days. I’ll come and knock on your door before we leave,’ Jeannie said.
‘Please do that. Then we can have a proper catch-up.’
Watching Yannick walk away, Jeannie lamented the years he had been out of her life. He and Jeromé had grown up together in the village and they’d stayed friends even though their life paths had gone in different directions. But Jeromé moving to England permanently when he and she had married, followed by Yann marrying Evette, had meant that the close friendship between the men had changed and they had drifted apart. Holidays visiting Giselle once or twice a year were the only occasions they’d met whilst their children were growing up. In recent years, they’d barely seen each other at all. And now both Jeromé and Evette were gone.
Jeannie gave herself a mental shake. At least in the past year she and Yann had rekindled their friendship, talking and comforting each other via WhatsApp and emails about the loss of Evette and Giselle. An old friendship springing back to life that Jeannie was beginning to value more and more.
* * *
Briony was glad when they got back to the cottage after lunch, although she knew that Jeannie was expecting her to discuss what she wanted to do about her inheritance. Something she wasn’t ready to do yet. She needed some time to herself. Besides, whilst on the surface everything appeared to be normal between herself and Jeannie, the last few hours had undeniably held an undercurrent of tension. Which had strangely increased after Yannick had come across to speak to them.
‘It’s too nice an afternoon to spend indoors,’ Jeannie said. ‘I’m going to pull some weeds.’
‘I’m going to check on my emails,’ Briony said.
Normally, she would have offered to join her mother in the garden, but this was the perfect opportunity she desperately needed for some thinking time on her own. And despite the weather being too nice to stay indoors, that was exactly what she planned to do. She was going to have a wander around the cottage in the hope that what she should do about her unexpected inheritance would miraculously manifest itself into her brain.
It had been Giselle’s parents, who, in the years after the Second World War, had converted the two-hundred-year-old mas into the home it was today. Briony wandered out of the kitchen into the sitting room that came into its own in autumn and winter when it was too cold and dark to be outside. A low-ceilinged room with oak beams, a cream wood burner in the inglenook fireplace and two sets of double French doors set into the curved spaces of what had originally been high wooden doors for herding animals like goats and sheep in for shelter. Two Chesterfield settees and three matching wingback chairs, lamps on several small tables and a writing bureau against the far wall by several shelves filled with books, framed photos and ornaments, gave the room an inviting feel. Briony had always loved curling up in a chair in this room and losing herself in a book.
