The Little French Guesthouse (20 page)

‘No, honestly, Alain, you don’t.’

‘Emmy, I wish you weren’t going home tomorrow. I know you’ve overstayed and you have to go, and I’m not worried I’ll never see you again, because you’ll be back to see Rupert. But I wish we’d had more time to get to know each other.’ He frowned. ‘Your life is upside-down at the moment, and any decent bloke wouldn’t dream of putting you under pressure at a time like this. I only want you to know that under different circumstances, I think we could have been more than friends – and I would have liked that very much.’

I felt a sharp pang of regret, almost a physical pain, deep in my gut. He was talking about us in the past tense already, even though our friendship was so new. The possibility of it being anything more was too unlikely. I lived and worked in England. Alain lived and worked in France. We barely knew each other. I had no intention of uprooting myself for some ridiculous rebound romance, and I was sure Alain wouldn’t want me to, only to end up taking the blame when it all went wrong.

And yet the thought that this gentle yet powerful something we’d only just found would die at the end of the day filled me with sadness. A tear threatened at the corner of my eye and I blinked furiously to stop it from falling, but it escaped anyway to roll blatantly down my cheek. Alain freed an arm and reached up to brush it away with his thumb.

‘I’m sorry,’ I murmured. ‘I’m being stupid.’

‘No, you’re not. You’ve had a hard time.’

I sighed. It was now or never. I had to know if this burgeoning attraction was more than a cry for attention on my part, a need for comfort, a desire to know that I was attractive to someone after being so cruelly dumped. My unexpected fling with Ryan had reinstated my confidence a little, given me back some faith in myself – but that had been an experiment, a tentative step in forging a way forward. This thing with Alain... There was something else here, running way under the surface, but I’d been through so much over the past couple of weeks, I couldn’t trust my own instincts any more.

Suddenly, I needed to be sure. In real terms, it would make no difference to what was already an impossible situation. But if I left France not knowing, I would always wonder.

‘Now it’s my turn to ask
you
something,’ I ventured.

‘Okay.’ Alain was hesitant, a worried frown-line creasing his forehead. I would have found it comical if I hadn’t felt so nervous.

‘I don’t want to appear too forward or anything.’

‘I think we’re already past that,’ he muttered, embarrassed. He’d managed to retreat the inch or two that the huddle of damp humanity at his back would allow, but our bodies were still touching, the intimacy still potent enough to make us both ill at ease so early in our budding friendship.

‘Here goes.’ I cleared my throat. ‘Would you mind kissing me?’

If his eyebrows could have shot up any higher, they would have hovered over his head in thin air, the way they do in cartoons.

I took a deep breath. ‘I need to know.’

He gazed deep into my eyes, then nodded his understanding. In slow motion, the anticipation warm and sweet, he lowered his head until his lips met mine, feather light and velvet soft. We stayed like that for a long moment, oblivious to the multitude around us, until a jolt at his back forced that smidgeon of extra pressure and the kiss grew firmer, laden with possibility and impossibility, desire and regret mingling in soft desperation.

Alain pulled back, his eyes never leaving my face. ‘Did that answer your question?’

I struggled to speak. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

The crowds were beginning to disperse as the rain slowed to a drizzle, then stopped as suddenly as it had started. A pair of middle-aged ladies gave us disapproving looks as Alain took my hand and we followed them out of the shelter. The sun shone again, burning brightly to dry the gravel pathways. I shivered a little.

Alain squeezed my hand. ‘Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’re quiet.’

‘That’s because I don’t know what to say.’

‘Je comprends.’

The sound of him speaking French made my heart miss a beat. That and the knowledge that he
did
understand. I had to go home tomorrow. The likelihood that this could ever lead to anything was slim at best and would rely on me taking massive action and a huge leap of faith. I knew I was in no position to do that right now, either emotionally or in practical terms. Alain knew it, too.

W
e didn’t leave
until the zoo was ready to kick us out. While I excused myself to visit the loo, Alain disappeared into the gift shop where I tracked him down at the tills, pocketing his wallet and clutching a paper bag.

He held it out to me. ‘To remind you of your grown-up visit to the zoo.’

And to remind you of me.
As the unspoken words floated between us, I took the bag from him and peered inside at something grey and fluffy. Intrigued, I reached in and pulled out a soft toy – a gibbon with long dangling legs and arms and a cute baby on its back.

‘It goes around your neck. Look.’ Alain pointed to a little girl leaving the zoo proudly sporting hers. While I was distracted, he stretched the gibbon’s arms around my neck and fastened the hands together. ‘There.’

Embarrassed and inordinately pleased at the same time, I stroked the velvety fur. ‘Thank you. I can’t remember the last time someone bought me a soft toy.’

‘That’s what will make it a unique and treasured gift.’

I smiled. A ridiculous gift it might be, but I already knew he was right. I sported it all the way to the car, where it was removed so it – and I – wouldn’t be throttled by the seat belt.

Alain glanced at the clock on the dashboard. ‘Damn. We need to get back.’

‘Oh? Do you need to be somewhere?’

His cheeks reddened a little. ‘No. Ah. Well, yes. And you must have things to do.’ He went quiet and fiddled with the radio. I was happy not to chat. All I could think about was our kiss and whether anything could ever come of it – but moving to a foreign country for all the wrong reasons simply wasn’t on the cards.

When we arrived back at
La Cour des Roses
, the courtyard was crowded with cars.

I frowned. ‘Who the hell are all these people?’

Alain cleared his throat. ‘Come on, let’s go in.’

‘Alain, thank you, but you don’t need to escort me in. I’m a big girl now.’

‘Need a quick word with Rupert,’ he muttered.

Shaking my head, I got out of the car and headed up the steps into the kitchen.

‘Emmy. Have a nice day?’ Rupert came through from the guest lounge.

‘Yes, thanks. What are all those cars doing out there? We could barely park!’

He shrugged. ‘I decided to have a party. Come on through and join in.’

‘But Rupert, I’m tired,’ I whined. ‘Can’t I just go for a bath?’

Rupert snorted, pushing me down the hall. ‘Hardly, love. Not when you’re the guest of honour.’

‘I’m... What?’

But it was too late. I’d been propelled into a room of revellers.

T
here were
greetings and cheers at my appearance. I spotted the crew from the dinner party – Ellie, Philippe (although no Martine this time), Bob and Jonathan. The Bedfords were there, along with some of this week’s
gîte
guests. Ryan with Brenda and Richard. Sophie grinned at me from across the room and raised her glass in my direction.

I turned to Alain. ‘You knew about this, didn’t you?’ I hissed.

He gave me a sheepish look. ‘Knew about it. Didn’t have much say in it. I’ve learned to do what I’m told where Rupert’s concerned.’

His hangdog look made me laugh, and as a glass of wine was pushed into my hand, I figured I might as well give in and enjoy the evening. As Alain said, it was best to do as you were told where Rupert was concerned.

The sideboard groaned with nibbles that my host must have spent all day preparing while I was out of the way. I worried he might have overdone it, especially with
gîte
changeover day tomorrow, but he seemed in high spirits and I told myself that as of tomorrow morning, he was no longer my responsibility. My heart sank a little at the thought.

Jonathan ambled over and gave me a tight bear hug. ‘Rupert’s going to miss you, Emmy. God knows what he’s going to do without you.’

‘Stop making the poor girl feel guilty, you old fool,’ Ellie said, coming swiftly to my rescue. ‘Ignore him, Emmy. Jonathan and Rupert are the absolute champions at emotional blackmail – as I’m sure you know by now.’ She winked. ‘Come and have a girly chat with me and Sophie while Jonathan gives Alain a list of all the little favours he needs doing in the next week or so.’

Alain gave me a smile as he turned fondly back to Jonathan, and I allowed myself to be dragged across the room.

Sophie kissed me on both cheeks. ‘Did you have a lovely day?’

When I couldn’t help but grin, she squealed. ‘I knew it!’

Ellie shook her head. ‘The poor girl has only just got rid of one useless man,’ she grumbled. ‘Why everyone seems to think she needs another is beyond me.’

‘But Alain is very handsome, don’t you think?’ Sophie asked her earnestly.

Ellie studied my date from across the room. As though he could feel her gaze lasering in on him, Alain turned and gave us a puzzled look.

‘If you like that sort of thing,’ Ellie agreed.

‘You are not the romantic type, Miss Fielding,’ Sophie chided.

‘Please. It’s Ellie. And no, I haven’t got a romantic bone in my body, thank goodness. Needs, yes. Romance, no.’ She shuddered, making us both laugh. ‘Now, tell me, Sophie. Why have I never been to your hair salon when you’ve done such a wonderful job on Emmy’s hair?’

Well, fancy that. I was beginning to warm to Ellie Fielding.

A
n hour or so in
, the party was going great guns. Not too big to be impossible and not so small that it was just a gathering of friends. Rupert – as ever – had got it just right.

In the unlikely event of Nathan and me hosting something similar at home, people would come because they were Nathan’s friends or because there was a work connection, an angle of some sort that might benefit them. My friends had nothing in common with Nathan’s, so we tended not to mix them. There would be no camaraderie like there was here, with people happy to greet old friends and make new ones, embracing each other’s differences.

I crossed the room to speak to the Bedfords. ‘Did you have a good day today?’

‘Lovely,’ Caroline Bedford confirmed. ‘Nothing too strenuous – just drove into Pierre-la-Fontaine for coffee and a look around, then lunch.’ She smiled sheepishly. ‘And then we spent the afternoon in the garden.’

‘Do you have any sightseeing recommendations for us?’ her husband asked.

I laughed. ‘Not as many as I’d like, I’m afraid, what with helping Rupert. But I did take a lovely drive last week...’ I described the day with my parents around the
château
towns. ‘I’m sure Rupert would be happy to give you the itinerary in more detail. And...’ I hesitated, then thought, what the heck. ‘And then there’s the zoo.’

‘The zoo?’

‘I went there today, actually. It’s a wonderful place, very conservation-minded and beautifully landscaped. I think you’d like it.’

There was a loud clank of a spoon on glass.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Rupert announced as the chatter died down. ‘I would like to say a few words before I get too drunk to say what I want to say properly.’

A good-humoured chuckle rippled around the room. Some of those present obviously knew Rupert’s drinking habits of old.

‘First of all, welcome to my humble abode.’

At this, there was a loud snort from Jonathan who, as a pensioner, clearly lived in more straitened circumstances than his friend.

‘I think you all know I’m not one for making speeches.’

He glared at Ellie’s murmured ‘Thank the Lord for that!’ and continued undaunted.

‘But since I
am
making one on this occasion... Firstly, I would like to apologise to those of you who don’t know me well for having to put up with this outpouring’ – he nodded at the Bedfords and the
gîte
guests – ‘and secondly, at the risk of embarrassing you all, I would like to say how grateful I am to have good friends around me at such a difficult time.’

I glanced around at the array of bewildered faces staring back at their host, a man who was not renowned for sentimentality or any show of emotion.

‘However, the main reason for breaking my embargo on speeches,’ he carried on, ‘is that I would like to propose a toast to my very own angel, Emmeline Jamieson.’

He winked at me, and I spluttered at the combination of being the subject of his toast and his use of my much-hated name in front of all these people.

‘Emmy has just gone through the hardest time of her life,’ he said, all trace of joking gone. ‘And yet she has rallied round a man she barely knew to help him through the hardest time of
his
life. She is one of the friendliest, most unselfish people I have ever met, and I can only say how privileged I feel to have been at the receiving end of her warmth and generosity.’

He paused for a moment as though deciding whether to go on. ‘At the risk of making you all nervous by becoming sentimental... I never had children. I’m well aware that every single one of my friends knows I would have made a terrible parent, and they’d be right. But if I’d ever had a daughter, I couldn’t be more proud of her than I am of Emmy. And in the absence of being able to adopt her, I hope she will continue to be my friend for many years to come, however she chooses to map out her future.’ He raised his glass. ‘To Emmy.’

The echo came back. ‘To Emmy.’

I would have curled up and died of embarrassment if it wasn’t for the genuine way in which everyone responded, whether they knew me or not. Rupert may have been many things, but the one thing that was indisputable was that he was much-loved by his friends. Despite my discomfort at being the centre of unwanted attention, I knew that if there really were vibes in the atmosphere, all those coming my way were positive and heartfelt.

With the moment over and no way to segue from awkward silence to casual conversation, Rupert was saved by Bob, who declared it a moment for a professional photographer. He shot outside to his motorbike for his camera and returned to take several group photos, by which time everyone had relaxed into easy-going chatter again.

My face flushed from all the attention, I escaped into the kitchen. Away from my fifteen minutes – or fifteen seconds – of fame, I gave into the many mixed emotions storming around my system and burst into tears.

I didn’t doubt for a minute that Rupert’s speech had been genuine and heartfelt. If I hadn’t been sure of that, I might have been suspicious that it was yet another ploy to add to his grandiose plans for my moving to France and his clumsy attempts at matchmaking. I wished he could see past his selfish motives and try to understand that he wasn’t helping me cope with going back home to a presumably empty flat and stressful job and to face all my family and friends, by being as busy as a bee in the background, putting ridiculous notions of sunny hotel management and rather moreish accountants into my head.

Hearing a soft footfall behind me, I assumed it was Rupert. The last thing I wanted was to hurt his feelings by letting him think he’d upset me after such a lovely speech. In a panic, I swiped at my eyes with a tissue and turned to flash a beaming smile his way. But it wasn’t Rupert. It was Alain.

‘That smile isn’t going to fool anybody,’ he said gently.

‘I thought you were Rupert.’

‘He’s busy ordering Bob and his camera around. Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ I promptly burst into tears again.

He hesitated. ‘Do you need a hug? Or do you want me to back off?’

‘Hug,’ I sniffled, lurching towards him as he folded his arms about my shoulders, towering over me so my head landed somewhere in the middle of his chest, where I sobbed until I realised I’d drenched his shirt with tears and possibly less desirable substances. Recovering myself enough to wipe my nose on the tissue before pulling away, I took a step back and hiccupped away any remaining tears.

‘I’m so sorry,’ I said, mortified. ‘I don’t know what’s the matter with me. PMS on top of everything else, I think.’ I winced and bit my lip. ‘Sorry. Too much information.’

Alain inclined his head in a bemused gesture. ‘That’s okay. If Rupert’s going to go getting all sentimental, he should at least make an effort to fit in with your hormones.’

I stared in horror at his chest. ‘I’m sorry,’ I said again. ‘Look at your shirt. What will people think?’

Alain glanced at the spreading damp patch on the dark blue fabric. ‘I could have spilled my drink. Don’t worry about it. And stop apologising.’

‘Sorry.’

He rolled his eyes and stepped nearer again, lifting his thumb to wipe under my eyes. ‘Mascara,’ he explained.

‘Do I look like a panda?’ I asked him anxiously.

‘The truth?’

‘Yes.’

‘No. You look vulnerable and beautiful.’

I gaped at him, wide-eyed, as a wave of raucous laughter drifted in from the lounge.

‘Come along, Emmeline Jamieson.’ He tugged at my hand. ‘You’re missing your own party.’

As we walked back in, Alain retrieved his sparkling water from the sideboard and knocked against Ellie, successfully coating himself – but not Ellie or there would have been bloodshed – in the exact same spot where I’d shed my copious tears, bless him.

Only Rupert seemed suspicious of Alain’s clumsiness – I saw him suppress a smile. Meddler. I wouldn’t put it past him to have deliberately made me cry in the hope Alain would come after me and fold me in his arms and... Oh. Hmm.

Sophie found me not long afterwards. ‘Are you okay? I would have come after you, but Alain got there first.’ She was smirking.

‘Don’t you start,’ I chided.

She plastered an innocent look across her face. ‘So. What happened today?’

‘We went to the zoo.’

She slapped my arm. ‘You know what I mean. Anything exciting? A kiss, maybe?’

My blush told her everything she needed to know. ‘Ah. Romance!’ Her face fell. ‘But you are going home tomorrow.’

‘Yes.’

‘And if you weren’t...?’

I gave her the titbit she wanted. ‘Then maybe.’

She nodded sadly, then looked at her watch. ‘I have to go. An early appointment tomorrow.’ Throwing her arms around me, she squeezed tight. ‘I will miss you, Emmy. When you walked into my salon last week, I had no idea there would be so much excitement!
So
much more interesting than Madame Fournier’s dog having puppies or Madame Laurent’s husband’s attempt to build a garage. You will come back soon?’

I nodded, unable to speak. My throat was clogged with tears.

By eleven o’clock, the party was still in full swing and I began to worry. I had to get up early for the ferry and Rupert had a busy day ahead, but there was no sign of anyone leaving yet.

I found Alain talking to Jonathan. ‘You two. I need your help.’

Jonathan frowned. ‘Of course, love. What is it?’

‘We need to start breaking up the party, or Rupert’s going to be exhausted tomorrow. Either of you ready to go home yet?’

Jonathan smiled. ‘Your concern for Rupert is touching, Emmy.’

I rolled my eyes. ‘Yes, well, it’s not as selfless as you think. I have to get up at six in the morning.’

Alain nodded. ‘What do you say, Jonathan? Ready for beddy-byes if I give you a lift home?’

Jonathan gave an exaggerated yawn. ‘Guess I am pretty tired. Better go tell our host.’

‘That’s the idea.’ I beamed at them. ‘Be really loud about it, so people take the hint.’

Off they went to say goodbye to Rupert, Jonathan hamming it up all the way there and back. He should have been in amateur dramatics. Maybe he had been, once upon a time.

As I saw them to the door, I was gratified to hear a couple of murmurs along the same lines from other guests.

I popped a kiss on Jonathan’s cheek. ‘Well done. You’re a star.’

He blushed and kissed me back. ‘Take care of yourself, Emmy. Keep in touch. Give me your car key, Alain.’

‘What for?’

‘Takes me ages to get in that tiny thing. You two can stay here for a minute while I battle with it.’

Shaking his head, Alain handed him the key and watched him shuffle down the steps and across the gravel. ‘He’s as bad as Rupert. I’m not sure which of them should get the prize for interfering.’

I grinned. ‘They mean well, though.’

‘Yes, they do.’

He turned to me, all trace of joking gone. His eyes were hypnotising in the light from the doorway, golden flecks shimmering amongst the brown. We looked at each other for a long moment, and then he leaned towards me and cupped my neck in his hand as he drew me to him. His kiss was soft and gentle, and his lips felt so perfect on mine that I could have wept for joy at finding him and sorrow at losing him already. I allowed myself that small moment of bliss before pulling away.

‘Bye, Alain.’

‘
Au revoir
, Emmy.’

M
y alarm jolted
me out of a fitful sleep at six for the drive to Calais. Despite not getting to bed until well after midnight by the time I’d cleared up after the party, I wanted to allow plenty of time for getting lost, tail-to-tail traffic jams, the car breaking down, a tyre blowout or any other manner of possible travel catastrophes.