The Little French Guesthouse (11 page)

He looked me in the eye. ‘Didn’t any of your teachers ever tell you there’s no such word as can’t, Emmy?’

And off he limped, leaving me to sit stewing with my dilemma. Any more, and my brain might explode.

W
hen dinner was almost ready
, Rupert went off to change while I set the table. I was startled to find myself humming. My boyfriend had run off with a cradle-snatcher, my new best friend was a demanding, limping near-sixty-year-old with a dicky heart, I was involved in sexual relations with his youthful gardener, and I had a gazillion problems to face. Why on earth would I hum? Humming would mean I was happy, wouldn’t it?

That was when the sudden, crippling certainty that I wasn’t ready to go home hit me, and I sat down in the nearest chair to bite my nails and nibble at my cuticles. Perhaps my decision not to stay longer wasn’t as set in stone as I thought.

My private agonising continued throughout the evening. The Stewarts were nice people – although it wasn’t possible to ascertain much more than that, since for most of the meal they were obliged to listen to the Hendersons’ restaurant and sightseeing recommendations.

‘You need to be careful when it comes to
châteaux
,’ Mr Henderson informed them. ‘Some look fabulous from the outside but there’s not a stick of furniture inside. Not like our stately homes back in England. And yet some of them are quite the opposite – they look unprepossessing but are well worth the visit once you’re in.’

‘
Chenonceau
would be your best bet if you want the best of both worlds,’ his wife chipped in. ‘Rather a long drive from here, but very impressive – built across a river and with incredible gardens...’

With my head in turmoil, I felt incapable of rescuing the Stewarts from this cultural onslaught. I thought about phoning work to tell them I needed to stay another week, and flinched.

“Oh, hi, Carl, I wondered if you’d let me ignore all my deadlines and stay in France for another week? I’m looking after a middle-aged stranger with angina, I have to clean the bedrooms and feed the chickens, and Nathan’s run off with a skeletal over-tanned tart.”

No, I didn’t think so.

I lay awake most of the night, finally falling into a deep sleep as it started to get light, then woke at nine feeling like I’d done several rounds in a boxing ring. With bags under my eyes and aches in every part of my body – although that might have had something to do with the unorthodox location of my romp with Ryan the day before – I threw on a sundress and headed for the kitchen, where Rupert was clearing up after breakfast. I greeted him with a grunt and pointed at the coffee machine. As he obediently worked his magic, the phone rang. Since Rupert was busy with the coffee, I picked it up with a less-than-confident,
‘Bonjour.’

‘Emmy? It’s Sophie.’

‘Hi! How are you?’

‘I have a few minutes before my next customer, and I want to ask how
you
are. I was worried about you after you left, because I insisted you tell me your story and then you were so upset.’

I was touched by her concern. ‘I’m fine, thank you. Honestly. It was good to talk. And it’s kind of you to phone.’

‘Not kind. I wanted to. And I want to ask if you would like to go for a coffee or lunch one day this week. Maybe you could drive into Pierre-la-Fontaine and meet me for my lunch hour?’

‘I’d love to.’ I couldn’t think of a reason why not. I liked Sophie. It was impossible not to.

‘Great! Which day do you prefer?’

I thought about my sleepless night. ‘Any reason I can’t go out to lunch today?’ I called across the kitchen.

Rupert frowned. ‘Don’t think so.’

‘Would today be too soon?’ I asked Sophie.

‘Of course not! Twelve-thirty?’

‘Thank you. See you then.’ I clicked the phone off.

‘Got a date?’ Rupert enquired.

‘Ha! Wouldn’t you like to know?’

‘Yes, I would, which is why I asked. Who is it, then?’

I arranged an enigmatic expression on my face. ‘Someone I met in town. Someone kind, friendly and extremely attractive.’

‘Oh?’ Rupert looked disconcerted. ‘Does he have a name?’

‘Sophie.’

‘What?’

‘Sophie. The hairdresser. So you can get your mind out of the gutter.’

Rupert guffawed. ‘I reckon it could stay in the gutter. For a minute there, I thought you might be so sick of men after Nathan that you were thinking of swapping sides!’

S
ophie was locking
up when I arrived. Her face lit up when she saw me, and I tried hard not to envy her that winning smile, or that petite figure and bouncy blonde hair.

‘You made it!’ She kissed me on both cheeks. ‘There’s a nice place along the street.’ She linked arms with me as though we’d known each other for years.

The little restaurant was informal and crowded, but we got a table for two.

‘Your hair looks fabulous,’ Sophie stated. ‘But of course I would say that!’

I grinned. ‘It does. Thank you. I love it!’

‘I’m glad. Now you must promise you will not allow it to become so dreadful ever again.’ A dimple flashed in one cheek.

‘I promise.’ And I meant it.

‘If you come back to France sometime, maybe you could let me do it for you?’

‘Of course.’

‘Will you come back, Emmy? For a holiday? Or are there too many bad memories?’

‘Actually, I have more good memories than bad, now. The first few days were awful, but I’ve made such a good friend in Rupert, I can’t imagine not visiting him. And I absolutely love
La Cour des Roses
.’

As the waiter hovered, we turned our attention to the menu.

‘The
croque monsieur
is very good here,’ Sophie told me.

‘Isn’t that just a toasted cheese sandwich?’

Sophie rolled her eyes. ‘
Mon Dieu
! You must be educated, Emmy!’ She ordered for both of us, then sat back. ‘You look tired. Is everything okay?’

I sighed. ‘Not really. Rupert’s being a real pain.’

‘Oh? Why?’

‘He’s been dragging his feet over getting help in for when I leave, so I tackled him about it.’

‘And?’

‘He said he would, but then he asked me to stay another week.’

‘What did you say?’

‘I told him I couldn’t. The ferry’s booked for Saturday and I’m due back at work on Monday. I have an important meeting on Wednesday.’

Sophie studied me as she sipped her mineral water. ‘But you want to stay?’

I flung my hands out in despair. ‘I don’t know! I’ve felt a real sense of accomplishment here, since Nathan left. I could have gone to pieces. I could have packed up and gone home.’

‘But you didn’t.’

‘No, I didn’t. At first, because Rupert needed me. After that... Well, I
wanted
to be here and I
wanted
to help. I’ve enjoyed the change.’ I stopped myself from adding that my romps with Ryan had increased the appeal somewhat.

‘And now?’

I sighed. ‘I should get back to where I belong. There’ll be a mountain of work piled up on my desk.’

‘What do you do?’

‘Marketing.’

‘Do you like it?’

‘Very much. It’s interesting and varied.’ I grinned. ‘And pressured and riddled with deadlines.’

Sophie laughed. ‘You enjoy that?

I cocked my head to one side. ‘I love facing a challenge and finding a way around it. Maybe that’s why I’ve enjoyed helping Rupert. God knows, he can be a challenge sometimes!’

‘You’re worried about leaving him.’

‘Of course. But he’s not my responsibility, is he? He’s a grown man, not a child. If I weren’t here, he’d have to manage. But I
am
here, and now he’s my friend. I’m not the type to desert a friend in a crisis.’

She reached across to touch my hand. ‘What will your boss say if you try to stay another week? Will he let you?’

I chewed my lip. ‘Well, he can’t stop me, I suppose. I’m still owed holiday. But he won’t be very impressed, especially with the presentation midweek.’

My heart sank. I’d spent months trying to drag the Kelly family’s shoe business into the twenty-first century. If I stayed in France, that meeting would have to be postponed or someone else would have to do it. I couldn’t say I was happy about either option – but after all, the team had been carefully primed for my two-week absence. Surely I should be able to trust them for one more week?

As the waiter arrived with our lunch, Sophie said, ‘Well, of course, I can’t tell you what to do. But maybe an extra week’s sunshine at
La Cour des Roses
will make you stronger to cope with everything when you go back. And we could have lunch again.’ She winked and took a bite of her
croque monsieur
.

I did the same.

‘So. Is it “just a toasted cheese sandwich”?’ Her dimple flashed as she smiled.

I shook my head, unable to speak. I was too busy stuffing another heavenly bite into my mouth.

‘
I
s
it okay if I use the phone?’ I asked Rupert when I got back. ‘Mine’s out of charge and I can’t find the charger.’
And I have no intention of switching it back on, only to find messages from Nathan – or worse, no messages from Nathan.

‘Are you calling Australia or Guatemala?’

‘England.’

‘Then you have my blessing.’

Clutching my cup, I stumbled off to the den for privacy. Part of me hoped Carl would be stuck in one of his interminable meetings. No such luck. He answered his extension on the second ring.

I
cleared my throat
. ‘Carl? It’s Emmy.’

‘Emmy?’
The surprise in his voice came across the Channel loud and clear. ‘Aren’t you in France? Is everything alright?’

‘Yes, I’m in France and I’m fine, but no, everything’s not alright. I’ve got some problems here and I need to stay another week.’

‘You need to
what?
Another
week
?’ His voice headed into the realms of a girlish squeak.

‘I’m sorry, but there’s no way around it. I wouldn’t ask otherwise, you know that,’ I simpered, hoping to butter him up with a tone of voice that suggested I couldn’t imagine he would ever be anything other than understanding.

‘But a week, Emmy, on top of the fortnight already. What could be so important? Are you unwell?’

This was the tricky part. If I made up an illness so severe that it prevented me from coming home, Carl might ask for proof that I’d visited a French doctor or something. And of course I had no idea what tale Nathan would spin when he got back. I decided to stick with embellishment rather than outright fabrication.

‘To tell the truth, it’s all been a bit of a disaster. I’m – we’re – staying with a friend over here and he’s had a terrible time of it. A heart attack...’
Well, that was what we’d thought at the time, wasn’t it?
‘…and a damaged ligament in his leg. He was in hospital, but now he’s out and he’s incapacitated and he lives on his own and there’s nobody else to look after him.’ I slowed down, trying not to babble. ‘If I could stay another week till he’s back on his feet, it would make all the difference.’

There was an ominous pause. ‘Well, I can see your predicament, Emmy, but you know it’s not company policy to allow such a long stretch at once.’

‘Carl, I’ve taken less than half my holiday allowance each year for the past three years.’ I knew this to be true because I’d worked it out in my head at two in the morning.

‘Be that as it may, Emmy, holiday leave can’t be carried forward from one year to the next, you know that.’

You tight bastard.

‘I’m well aware of that, but I still have another two weeks owing for this year, and nowhere in my contract does it say extended leave is forbidden, only that it must be negotiated with my boss. I work all the hours God sends when we have a deadline, you know I do.’

I could hear the cogs turning. Carl was one of those blokes who delegates and then pretends to senior management that he’s done most of the work. Another week of my absence wouldn’t be easy for him.

He sighed. ‘Okay, Emmy. If you must, you must. But if you’re not back a week on Monday, there’ll be hell to pay for both of us.’

‘I understand. You’ll need to go through my desk and find the file for the Kelly account. The meeting’s midweek.’

‘
Midweek
? But who’s going to do the presentation if you’re not here?’ There was an edge of panic in his voice. The Kellys were not easy people to deal with, stuck at least a decade behind the times, stubborn as mules, and I seemed to be the only person they would listen to.

‘Dave knows all about it. He’s been working closely with me and he did a lot of the legwork. He needs to get more experience with presentation, so perhaps he could take that on. If you give him a hand, I’m sure he’ll sail through it.’

‘Well, I don’t know about that, Emmy. You’ve always dealt with the Kellys.’

‘I know, but...’ I hesitated.

The kernel of an idea had been brewing in the back of my mind for a while, but with everything else that was going on, my brain hadn’t properly latched onto it. Now, as I gazed around Rupert’s study and took in the vintage, masculine feel of the leather-topped desk and captain’s chair, the brass pen pot on the desk, the antique blotter, it began to burn that little bit brighter.

‘You know, Carl, I’m beginning to think we should take a different direction with that company. They’re paying us to help them move on, but they’re so hesitant about everything we suggest, we never seem to move forward. I’m thinking about maybe helping them move backwards instead.’

‘You’re...
What
?’

I grinned. ‘The Kellys produce good quality – if old-fashioned – footwear. Maybe it’s time we played on that instead of glossing over it. Vintage is in right now. Talk to Dave – that kind of thing’s right up his street. He can give them both options and I’ll work on the detail when they choose the vintage route.’

‘Well, I don’t know, Emmy...’

‘We won’t lose them, Carl. They’re old-fashioned and stick with what they’re used to. That’s usually a pain in the arse, but this time it suits us – it means they’re not going to move the account just because I’m not at one meeting. Honest.’

‘Well, if you’re sure...’

‘I’m sure. And can you chivvy Heather with that price research I left her with?’

Carl huffed. ‘Okay, but really, if you were here where you’re supposed to be...’

‘Thanks, I really appreciate it. Bye.’

‘Emmy, wait! What about Nathan? He’s not staying out there for another week as well, is he?’

Ah. Should have anticipated that one.
‘To be honest, Carl, I don’t know.’

‘You don’t
know
?’

‘He’s not here. He – um – went to stay with a different friend this week.’
True enough.
‘But I had to stay to help with this sick friend, so I – er – assume he’ll be back on Monday.’

‘Can you get hold of him?’ Carl persisted, oblivious to my discomfort. ‘Derek’s going mad up in accounts. He’s been trying to contact Nathan for two days over some problem, but his mobile’s always switched off. I gave Derek your mobile number.’

‘Oh. I – er – haven’t checked my phone today.’ Crikey – the last thing I needed was a phone call from Nathan’s boss. ‘And I’m sorry, Carl, but I don’t know the friend’s number.’
Lame.
‘It’s Nathan’s friend more than mine.’
Indisputable.
‘Maybe he lost his charger or something?’
Get out now, Emmy, before you make it worse. ‘
If I hear from him, I’ll tell him Derek was after him.’

‘Fine. See you when you get back.’

‘Thanks, Carl.’

But he’d already gone, presumably to let Derek know that Nathan was irresponsibly uncontactable and I was a babbling idiot.

As I sat recovering from my ordeal, I wondered what Nathan would think on Monday when he turned up to work – assuming he
did
turn up to work – and I didn’t show. My main problem was that he would get first run at telling his side of the story, although I couldn’t imagine he would announce to everyone that he’d slept with someone else’s wife while on holiday with his own partner and then run off with said floozy. That sort of thing didn’t go down too well in the accounts department.

Up in my room, I braved turning my mobile on long enough to text Sophie with my decision, then broke the happy news to Rupert, who was ecstatic that his live-in help was daft enough to stay on.

‘I appreciate it, Emmy. I know it must’ve made things difficult for you at work. Take as much time for yourself as you can. Maybe we should get out more. Or we could have people over for dinner. I could introduce you to some of my friends. Get you a bit of a social circle going.’

I looked at him in surprise. ‘I’m only here for another ten days, Rupert. I’m not going to pine for lack of company in that time.’

He frowned. ‘No, I know, but there are lots of lovely people around here, Emmy. Might be fun for you.’

He gave me a strange, considered look, and although I wasn’t sure what was behind it, I was pretty sure I would live to regret it.

Feeling I’d earned a rest, I went outside, all the way to the bottom of the garden to my favourite hideaway where I could sit in the shade of the mauve and white lilacs and doze.

Telling Carl I was going to stay another week was the right decision. I had a fabulous haircut, I’d made a new friend in Sophie, and I was having a... stimulating affair with a gardening god. I felt genuinely happy.

I should have known it couldn’t last.

‘
M
other
, please. I don’t need you to... Of course it would be good to see you but I don’t think there’s room for you here, it’s fully booked. Oh. You already asked the owner? Well, why didn’t you say so? No, I’m not trying to put you off. Yes, I’m managing perfectly well. How did you find out about all this, anyway? I might have known. Yes, I am eating properly. No, I’m not going to do anything stupid. How will Dad get the time off work? Fine. See you tomorrow. Yes, love to Dad. Bye, Mum.’

That was my side of the telephone conversation I had with my mother later that afternoon. My mother’s side was somewhat longer. How did she know what was going on?

To cut a long and garbled story short, it seemed Carl had not got as far as telling Nathan’s boss about Nathan’s new whereabouts, because Derek, still unable to contact Nathan on his mobile, had phoned the number at
La Cour des Roses
which Nathan had furnished him with in case of accounting emergencies. So much for our agreement not to worry about work on our precious holiday together.

Rupert, woken from his nap and unable to spot me at the bottom of the garden from the house, assumed I’d gone for a walk and took it upon himself to inform Derek that Nathan was no longer on the premises, so Derek had looked up Nathan’s emergency contact on the personnel database and – foolishly, in my opinion – phoned Nathan’s mother in the hope that she might know how to reach her son.

We can all imagine her reaction – one minute under the impression her son was on a nice holiday with his girlfriend, the next in a state of confusion bordering on panic. Derek, belatedly realising he’d put his size nines where they shouldn’t be, had bowed out as gracefully and tactfully as he could and scuttled off to deal with his accounting dilemma on his lonesome.

There was nothing graceful or tactful about Nathan’s mother, on the other hand. Assuming that whatever had happened was all my fault – as usual – she’d got straight on the phone to
my
mother, first to find out if she was in the picture, then to put her in the picture, then to say what a disgrace I was to ignore her poor darling son so much that he’d absconded in the middle of his
holiday.

My mother was not one to take such an onslaught lying down. She could hold her own, even against Nathan’s mother – an ability that had me in awe. Leaving the woman in no doubt as to what she thought of both her and her son, she immediately tried my mobile, which of course lay neglected in my bedside drawer.

Mum always prised contact numbers out of me before I went away – ‘In case your father has a stroke or something, Emmy’ – so she phoned
La Cour des Roses
to verify that Nathan had left and to find out where he’d gone and why.

Rupert, having just dozed off again, was caught unawares – not a good state to be in when speaking to my mother. Even so, his underused tact radar must have won out over his thick skin for a change, because he realised she was not to be toyed with and refused to confirm anything other than the fact that Nathan had indeed left and his current whereabouts remained unknown – although, under her remorseless questioning, he did confess that I wasn’t returning home on Saturday as planned and would be staying another week. This, of course, was enough to make my mother demand a room for the weekend and insist I phone her back the minute I was located.

Heaven forbid that the airline gods should look kindly upon me and ensure no last-minute flights were available. My parents were due to arrive mid-afternoon the next day.

With my ears still ringing from the verbal onslaught that was my mother in full panic mode, I laid into Rupert about interfering in other people’s affairs.

‘I need to know what you told Nathan’s boss. Exact words, Rupert.’

‘He asked to speak to Nathan. I told him Nathan wasn’t here. He asked if I had a forwarding number and I said I didn’t. Then he asked if you were still here, and I said you were and you’d spoken to your boss this afternoon.’ He hesitated. ‘Was that okay?’

‘Yes. Good. Okay.’ I was grateful for Rupert’s unusual restraint. At least he hadn’t said anything that could clash with what I’d told Carl. ‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it. Scouts’ honour. I wanted to tell him his feckless employee ran off to shack up with a woman old enough to be his...’

‘Tell me you didn’t.’

‘But I didn’t.’

‘Thank the Lord for that. Right. Next.’

‘There’s more?’ Rupert shifted from foot to foot like a guilty schoolboy.

‘Yes, there’s more. Did you
have
to tell my mother I’m staying on? Did you
have
to invite them here? Couldn’t you have told her you didn’t have any vacancies?’

‘You would’ve had to tell them you were staying another week sooner or later, and you know it. As for inviting them, I didn’t. Your mother invited herself. All I did was confess under vicious interrogation that there would be a room free tomorrow. If you hadn’t been hiding at the bottom of the garden, you would have ended up doing the same.’ His voice softened. ‘She sounded worried about you, Emmy. I got the distinct impression she wouldn’t take no for an answer. I don’t see what else I could have done.’

I heaved a sigh. He was right. We’d been well and truly steamrollered – but that didn’t mean I had to like it.

With an innocent look on his face, he added, ‘You never told me your full name was Emmeline.’

This was what came of allowing people to talk to my mother. When she was distraught, she had a habit of reverting to the name on my birth certificate.

‘I don’t use it. I only answer to Emmy. Bear that in mind if you want to live long enough to meet my mother.’ You could have balanced a coffee cup on my bottom lip, I was pouting so much.

‘I think it’s delightful.’ Rupert dodged clumsily before I could hit him. ‘But I can see that you don’t. Where did she get that from?’

‘A film. Mum was pregnant with me and raging with hormones when she saw it. She decided the name was romantic.’

Rupert laughed.

‘At least I wasn’t named after a bear in checked trousers,’ I shot at him.

He smiled in that aggravatingly mild-mannered way of his. ‘
Touché
, Emmy.’