Belinda picked up her mobile, but her finger hovered over pressing Alain’s number. Would he regard it as an intrusion if she phoned him? After all, this wasn’t an emergency. But they were working colleagues and she wanted to know how the Easter weekend had gone over in Camping dans La Fôret – whether there had even been any campers turn up. She’d worked hard to help get the place set up and she wanted to know about the first visitors. She didn’t need an excuse to phone him. Defiantly, she pressed the button and listened as the call rang out.
‘Bonjour, Belinda, you are missing me a little, mais non?’ Alain’s voice held a teasing note.
‘No, of course not,’ Belinda protested. ‘I was simply wondering how the weekend went. Did anyone turn up and stay after you’d explained about the lack of facilities?’
‘Half a dozen caravans and three camper vans. Two of the caravans are staying on for another week. No tents.’
‘How was Marie?’
‘Good. And Easter, it was good for you and the hotels?’
‘Usual mayhem, with the added problem of staff shortages thrown into the mix. I’ve only just finished today. At least it will quieten down tomorrow.’
‘Your daughter and the grandchildren? ’Ave you spent time with them?’
‘Yes.’ Belinda hesitated. She wanted to ask him more about the campsite: whether the weather had been good, whether things had gone smoothly or whether they had overlooked anything important, whether Bernie had been useful. But Alain was already winding up the conversation.
‘I ’ave to go. Everything, it goes like clockwork here, so no need for you to worry. Take care. Bye Bye.’
Belinda smiled at his heavily accented ‘Bye Bye’ as she echoed it. She’d phone one morning later in the week, maybe Alain would have more time then to chat and answer her questions.
Right, time to jump in the shower and get dressed.
The fairy lights Belinda had looped around the door frame outside on the terrace were twinkling and Belinda was putting glasses and cutlery out when Jane buzzed the door. She quickly ran down the stairs to let her in and to take the tray from her. Five minutes later, they were settled on the terrace and they both tucked into their supper.
‘Phew,’ Jane let out a deep breath, ‘I really envy you this little hideaway. I love my family dearly, but after three days of 24/7 with them, this is just what I need,’ Jane said. ‘Wine, food, just you and me. Perfect.’ She waved her fork in the air. ‘I bet you missed this view when you were in France.’
‘To be honest, I was too busy to have much time for views. My bedroom at the auberge I stayed in looked out over countryside and that was pretty lovely too.’
‘So how is the campsite?’
‘Pretty run-down and basic, but we’re slowly getting to grips with it. It’s going to be a rather special place, I think.’
‘We?’ Jane looked at her, eyebrows raised.
‘Alain who will be in charge when I return here permanently.’
‘What’s he like? Married?’
Belinda, knowing what her friend really wanted to ask was ‘is he hot?’, which would be followed by ‘do you fancy him?’, deliberately kept her answer work-related. ‘Divorced. He’s a hard worker and has decided views on things. Got that typical male French attitude, you know the type.’
‘Are you telling me he’s all moody Serge Gainsbourg and Gauloises cigarettes?’
‘I’ve never seen him smoke, but yes,’ Belinda nodded thoughtfully. ‘Now you mention it, that sums him up perfectly.’ Seeing the speculative glint in her friend’s eyes and not wanting to discuss Alain any more, she changed the subject back to Jane. ‘So how was the weekend really?’
‘It was mainly good. The grandkids were full on as usual and you know how my beloved mother-in-law tuts when she thinks the kids are out of control. Well, let’s just say she did a lot of tutting this weekend and I ended up as peacekeeper. My daughter owes me big time.’ Jane took a sip of her drink. ‘And don’t think I didn’t notice what you did then. We haven’t finished talking about Alain or the campsite. I need to know more, especially as Brett and I are still planning on being one of your first visitors. I loved the camping holidays my parents organised when I was a child.’
‘I need to talk to you about that,’ Belinda said. ‘I’m not sure if Nigel is sending me back, so if you do go over, I might not be there. And, to be honest, I’m not sure it’s Brett’s scene, or yours come to that, these days,’ Belinda said. ‘It’s being dragged into the twenty-first century, but in May it will still be pretty basic. The cabins do have their own bathrooms, so you’ll at least be spared the shower block. Maybe wait until one of the new glamping pods is installed? Although, as they’re not even on order yet, that could be late summer.’
Jane shook her head. ‘No, I want a nostalgic, old-fashioned camping experience. I want to see it before the place is totally transformed so that when I go back for a posh glamping holiday next time, I can make comparisons. Have to admit though, it won’t be the same if you’re not there.’
Belinda swirled the wine around in her glass at Jane’s words. Would she even be going back to help to Alain? And afterwards, when the site was up and running, would Nigel want her to do a yearly visit to keep an eye on things for him? Although he had said he and Molly were looking forward to visiting when the site was ready, so maybe they would do the necessary checks themselves. If they sold the hotels though, would they keep the campsite? All questions she resolved to ask Nigel and Molly in the near future.
Draining her glass of wine, she picked up the bottle and proffered it to Jane. ‘Top-up?’
Jane nodded and held out her glass.
‘Well, if the site is too basic for you in May, I’m sure Fern would find you a room at the auberge I stayed in,’ Belinda said as she topped up both glasses.
Jane left at ten and Belinda went down in the lift with her to give BB a last walk along the embankment. There was still a chill in the evening air, spring might have arrived, but night-time temperatures were still on the cold side. Belinda shivered as she stood looking out over the gently flowing river. Surely the Brittany evenings had been warmer than this before she left?
Alain had seemed upbeat and pleased with the way things had gone over there when she’d spoken to him earlier. Although she would have liked more detail. Had the weather been kind, had the shop been busy, had the campers been friendly, had… Oh, the list was endless. She was surprised at how involved she’d become with the place in the short time she’d been there.
With a start, she realised she was missing Brittany. The weeks there had passed quickly with all the work, whilst here, yes she’d been busy over the holiday weekend, but with Nigel looking after things at the Torquay hotel, it had been less frantic than previous years.
Standing there, her conversation yesterday with Chloe flitted into her mind. It was true she had never talked to Chloe about Brittany; hadn’t deemed it necessary. What good would it do? It was in the past and didn’t affect Chloe’s life in any way. Why did she need to know about past unhappiness? On the other hand, it was part of their family history. Part of what had made Belinda who she was.
Maybe she’d been wrong to stay silent like her mum, but it had been the easy way out. If people didn’t know, they couldn’t judge. But that deathbed promise her mother had extracted from her – did that mean she’d lived her life feeling guilty over things? Or simply that she wanted Belinda to know the truth?
Belinda gave a small groan. How was she going to find the truth all these years later? She glanced up at the hotel building as she turned to walk back and remembered the box in the cupboard. Perhaps that would hold clues? She quickened her pace. Tonight was the night she’d finally go through the box and examine its contents properly.
Once upstairs, Belinda quickly cleared the debris of the evening away and poured herself the last of the wine before opening the cupboard and dragging the box out. Settling down on the floor alongside it, she lifted the lid off and
began to take things out.
An hour later, she was stiff, barely able to move and surrounded by small piles of stuff. A pile to throw away consisting mainly of old utility bills, out-of-date passports (hers and her mum’s), old batteries and several old-fashioned Valentine cards. There was another pile of envelopes containing black-and-white photos. Belinda had spent some time looking through these and had pulled out one of her mami to frame and place on her bedside table. There was a small (very small) pile of home-made cards from her to her mum – birthday, mothering Sunday, Christmas, stretching over about five years. She was touched that her mum had kept those, but she didn’t need to keep them, they were destined for the bin. Her school reports and her Baccalauréat certificate were at the very bottom of the box under a large brown envelope with a lot of official papers.
Belinda put the last envelope to one side while she struggled to her feet and began to tidy up a bit. She’d sit on the settee to go through the final envelope once she’d put all the things to keep back in the box.
She was too tired to do more than a cursory look through of the contents of the envelope before she went to bed. It was full of family birth, marriage and death certificates. A real find if she’d been researching family history. And that was it. The box was empty. It hadn’t been hoarding incriminating papers, or the diary that Belinda had secretly been hoping she’d find. A diary that would hold the key to her mother’s life all those years ago.
She glanced at her watch, nearly midnight. Better go to bed and get some sleep or she’d be fit for nothing at work tomorrow.
But sleep wouldn’t come and she tossed and turned for hours until at nearly four o’clock she found herself sitting bolt upright.
Two vitally important things were missing from amongst everything in the box. Two things that would begin to, if not explain everything, at least give her a starting point. But for that she needed to return to Brittany.
24
Tuesday morning and life was almost back to normal in the auberge. The guests had checked out and Fern had left Anouk and Scott chatting over breakfast on the terrace while she made a start on her after-guests routine of changing linen, cleaning bathrooms and vacuuming everywhere.
The weekend had been so good. Saturday and Sunday had been full of fun, laughter and food, so much food! And yesterday Scott had driven them down to Pont-Aven as he’d promised and they’d had a leisurely walk along the river there and then lunch in the hotel overlooking the estuary. The sun had shone, the tide had been in and, all in all, it had been a wonderful day.
Fern pushed the thought of how much she was going to miss Scott when he left out of her mind. Hopefully organising Anouk to move in with her would keep her busy. Not that Anouk had told her yet what she had decided. Fern was driving her home after lunch and would press her for a decision then. She hoped Anouk’s decision would be the one she was praying for.
Anouk was quiet as Fern helped her into the car after she’d said goodbye to Scott, who’d unexpectedly given Anouk a hug before walking her out to the car. Fern had packed up some food into a basket for Anouk to take home with her, not a lot but enough for a day or two, and placed it in the car. Scott had said he’d walk Lady and then spend time in the garden and read until she returned. Driving away, it was a strange feeling to see Scott standing in front of the auberge waving goodbye.
Anouk waved back. ‘Such a nice man,’ she said. ‘A kind man too.’
‘Yes, he is,’ Fern answered, concentrating on her driving and wondering how to broach the subject of moving. In the end, she decided to ask the question outright, but Anouk spoke first.
‘He likes you, you know.’
‘I like him too,’ Fern said warily. ‘We had a lovely weekend, didn’t we?’
‘I mean he likes you seriously,’ Anouk insisted. ‘And I think you like ’im too?’
‘Yes, of course I like him. And I hope he stays in touch when he leaves. But our lives are lived in different countries. He’s an American and he will be returning to New York soon and I live here in Brittany.’
‘You’re both single. There’s nothing stopping you getting together in either country. You’d like New York.’
Fern sighed. ‘I like it here. I don’t want to up sticks and move a thousand miles away. Moving here from England was traumatic enough,’ she said, deciding to change the conversation. ‘Now, what have you decided about moving in with me?’
Anouk was silent for several seconds. ‘I think we’d get on very well together, but I worry about saying yes. What ’appens if things change? You’re still a young woman. If you and Scott become a couple, or if not ’im, you meet someone else, who doesn’t want an old woman hanging around.’
For once Fern was glad to see a herd of cows blocking the country lane ahead. She stopped the car and turned off the engine. This was an important moment in both their lives. She had to get it right.
‘Anouk, whether I meet someone else or not is immaterial. I promise you that you will always be a part of my life, living with me for as long as you want to. I could never have a relationship with anyone who didn’t accept that. It will be a case of love me, love Anouk. Understand?’
Anouk nodded. ‘I don’t want to be a burden.’
‘You will never be a burden to me,’ Fern said. ‘I know there will be occasional days when, for some reason or other, we might irritate each other, but we’ll make a pact that when that happens we will talk about it. Not brood.’
Anouk reached out and patted her arm. ‘You’re the daughter I never had.’
Fern smiled at her and patted her arm back, pretending not to notice the tears glistening in Anouk’s eyes.
‘So we’ll start putting things into motion this week then? Tell Fabian and Carole, decide what you’d like to bring to make your room feel like your home. I’ll come and help you pack up things and we can start to take clothes and other bits and pieces over and then move you slowly to the auberge. How does that sound?’ Fern said, starting the engine again as the last of the cows disappeared into a field and the farmer waved his hand in acknowledgement.
‘Not too slowly, I hope,’ Anouk said. ‘At my age, I can’t afford to wait too long. I think next week would be a good date to aim for. Will Scott still be staying?’
‘No idea,’ Fern said. ‘I don’t know how long he plans to stay. There is one thing though,’ and she glanced across to Anouk, ‘just don’t expect every weekend to be like this last one. Scott made Easter extra special. The season starts soon and Saturday becomes changeover day – the busiest day of my week.’
‘I can ’elp,’ Anouk said. ‘It will keep me out of mischief.’
The rest of the journey to Huelgoat passed quickly as the two of them made plans. Fern in particular was looking forward to being able to keep a proper eye on a woman she was very fond of.
When Fern got back to the auberge a couple of hours later, Scott was reading in the garden, Lady sprawled at his feet. He got up instantly as she appeared.
‘Anouk settle back home all right?’
Fern nodded. ‘Yes, and she’s decided to move in with me ASAP. I can’t tell you how relieved I am about that. Independent she may be, but living alone isn’t good for her. It’s a long time since I’ve seen her as animated as she was this weekend. Although, I think that was down to your presence. She really likes you.’ She smiled at him. ‘I know it’s early, but I fancy a nice cold wine. Will you join me?’
‘Thank you. I’ll fetch it. Sit down, you look exhausted,’ and Scott disappeared indoors.
Fern did as she was told and sat down. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She was exhausted. These days, when she drove, even though she used the quiet country roads, she could feel the tension building in her shoulders, across her back, try as she might to relax.
‘Here you go,’ Scott said.
Fern opened her eyes and took the glass he was holding out to her. ‘Thank you. Cheers,’ and they clinked glasses.
‘Cheers.’ Scott h
esitated before continuing, ‘I have to ask this. Are you happy for me to stay here now that your guests and Anouk have left? I wouldn’t want you to feel uncomfortable being in the house on your own with me. I’ll find somewhere else tomorrow if you want me to.’ His gaze caught and held Fern’s. ‘Although I hope you don’t.’
‘Anouk thinks you’re a nice man, as well as a kind one,’ Fern said slowly, unable to look away. ‘I agree with her. I’m not worried about being in the house alone with you. Please stay.’
‘Thank you.’ Scott smiled at her as Fern blinked and took a sip of her drink.
‘How long do you think you’ll be staying? I know Anouk is hoping you’ll still be here when she moves in.’
He smiled. ‘I can’t possibly disappoint Anouk – I’ll be here.’
‘About supper tonight,’ Fern said. ‘There’s so much food left over from the weekend – lamb, cheese, salad, even some Kouign-amann cake that needs finishing. Would you mind if we had what I call a fridge bits-and-pieces supper?’ She looked at him anxiously. He was technically a paying guest, although she had no intention of charging him for the evening meals they shared.
‘Sounds good to me, I adore cold lamb,’ Scott said. ‘And it means you can stay there and relax while I put everything on the table. Okay?’
‘Oh, but I can’t let you do that,’ Fern protested.
‘Yes you can because I’m not taking no for an answer. Now, drink your wine and let me take care of… dinner.’
Fern watched him go and sat back, closing her eyes again. Had he been about to say ‘take care of you’ not dinner? She’d forgotten how good it was to have someone who cared about you and took the trouble to show and help. Scott was a lovely man and she knew Anouk was right when she’d said he seriously liked her. But liking someone ‘seriously’ when in a few weeks there would be an ocean between them would only lead to heartbreak, and Fern had suffered enough of that. What was the point of getting close to a man who would soon disappear out of her life?
A French Affair Page 13