Page 40 of A French Inheritance
‘Wrong time of year. There’s never a lot of straw available down here and farmers that do use it have used last year’s straw over winter and are short of it. I have rung around but haven’t found any.’
‘Fingers crossed the forecast is wrong – they often are, aren’t they?’ Briony said, trying to be optimistic.
‘Météo France are usually on the ball,’ Adam said. ‘We can only hope they’re being extra cautious warning everyone and they’ve made a mistake.’
After leaving the farm, Briony walked Meg down to the lake and for the first time let her off the lead by the water. A typical springer spaniel, Meg instantly jumped into the water enthusiastically even without Luna being there to egg her on. Briony smiled at Meg’s antics. She looked so happy swimming around.
Briony held her breath when she called her to come out of the lake in case her recall wasn’t quite as good as Elliot had said, but Meg came and quickly rewarded her with a wet shower.
‘Come on then, Meg, let’s get you home and get both of us dried off.’
With Meg in her life now, Briony was determined to spend time with her making sure she settled and was happy in her new home, so over the next few days they developed a routine. Their early-morning walk to the lake was usually on their own, but in the evenings, Elliot and Luna often turned up at the cottage and the two of them walked the dogs together. Luna and Meg were firm friends now and keeping them out of the lake was impossible – where Luna went, Meg was bound to follow and vice versa. Briony inwardly admitted to herself that she missed Elliot as much as Meg missed Luna on the days when Elliot didn’t get home early enough for an evening walk. Not that she would ever tell him.
As well as working up at the farm on Saturday and walking Meg twice a day, the days began to fly by for Briony. She was determined to sort through the boxes in the garage before she moved any of them up to the unit. It would be better to see what they contained first. Slowly she was working her way to the back of the garage, where she could see some folded-up trestle tables that she hoped would be useable.
She soon had three separate piles of boxes: one for the brocante, one for rubbish and one full of things she wasn’t sure whether to sell or keep. She was hoping her mum would take a look and help her decide. Meg curled up happily alongside her in the garage or wherever she chose to work.
A couple of times, Briony went up to the units. The first time was to tell Holly and Calvin that she was going to be their new neighbour and was looking forward to being there with them. Both Holly and Calvin were thrilled with the news that the third unit was going to be opened.
‘That is good news,’ Holly said. ‘And a brocante is sure to bring more people up to the farm.’ Both wished her good luck.
The second time she went up to the unit was to try to work out a plan of how to make the best use of the space and how to display items. The trestle tables from the garage, if they were useable, could be covered with some vintage material and there was a shelf unit on the landing in Owls Nest that would be useful. Slowly but surely her new life in France was taking shape and Briony was enjoying every minute of it.
30
There was still no sign of Elliot and Luna on Monday evening a week later as Briony and Meg walked to the lake. Briony began to wonder if something was wrong. Lucy hadn’t said anything when she was up at the farm on Saturday and she hadn’t liked to ask, figuring that Lucy would have mentioned if something was amiss. Elliot was probably simply busy, although surely he still had to walk Luna?
Back at the cottage, Briony spread the contents of the open box from the attic onto the dining-room table. Carefully, she sorted it into piles: letters, postcards, photos, birthday cards and random bits of paper and several Cannes Film Festival programmes from the late forties and fifties. The five-year diary she put to one side before trying to decide what to do with everything.
The Film Festival programmes would make an interesting display somewhere in the cottage once framed. She knew too that they were infinitely collectable and would sell instantly to film buffs. To her surprise, many of the postcards were photos of New York and most were blank. Some had simple phrases written on them ‘This would make a wonderful painting’ or ‘This place would inspire you’. Sometimes in the corner of the card were the initials ‘EM’. Lots of unused postcards were photos of Paris between the two world wars. Several newspaper cuttings about the social life on the Riviera in the early thirties were on the very bottom.
The black-and-white photographs were mainly formal family pictures of people who were long dead. There were a couple of a pretty young girl with incredibly sad eyes that caught Briony’s attention. She picked up a formal marriage photograph mounted in an old-fashioned fold-over cardboard frame. Was it the same girl? Who was she?
Deep in thought, Briony picked up her phone when it pinged with an incoming text.
Been enjoying the scenery too much! ETA midday Wednesday. Have the kettle on. Dying for a good cup of tea. Gerry.
Briony smiled as she read the text. Gerry was well known for his tea addiction.
But as she put her phone down, she could feel herself starting to panic. Where was all the stuff from England going to go?
* * *
Wednesday morning and Briony was ready and waiting with a large plate of pain au chocolate and plenty of tea bags when Gerry and his mate drew up outside the cottage.
‘Great place you’ve got here,’ Gerry said, jumping out of the cab of the lorry. ‘Quite fancy moving to France myself. Seen some beautiful places on our drive down. Loved Carcassone, which is why we’re a day late. Right, cup of tea and then we’ll unload.’
Watching Gerry unlock the van doors half an hour later, Briony’s initial thought was ‘Mum hasn’t brought much furniture’ but then she realised just how many boxes there were stacked in the van. And then there was her own stuff, some of which she hadn’t seen since she’d left Marcus.
She showed Gerry the dining room and suggested he put all the boxes in there and she and Jeannie would sort them out at their leisure. It was almost summer and most meals would be eaten out on the terrace for the next few months so they wouldn’t be using the dining room anyway.
After the van was unloaded, Briony asked Gerry if he would mind dragging several things she wanted to work on out of the garage and into the garden for her. The bicycle she remembered riding as a child, the wooden handcart and the parrot cage were soon outside the garden shed.
Gerry turned down her offer of food. ‘Going to go and take a look at Cannes. Have something to eat down there. Find somewhere to stay before heading back tomorrow. I’m thinking the wife might like a holiday down here sometime.’
Briony paid Gerry, gave him a generous tip and waved him goodbye before turning back into the cottage. So much to do! But first she needed something to eat and then she’d spend the next few hours starting to sort out some of the boxes before taking Meg for her evening walk. Sitting out on the terrace with some slices of baguette and a cheese salad and a small glass of rosé, Briony gave a happy sigh as she looked down the garden towards the owls’ tree. Things really were starting to come together now for this new life in France. Her mobile rang at that moment and she hurriedly picked it up when she saw the English number.
‘Maeve. How lovely to hear from you. How are you? I’m so sorry I’ve not been in touch. How’s the new old job going?’
