A Year in the Château

by Sarah Long

  As it turned out, Maddie had no say in the matter. A few minutes later, there was a ring at the doorbell and Nicola was not at all surprised to find John standing on the doorstep. He nodded at Nicola and barged into the sitting room, where Maddie was curled up on the sofa.

  ‘You’re pregnant! Why didn’t you tell me?’

  *

  Later that evening, Nicola called Beth to give her the welcome news.

  ‘I can’t tell you how happy that makes me,’ said Beth. ‘We’ve all been on tenterhooks waiting for your decision; it’s been like a second bereavement.’

  ‘Beth! You can hardly compare the possibility of me leaving the château to Dom’s death.’

  ‘All right, not quite the same. Talk me through it, then. Did he go on bended knee to ask her back?’

  ‘Pretty much, but she wasn’t having it at first. Sent him away with a flea in his ear and didn’t tell him about the baby.’

  ‘But he knows now?’

  ‘Yes! On his way out, he bumped into Gus on the street, who shook him by the hand and said congratulations! John asked him what he meant, then Gus realised he’d massively put his foot in it and tried to backtrack. Too late, though – John made him tell him and came back banging on the door.’

  ‘And is he pleased?’

  ‘Delighted! I think all Maddie’s anxieties melted away when she saw how thrilled he was at the news. I’d made a discreet withdrawal to my bedroom, but they came up to see me afterwards, stars in their eyes. He’d already decided he really wanted them to stay together and this is the logical next step, isn’t it? Might as well get on with it.’

  ‘Quite.’

  ‘Maddie was more outraged than Gus about the Flora news. We talked about it after John left. She was pressing me about whether I suspected, could I remember any times when I might have had an inkling, when Dom was acting suspiciously. Then I did think back to how he used to go off on his bike at weekends, saying he was going to the gym, but his gym kit always came back clean.’

  ‘He was getting his exercise elsewhere.’

  ‘Thanks for reminding me.’

  ‘Sorry.’

  ‘Anyway, it was hard for her to have Dom fall off his pedestal. She’s always been such a daddy’s girl, and now he turns out to be less of paragon than she thought. But there’s a silver lining. I think she sees John by comparison as a model of future fatherhood.’

  ‘Even though he did ditch her when she was pregnant.’

  ‘He didn’t know she was, that’s the point. But I’m glad he came back before he knew, which means he did it because he wants to, not because he feels obliged.’

  ‘A happy result. When are you back?’

  ‘I’ve booked my train – I get in at 6.15 tomorrow evening.’

  ‘Hooray.’

  ‘I’m excited! Does that sound ridiculous? It’s the first time I’ve really looked forward to anything since Dom died. Apart from the baby, obviously, but that’s ages away.’

  The bedroom door opened and Maddie popped her head round.

  ‘Who are you talking to?’ she asked.

  ‘Beth. Do you want a word?’

  She handed Maddie her phone and watched her radiant face as she chatted about her plans.

  ‘You too, Beth,’ Maddie was saying, ‘and look after Mum for us, won’t you? Yes, will do, bye.’

  She handed the phone back to her mother.

  ‘I’m staying here tonight,’ she said, ‘to make the most of you before you go. And I’ve decided you’re right, after all, about not being my nanny. A woman at work was talking about it today – she’s about your age. She moved her mother-in-law into their basement to help with the children – they’ve now grown up, of course, but the mother-in-law is still there.’

  ‘Exactly. I’m not sure how happy John would be to have me hanging around into my dotage.’

  ‘He loves you, actually. But separate houses are probably best. And we can bring mung bean to see you. I can just see the baby playing in the fields, learning to crawl in the ballroom . . .’

  ‘Mung bean?’

  ‘That’s how big it is right now. Soon it’ll be peanut-sized.‘

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Beth and Leo were standing on the platform when Nicola stepped off the train. They were holding up a hand-painted sign that read WELCOME HOME, NICOLA.

  ‘God, you’re embarrassing,’ said Nicola, as she embraced them. ‘What are we, the Waltons?’

  ‘We’re expressing our joy at your return,’ said Leo. ‘Beth told us about your ghastly plan to desert us to become Maddie’s skivvy. What a terrible idea! Congratulations anyway – does this mean I become a grand-fairy godfather?’

  ‘It does indeed. I don’t know if they’re thinking of having a christening but you would certainly be first choice godparent. Handsome, clever and rich. And no children of your own to share the inheritance.’

  ‘I hope it’s a boy then I can give him frocks.’

  Leo took charge of Nicola’s bag and they escorted her to the car park where Simon was waiting behind the wheel. He jumped out to greet Nicola.

  ‘Happy to have you back. I am your obedient chauffeur. Beth said I didn’t need to come but I insisted because I know she can’t bear to be without me these days.’

  Simon and Beth exchanged a flirtatious look. Thank goodness for that, thought Nicola. It looks like they’re back on track.

  The drive home through the countryside was beautiful, with calm expanses of autumn-coloured trees illuminated by the sun setting over the valley. The sense of wide open spaces offered a welcome contrast to the frenzy of Nicola’s journey from London, and when the car crunched to a halt on the gravel, she felt a deep sense of peace she hadn’t known in months.

  The others were already on to the aperitifs, gathered around the fire in a warm circle. Nicola embraced them in turn, so happy to be back among her friends.

  ‘You missed the event of the year,’ said Will, after kissing her cheek. ‘We found a wasps’ nest in the outbuilding where our furniture is stored and the sapeurs-pompiers came over to remove it.’

  ‘It was a magnificent sight,’ said Leo. ‘They changed into these sexy white boiler-suits and matching helmets with mesh veils, then went charging into the barn. Brave and medically trained – what a dream. I recognised one of them from the Bastille ball. He gave me his number, but he’s not my type.’

  ‘I can’t believe we didn’t notice it before,’ said Will. ‘That’s the thing about having thirty-two rooms, you never know what you’ll find.’

  ‘Unfortunately we had to pay because it was more than a hundred metres from the house,’ said Dougie. ‘Any closer and it would have been free. They also warned us they’d be round at Christmas to sell us a calendar.’

  ‘I can’t wait for that,’ said Leo. ‘We’ll have to invite them in for a hot toddy.’

  ‘The nest was the most perfect shape,’ said Fizz. ‘I featured it in my latest vlog – peak hits! The most popular one since the thing I did on Mary and her dusting techniques; you’ve no idea how fashionable cleaning has become. I’m keeping the wasps’ nest as a sculpture, to be installed in the studio that Will’s building for me.’

  ‘Congratulations, grandma,’ said Mary. ‘The inaugural grandchild of the château – we’ll have to create a nursery for when they visit.’

  Mary tried not to think of the attendant mess, though she was relaxing on that front; you had to when it came to old houses. After one sleepless night contemplating all the hands that had touched the stair rail, she had reached the conclusion that history was all about human traces. There was only so much you could remove with a cloth.

  ‘Steady on, it’s only a mung bean at the moment,’ said Nicola. ‘Let’s not count our chickens.’

  ‘Nothing will go wrong,’ said Beth. ‘You’ve used up all your bad luck this year. There’s a casserole in the oven – boeuf en daube. Did I tell you we have a guest for dinner? I invited Jean-Louis. I came to know him much bett
er on our trip to the market. It’s amazing the confidences that are exchanged when you’re sitting beside someone in a van, looking out of the window together.’

  She gave Nicola a meaningful look.

  ‘He was so pleased to hear you were coming back today, so I invited him.’

  As if on cue, there was a ring at the door.

  Nicola was surprised how pleased she was to hear this news, and when Jean-Louis came into the room, she realised how much she had missed him. Maddie’s dramas had put a halt on her own life but now she couldn’t wait to get back into her routine here. Especially her market trips with Jean-Louis – he would want to know every detail about the past week. It was quite a habit they had developed recently, to share their intimate thoughts and feelings, the way you do with close friends. How handsome he looked tonight, dressed in country casual style, a check shirt beneath a dark red waistcoat, his blond hair brushed more tidily than usual. He worked his way round the room with French formality, shaking the men by the hand and kissing the women on both cheeks. Nicola noticed he left her till last and she felt herself blushing when he turned to her.

  ‘Thank you for coming back,’ he said quietly. ‘I was afraid that the draw of your family would prove too strong, that you would be disinclined to leave them to return to the life of a “country bumpkin” – you see, I remember the words you taught me.’

  ‘Very good,’ said Nicola. ‘You’re making excellent progress.’

  ‘I have the best teacher.’

  ‘I know I made the right decision. My children have their lives, and I have mine.’

  ‘Yes, your life is here now, with me. And your friends, of course.’

  Simon sidled over with a kir royale, which he offered to Jean-Louis.

  ‘Not interrupting anything, am I? I’m glad you’re here, Jean-Louis – I finally have someone to smoke with. Shall we take this outside?’

  *

  ‘He’s a really nice man, isn’t he?’ said Beth as they cleared the table. ‘And I love the way he introduces us to fresh French expressions. Esprit d’escalier – that was new on me. Thinking of clever things you wish you’d said at a party when you’re on your way out.’

  ‘And partouze, which sounds so much more elegant than having an orgy,’ said Nicola.

  ‘Typical French, think they know all about sex,’ said Simon. ‘Same way they claim to be experts on wine, when in reality they know nothing, they just keep banging on about terroir. If you grow grapes just over the border from the designated area for champagne, you can’t call your wine champagne – how ridiculous is that?’

  ‘I was intrigued by what he said about his ninety-year-old aunt,’ said Fizz. ‘That she kept herself young by making sure she had an orgasm every day.’

  ‘Oh please,’ said Simon, ‘don’t make me gag.’

  ‘Ageist,’ said Fizz. ‘And anyway, you’ll be ninety yourself soon enough.’

  ‘He knows about football, too,’ said Will. ‘I liked his comparison between footballers and race horses. How they both need to be rested before a big match, then saying that footballers were like horses but with smaller teeth. Really quite droll.’

  ‘You needn’t sound so surprised. The French have an excellent sense of humour,’ said Beth. ‘We Brits don’t have the monopoly on jokes, however funny we think we are.’

  ‘I’m going up now,’ said Nicola. ‘I’m exhausted by the shock of exposure to city life, not to mention the journey. Thank you all for a wonderful dinner.’

  ‘And a wonderful dinner guest?’ Beth asked cheekily.

  ‘Yes, it’s a good idea to be on friendly terms with the farmer who’s grazing our land.’

  ‘He’s particularly keen on being on friendly terms with you.’

  Nicola ignored Beth’s knowing smirk and retired to her room, appreciating its generous proportions after her nights in London. The carrier bags of Dominic’s clothes were stacked in the corner where she had left them; slowly she was reducing his presence in the room, but she knew he’d always be with her.

  She was unpacking her case when there was a knock at the door and she sighed when Simon came in.

  ‘This isn’t what you think,’ he said, softly closing the door behind him.

  ‘What do you think I think?’ Nicola replied with a raised eyebrow. ‘That you’re going to pounce?’

  ‘Pouncing is not my style, as you well know!’

  ‘Or declare your undying?’

  He looked uncomfortable.

  ‘That’s what I want to talk about. I couldn’t say anything downstairs in front of everyone but I wanted to apologise. I was out of order, saying what I did the other day. Beth and I . . . well, we’re getting on much better now, and I don’t know what I was thinking. So please, forgive me and forget I ever said anything.’

  ‘Oh no, Simon!’ said Nicola, her face falling. ‘I thought you meant it. I thought you were serious when you implied we should be together . . . Now Dom’s gone I was counting on it and hoping you’d be the one to tell Beth . . .’

  She let him suffer for a few seconds, then relented.

  ‘Joke!’

  ‘You’re horrible! But seriously, Nicola, I want to apologise . . .’

  ‘When are you ever serious?’

  ‘I thought I was – about you. It was absurd, I know that now. I’d created a fantasy bubble and put the pair of us inside it, old fool that I am. So, in all seriousness, I want to say sorry. Not just for the other night but for all my inappropriate behaviour over the past few months. Losing Dom has been awful for you, I know – but it was a wake-up call for me too. If Beth died, I’d be lost, and I’ve been taking her for granted and getting lost in silly memories of what’s long past. I’ve had it all out with Beth, she’s forgiven me and I hope you will too.’

  ‘Thank God that’s out of the way,’ said Nicola. ‘Promise me you’ll never do it again, you dewy-eyed idiot, thinking you can go back to our youth. Come here and give me a man hug.’

  She felt relief surge through her as he gave her a proper bear hug, the kind of hug you give to a friend, not to someone you’re trying it on with.

  On his way out, Simon put his head back round the door.

  ‘Jean-Louis’s a really good bloke, you know. We had quite a heart-to-heart over our cigars; he’s obviously quite smitten by you. I realise it’s early days with poor Dom not gone more than a couple of months, but still . . .’

  ‘Goodnight, Simon,’ said Nicola. ‘Sleep tight.’

  *

  ‘Why is he flashing his lights at us?’ Nicola asked Jean-Louis on the way to market the following day. ‘The car before did the same thing, and the one before that.’

  ‘It’s to warn us that there is a police checkpoint coming up. It is the one example of solidarity that unites the entire population. We may not have much of the Revolution spirit left, but everyone will warn their fellow citizen to slow down in case they are stopped by the police and fined.’

  ‘Fraternity indeed – what a fine tradition.’

  They drove on in silence for a while, then Jean-Louis said, ‘I meant to ask you earlier but I did not find the moment. I would like . . . I mean, would you like . . . to have lunch with me, after the market? I have a little café in mind, not far from the square.’

  He stared ahead nervously, waiting for her response.

  Nicola, equally nervous, turned away to look out of her window. This wasn’t a casual suggestion, she knew that. He was asking her out. On a date. And she knew she had feelings for him – she couldn’t deny it. She turned to look at him as she gave her reply.

  ‘Yes, I would. Thank you.’

  His face relaxed.

  ‘Maybe I should have asked earlier, because your friends will be expecting you home.’

  ‘It’s all right, I’m a free agent, I don’t need an exit pass. We do our own thing for lunch, anyway; it’s only at dinner that we all sit down together. We haven’t yet adopted the French habit of three courses at noo
n!’

  ‘Maybe not three courses, but I think it is better for the digestion to eat a proper repas at lunchtime. I do not care for the Anglo-Saxon habit of eating sandwiches at random times of the day, grazing like cows. And your junk food – pizzas and burgers – we have them more and more over here now, making us fat like you Anglo-Saxons!’

  ‘Anglo-Saxons! You make us sound like ancient peasants in mud huts.’

  ‘But it is the generic name, more economical than saying English, British, American, Australian . . . You see how heavy that becomes. Anglo-Saxon is succinct and accurate.’

  ‘Fair point. I’ll cook an Anglo-Saxon menu next time you come for dinner.’

  ‘Eggs and bacon, with haricots blancs, which I know you call baked beans and ruin by adding sugar to the tomato sauce. Or fish and chips?’

  ‘Definitely not egg and bacon, never for dinner. And not fish and chips – that’s not something for cooking at home. I’m thinking more steak and Guinness pie, then apple crumble and custard.’

  ‘We certainly have many apples.’

  ‘We do.’

  It was a busy morning at the market, confirming Nicola’s observation that autumn was the finest season in the foodie’s calendar, when the cooler evenings and the wealth of harvest crops inclined everyone to stay indoors and devote themselves to the pleasures of the palate.

  She left Jean-Louis packing up while she went to buy some Vacherin Mont D’Or cheese from a neighbouring stall, now at its peak of perfection, as the stall-holder assured her.

  ‘It is made only from the milk of two breeds of mountain cow whose diet is natural hay,’ he explained, providing the kind of back story to which Nicola had become accustomed. She loved how food was taken so seriously here – the antithesis to a quick rush around the supermarket, picking up plastic packets.

  She then moved on to choose mushrooms from an organic greengrocer, deciding on a box of cèpes, their fat white stems still carrying the soil from which they had recently been pulled. There were mushrooms growing in the fields at the château, but it was agreed they’d be ill advised to eat them. Dougie had bought a copy of Le Grand Guide Larousse des Champignons from a second-hand bookshop, but for every photograph of an edible species, there was a matching picture of an almost identical poisonous specimen, dramatically captioned with a skull and crossbones. There were some risks that weren’t worth taking.