Escape to the French Chateau

Chapter 35

Chapter 35

Johnny took possession of Chateau des Rêves with a week or so in hand before Fran was due to arrive. With finances originally promised by Wilding Holdings, Johnny’s blood had run cold when Fran suddenly called him one day, letting him know the change in plans. It wasn’t until Fran filled him in on the details that his heart resumed a normal pace again.

And now he was here, he couldn’t wait to get cracking on the renovations. Though, he was having to sit on his hands a bit, because he wasn’t prepared to risk disturbing so much as a strip of wallpaper without Fran’s say-so.

While they were aware of the basic living conditions they’d have to endure during the renovations, they’d still both agreed to live on site. The basic plumbing and kitchen essentials worked, and there were plenty of bedrooms to choose from. The excitement of finally being here, of the wheels being metaphorically set in motion, brought an unfiltered grin to Johnny’s face, a grin which only became even broader at the thought of Fran’s imminent arrival.

Breathing the fresh air of the Loire again had restored Johnny’s confidence in his future. His and Fran’s future. Regardless of how much he would like their relationship to develop into something far more than that of business partners, Johnny would settle for being in the same country as her. The same building. Working towards the same shared goal.

There was no escaping the fact he was still dealing with the repercussions of his old life. It was the way he’d come to refer to everything before meeting Fran. All the muddiness of his failed relationship with Natalie, and the ongoing challenging nature of his bond with Noel. The lawyers, the divorce, the dissolution of Taylor Made Wine.

The only beacon of light he wanted to bring forward from that mess was Estelle. It was something he and Fran had discussed at length, how his daughter would fit into the picture once the chateau was ready for visitors. Fran knew he wanted Estelle to be one of the chateau’s first guests, and in turn he knew Fran was keen to meet his daughter. He wanted the two of them to make an instant connection and for the three of them to live happily ever after. But he’d settle for the three of them getting on well enough to make their vision of Chateau des Rêves a reality.

In trying to make Fran feel as welcome as possible, Johnny had spent the week attempting to turn the chateau into something that resembled a home – and looked less like the building site it currently was. But as he checked his watch, he realised he was going to have to get a move on if he was going to put the final touches in place before Fran arrived.

There was no way the place was going to be perfect for her arrival, but he hoped this idea, this last-minute excursion, would prove to Fran how committed he was to her and their business.

Climbing into the Citro?n van he’d bought after landing back in the country – the days of hiring swanky Mercedes far behind him now and would remain so for the foreseeable – Johnny twisted up the volume on the radio and headed out.

The driver raised his substantial eyebrows a final time at the row of enormous suitcases which now stood on the doorstep of Chateau des Rêves. Fran thanked him, again, for helping her to lug them up the stone steps as she rapped the huge doorknocker against the wooden frame of the door.

As the taxi headed off, and Fran wondered where Johnny was, she allowed herself a final flutter of nerves. A final gut-twisting bout of anxiety. With the flat in Lyme Regis cleared and the tenancy at an end, Chateau des Rêves was now her home. Had she made the right decision coming here?

A volley of car horns, cheerful in their tone, had Fran pivoting towards the driveway. The taxi turned out onto the road and disappeared as a grubby white Citro?n van bounced its way towards the chateau. Fran smiled as she clocked who was at the wheel.

With the van parked at a jaunty angle across the driveway, Johnny launched himself from the interior, his smile as broad as her own. Fran’s anxiety melted away.

‘You beat me here,’ he said. ‘How are you? How was the journey?’

‘All good. I’m glad to be here at last.’

‘Me too,’ he said, swinging the car keys in his hand. ‘I’ve done my best to get the place habitable-ish. But I need to check – you did say you enjoyed camping, didn’t you?’

Fran wrinkled her nose. ‘No. You promised me running water and electricity. Otherwise, I’m out of here.’

Johnny laughed. ‘Your wish is my command. But the builders are starting on Monday, so I can’t promise anything once they get their teeth into the place. I thought I’d make a start on stripping some of that old wallpaper …’

Fran’s spine rippled hot and cold. ‘You did what? Not the stuff in the formal salon, Johnny. Please God, not that room. I told you I thought that was original—’

‘Don’t panic, I’m teasing. I didn’t dare so much as take down a curtain until you got here.’

‘Good, because I’ve managed to find a wonderful local seamstress who is going to renovate any fabrics worth saving.’

‘That’s great. I have to say it’s been so hard to stay hands-off,’ Johnny admitted. ‘I’m itching to get started.’

She smiled. ‘So am I.’

With colour unexpectedly flooding his cheeks, Johnny looked momentarily uncertain, his gaze switching between her and the van.

‘So, before we go in,’ he said. ‘There’s something I need to show you.’

Fran stayed put while Johnny pulled open the back doors of the van, lifting a cardboard wine box from the interior.

‘We’re going to christen the house with wine?’ she asked, a grin edging onto her face. Then she heard it. A noise, emanating from the box, which definitely wasn’t the sound of bottles. A scratching noise. A tiny mew.

The grin dropped from her face at the same moment as Johnny lifted the flaps and peered inside.

‘I wanted to make Chateau des Rêves more than our business,’ he said, setting the box down and reaching inside. ‘I wanted to make it a proper home, too.’

From the depths of the box emerged a kitten, held firm in Johnny’s hand. A silver tabby kitten, striped and with a long tail swiping to and fro as she observed her new surroundings.

‘I noticed the Beaufoys had a few cats at the winery, one of them was heavily in kit when I was last there. And after what happened to Red, well …’ He shook his head, refocusing on the kitten in his hand. ‘Meet Georgina.’ The corners of his mouth turned up at the name. ‘Madame Beaufoy thought it was a strong British name for her, but I think it would be OK to change it if you want.’

Fran’s eyes had already filled with tears, which loosed and ran down her cheeks as she began to laugh. ‘Good old Florence Beaufoy,’ she said.

Johnny’s eyebrows arched. ‘Florence, hey? You’re one up on me knowing that. I’ve only ever dared call her Madame so far.’

As Fran took the kitten from Johnny, cuddling the soft bundle to her chest, sniffing in the glorious kitten-ness, she noticed the box wobbling. Johnny followed her gaze and cleared his throat.

‘Ah, yes. Well, you see it wasn’t only Georgina who was looking for a new home.’

Delving into the box again, Johnny emerged with a tiny white kitten, barely bigger than the palm of his hand.

‘Meet Marie.’

Fran’s lips quivered over her smile as Johnny lifted the tiny kitten and kissed the back of its neck.

‘There’s no room for manoeuvre with this one’s name, I’m afraid. Estelle’s always wanted a white kitten, called Marie, so …’ He shrugged.

‘Oh, Johnny. This is perfect.’

Fran wanted to add ‘you’re perfect’. Instead, a yowling sound emanating from the back of the Citro?n took everyone’s attention.

‘What’s that?’ Fran said.

Johnny rubbed at his face with his free hand, a grin of extreme magnitude taking control of his face. ‘I just knew he wouldn’t stay quiet. You’re never going to believe it, but …’

Popping the tiny white kitten back into the box, and carefully lifting Georgina from her hands, adding her to the kitten pile, Johnny tugged another wine box from the back of the van. The top of this box was taped closed, but something was headbutting the cardboard flaps, more yowls exiting from the hastily cut air holes along the box’s side.

‘Now, don’t freak out – either of you,’ Johnny said, in part to her, in part to the box. He began to peel back the tape and glanced at Fran. ‘Come closer, I think you should be on hand.’

Fran was shaking her head, an uncanny recognition of the sounds was confusing her, because the cat noises coming from the box sounded exactly like …

The flap on the top of the box exploded up, and a very dissatisfied ginger cat peered out.

‘Oh my God. Red? Is that you?’ Her words were probably incoherent, because all Fran could think about was pulling the cat from the box, her emotions getting the better of her as she sobbed into his fur. ‘You’re alive!’

‘Alive and well. He turned up at the Beaufoys’ winery a few days ago, apparently. Madame Beaufoy – Florence – has been looking after him in the meantime. All very clandestine, we wanted it to be a special welcome for you.’

‘Oh my God, it’s more than that. It’s …’

There weren’t enough words to describe how this moment was making Fran feel, so instead she mopped the worst of her tears and hugged Johnny, much to Red’s disgust, if the noise he made was anything to go by.

Johnny didn’t seem to have received the memo from Red, either, as he pulled her against the firm lines of his chest with unexpected strength. With his arm looped around her back, Fran slid her own arm up until it encircled his neck, resting her head against him. The mix of Johnny’s body spray alongside the furry box-concentrated scent of Red was a heady mix.

‘Thank you,’ she said, the words muffled against his shirt.

‘We’re going to make this work, you know?’ he said, the depth of his voice reverberating through his chest on its way to her ear.

‘The business?’ she asked, tipping her face to be able to study him.

‘Yes. The business. Why? What else did you have in mind?’

Her father’s words, about following her heart and going for what she really wanted, chose that moment to come to the forefront of her thoughts. It was time to tell Johnny exactly what she had in mind. She lowered Red to the ground, the cat circling their legs as Fran pressed herself as close to Johnny’s body as possible, leaning back to be able to see him more clearly, to watch his expression. They stared at one another, cat and kittens forgotten for the time being.

‘What if I was to tell you the business isn’t enough for me?’ Fran said. The thought of what she would lose if this backfired was like a sandbag strapped to her emotions, ready to drag them to the ground. But she’d come too far to stop now.

‘I thought you were happy with the plans, the projections …’

Johnny looked genuinely concerned, but Fran didn’t look away, didn’t ease up on the intensity of her gaze.

‘What if the business isn’t enough for me?’ she repeated, tilting her chin.

Confusion took flight across Johnny’s face, the furrows between his eyes flexing and stretching like the wings of some very puzzled birds.

‘You said it yourself. Let’s make Chateau des Rêves a proper home. Our home.’

‘What are you saying, Fran?’

Fran feathered her fingers across his jaw, the prickle of the beginnings of stubble sending a jolt of electricity down her spine. ‘For such a thoughtful man, you’re making this extremely difficult for me,’ she said, her fingers reaching and following the curve of his throat, coming to rest against the top button of his shirt. She couldn’t make her intentions any more obvious, could she?

Watching the bob of his Adam’s apple as he digested her actions, Fran waited for what felt like interminable seconds for him to tilt his face towards hers, for his lips to brush hers.

‘Is this what you’re asking for?’ he said, the words little more than a whisper.

‘It’s a start,’ she said, reaching up on tiptoes to reciprocate.

Before either of them could deepen their kiss, a high-pitched kitten meow had them both grinning, drawing back to check which kitten was protesting. But the moment wasn’t lost because after Johnny hefted the box of kittens under one arm, he threaded his fingers through hers, tightening his grip as they turned towards the chateau.

‘Shall we go home?’ he said, as they took the steps to the chateau’s doors.

There was nothing Fran wanted more.

‘I thought you’d never ask,’ she said.

Were you captivated by Fran and Johnny’s romance under the French sun? Then why not sail away on the Riviera in the brilliantly feel-good book,A Summer on the Riviera!