by Sarah Long
‘And who would be less likely to bring the whole thing crashing down?’ said Simon. ‘If you ask me, that young man was a bit cack-handed, unless he deliberately knocked the slates off to convince us we needed to hire him to do the job.’
‘Roofers are quite hot in my experience,’ said Leo. ‘Fearless and agile, we can enjoy the spectacle. And you certainly won’t catch me volunteering to go up there. I’ve no desire to go before my time and certainly don’t fancy splattering to my death from a height of forty feet. Much as I’ve come to love the musical bedtime sound of water tinkling through my tower, we need to get this fixed.’
‘But it’s so much money!’ said Dougie. ‘In fact, it’s our entire renovation budget! How on earth will we ever afford to pay for the rest of the work so we can have the private apartments we planned? We’ll have to live forever in this ramshackle, student-like existence.’
‘Not quite like my studenthood,’ said Simon. ‘Far better fed and watered here, I find.’
Leo was determined to push it through. He’d be a nervous wreck soon if they didn’t mend that bloody roof.
‘We need to consider this expenditure in the way that Dominic first presented it,’ he said. ‘Divide that sum by nine, and you’ll find that it comes out at a very reasonable price. We should see it that we each own one ninth of the roof; it’s quite a bargain. Not like one person having to pay for the lot. And anyway, without a sound roof, spending any other money indoors would be pointless.’
‘An excellent analysis, well done,’ said Beth. ‘Let’s just get it done. Then we can all sit down and discuss how we can fund the rest of the interior repairs and renovations afterwards – and at least we’ll be able to do that secure in the knowledge the roof’s not going to fall in on us.’
‘Should we have a show of hands?’ said Dominic. ‘Will has already agreed.’
Beth, Simon, Nicola and Leo all raised their hands. Nicola realised she was holding her breath. Was this it? Their dream of château life falling at the first hurdle?
Dougie paused, but eventually put his hand up too.
‘I suppose it has to be done, and you can take my vote on behalf of Mary, too. She’s gone for a lie-down – the roof destruction was too much for her.’
‘Good,’ said Dominic, ‘that’s settled then. Now I’m going for a bike ride. I need to oxygenate my brain.’
CHAPTER TEN
‘It’s not exactly la vie en rose 24/7, is it?’ said Nicola, lying on their bed. ‘You could have cut the atmosphere with a knife at lunch. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I didn’t anticipate that mass huffiness. I suppose I thought it would be like an extended holiday but I’d forgotten that after two weeks in a villa you usually all go home to your normal life.’
Lunch had been a subdued affair and after clearing the table, everyone had retreated to their rooms for a sulky siesta. The reality of blowing their whole repair budget on one thing – albeit a pretty essential thing – had taken the shine off the day.
Dominic was standing in front of the full-length mirror, turning sideways to admire the flatness of his stomach. These regular morning bike rides were definitely having the desired effect; he was slimmer than he’d been in years.
Nicola propped herself up on her elbow.
‘Hello? Are you listening? Or too busy worshipping at the shrine of your own image?’
‘Oh, come on, it’s not that bad,’ he said, working his waist by turning his torso from side to side. ‘I guess there’s nothing like a socking great repair bill to lower the mood, but at least it’s all agreed.’
‘I thought Dougie was being particularly miserable, as if we’d created the problem especially to wind him up.’
‘Mmm, well that’s Dougie for you. I did say from the start that of everyone, he’d be bottom of my list. It’ll be fine, don’t worry.’
He lay down next to her on the bed and started performing some leg lifts.
‘I mean, we’re all worried about money but he acts like he’s the only one who has to foot the bill,’ Nicola continued. ‘And I bet they’re getting a good whack for renting out their house.’
‘As are we. Or we would be if you’d only agree to charge the kids a fair rent. Are you having second thoughts, then?’ He was on to his stretches now, extending his leg across her in a possessive show of masculinity. ‘Was this a really stupid idea of ours, to buy a monstrous money pit of a château with a group of friends you’ve decided you don’t like anymore?’
‘Of course I still like them!’ said Nicola, pushing his leg away from her. ‘And I really love this place. At least, I think I do. Although I read a ten-point guide the other day on how to buy a château in France. The first piece of advice was: “Don’t do it”.’
‘Ha! A little late for us.’
‘But no, I don’t regret it. It’s just tougher than I thought it would be.’
‘How do you think the others are finding it?’
‘All right, I think. Though you never quite know what people are really thinking, do you? They’re probably all bitching right now behind closed doors! Leo’s marvellous, though, isn’t he? In spite of his sleep deprivation.’
‘Yes, he’s a sweetheart. The one who really gets on my tits is Simon. He’s so bloody lazy! Though not too lazy to follow you down to the field this morning when you were hanging out the washing, I happened to notice.’
He looked across at her with a questioning smile.
Nicola frowned. Once again she was being made to feel bad about something that wasn’t her fault.
‘I know, he’s being very annoying. I’ve had words with him, actually – told him to grow up!’
‘I love it when you’re stern.’
Dom cuddled up to Nicola. He did love her – who could fail to fall for her dynamism and energy? And he knew she was the glue that had kept the family together – raising the kids as well as doing endless hours at the surgery. But sometimes he allowed himself a simpler frisson when he looked at her. He had to admit it wasn’t just her heart he loved her for. It felt good having a fanciable wife – not something you could say about every man his age. Except Will, of course, but in a way that didn’t count as it was second time round. Will had been a good friend to him over the years; he’d always be grateful for the way he’d made him see sense. ‘Think very carefully, mate,’ he’d said. ‘I don’t think you really want this, do you?’ Stern. Just like Nicola. Just what you need in moments of emotional weakness.
*
‘I can’t believe how much it costs to replace the roof,’ Simon complained. ‘You could buy an entire village for that price, and we could each have our own little house – much simpler.’
He and Beth were lying side by side on the bed, both tapping away on their phones.
‘I can completely believe it; this place is massive,’ said Beth. ‘And who wants a little village house when you can have a fuck-off château?’
‘With all the attendant expense. I knew this would happen.’
‘And where we create our very own senior co-housing community.’
‘Ugh, what a ghastly expression.’
‘It’s very zeitgeisty,’ said Beth. ‘It’s taken off in the States; it’ll be big in Britain next.’
‘I presume you’re referring to those horrible retirement villages where Barbara and Dwayne drive around in golf carts with personalised plates?’
‘Not in our case, obviously. Although Will has his sit-on mower, I suppose.’
‘Boys and their toys.’
‘You’re not regretting it, are you?’ Beth turned to face him but Simon continued staring at his phone.
‘No, I’m not regretting it.’ The silence felt heavy though.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing Eva next week,’ said Beth. ‘I hope she’s all right; she did sound a bit down.’
‘I’m glad she’s not bringing that dork.’
‘Me too. He’s the only one of her boyfriends I’ve never cared for.’
‘Y
ou were always too attached to his predecessors, I thought.’
‘I know, it felt like a small death whenever they left our lives. Just as we were becoming fond of them, Eva decided they weren’t the one and we’re back to square one.’
‘And you always got their names wrong. Like when you called Luke Max by mistake and told him you’d bought the special cheese he liked, and Eva gave you that thundering look because Max was history.’
‘Nobody does a thundering look like Eva.’
‘Wonder where she gets that from?’ said Simon.
Beth frowned.
‘Do you think we spoiled her? Made her too fussy so she can’t tolerate any relationship that’s not perfect?’
‘Don’t come out with that spoilt only-child routine again. One child is quite enough, and if we’d had more, we would only have spoiled them all.’
‘I suppose. I must say I’m enjoying being spared the daily accounts of her dissatisfactions. Or at least I’m only receiving them remotely.’ She rolled off the bed and walked to the window.
‘It’s the skies I love here – the way the colours change and then darken when the rain’s coming, as if someone’s turned down the dimmer switch. I can see Fizz coming back from a run – just in time, from the look of it. She’s a funny little thing, isn’t she? I thought I was going to hate Temple-woman, but in fact she’s really grown on me. ’
‘Well, she’s younger and prettier and nicer than you, so no wonder you thought you wouldn’t like her.’
Beth looked at him with intense dislike.
‘Jokes!’ said Simon.
‘I just said I do like her; clean your ears out. Though I do find it strange that she’s chosen this life. Married to someone twice her age, then holed up here with a bunch of old people.’
‘We’re not old. I read that middle-age ends at fifty-eight, so we’re mostly still in range.’
‘Maybe she saw Will as a convenient meal ticket. It means she can swan around with her vlogging rather than join one of those faceless corporations that her contemporaries will have signed up for.’
‘That’s a cynical view. Maybe she just fell madly in love with him. Or maybe he’s a legend in the sack.’
‘It’s true she doesn’t look mal baisée.’
‘What does that mean?’ Simon asked.
‘It literally means badly fucked, though it sounds much cruder in English. It’s one of the great French insults.’
‘Though, by extension, you might conclude the insult applies to the person’s partner, if they have one.’
‘Do you think I look mal baisée?’
Simon looked up at her warily. ‘Is this a trick question? You know we don’t talk about such things. We’re British, after all.’
‘I agree. The secret of a successful marriage is never to discuss it. Assuming we do have a successful marriage?’
Simon looked back at his phone.
‘Now, is it time to go down for a drink, do you suppose?’
*
‘Good run, darling?’
Will looked up from the armchair in their bedroom window, where he was swiping through Facebook photos on his iPad. His ex-wife had posted a picture of the table setting for her birthday dinner, featuring elaborate quantities of glasses and folded napkins and hand-written place names. What a relief not to be there! He knew exactly how it would be: Marjorie would garner compliments for her perfectly presented dinner, served by a ‘girl’ she had hired for the evening. She had tagged the guests, many of them his former colleagues from the law firm who had taken her side when he walked out on the marriage. He didn’t miss them at all.
Fizz was peeling off her running gear, her lithe body exposed for his delight. As he did most days, he thanked his lucky stars for the gift of her, with her youthful energy and zest for life.
‘It was good, and I finished just in time before the rain. What are you grinning at?’
‘I’m grinning at you.’
‘Grinning fool.’
She took a towel from the rail by the radiator.
‘Come here, forget the shower.’
She looked at him as if he was mad.
‘I mean it, let me smell you in all your sporting glory.’
She walked towards the chair and he pulled her onto his lap, burying his face in her armpit.
‘I’m coming home in three days, don’t wash! Did you know that Napoleon wrote that to Josephine?’
Fizz wriggled away from him.
‘Everyone was dirty in those days; it must have been gross.’
‘And he referred to her private parts as the Baron de Kepen.’
‘Weirdo.’
‘Certainly eccentric. I’m reading a marvellous biography of him – you can have it after me.’
‘No thanks.’
‘I thought you’d say that.’
How marvellous to have a wife who could see no point in reading about a long-dead French general. Marjorie would have devoured it and then discussed it with him ad nauseam, contradicting him on his memory of its contents in exhausting detail.
Fizz slipped off his lap and lifted her arm for an exploratory sniff.
‘All right, just for you, I’ll go for the French approach. No soap, just perfume. It’s so painful having a shower here, anyway. Not even a shower, just a clanky old attachment. I’m sick of crouching in that knackered old bathtub. ’
She sprayed herself from the bottle on the dressing table: Annick Goutal’s Tenue de Soirée, a gift from Will, who correctly believed she would love the purple pompom that was attached to the stopper. It was inspired by romantic nights in Paris, he’d told her, and soon he would be taking her there for a weekend of unimaginable luxury, to make up for the rudimentary bathroom provisions of the château.
Will watched her as she slipped into a fluffy pink jumper and pair of jeans. She then picked up the bangle he had given her for her last birthday and fitted it over her wrist. It was a Cartier love bracelet and Fizz complained it was slightly too small, like a mini chastity belt. ‘You’re trying to suffocate me,’ she had said when she tried it on for the first time, ‘but I don’t mind, it’s beautiful.’
‘Dressing for dinner, then,’ Will said.
‘If you’ve got it, you might as well wear it,’ said Fizz, twirling her arm at him. ‘Can you film me walking over to the window? I’m going to post it under the heading: Chatelaine Spring Dinner-wear. Very Mademoiselle Bovary, I thought: a young woman in a fresh pink jumper preparing to sit down to yet another dinner with a bunch of old crocks. I’m starting to get a decent following.’
‘Only if you promise to take everything off afterwards,’ said Will. ‘There’s still plenty of siesta time left before evening cocktails.’
‘Mocktails for me,’ said Fizz, then frowned. ‘Will, can I ask you something? Do you think I’ve become more boring since I stopped drinking?’
‘You could never be boring.’
‘Thank you. It’s just something Simon said. He claimed I used to be more fun before I gave up drinking and took up running.’
‘You know how he likes to tease. I think he could benefit from following your example, to be honest.’
‘And you don’t find me boring in other ways? I often feel when I’m with you and the others, you all know so much more than me, you’ve all read load of books . . . I sometimes think I don’t measure up.’
‘You are fascinating to me in every sense.’
‘Because I know you were bored with Marjorie before you met me, and I’d hate to think I was going the same way . . .’
‘Stop right there! You are as far away from boring as it is possible to be. And as for what Simon says, he is a controversialist who loves to provoke a reaction. Take no notice.’
‘That’s true, and I don’t really care what he thinks, he’s such an old dinosaur. I’d be more worried if Leo thought that too.’
‘As I say, ignore him. Simon takes great pleasure in finding people’s sensitive spots and needling th
em. He does it to all of us. When I first met him, I admit, I thought he was a troublemaker – out to prove everyone has feet of clay. But I came to realise it comes from a good place. He never judged me or looked down on me for not coming from the kind of comfortable background he does – he’s not as much of a snob as he likes to pretend. He prides himself on daring to say what everyone is thinking, but dares not say! Which doesn’t mean he’s always right, but it can make him very entertaining. And you’ve got to admit, he knows how to have a good time. Now, let’s get this video done then I’ll show you how you are the complete opposite to boring.’
*
In Dougie and Mary’s room, the talk was of a more scholarly nature. Mary was reading aloud the first draft of her thesis to her perfect audience, who was listening with his eyes closed and his hands together, as if in prayer.
When she had finished she lay the papers down and looked expectantly for his response.
‘It’s marvellous, Mary, well done,’ he said. ‘And it benefits greatly from being delivered as the spoken word. It reminds me of when you borrowed a recording of Beowulf from the faculty library, delivered in the sonorous tones of a don whose name escapes me. We listened to it together and I knew then that I had found my soulmate.’
‘It wasn’t everyone’s idea of a first date. Do you really think it’s all right?’
‘More than all right. A first-class piece of scholarship, I’d say.’
‘I still need to work on the footnotes, but I admit I’m pleased with it. It’s so conducive to quiet study here, don’t you find?’
‘Aside from the riotous dinners, I grant you. Almost a college atmosphere there; I’m always expecting the more riotous members to start throwing bread rolls at each other. Not to mention the attendant noise of the château crumbling around our ears – you can practically hear the flurry of golden sovereigns falling to the floor, our careful lifetime savings thrown away on shoring up a ruin.’
‘It will all work out, I’m certain.’
‘It would help the budget if some of the others didn’t insist on eating and drinking their body weight every night. I’m not convinced by this shared kitty idea, when it so obviously disfavours the more abstemious among us.’