Page 30 of A French Inheritance
Unlocking the kitchen door, shortly after, Briony said, ‘Welcome to Owls Nest. Hang on, I’ll find us both a towel. And one for Luna as well.’
Once they’d dried off the worst of the rain, Briony led the way to the sitting room.
‘It’s not looking its best with all the boxes, I’m afraid.’
Luna, following them into the room, gave a short bark and made straight for the armchair Briony had pushed into a corner, jumped up on it and curled herself into a ball.
Elliot went to call her off, but Briony stopped him. ‘I’d forgotten that was her chair when Granny sat in this room. It must be strange for her to be back in the cottage.’
Elliot gave a brief nod. ‘Yes. Now, what is it you want to do with the settees?’
Briony explained she’d like them to face each other, in front of but not too close to the log burner with the coffee table in between them.
Five minutes later, the two of them had pushed the Chesterfields into the exact position Briony had wanted and they stood considering the arrangement. ‘I think that works, don’t you?’ she said, turning to Elliot. ‘Thank you so much.’
‘It looks good.’ He glanced into the dining room and saw the boxes on the table. ‘Do you want those boxes moved somewhere?’
Briony shook her head. ‘Not right now, thank you. I’m planning on going through them soon and it will be easier to spread the contents out on the table. Would you like a coffee or a glass of wine as a small thank you for your help?’
‘No thanks, I’d better get Luna get back to my place – make sure she knows where home is these days.’
‘Oh I’m sure she knows,’ Briony said smiling, thinking he was joking, but Elliot had already whistled Luna to his side and was striding towards the kitchen. Briony sighed. ‘Thanks again,’ she said as Elliot opened the back door. ‘I’m really grateful.’
‘Glad to help, goodnight,’ and Elliot and Luna were gone.
Briony wandered back into the sitting room and sank down on one of the settees. It had been kind of Elliot to help her move the furniture, but Luna making herself at home so completely had obviously upset him. How on earth was she ever going to persuade him that neither she nor Jeannie would ever separate him from the dog who obviously adored him?
23
Standing in the house that was feeling emptier by the day, Jeannie was suddenly swamped with unexpected doubts about leaving. Was she really doing the right thing moving to France, even though it was what she’d often dreamed of doing of down the years? She’d lived in this house for nearly thirty years and it had been a lovely family home for all those years. It was hard to envisage walking out of it to begin a new life, albeit in a country and cottage she’d grown to love.
But nothing in life stayed the same forever. Briony had moved out, Jeromé had died, Giselle had moved in a few years later and now she was gone too. After Briony had grown up and flown the nest, she and Jeromé had enjoyed being just a couple again until his unexpected early death in his fifties when the house had seemed so, so empty. Those early years after he’d passed had been lonely as she’d struggled to come to terms with being a single middle-aged woman. Having Giselle move in with her for what turned out to be her final year and a half had been a turning point – she’d felt needed again and there was a purpose to her life.
And now there was this new life in France planned for her and Briony. Jeannie couldn’t kid herself that her purpose there would be to look after her daughter. To help maybe, but it was only fair that from the beginning they led independent lives whilst sharing a home. Had their own interests, their own friends. Hopefully, Briony would meet a new man too, someone who would treat her properly, love her and they would have a family together before it was too late.
As for the new unexpected complication in her own life, maybe the best thing would be to walk away from getting involved. But Jeannie wasn’t sure that she could do that. The chance for her to be part of a couple again was too tempting not to at least see if there was a possibility of reigniting certain feelings that had by necessity been smothered and un-acted on in the past.
Jeannie sighed. So many people seemed to reinvent themselves, find new partners and become happier when they shook off their old lives and started anew. But what if it didn’t work out for her? What would she do then? She’d pick herself up and dust herself down like she had done countless times in the past when life had thrown a curveball. Briony and she were as close as any other mother and daughter she knew. Living in France was going to be good for them both.
The mobile in her pocket rang at that moment. She glanced at Caller ID. Yann.
Smiling, she pressed the button and accepted the call. After all, if you don’t take a chance, nothing changes.
* * *
With all the unwanted ornaments and knick-knacks boxed up, after a late breakfast eaten on the terrace, Briony decided to start on the kitchen cupboards. She took the last box from the garden shed and emptied the cupboards under the work surface. Lots of terracotta dairy bowls of various sizes, wonderful for salads and fruit, glass bowls, cooking trays, cake tins and crockery. Briony pulled the Kenwood mixer out, that was definitely staying, and she placed it on the counter.
The box filled, she grabbed the garage key off the hook in the corner of the kitchen where it lived. Maybe she’d find some empty boxes in there.
Pushing the key into the lock and pulling the wooden door open, Briony braced herself for what she’d find.
Her mum hadn’t exaggerated. Old-fashioned bicycles were hanging on the wall, including one that Briony remembered riding into the village years ago. There was even an old wooden handcart hooked over two large brackets in the far corner, as well as galvanised water buckets, a tin bath, several dog baskets, garden implements and a large parrot cage. How old was that? Briony couldn’t remember ever seeing or hearing about a parrot being in the cottage.
What on earth was she going to do with all this stuff? Not to mention everything from the house that she was packing up. Clearing the cottage was turning into a nightmare project.
Turning to leave, she saw some empty boxes thrown into the corner nearest the door. She might as well take them and carry on clearing the kitchen of unwanted dishes.
By midday she’d run out of boxes and also energy. She planned to have a hot reviving shower followed by lunch and a few relaxing hours in the garden reading, with maybe a walk down to the lake later. She needed to get into a routine of walking so that when she eventually had a dog it would be second nature to go for two walks a day.
