Best Maid Plans

by Klaire, Jody

  “No, she’s got a sculpture to finish.” She wouldn’t say anymore. Meanie.

  “Did she bite with the picture yet?” Rebecca’s smutty tone said enough.

  “Not yet.” I hadn’t sent it. I was hoping it would keep her attention when I did. I thought the texting would have accomplished that... but she’d fallen asleep on me rather drunk thanks to Erique.

  “Maybe she’s working on her own picture?” Cue more smutty tittering. “Maybe she wants to move you?”

  “She does that without needing to try.” I picked up my sandpaper, the picture of her smiling filled my head.

  “Just make her try, Saunders.” She scowled up at me. “Work her.”

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Keep her on her toes. She needs to know that you are not easy.” She nodded, resolute.

  “But I am with her.” I sighed, I didn’t know why I was bothering to try. “I can’t help it. The woman makes every part of me quiver.”

  “But you don’t tell her that.” She grinned.

  “The stupor gives it away.” I stared at the rough paper. Rebecca did much better than me, Babs being sick aside. It was always Babs giving in and throwing her arms around Rebecca.

  “Pip, I may not know a lot about relationships but I do know that if you don’t just throw yourself at her, she might not fall asleep on you.” She held my gaze.

  I sighed. “Her brother got her drunk.”

  “I wouldn’t care how hammered I was, if Babs sent me a text like that, I’d be awake.” She missed the chair with the brush, painting her overalls, a dreamy smile on her face.

  “She doesn’t send you them?” I was sure that she did.

  “Oh yeah, even full of a cold.” She chuckled. “But you’re avoiding the subject, yet again.”

  “She’s exhausted.” I shrugged when Rebecca scowled. “I think her pain medication knocks her out too.”

  Rebecca folded her arms.

  “Fine. I’ll tease the poor woman but don’t blame me for how she reacts.” I wagged my paper at her.

  “Excuse me?” She didn’t sound convinced.

  I nodded. “I know exactly how to get her undivided attention. I could make her get on a plane here if I wanted to.”

  She huffed out a breath. “Yeah right, Pip.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I would but I need to get this place ready for Doug; I have to be a best maid, and bond with my dad.”

  “Still not buying it.” She shook her head. “I may not know that side of you and I know I’ve heard the tales but...” She met my eyes. “I know enough about you to know that isn’t you anymore.”

  I yanked out my phone and sent the picture message, then tapped out a text—yeah, I’d get a swift response.

  “She won’t bite.” Rebecca went back to varnishing.

  My phone rang.

  “Bonjour,” I said in a non-committal tone.

  “Pepe, I cannot think when you say such things.” Her voice had dropped to that low burring register.

  I shuddered.

  “Good,” I said. No emotion in my tone, not like I was gripping the ladder and smiling.

  “I will come to see you...” she hummed. I tried not to feel guilty she was desperately rearranging everything for me. “I will arrive tonight, oui?”

  “I’ll be hard at work.” I withdrew every hint of excitement I could from my voice. Rebecca watched me, cocking her head.

  “I will wait.” Berne sounded close to singing. “Je t’aime, Pepe.”

  “Tell me again when you’re here.” I hung up then shook my head at Rebecca’s wide-eyed stare. “Don’t you start.”

  “She’s jumping?” She scratched her head. “How did you do that? Even Babs doesn’t jump that fast.”

  I picked up my sandpaper and turned back to the wood. “Wiles.”

  “Seriously.” She tapped the bottom of the ladder with her foot. “What did you say?”

  I smiled. “I reminded her of something.”

  “Which was?” She kicked the ladder again.

  I tapped my nose.

  “Right, that’s it, I’m seeing your phone.” Her playful tone made me chuckle. I slid down the ladder and ran behind it.

  “No chance.” I pulled out my phone and deleted my message. “Hah.”

  “It’ll still be in your sent box.” She narrowed her eyes.

  Did I have a sent box? I picked up a cloth from the radiator, brandishing it like a sword. A really floppy sword that smelled of varnish.

  Rebecca launched at me, lifting me up and tickling me as I squirmed and flailed. I tickled her back, gripping on with one hand to stop from dropping to the floor. She squealed as much as me.

  “Ladies?” Doug said.

  We stopped, mid-tickle and looked up. Doug, Fabrice and Stephanie were in the doorway. Confused was the best way to describe them.

  “We’re having a discussion,” I said, chancing a sneaky tickle of Rebecca’s ribs. She squealed, dropped me and I ran behind Doug. “Now, Rebecca, you know Doug doesn’t do games.”

  “Going to defend her, are you?” She narrowed her eyes and picked the rag up from the floor. She dipped it into the nearest bucket full of rain and hurled it.

  Smack.

  It hit Doug in the face.

  “Rebecca?” He pursed his lips, his tone stern. “This is a—”

  Stephanie wrung out the rag over his head with a giggle.

  He wiped over his face and stared at her. “You’re as bad as them.” He put his hands on his hips.

  “It is fun, oui?” Stephanie picked up a sponge I’d been using to wipe over the clean wood, dunked it, and winked at him.

  She hurled it at Rebecca.

  Smack.

  Right in the chops.

  I clamped my mouth shut; Fabrice raised his eyebrows, covering his snigger with his hand; Doug looked from Stephanie to Rebecca to me as Stephanie pulled me behind her. “I will protect you, Pepe.”

  Rebecca narrowed her eyes. “Oh, on her side, are you?”

  “Oui, Pepe is French in heart.” She winked at me. “I have heard how you sing La Marseillaise with passion.”

  I nodded. “Vive La France.”

  “Oh, you traitor.” Rebecca dunked the sponge and I dashed out of the room. We’d need supplies at the scowl on her face.

  I ripped open a pack of sponges and hurried back in.

  Splat.

  Rebecca had me on the backside.

  I handed out the sponges to Stephanie.

  Fabrice held out his hand. “Allez!”

  I poked my tongue out at Rebecca who wagged her fist at me.

  Doug marched to the centre. “Now, there is no need for—”

  Smack.

  Splat.

  Stephanie and Fabrice high-fived each other.

  “Allez Les Bleus,” Fabrice sang out like the rugby supporters.

  Doug pursed his lips again and wagged his finger at Fabrice. Then he turned, picking up the sponges and nodded to Rebecca. “Need a hand?”

  She took a sponge. “Welcome aboard, Dougie.”

  I handed more out to Stephanie and Fabrice. Good thing I’d bought a few multipacks.

  Doug dunked a sponge and hurled it. Stephanie squealed as it bounced off her head and squelched against the wall. Doug gave Rebecca a curt nod.

  Rebecca reached to shake his hand. “Swing low—”

  She got a sponge in the nose from Fabrice.

  Stephanie howled with laughter.

  I ducked behind the wall throwing the pack of sponges into the middle. The battle fired into life, Stephanie taking cover behind the bespoke chairs; Fabrice using an old door; Rebecca ducked behind the ladder and Doug brandished a chair as a shield.

  I pulled out my phone to video it from my hiding place in the closet—amusing, as I was supposed to be out of it, but there you go.

  Fabrice glanced my way amongst the peppering of wet sponges. “You are not playing?”

  “Best not,” I whispered, glad it was Doug
’s house so he wouldn’t scream at us for the water damage.

  “Pour quoi?” Stephanie said, dodging a bullet of a throw from Rebecca.

  I sighed and motioned to Doug and Rebecca. They nodded to each other with laughter in their eyes. “Throws like a girl.”

  Chapter 34

  Berne shifted in her seat. Her back had calmed, if only a little, but it was a welcome improvement. Whether it was the painkillers or the physio, she wasn’t sure. Even feeling better, sitting in a car for any length of time hurt.

  “I am surprised you take the weekend off,” Erique said in a cheeky tone. “You feel guilt for falling asleep on her?”

  Berne raised her eyebrow at him. “I blame you, oui?”

  “So, what changes your routine, more messages from Pepe?” He glanced at her with a knowing smile. “Is she hoping for more replies?”

  Berne shook her head at him. “Non.”

  He laughed. “I do not believe this.”

  She waved it off. He wouldn’t understand that, although sensuality was important, it was only a part of loving Pippa. A wonderful part, yes, but the main aching need inside was to see her, to be near her. She missed her, she missed her voice, her scent, her warmth, her laugh, her smile.

  She sighed.

  “Alors,” Erique said, tapping her knee. “I check with my friend about the business.” His brow dipped and he muttered at the driver zipping past them. “Emilie has made sure that it belongs solely to her. Stephanie owns nothing.”

  “And the house?” She stared up at the airport. Flying was not something she enjoyed. It didn’t worry her but it bored her.

  “Oui, I ask Babs’s lawyers if they need help to find evidence for compensation.” He tapped his wheel as they pulled up to a line of traffic.

  “Then perhaps I talk to Emilie, make her see that it would be better to pay Stephanie back.” She shrugged at his laugh. “Emilie can be... nice... sometimes?”

  “I think that Emilie is nice to you... mais...” He squeezed her knee when she frowned. “She does so because she wants you on her arm, non?”

  He pulled into the car park and hurried around to the back to retrieve her suitcase, then opened the door and offered his hand.

  “I am not Maman.” She tutted at him.

  “Non, she has a much better back.” He winked at her.

  She relented. She needed the help.

  “You will let me know how my project goes?” She limped alongside him, glad he was wheeling her case.

  “Oui.” He took her by the elbow, guiding her in front of him as a man hurried past, puffing. “Relax, I am your brother... I will work very hard.”

  Berne checked in and Erique took her to the security point, forcing her to use the lift and not the stairs.

  “What does Pepe say that has you so moved?” He searched her eyes. “It is unlike you to allow me to help and pay for your fare.”

  She’d used most of her money from her flat for her project. “She reminds me of something.”

  “Et?” He searched her eyes still.

  “How much she loves me.” She shrugged when he pulled his mouth to the side in confusion. “How I make her feel, how good it feels to be together, of how it felt to kiss me... the first time she kisses me. Why her heart filled with joy to be near me.”

  He folded his arms. “That is...” He frowned. “How does this make you run to her?”

  She hugged him, pecked him on each cheek, and smiled at his frown.

  “Perhaps if you let yourself fall in love, you will feel this.” She squeezed his arm. “Mikel would have liked it to have been his sister.”

  Erique’s eyes flickered at the mention of his best friend. They’d been like brothers. “Pepe does not know this?”

  Berne shook her head. Pippa had been at the scene with Mikel when he had the accident. A fellow gendarme, a dear friend and as close to Erique as Babs was to her. It was best they didn’t tell Pippa.

  “You avoid the question.” She held his gaze. “If Stephanie falls in love with another, could you be happy with this?” She wagged her finger at him. “And do not say you were happy she met Emilie.”

  He sighed. “I cannot. I care for her, I love her but it is not like you and Pepe, oui?” He shook his head. “It is not running to her open arms or spending all your money to make her smile.” He shrugged. “If I cannot feel that, I will wait until I do.”

  Berne nodded, seeing that he meant it, seeing why he didn’t settle. He wanted the kind of love their parents shared, that she and Pippa shared.

  “Does Stephanie know it was Pepe?” He asked in a whisper.

  “Oui, Emilie tells her when we were in Monaco.” She squeezed his arm. Emilie had been blunt about it, unkind. It made her stomach twist.

  He rubbed over the stubble on his chin. “How is she coping with it?”

  “As she always does: a smile to hide how much she hurts, pretending that it is no problem.” She hoped Stephanie would find distraction at Doug’s place.

  Erique rubbed his chin harder, looking at her from under his eyebrows. “And with Pepe?”

  She smiled. “She feels a sense of comfort. Pepe was with him and she sees how good her heart is. I think Pepe and Rebecca remind her that happiness can be found.”

  He stared at his feet for a moment. “You take her and show her the area, oui?” He chewed on his lip, eyeing the security, most likely to assess their uniforms and if they were doing it correctly. She knew part of him wanted to come with her, to see if Stephanie was okay.

  “I am not Welsh,” she said with a chuckle. “How am I to be a guide?”

  He waved it off. “She loves England, Britain. Get Pepe to show you where.” He focused his charming smile on her. “She would like to see sheep.”

  Berne raised her eyebrows.

  “Oui, show her some sheep.” He laughed. “And give her many kisses from me.” He took her arm and led her to the line for security. “I will work hard for you, oui?”

  Berne sighed. “You have told Babs?”

  He tapped his nose. “Non, I have my own ways to get things done.”

  She scowled but the man behind her muttered that she was holding him up. She took a tray and put her things in it. When she turned back, Erique was striding off into the crowd. She sighed. Perhaps it was better she didn’t ask what his ways were.

  ◆◆◆

  The country club was one of those traditional establishments that came complete with funny rules like women needing to cover their ankles. The front was covered over in ivy, shiny cars in the car park and brass plaques with names of champions—or whatever they were called in golf—on the wood panelled walls.

  I waited for my dad to fiddle with his spectacles. He’d been delighted when I’d called and said I wanted to follow him around the golf course. He’d even enlisted Doug to caddy for his opponent so I wouldn’t be lonely. Dad had told me that it was a warm up tie, or something like that. I’d switched off when he started saying that a caddy would make him feel like Colin something or other. I had no idea who that was but I hoped he was a golfer.

  Rebecca had briefed me as I glazed over during breakfast. From what stuck, I assumed I had to hand him clubs, carry his bag and do something to the course when he’d played?

  “So, what are you doing?” I muttered at Rebecca as she laid out my clothes. “Babs still rough?”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled, focus on her task. “I’m going to pick out flowers with Stephanie.”

  I stared at her.

  She held up her hands. “Relax, Pip. You and Doug will sneeze all over the place. It’s better Stephanie picks and I translate.” She patted me on the arm. “You taken your spray?”

  I nodded. Grass tickled my nose like flowers. “Don’t know why it’s worse here.”

  She shrugged.

  “Take her for some tea and scones in that little café, will you?” I asked. Not that English people, or Welsh people for that matter, ever sat around drinking tea and eating scones but they were st
ill tasty.

  “Already there,” she said with a grin. “Then I’m going to take her to that cool heritage centre.”

  I smiled, changing into my golfing attire. “Wanted to show Babs, huh?”

  She sighed. “Yeah, maybe she’ll want to when she feels better.”

  Then Doug had beeped outside and we’d driven all the way to Gloucester to the country club. And, Dad was still cleaning his spectacles.

  “Pippa, are you ready?” he asked, breathing onto the lenses. He met my eyes with a beaming smile. He was so much more posh than me: straight back, strutted like whatever rank of officer he’d been, and talked with a plum, and maybe some other fruit, in his mouth. He was even posh enough that the golf club was actually just about golf to him.

  Shyness wriggled up, heated my cheeks and robbed me of my voice. It was hard to get out my words around him. Even more now he was the only family who spoke to me.

  “I take that as a yes,” he said with another smile and strode out of the club. I followed him to the tee where Doug and a rather rotund man stood.

  “Ah, Charles, this is the youngest, Pippa.” He announced it like I was about to begin a performance of some sort.

  I handed him the ball and a club which Rebecca had marked with a pink sticker.

  Charles was my dad’s age, maybe older. Bald head; a beard so thick I wasn’t sure if he had a mouth; and the loudest chequered golf trousers I’d ever seen.

  “Pleasure,” Charles said, reached for my hand and tickled it with his beard. “My youngest, still single, is training to be a barrister, you know.”

  He had a twinkle in his grey eyes. He shook Doug’s hand with a wink at me and went over to set up his shot.

  I just smiled. Why did parents do that when introducing their children? Mine hadn’t but then “here’s Pippa, the admin assistant” wouldn’t have been very interesting and I doubted “here’s Pippa, she does something with wood when she’s allowed” would make an impressive statement.

  Doug kissed me on the cheek as if he’d never met me and Charles’s eyes twinkled again. At least it wasn’t “here’s Pippa, she’s engaged to Doug Fletcher” anymore.

  “You caddy much,” Doug asked as my dad swiped through thin air. I never got practice swings. Didn’t they hit the balls enough?