Chapter 21
Chapter 21
When Fran checked the time and clambered to her feet, turfing an indignant Red from her lap and telling him she’d see him later, questions continued to circle like birds finding thermals in the sky. Hopefully not, Fran thought, like vultures circling over a dead body.
It was true to say Fran didn’t know how best to navigate much of her life. If she’d heard about anyone else suddenly discovering they had a father like Bill Wilding, Fran reckoned there was a fair likelihood of phrases like ‘meal ticket’, or ‘set for life’ popping into her mind. Perhaps she should be harvesting this new-found money tree. After all, she had very little yet in the way of an emotional attachment to this person, and if she stopped to think about it, he hadn’t said anything about future plans, for example about whether or not he intended introducing her to the rest of the family.
Although, to be fair, if Bill Wilding was to introduce her to his family, only someone with the weakest grasp on mathematics would fail to work out that at the likely point of her conception, he was married to the first of his trio of wives. Awkward.
So, why bother to seek her out at all? It would have been far simpler for Bill Wilding to have ignored the news stories and chosen not to acknowledge her existence. Why the scrabble to visit her in Lyme, to suggest he wanted to make up for his absence?
Could it be as simple as him wanting that? Wanting to make up for those lost years?
And could her reaction be as straightforward as to take him at his word? To enjoy the opportunities which had already come her way, the possibilities of what might come in the future.
With nothing in the way of an answer, Fran packaged her thoughts away and headed for the chateau, and her first shift on lunch service. Before long Fran didn’t have time for stray thoughts at all, as the orders came in thick and fast from the area of the terrace she was covering.
Glimpses of Penny were all Fran caught for the majority of the shift – she was covering the bar and they seemed to pass one another without managing to speak at all. It was most unlike Penny, who had never been short of a quip or a side comment since Fran had arrived at the chateau, even when time was tight. And once the rush slowed, and the kitchens took a well-deserved rest, Fran couldn’t see Penny anywhere. It was as though she’d avoided Fran on purpose.
Or perhaps Penny had something she needed to do, and there was nothing more to it than that. Sometimes, Fran decided, it was easy to over-analyse. Especially when experience had taught her to second-guess and mistrust her own instincts.
When Johnny wandered across the terrace as Fran was cleaning the last of the tables, his fingers self-consciously brushing at the bruising on his face, she greeted him with a smile. Not a waitress’s smile, a real one.
‘Are you wanting lunch?’ she asked. ‘I think the kitchen just closed.’
The shake of his head was accompanied by a smile. ‘No. I’m not hungry, thanks.’
‘How are you feeling?’
His fingers brushed at his jaw again, but Fran wasn’t really asking about his physical well-being. Had he made any decisions? Fran wanted to know if he was feeling more positive about his path. He shrugged, looked dejected, but then brightened.
‘I spoke to my brother. Got a couple of things cleared up.’
‘Good. I’m glad.’
‘It’s time to move forwards with my life, so I’ve decided to visit Chateau des Rêves again this afternoon, with the agent this time.’
‘You’re still considering it as an option, then?’
‘I need to take control of my life,’ he said. ‘It’s about time I did what’s right for me, not just what’s best for everybody else.’
He moved into the shade, leaning against the huge blocks of stone forming the chateau’s exterior wall as he pocketed his hands, a frown flitting across the features of a face Fran was becoming used to seeing. His was a face she enjoyed, but it wasn’t only his looks she liked, there was more to it than that. He was a person she was beginning to want to spend time with, for no other reason than it felt like it would be time well spent.
Then he grinned. ‘And anyway, Estelle would absolutely love to live in a fairy castle. Natalie was right about that, at least.’
At the mention of Natalie, he sucked in a big breath, his expression losing focus as he stared into the middle distance. A beat of time passed before he refocused.
‘Any chance you can get some time off and join me?’
‘When are you leaving?’ she asked.
Johnny checked his watch. ‘I need to get going shortly. Say, twenty, twenty-five minutes?’
‘I’ll have to check, but let me see what I can do,’ Fran said, wiping the final quarter of the glass-topped table and grabbing the spray disinfectant. ‘I’ll be right back.’
She was grinning like someone who’d just been handed a winning lottery ticket by the time she found Penny. Fran was surprised by Penny’s lack of enthusiasm, a mask of indifference shrouding her features as Fran asked for some impromptu time off.
‘I don’t have to go, if there’s too much to do here,’ Fran said, an unexpectedly strong wave of disappointment washing over her at the thought of Johnny going to Chateau des Rêves without her.
‘No, you go. We can cover you.’
Something in Penny’s tone didn’t have Fran as convinced. ‘Are you sure?’
Penny shrugged. ‘Take as long as you like.’
‘What’s wrong? You’ve all but ignored me all day. Have I done something to upset you?’
‘Not everything revolves around you, Fran. Go. Enjoy your outing.’
‘I’ll only be a couple of hours. We’ll talk when I get back, OK?’
‘If you like.’
Fran hadn’t any idea how long they were likely to be, and in all honesty, she didn’t care. For the first time since she took on this undercover role and had felt the pressing weight of guilt at abandoning Madame Beaufoy and the hotel staff once she had to leave, Fran realised the responsibility she’d burdened herself with when she decided to become a member of staff wasn’t uppermost in her thoughts. Chateau des Rêves was. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. Johnny was. But Penny’s flatness wasn’t to be ignored. Something was wrong and, on her return, Fran resolved to do her best to find out what had upset her new friend.
For now, she was eager to tell Johnny she was coming, didn’t want him to head off without her.
Maybe Penny’s quietness was to do with Fran’s admission about working for Wilding Holdings, however benevolent Penny had appeared to be when she’d confided the information. If that was the case, Fran would do her best to reassure Penny that her intentions were good. Or perhaps something else was to blame.
The first time Fran had caught sight of Chateau des Rêves, she’d been mystified as to the change of gears between the enormous Chateau d’Ussé with all its sprawling splendour and the, by comparison, pocket-rocket-but-shambolic version Johnny had been so keen to share with her. Whereas, on a second visit Fran couldn’t help but understand. Chateau des Rêves was far more beautiful than she’d remembered, even though she’d been impressed enough the first time around.
This time, she didn’t register the cracked planters, the dead ivy clinging to walls and balustrades like a long-deceased but many-tentacled sea monster, the broken panes of glass in the long-since abandoned glasshouse, white paint peeling from its rotten wooden struts. She saw it all, as she had the first time, but this time she was seeing the place as it could be.
She pulled some of the dead foliage from the carved balustrade of the stone steps, removing more and more of it to reveal a little part of the place’s former glory. The stone wouldn’t need much work, past removing all the debris covering it. The long-standing mottling of lichen and age suited it, sat well on the stone alongside the gentle curves of the carving.
The sound of an approaching car had Fran turning her attention to the driveway, and she noticed Johnny’s gaze on her, on her handful of dead ivy. His expression was so calm, the crinkle at the corners of his eyes the only hint of a smile as he asked her if she planned to clear the whole staircase. She dropped her handful of ivy onto the pile and pulled again.
‘It’s lovely, isn’t it?’ she said, holding his gaze.
‘We’re going to need a gardener, too,’ he said, his voice so soft she almost missed his words.
We.
Fran dragged her gaze away from him as a sensible French hatchback pulled up alongside Johnny’s hire car and a shirt-sleeved, salt-and-peppered fifty-something guy climbed from the driver’s side, ducking back inside to retrieve an iPad and a bundle of keys. Once he was standing upright, he smiled, the deep crow lines framing his eyes suggesting it was an expression he found easy.
‘Monsieur Taylor?’
‘Oui.’ Johnny met him halfway across the turning circle, hand outstretched. ‘You are Monsieur Blanc?’
‘C’est ?a. But please call me Henri.’ After shaking Johnny’s hand, he turned to Fran. ‘Madame Taylor, enchanté.’
‘No, Fran isn’t …’
‘I’m not …’
Even though they were both speaking at the same time, Fran couldn’t help but notice the intensity of Johnny’s denial, the firmness with which he told Henri Blanc just how much she wasn’t his wife.
Henri shook his head, his smile gaining in intensity as he tapped the side of his nose.
‘My apologies. This is none of my business. Because we are simply here to fall in love with Chateau des Rêves, aren’t we?’
With a flourish of the hand holding a jangle of keys, Henri gestured to the front elevation, his smile intensifying.
‘Elle est magnifique, n’est-ce pas?’
Fran didn’t need the words translated – she might not be a whizz at languages like Johnny, but it didn’t take a genius to get the gist. And Henri was right, the building was magnificent.
‘We go in, I think?’ Henri added.
‘That would be great, thank you,’ Johnny said. ‘We managed to have a good look around the outside when we were here before.’
Johnny threw Fran a look, his eyebrows arching as it also occurred to her that they would need to pretend they hadn’t broken in and had a look around the inside, too. Their guilty secret made her cheeks burn, and her stomach flip.
This time, as they walked the rooms and corridors, Fran could see how the place might look, fully renovated. If it was down to her, she would retain as much of the character as was possible – and prudent, financially speaking. Some of the cornicing in the main salon was missing or broken, sash windows would need to be serviced and probably have their cording replaced, although the glass looked good. Bobbly and in places distorted to look through, but that simply meant the glass was possibly original to the chateau, certainly original to the installation of the windows.
Other details Fran hadn’t noticed on their last visit came under her scrutiny this time. Some of the painted panels running along the corridors would need to be replaced, but it would be easy enough to match the beading and details. Wallpaper hung off the plaster in places, but it didn’t look as though it was a result of bad water damage or damp, instead was simply age-related. If it couldn’t be restored, it would be fun to replace it with something authentic, although cost would probably prohibit replacing like with like, the current wallpaper looked hand printed.
While she continued looking, Johnny and Monsieur Blanc were talking, some of it was in English – for her benefit, Fran assumed – most of it in rapid French. The agent was delighted to be able to talk freely, although as far as Fran was concerned, his English was pretty darned impressive.
If she moved to France, Fran decided she would do her best to learn as much of the language as she could – it would make sense to try to fit in.
If she moved to France …
Fran swallowed, following on behind the two men as their conversation continued, confusion clouding her thoughts. She was due in the south of France for her next hotel visit in a matter of a few days, she already had a job, already had the prospect of a new life beckoning her. After everything she’d been through with Victor, and then losing her mum, she should be utterly determined to make her new-found father proud of her, should be more than happy with the opportunities he was offering her. Yes, she wasn’t entirely sure where it was all headed, or how much control she had over any of it, but it wasn’t something she should be questioning, should it?
And there was no way of telling how Johnny and his plans to renovate Chateau des Rêves would turn out. If wishes were horses, and all that. Fran was getting ahead of herself, no question.
But as she followed the agent and Johnny up the grand curving staircase, one hand against the smooth warm turn of the wooden banister, Fran had the strongest sensation of belonging somewhere, far stronger than she’d felt for way too long.
Johnny had to admit he was grateful to have Monsieur Blanc with them for this second viewing, especially when they headed upstairs. The memory of Fran ascending the staircase the last time, even though he’d pretended to study the ceiling by the time she’d reached the top, and then that bloody huge four-poster slap-bang in the centre of the first bedroom they’d come across – it had all done serious damage to his sense of self-control.
This time the scenario was less charged, the desire to kiss Fran less overwhelming with Henri in the mix. Multiple participants, or an audience, hadn’t ever been a sexual scene Johnny was turned on by. If he wanted someone, he wanted them all to himself.
And anyway, this was a business opportunity first and foremost, and possibly a place to raise his daughter. His conversation earlier with Noel had done nothing if not cement his decision that complicating things right now with another personal relationship wouldn’t be a smart move.
So why was he so desperate to include Fran in his plans? Every rational fibre of his being told him that if he was going to do this, if he was seriously considering converting all the assets he could liquidate into funds to put towards a move to the Loire, the last distraction he needed was to fall for a woman, however sensational she was.
And Johnny couldn’t hide from the fact that Fran was exactly that. Sensational. And not only in the way she looked. There was far more to it than the soft curve of her neck, the unpretentious and yet desperately sexy way she chose to dress, those elegant fingers currently wrapping their way around the banister. There was something about her unfiltered love for that stray cat, something about her gaze which meant that every time he saw her, he wanted to smile. On top of which, she’d been through hell, had picked herself up time and again, taking herself in a totally new direction when she decided to travel and work her way across some of Europe. A girl not unlike himself, in as much as she’d had a challenging upbringing, had needed to pull herself up by her own bootstraps and hadn’t had anyone to rely on, nobody to write a cheque and make everything all right for her. She hadn’t even had a sibling to look to for support.
Maybe that’s why she might make the perfect partner. Business partner, he corrected himself. She was self-reliant, resourceful, practical. Funny. Kind. Cute. No, seriously cute and with a fantastic—
‘So, we are now at the end of our tour.’ Henri claimed Johnny’s attention, startling him out of his reverie as they headed back down to the main hallway. ‘What do you think? Do you like Chateau des Rêves?’
Noel’s approach to business chose this moment to surface in Johnny’s thoughts. His brother’s ability to talk a price down while still keeping the seller hooked. Now, more than ever before, was the time Johnny needed to channel that ability. He set his face to neutral.
‘It’s certainly got potential,’ he said, then shook his head. ‘But it’s only the first place I’ve looked at. Is there a structural report? I’d need some information on local taxes, water rates, and so on.’
‘Bien s?r. Of course. All these things are not a problem.’
‘And is it listed under the cultural heritage scheme?’ Johnny had done some research after his first wander around, checking out the details of the Monument Historique scheme. Even if Chateau des Rêves was listed, or a part of it was, that might actually be beneficial in terms of gaining grants to help with the renovation. Unlike the equivalent listing scheme in the UK, the French approach seemed stacked rather more in the purchaser’s and restorer’s favour. Which would be good news if he went ahead, took the plunge, and bought the place.
For the first time in a long time Johnny felt a surge of adrenalin. This was madness. This was fraught with difficulties. But far more importantly, this was exciting.
After checking his iPad, Henri beamed again. ‘The staircases are listed, also the front fa?ade and the design of some of the windows. But this is, I think, the best of both worlds. Some help will likely be available, but with little hindrance to any improvements you may wish to make.’
Johnny glanced at Fran. Her expression was inscrutable and didn’t alter under his gaze.
‘What do you think, Fran?’ he asked, unsure what he wanted from her reply.
Before she had a chance to respond, Henri suggested he would leave them alone to discuss their thoughts and withdrew onto the terrace outside the main entrance, closing the huge oak door with a soft click. He remained just visible through the panels of stained glass.
‘You know what I think about this place, Johnny. It’s awesome. But this is your adventure. Your decision. One you make because it’s right for you and your life, nobody else.’