The Paris Trip: A feel-good, laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

CHAPTER TEN

His uncle Henri was a jovial man in his late fifties, huge and bearded, and the father of nine children. Sophie and Marie, the twins, were his youngest children at seventeen. His wife Beatrice was also jovial and matronly, and when they sometimes got together as a family at Christmas, Henri and Beatrice would bustle about the Christmas tree with presents and eggnog and special delicacies for Noel, so like Father Christmas and Mrs Santa that it had become customary in the family to refer to them by those names. Speaking to Henri on the phone now, Leo was reminded of his Santa-like persona, listening to Henri’s deep, booming voice as they exchanged pleasantries at the beginning of the call.

‘Yes, uncle, I’m very well, thank you. I’m sorry I mislaid my phone earlier. Bernadette tells me you needed to speak to me urgently.’ Leo sat down in a quiet corner of the courtyard and stretched out his feet, carefully positioned in the shade to avoid the early afternoon sun. He was hungry, but he had no time for a meal. He had wasted enough of the day as it was, sleeping off his idiotic all-nighter. ‘What’s the matter, Uncle Henri?’

‘Well, Leo…’ Henri’s voice had lost its usual sparkling humour. He cleared his throat. ‘The thing is, I’m afraid there’s been an unfortunate incident here at the Cave Rémy warehouse.’

The warehouse was where they stored and sold wine, and held public wine tasting events, situated on the side of the road just outside their vineyard in the heart of Bordeaux territory. Compared to the modern house where that branch of the Rémy family lived, the warehouse and wine-tasting cellar was a lovely, old-fashioned space, wood-lined and redolent of vintage wines. The walls there were covered with huge, blown up photographs from days gone by: the harvest being brought in on wagons, or people in vats, grinning as they stomped the grapes down with their bare feet, and a large picture of his father alongside Henri, standing proudly outside the gates to the Rémy vineyard, both raising a glass of their own ruby-red wine.

Then there were the stores of barrels and bottles of wine, mostly housed in cool cellars deep beneath the public wine-tasting space.

Seriously alarmed by the thought that something cataclysmic might have happened, Leo sat forward, frowning. ‘What kind of incident? Is it serious? Have the wine cellars been affected?’

‘The wine is safe, thank goodness, but I’m afraid it’s not great news, Leo. I’m very sorry to say there was a fire last night. The sprinklers kicked in and we managed to put it out. But not before some damage had occurred. The pictures on the wall and most of the furnishings will need to be replaced. It could take weeks to put the place straight.’

‘Mon Dieu.’ Leo closed his eyes against the dazzle of sunlight on windows. If only he felt less exhausted. He wasn’t thinking straight. But he was smitten with guilt that because of his reckless behaviour, he had missed this opportunity to advise his uncle earlier. ‘That’s terrible news. And in the summer season too.’ He ran a hand through his hair, feeling grim. ‘I’m sorry I’m only just catching up on this news. Have you spoken to the insurers?’

‘That’s the first thing I did. They’ll cover the damage, but the excess on the policy is pretty steep. It’s going to put us back several thousand euros.’

Leo tried not to groan out loud, aware of his grandmother crossing the courtyard. He didn’t want to worry her unduly. ‘Yes, I see. How did the fire start?’

‘We’re still not sure. They’re sending somebody from the insurance company to examine the scene. But my theory is it was electrical. There’s no other explanation, really. We had some new equipment brought in a few weeks ago. It may be that something was faulty. Bad wiring, you know.’

‘Do you need me to come down there?’ He glanced at his watch, making hurried calculations in his head. ‘I could pack a bag and jump on a train. Be there later tonight.’

‘That’s very good of you, Leo, but there’s no need. We’ve got it in hand.’

‘All the same, it might be a good idea.’

‘Well, if you get the time… Just let me know and we’ll sort out a room for you.’

‘No, I’ll book into one of the local hotels. No need to cause extra work for Beatrice.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Besides, Bea won’t do the work herself. Some of the children will help. You know I have a whole tribe here. Might as well take advantage of their free labour.’ His uncle gave a deep rumble of laughter. ‘Talking of my tribe, how are those young rascals Sophie and Marie getting along there? Not misbehaving, I hope?’

‘I believe Grandmère and Bernadette have been taking it in turns to show them around the famous sights of Paris. Yes, and take them to art galleries and museums, as you requested. All very educational, and with no excursions after dark. They did ask but Nonna shook her head. And when Nonna says no, nobody dares disobey her.’

Again, he heard the rumble of his uncle’s laughter.

He rang off, assuring his uncle that he would try to visit Bordeaux, so they could discuss the fire in more detail and how the repairs were going.

It was a financial headache, all right. But at least the premises had been insured. Otherwise it could have been disastrous. Even so, having the Cave out of order at the height of the summer season would make a serious dent in their profits for that year. And they’d already been struggling financially after a series of problematic harvests, along with the recent hike in the cost of living. The fire was bad news, for sure. It might mean having to extend their bank loan.

As he checked the balances on their business accounts in his banking app, a shadow fell across him and Leo looked up, narrowing his eyes against the sun.

‘We need to talk.’

It was Liselle, wearing a one-piece black and gold swimsuit that clung to her curves and a diaphanous housecoat over the top, carrying a bottle of sun oil and a thick white towel draped over one arm. She was wearing dark sunglasses so that he couldn’t read her expression. But he could read her body language and it wasn’t friendly.

‘Talk?’ Putting down his phone, he leant back slowly. ‘What about?’

‘For God”s sake, Leo. Don’t pretend you don’t know.’

‘I honestly have no idea what this is about. Unless it was our embarrassing tussle this morning… If you’ve come to say sorry, I would be happy to accept your apology.’

‘Apologise?’ she almost spat the words at him, fury in the tightening of her lips. ‘Oh, I got the message this morning. You’re determined to amuse yourself with that girl… Fine! You do that.’ She gave a careless shrug that didn’t fool him. ‘But we need to talk business.’

‘What kind of business?’

‘Sascha rang.’

She gave a satisfied smile when he stared in disbelief. Sascha was a well-known impresario on the art scene in Paris, who was their go-to man when it came to setting up art exhibitions. But he hadn’t had any conversations with Leo for some time. No paintings, no exhibitions. It was that simple.

‘He had a minor exhibition fall through at the last minute,’ she went on airily. ‘It was set for three weeks’ time and everyone seems to have left Paris for the holidays, so he’s been struggling to fill the gap in his schedule. As your manager, I said you might be available.’

He jumped up, glaring at her, his heart thumping. ‘You did what?’

‘Calm down… It’ll be good for your profile. It’s only a small gallery space but in a prominent location. And it’s only for a week. A flash exhibition. There and gone.’ She played with her hair, watching him with a cat-like smile. ‘I agreed to have drinks with him tomorrow, thrash out the details.’

‘Have you gone mad? I don’t have anything to exhibit.’

‘Regardless, you can’t miss this opportunity. A summer exhibition, Leo, with all the tourists here in Paris. Think of the sales you could make.’

‘You’re not hearing me.’ Leo felt like grinding his teeth in frustration. Why wasn’t she listening to him? ‘I have no pictures to exhibit, let alone sell.’

‘But you might have,’ she said delicately, eyeing him sideways. ‘You’re still planning to paint her, aren’t you?’

‘Her? You mean Maeve?’ He felt winded at the mention of her name, caught off guard as he remembered their recent conversation. ‘She’s changed her mind,’ he said flatly. ‘Doesn’t want to go anywhere near my studio. Not after that stunt you pulled this morning.’

‘Ah…’ She pushed her sunglasses up and met his eyes. ‘Okay, you wanted an apology. Well, here it is. I’m sorry. I was jealous. I didn’t understand.’

Leo thrust his hands in his pockets. He wasn’t sure he could trust her sincerity, but he’d agreed to accept her apology if she made one. ‘Thank you,’ he said grudgingly. ‘But it doesn’t change anything.’

‘It won’t happen again, believe me. I can tell her that myself, if you like.’

‘No,’ he said quickly, horrified.

‘Fine, whatever. Then I’ll leave it to you to lure her back to your studio.’ With a shrug, Liselle slipped her sunglasses back on. ‘Paint her, Leo,’ she told him. ‘Paint her as quickly and often as you can. In every conceivable position.’ Her mocking laughter echoed about the courtyard. ‘Then you’ll have plenty of new paintings to exhibit, won’t you?’

‘In three weeks? Impossible.’

His former girlfriend sauntered on towards the sun loungers, slipping her see-through wrap off golden, sun-kissed shoulders. ‘I have faith in you, Leo,’ she threw back at him. ‘And don’t tell me it’s impossible. I know exactly what you get like when you’re inspired, remember?’