‘There’s nothing you can do, it’s a permanent condition.’ The young man burst into laughter and Philippe found himself joining in.
‘That usually breaks the ice.’ The young man held out his hand. ‘I’m Rudolph.’
‘Like Rudolph the reindeer?’ Emmie asked, standing beside her uncle.
‘Like Rudolph Valentino,’ he replied. ‘But with the body of Toulouse-Lautrec.’ He turned to Philippe. ‘Do you want me to leave?’
‘You’ve only just arrived.’
‘But I’m not what you were expecting.’
‘I wasn’t really expecting anything.’
‘Oh good, then maybe you won’t be too disappointed.’
‘I guess not.’ Philippe was absolutely baffled. What was going on? Who the hell was he?
‘I thought you might think I was too short.’
‘Perhaps when you is all growed up you will be taller?’ Emmie instinctively liked this stranger and wanted to make him feel better.
‘I is all growed up.’
‘Oh.’ She hesitated and then smiled as another thought came to her. ‘Maybe you is an elf?’
‘Do you like elves?’
‘Yes.’ She nodded vigorously. ‘Mostly.’
‘Well then I don’t mind being an elf.’ Rudolph grinned at her. ‘Mostly.’
He turned back to Philippe. ‘Well, boss, what do you think? Am I too small?’
‘Too small for what?’ Philippe felt as if he was in some sort of parallel universe.
‘Too small to work in the vines?’
‘You is the same size as me and I works in the vines.’ Emmie took hold of Rudolph’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly.
‘Well maybe I’ll be OK then?’ He looked at Philippe, his face creased with anxiety.
Understanding was gradually dawning on Philippe. ‘Did the agency send you?’
Rudolph nodded. ‘They should have warned you, I tell them to warn people, saves a lot of embarrassment.’
Philippe didn’t say anything.
‘I’m very strong.’ Rudolph let go of Emmie’s hand and flexed his muscles. She smiled at him encouragingly.
‘What do you think, boss? Am I too short?’
‘You are the same height as the vines, which I guess is just about perfect.’ Philippe grinned down at him. This lad was something else. ‘We may lose you though.’
‘I’ll put a bell around my neck.’
‘I’ll find you,’ Emmie said earnestly. ‘I knows all the vines.’
‘Is it a deal, boss?’ Rudolph couldn’t quite hide his desperation.
‘It’s a deal.’ Philippe nodded his head and held out his hand. ‘But call me Philippe.’
‘OK, boss, and I’ll answer to Elf, I never liked the name Rudolph.’ He shook Philippe’s hand. ‘You won’t regret it.’
Emmie clapped her hands with delight. ‘Come and meet Sausage.’ She smiled at him. ‘He’s my piglet, a piglet what mustn’t be eaten,’ she added quickly lest there be any confusion.
‘How old are you, Elf?’ Philippe stopped him before he went off.
‘Nineteen,’ he replied quickly, a little too quickly, Philippe thought, but he let it go.
‘Slow down, Philippe.’ Beatrice laughed down the telephone a few days later. ‘You’re going far too fast, tell me again what Sky said?’
‘Well, I can’t remember the exact words but something about her and Nick not wanting to stand in each other’s way, putting professions before their personal life and not wanting to let me down.’
‘I can understand Nick wanting to do his homework. He’ll be cooking for some top chefs, there’s a lot at stake. And I’m over the moon that Sky has decided to come, but how brave of them to come together.’
Philippe remained silent.
‘What on earth have you got against her?’ Beatrice was half amused, half exasperated. ‘She is a very lovely girl, with a lot of talent, going through a very bad time and yet you seem totally unsympathetic.’
‘I’m not unsympathetic,’ Philippe said shortly and then changing the subject quickly said. ‘The young man from the agency has arrived.’
‘And how is he?’
‘Extraordinary,’ Philippe chuckled.
‘Extraordinary in what way?’ Beatrice reached for her cigarettes.
‘Well, for starters he’s about a metre high.’
‘What?’
‘He has a maze of crazy curls and fiery eyes in a freckled face. He looks about twelve but claims he’s nineteen.’
‘Mon Dieu.’ Beatrice drew deeply on her cigarette. ‘What an odd choice for the agency, I told them it could be hard manual labour.’
‘Seemed bizarre to me too. But he’s very keen.’
‘Will he be OK, do you think?’
‘He certainly has guts and gumption and he tells me he’s very strong.’ Philippe paused for a moment to light his cigarette. ‘But behind the bravado his self-esteem is as low as his stature, I don’t think life has treated him kindly. Frankly I don’t think I’d have the heart to tell him to go.’
‘You can’t employ him because you feel sorry for him, he’s there to help you.’ She tipped back on her chair. ‘What’s his name?’
Philippe laughed suddenly. ‘He wants us to call him Elf.’
‘You can’t call him Elf!’ Beatrice nearly fell off her chair.
‘That’s what he wants. Emmie asked if he was one and he clearly liked the thought. He has her completely captivated, Rosa too, she’s even given him permission to sleep in the old gypsy caravan.’
‘He must be quite something, she doesn’t give permission to just anyone.’
‘He’s an intriguing fellow, right now he’s trying to teach Emmie to ride his unicycle.’ Philippe looked out onto the lawn where the two of them lay in fits of giggles.
‘A unicycle?’ Beatrice stood up in amazement trying to picture the scene. ‘An elf riding a unicycle?’
‘I told you he was intriguing.’
‘Now this I have to see for myself.’
‘I know.’ He chuckled.
‘I’m serious.’
‘I know.’
‘Nick and Sky are enough to tempt me but an elf on a unicycle makes it a must.’
‘I know.’
‘Stop repeating yourself, Philippe, you sound like a parrot.’
Philippe said nothing.
‘When do Sky and Nick arrive?’ she asked impatiently.
‘The day after you.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘It’s booked, Bea.’
‘What are you talking about?’ She ground her cigarette out.
‘I knew you wouldn’t want to miss all this. I cleared it with Bushara.’ He paused for dramatic effect. ‘Your flights are already booked.’
There was a sharp intake of breath before her husky laugh floated down the phone. ‘Mon Dieu, after all these years you still have the power to surprise me.’
‘I surprise myself.’
‘I love you, cheri.’
‘And I you.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
We had landed at Bordeaux airport. It was hot. I felt the heat as soon as we stepped off the plane and I welcomed it. Our journey had been uneventful. Nick and I had been reserved but polite with each other and we had both pretended to sleep on the plane. Our bags arrived without delay and we made our way through customs.
Almost as soon as we had set foot outside the arrivals hall a young man bounded up to us.
‘You must be Nick and Sky, I recognised you immediately from the photos.’ He extended his hand. ‘I’m Luc. I’m Philippe’s nephew.’
They looked very similar; he wasn’t quite as tall as Philippe but he had the same olive complexion, the same hazel eyes, the same slightly aquiline nose and the same effortless sense of elegance. He was dressed simply in jeans and a shirt but even so managed to look stylish and chic.
How did French men achieve that, I wondered? I looked at the casual scarf slung across hi
s shoulders, the sunglasses perched on top of long dark hair, sleeves rolled up to show just the right amount of bare tanned flesh, a silver bracelet, a necklace and a ring all worn without a hint of embarrassment or self-consciousness. You could dress a British man in exactly the same clothes but he would never look the same, never have that understated confidence and flair that came so naturally to the French.
‘Philippe is so sorry not to have come himself.’ Luc smiled at me and took my bag, leading us outside into the bright Bordeaux sunshine. ‘Something unexpected came up and unfortunately he has to deal with it now.’ His accent was charming and laced with more than a hint of American. ‘He sends apologies to you both and hopes you will not find him too rude.’
To be honest I was relieved. I found Philippe unnerving, although I couldn’t really pinpoint why, and I’d been anxious about meeting him again. I knew that Gail had found him easy company, Nick had struck up an instant rapport and Sonny thought he was wonderful but I felt unsettled in his company. I found him judgemental and unsympathetic. We’d never really managed to have a decent conversation without one of us saying something to offend the other, and to be honest I’d resolved to keep out of his way as much as possible without appearing rude.
‘Are you the “flying winemaker”?’ Nick asked and Luc nodded in agreement. ‘I want to hear all about it. I want to hear every single detail.’ I could see that Nick was absolutely delighted.
‘That is a dangerous request.’ Luc laughed. ‘I can bore you to death.’
‘Exactly, bore me to death, please, I couldn’t be happier.’
‘And what about you, Sky?’ Luc turned to me. ‘Are you interested in wine?’
‘I’m interested in drinking it,’ I said. ‘Does that count?’
‘Of course that counts, that is the most important factor!’ He grinned down at me. ‘I will talk to you all about wine but you have to tell me when to shut up.’ He threw an arm carelessly around my shoulders. ‘I will probably ignore you but you must try.’
He was charm personified, I thought, a very different kettle of fish to his uncle.
‘I tell you what!’ He stopped suddenly and grinned at us both in excitement. ‘I have a plan, we will call and see my good friend at a nearby chateau on our way back. His wine is superb, we’ll spend some time there. You will enjoy it. Is that OK?’ His enthusiasm was contagious and Nick clapped him on the back.
‘Very OK with me, frankly I couldn’t think of anything I’d rather do.’
‘Sounds lovely.’ I smiled but glanced surreptitiously at my watch.
Luc saw my gesture and laughed. ‘You are in France now, Sky, it is never too early for a drink.’
‘My sort of place,’ Nick said, throwing out his arms as if to embrace the countryside.
I couldn’t do anything but nod my agreement and, besides, why not? It would be nice to visit this chateau. I felt rather light-headed and carefree, not a feeling I had experienced for a while.
Luc led us to the car. It was a battered old green Renault and I was slightly taken aback. I’m not sure what I’d been expecting, I hadn’t given it much thought, but certainly something of a better class than this.
‘That will also give Philippe time to conclude his meeting,’ Luc said to us while wrenching the dented door open.
Philippe was not looking forward to his meeting. He had been shocked but not altogether surprised at Beatrice’s revelation about Elf the night before. He’d had a feeling for a few days that he was not being given the whole picture.
Nonetheless he was disappointed, he was very disappointed. He didn’t like being lied to and he hated the idea that someone was taking him for a fool.
‘Do you want me to stay, cheri?’ Beatrice asked.
‘No, that may look too intimidating.’
She blew him a kiss and left the study. She was halfway down the corridor when she heard him call after her.
‘No, on second thoughts, Bea, come back, I may need your help.’
Elf knew exactly why Philippe wanted to see him. He had known that it was only a matter of time before he was found out and he knew that he should have been straight with Philippe from the start.
To be fair he’d had every intention of telling him the truth, but from the moment he’d stepped inside the chateau he’d known this was where he wanted to be, so rather than risk being sent away he had held his tongue and risked instead losing the trust of Philippe. A decision he now regretted very much.
He didn’t want to leave the chateau, he didn’t want to leave its inhabitants. He had never felt this sense of belonging anywhere else before and wished with all his heart that he’d had the time to make himself indispensable before being dismissed. With a very heavy heart he knocked on the study door. With an equally heavy heart Philippe went to open it.
Elf squared his shoulders and marched straight in. Beatrice gently motioned for him to sit down and Philippe closed the door behind. Elf felt as if he was stuck in a pincer movement.
Philippe moved behind the desk and they all stared at each other for a moment. Elf looked down at the floor. There were a thousand things he wanted to say but the power of speech had momentarily deserted him.
‘Beatrice rang the agency before she arrived here.’ Philippe could hardly bear to look at the small figure perched disconsolately on the edge of the leather chair. ‘They had never heard of a Rudolph Baudin.’
Elf still remained silent. Philippe glanced over to Beatrice. She walked over to the chair and as she would with a little child she crouched down in front of it.
‘They said they had sent a young man called Bertrand Royen. Do you know him, Elf?’
The power of speech suddenly returned to Elf and he couldn’t get his words out quick enough. ‘I did you a favour really, he was stupid, he would never have fitted in, I know I should have told you and I meant to, but I loved it here and then I met Emmie, but still I should have told you and then I saw the gypsy caravan and it all seemed like fate, I wanted you to see how hard I could work, I wanted you to see beyond my height and realise that it was no limitation, but I should have known it couldn’t last, I should have repaid your trust with honesty and for that I can never forgive myself, but Bertrand was a bad man, I spared you that at least, and I want you to know that my short time here has been the happiest in my life and you have to buy Emmie a unicycle because she is exactly the right age to learn.’
Sliding off the leather chair he made a quaint bow to Philippe. ‘Signing off now, boss, with heartfelt apologies.’ He turned to Beatrice. ‘Madame, I wish I had been able to get to know you better, I instinctively know that you are an extraordinary woman.’ He looked at them both. ‘You make a good team.’ Tears were streaming down his cheeks as he headed towards the door.
Philippe, who had been listening in utter bewilderment to this mad flow of words, suddenly came to life. Springing up from behind the desk he rushed towards the door, but Beatrice was there before him.
‘Elf, you are not going anywhere until we hear the full story.’ She put her hands on his shoulders and gently spun him around to face Philippe.
‘Come and sit back down, Elf, start at the beginning, slowly and one step at a time.’ Philippe went to the old cabinet and took out the pastis bottle whilst Beatrice reached for the cigarettes and lit two.
‘OK, Elf, fire away.’ He handed him a pastis. Elf had never had a pastis before but now seemed as good a time as any to start.
‘I had been around a fair few chateaux looking for work but I had no joy.’ He sipped tentatively at the cloudy mixture. ‘I admit I was feeling very dispirited. I’d been walking around for days. Mostly they were politely dismissive but the last one, an enormous chateau halfway up a hill with a ludicrously long driveway, I can’t recall the name, well, they had been particularly insulting.’ Elf paused, he could of course remember the name of the chateau, indeed he would never forget it or the arrogant young lad who had laughed in his face, nor the jeers and taunts that had followed him
down the driveway. But the owner might have been Philippe’s great friend, it was a small world and Elf didn’t want to risk upsetting him again.
Beatrice and Philippe merely exchanged glances. They knew exactly which chateau Elf was talking about.
‘I walked into a bar. Bertrand was there, although obviously I didn’t know he was Bertrand then. He was slumped in front of a beer, clearly not his first of the day, a hulk of a man, built like a tank with a brain that never reached full throttle. I took an instant dislike but we got chatting and I bought him another drink.’ He took another sip of his pastis and licked his lips appreciatively. He could get used to pastis. ‘He told me that he was going to work for a chateau, your chateau. He said he’d worked in a chateau before, somewhere in southern France, said it was piss easy, that he’d spent most of his time drinking, smoking spliffs and shagging the boss’s daughter. I guess I saw red. Here was someone who could walk straight into a job simply because of his build. He didn’t deserve to work, he wouldn’t work as hard or as conscientiously as me, but no one would give me a bloody chance because in their eyes I’m a freak.’
He downed the rest of the pastis in one single gulp and held his glass out for a refill. Philippe took it without comment.
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