A French Affair

by Jennifer Bohnet

  ‘You can call it that. I call it a traditional Breton cake made with local butter, lots of it. I only make one on special occasions, like Easter. I will cut small slices, but if you’re worried about it not being good for you and prefer not to have a slice, that’s fine.’

  ‘You joshing me? My grandmother used to make it once in a blue moon and I was always begging her to make it more often.’ Scott picked up a plate and held it out. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I hope it matches up to your memories of your grandmother’s cake,’ Fern said, as she cut small slices for everyone. This cake was not one to indulge in large portions.

  Scott ate his slice before looking up at the sky. ‘Sorry, Granny, but I’ve just eaten the best Kouign-amann I have ever had. And it was made by a wonderful English cook.’

  Fern laughed, feeling ridiculously pleased at his words.

  Shortly afterwards when Fern started to clear the table, Anouk stood up ready to help.

  ‘I think I’ll go for my afternoon nap after this,’ she said, taking her stick in one hand and an empty plate in the other.

  Scott gently took the plate from her. ‘Why don’t you go now and I’ll help Fern?’

  ‘Maybe I will,’ and Anouk let Scott take the plate out of her hand before walking into the house.

  Fern watched her go anxiously before turning to Scott. ‘You really don’t have to help clear things. It won’t take me ten minutes.’

  Scott ignored her words and started to clear up. ‘Take the two of us five minutes then. Do you have plans for the rest of the afternoon?’

  ‘Walking Lady and, later, cooking dinner,’ Fern answered, following him into the kitchen with empty plates.

  ‘May I join you and Lady?’ Scott asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Fern answered. ‘Give me ten minutes to change and to tell Anouk and I’ll give you a walking tour of the immediate area.’

  21

  Anouk was asleep when Fern went to tell her she was walking Lady with Scott, so she quickly scribbled a note and left it on the bedside table where Anouk would see it when she awoke.

  Clipping Lady’s lead on, Fern joined Scott, who was waiting outside for her, and they started to walk in the direction of the church and the village. Only the first day of the weekend and already it was turning out to be so different to how she’d imagined it would be when she’d invited Anouk. Scott turning up had been a surprise, changing the whole ethos of the day and probably the whole weekend.

  ‘Have you been doing the touristy thing of going here, there and everywhere since the day we met in Gourin? Or have you been concentrating on family history?’ Fern asked, glancing across at him as he strolled at her side.

  ‘A bit of both,’ Scott said. ‘Gourin is where the family is from, so I’ve tended to stay around that area, but I’ve been further afield too. North coast, west coast and south coast. Brittany has so much coastline, it should be an island!’

  Fern laughed. ‘All three coasts are so different too. Do you want to look inside the church? I can wait outside with Lady if you do,’ Fern said as they drew level with the entrance to the church.

  ‘Not this afternoon,’ Scott replied. ‘I’ll wander up another time.’

  They both paused to look at the Easter arrangement of fluffy yellow chicks, eggs, artisan chocolates and daffodils in the window of the village shop. ‘I love Easter time,’ Fern said. ‘To me, it signals that winter is nearly over and spring is finally on its way back.’

  When they reached the crossroads, they turned left onto the road leading to the campsite.

  ‘Shall we turn back now?’ Fern said a few moments later as they approached the top of the lane leading to the campsite. ‘I don’t like to leave Anouk on her own too long.’

  ‘Does she often spend time with you?’ Scott asked.

  ‘This is the first weekend. It’s meant to be a test to see how we’d get on if she moved in permanently.’

  ‘Ah, that explains something,’ Scott said. ‘She invited me to have coffee with her one morning but said she had to decide where that would be first. She’s very independent, she’ll find it hard living in someone else’s home, even yours, I suspect. Is there a need for her to move in with you?’ Scott asked.

  ‘It’s complicated,’ and Fern gave him a quick run-down as to why the idea was under consideration. ‘And, if I’m honest, I know I would benefit from having Anouk in the house too. It would make me feel needed again.’

  ‘How old is Anouk?’

  ‘It’s her ninetieth birthday this year,’ Fern said. ‘Do you mind holding Lady for a minute or two while I go into the village shop?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ and Scott held out his hand for the lead.

  In the shop, Fern collected the Easter egg she’d ordered for Anouk and hesitated over buying one for Scott before selecting one for him too. Carrying the bag, she rejoined Scott and took back Lady.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘D’you want to start walking home and I’ll catch up with you?’ Scott asked. ‘I’ve just realised I need a new tube of toothpaste.’

  ‘Okay,’ and Fern smiled at him as he turned away to go into the shop.

  To her surprise, she was home and indoors and he still hadn’t appeared. The shop hadn’t been that busy. There was no sign of Anouk either. She was about to go and check on her when she heard Scott return and go straight to his room – presumably to put his toothpaste in the bathroom. Minutes later, he walked into the kitchen carrying a bottle of champagne.

  ‘My contribution to Easter Sunday,’ he said, holding it out.

  ‘Oh goodness, thank you, my favourite brand,’ Fern said, looking at the orange label. ‘I’ll put it in the fridge now.’

  ‘If I may, I’m going to spend the afternoon sitting in your wonderful garden and read,’ Scott said. ‘Unless I can do anything to help you?’

  ‘No thanks. You’ll find loungers and cushions in the small shed. See you later.’ If he’d been a proper guest, she’d have rushed to get them out, but somehow Scott didn’t feel like a paying guest even though he was.

  To even think of him as a new friend was a dangerous thought though. She’d known him for far too short a time to treat him as anything but a paying guest. Besides, he’d be moving on soon. Returning to America.

  22

  Belinda was up early Easter Sunday morning checking everything in the hotel was ready for the busy day ahead. She’d booked a family table for lunch in the restaurant and was looking forward to a couple of hours with Chloe and the twins before spending the rest of the day on duty. Chloe’s husband, Max, manager of the local marina, was working and couldn’t join them, which was a shame. When they all arrived at 12.30, she took them upstairs to give them their Easter eggs and the small gifts she’d brought them from France.

  ‘No chocolate until after lunch,’ Chloe said, confiscating the eggs from Charlie and Aimee. ‘But you can each open your other present carefully.’

  Watching them open the books, crayons and colouring posters Belinda had bought them, Chloe looked at Belinda. ‘You and Dad spoil them, Mum.’

  ‘That’s what grandparents do,’ Belinda replied. ‘How is your dad?’

  ‘Good, I think. Totally enamoured with Gina.’ Chloe glanced carefully at Belinda. ‘There’s talk of a summer wedding. He wants Charlie and Aimee to act as pageboy and bridesmaid.’

  ‘Aimee will adore that, not so sure about Charlie,’ Belinda said.

  ‘Do you mind?’

  Belinda hesitated. She’d expected Peter to marry Gina before now and had steeled herself not to mind when it was announced. Hearing it was finally going to happen this year, she waited for the jolt of pain to make itself felt, but nothing. She was happy for them both, she realised, and didn’t mind in the slightest that Peter was remarrying, she’d moved on.

  ‘Do I mind that your dad is marrying again? No, I don’t and I wish them every happiness. Do I mind that I won’t be there to see the twins? Yes, that I do mind. I shall insist they dress up
for me in all their finery after the event.’

  Chloe gave her a hug. ‘I hope you meet someone new too, then the twins can do the same for you.’

  ‘The chances of that happening before they’re teenagers is unlikely.’ Belinda laughed. ‘Anyway, back to the pressies. There’s nothing big, just Easter eggs and things I managed to buy on the ferry. I didn’t have time to go shopping before I left.’ She picked up two bags she’d left on the table and held them behind her back. ‘I’ve got you and Max something too, but if you don’t want them?’

  ‘Oh, you know I do,’ Chloe said, accepting the bags Belinda held out. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I know you’ll like your pressies, but Max’s is a bit boring, I’m afraid, his favourite aftershave. Men are notoriously difficult to buy for, aren’t they?’

  ‘Oh it’s good to have you back, Mum,’ Chloe said as she carefully unwrapped the first of her presents, a cream silk scarf printed with French scenes. ‘This is beautiful. Thank you again,’ and she tied the scarf around her neck straight away. The second present, a traditional nautical Breton top with red stripes, was also greeted with delight.

  ‘I bought myself one of those too,’ Belinda said. ‘One with blue stripes. I practically lived in similar ones a long time ago and they’re still incredibly popular.’

  ‘Thanks, Mum. So how long are you here for?’

  Belinda shrugged. ‘I’m not sure if I’m going back to the campsite at all, from the way Nigel was talking. Says he needs me while Molly recuperates. Did you know he’s sold Moorside? I’m just hoping he and Molly don’t decide to get out of the hotel business completely and my job disappears.’ She didn’t add, my home would be gone too if that happens.

  ‘If they do, you’ll find another job, Mum,’ Chloe said. ‘Another top hotel group would snap you up. What about our camping holiday though? I was looking forward to it. And to you showing me places you knew growing up,’ she added. ‘Like where you went to school. You lived over there for a long time, but you’ve never really talked about it to me.’ She glanced at Belinda. ‘How was it really being back over there, Mum? Is the campsite close to where you lived? Did you meet anyone from those days?’

  Belinda hesitated and then Chloe’s words ‘you’ve never really talked about it’ echoed in her head.

  ‘You can still go on your holiday, even if I’m not working over there. The campsite should be fully functional by the end of May and Alain is sure to be happier, not having me bossing him around. As for talking about that time of my life,’ Belinda shrugged, ‘you know how upset Granny always got if anyone brought up the subject of Brittany. Leaving it in the past was her way of coping. I guess I’ve followed her lead. But, yes, it did feel strange in the beginning, although after a few days, it was like I’d never been away. And I’ve made a new friend, Fern. The lady who owns the auberge where I stayed.’

  Thankfully Chloe didn’t press her on talking about the past but picked up on Alain. ‘What’s this Alain like?’

  ‘Initially we rubbed each other up the wrong way, mainly because he’s got definite ideas about how he wants the site to be which are different to the way Nigel sees it. Nigel being the owner though, as far as I’m concerned, gets the final say.’ Belinda laughed. ‘Alain called me bossy and uptight at one stage. And I thought he was a Frenchman with a bad attitude. But we got over it.’ Belinda took her phone out. ‘These don’t do it justice and once all the work is complete it will look even better. It’s very child-friendly in the old-fashioned way – places to build dens, play games and generally just have fun. And that’s down to Alain.’ She handed her phone over to Chloe, who scrolled through.

  ‘It does look nice. Oh, who’s the hero with the chainsaw?’

  ‘That’s Alain,’ Belinda said. ‘Mr Attitude himself.’

  Fern smiled to herself Sunday morning as she took half a dozen hot cross buns out of the freezer to heat through. As far as she was concerned, Easter wasn’t Easter without a spicy bun and she’d enjoyed one for breakfast on the traditional morning they were eaten, Good Friday. She hoped that both Scott and Anouk would enjoy the warm spicy buns slathered with creamy local Breton butter. Standing in the kitchen preparing breakfast for everyone, Fern realised the whole Easter weekend had somehow started to resemble a mini Christmas celebration, with the emphasis on extra-special meals.

  Last night, dinner had been a fresh seafood platter with salad, followed by individual lemon soufflés. Lunch today would be roast lamb with roast potatoes and parsnips, tender asparagus, petite carrots and, because she was English, gravy and mint sauce. There was a fresh fruit salad to follow the ubiquitous cheeseboard that she knew Anouk would expect. And, of course, that expensive bottle of champagne that Scott had provided would be opened and enjoyed.

  Last evening over supper, Scott had offered to accompany Anouk to church when she said she’d like to go to morning service. After breakfast, when they’d both sampled the buns and enjoyed them, they set off together, Anouk leaning on Scott’s arm rather than using her stick.

  Once her routine chores were done, Fern started to prepare lunch. Memories of the previous evening floated into her mind as she peeled vegetables. Memories of happy laughter between friends. Sitting out on the terrace as dusk fell and the solar lights dotted around the garden came on, she’d felt truly happy for the first time in months. Anouk too was smiling and laughing more than she had done since Laurent’s passing. Perhaps they were both coming to terms with their loss and exiting that dreadful depressing time of their lives.

  Scott’s presence this weekend, although unexpected, had been a real gift. It was surprising how quickly he’d turned from stranger to friend. Even Anouk, normally restrained with strangers, had come under his spell, talking for hours about local families, looking for links between the two of them. As for Fern herself, she felt at ease with him, as if she’d known him forever. Lady too was more than content to curl up at his feet.

  When the two of them returned from church, Fern made coffee, put the Easter eggs she’d bought for the two of them on a tray and carried it out to the terrace.

  Before she could pour Scott a coffee, he disappeared to his room. ‘Two minutes. I’ve forgotten something.’ He returned carrying an Easter egg for each of them. ‘Happy Easter, everyone,’ he said. ‘And may I just say I think this Easter is going to turn out to be one of the best of my life, thanks to you two ladies.’ He took his phone out of his pocket. ‘A special time that I would like a memento of.’ He hesitated. ‘Please may I take a photo?’

  Before Fern could respond, Anouk had given an enthusiastic, ‘Yes. Fern, get your phone as well, then I can take one of you and Scott so that we too can have a reminder when you leave.’

  Within minutes, several photos had been taken. Scott had even managed to take a group selfie on both phones.

  Fern stood up. ‘I must check lunch. Talk amongst yourselves for five minutes.’

  Once she’d checked the roasties, and taken the lamb out to rest, Fern stood by the kitchen window looking out over the terrace. As she watched, Anouk threw back her head and laughed at something Scott had said. They seemed to be on the same wavelength for lots of things, no cultural or generation gap between them. Just a genuine friendship. Anouk had been pleased last night when Fabian had rung to wish her a Happy Easter and had had a naughty tone to her voice when she’d thanked him and said it was promising to be the best Easter for several years.

  Indeed, this weekend was turning out to be different to the one Fern had planned for her and Anouk, but she wouldn’t change a thing. It was a long time since she’d had so much fun. And that was down to Scott, with his American go get ’em attitude, although it was clearly toned down these days. A polite version, Fern thought. He still oozed enthusiasm for life though and that all-American college-boy vibe that certain men carried off so well – Scott amongst them.

  Fern smothered a sigh. It was good to have a new friend, even knowing that it could never be more than a long-distance frien
dship when he returned to America. She’d enjoy his company while he was here, and take comfort from the fact that technology united everyone these days at the press of a smartphone button wherever in the world they happened to be.

  And tomorrow another fun-filled day beckoned. Scott was taking them both down to the historic and picturesque coastal town of Pont-Aven, famous for the presence of the artist Paul Gauguin back in the nineteenth century. Fern was looking forward to showing Scott around the town she’d always loved visiting with Laurent.

  23

  Early evening on Easter Monday, Belinda wearily stepped out of the lift that stopped on the floor below her flat, unlocked the door marked private and climbed the hidden flight of stairs that led to her flat. She’d forgotten what it was like to be so busy that she couldn’t even stop for a break. Being short-staffed for the last day of the holiday hadn’t been in the plan and she’d had to help out on reception and in the restaurant. She couldn’t kick her shoes off quickly enough and change from her work clothes into her PJs – or leisure suit, as the advert had called them when she’d ordered them online. Once that was done, she fed BB, poured a glass of wine and stepped out onto her little secret terrace outside the sitting room.

  The terrace was one of her favourite things about the flat. Big enough for a small circular table and two chairs and a lilac tree that was budding up to blossom in the terracotta pot she’d placed in one corner, she had a wonderful view of the inner harbour and river, but she herself was so high up and set back from the front of the hotel as to be unseen by the ant-like people she could watch below walking on the quayside. With a sigh of relief, she sank onto a chair, took a sip of wine and glanced at her watch. Jane had sent a text earlier saying she was back after spending Easter with her family and would see her about eight o’clock.

  Time to make a phone call, take a shower and generally relax before Jane arrived. She’d asked the kitchen to prepare a supper tray for two people – slices of quiche, a salad, and chocolate mousses – which Jane would collect on her way through the hotel and bring up. A bottle of chardonnay was already cold in the fridge.