Chapter 2
2
Ingrid Chevalier was carefully washing Merlin, the marble prancing horse statue recently returned from being restored, and now standing on his plinth in the main hallway of the Chateau du Cheval, when the estate agent rang. Moments later, she’d closed the large heavy oak door of the chateau and was striding purposefully towards the overgrown Mediterranean garden where Peter, her husband, was doing his best to chainsaw his way through the various vines and other plants that had claimed it as their own over the last few years.
Gladys, their Golden Labrador bitch, heard her approaching before Peter did and ran towards her, tail wagging joyfully.
Peter glanced up, stopped the chainsaw and put it on the ground.
‘It’s decision time,’ Ingrid said as she reached him. ‘Solange, the agent immobilier , rang. The brother and sister who viewed the cottages earlier this week have made an offer. I’ve told her we’ll let her know within the next twenty-four hours whether we accept it or not.’
‘We can talk about it this evening,’ Peter said. ‘Or we could walk over there now and talk about it on site.’ He gestured behind him at the tangle of overgrown plants. ‘I could do with a break from this. I swear that chainsaw gets heavier every time I use it.’
‘Come on, then. Let’s do that.’
And the two of them, accompanied by Gladys, began to walk through the chateau grounds towards the cottages that, in years gone by, had been two of several around the estate.
Ingrid gave a happy sigh looking at the view as they reached the boundary of their land behind and to the west of the chateau itself. A century ago, a large part of the estate had been forested, a mixture of oaks, cedar, pine, beech and fir, whilst the rest of the grounds had been a mixture of fields for arable land and sheep. At one time, an earth track had circled around the property, put there by a keen owner who had raised and trained thoroughbred horses. By the time she and Peter had bought the place about eighteen months ago, sixty-eight hectares consisting mainly of fields, some woodland and a couple of derelict cottages had been sold off, leaving the chateau and its remaining twelve hectares surrounded by fencing overgrown with impenetrable brambles and self-seeded saplings, and an impressive pair of wrought-iron gates on the main driveway. The traditional brick-built stables with their cobbled floors and iron metalwork dividing the stalls stood a few hundred metres inside the main entrance. A two-storey general-purpose building hidden behind the stables served as a store for farm implements, hay, straw and other agricultural supplies.
‘You okay?’ Peter asked as he heard Ingrid sigh.
She nodded. ‘I love the panoramic view we get from this side of the chateau – the rolling French countryside with its hills and valleys stretching away in the distance, the wind turbines visible on the high ground. There are very few signs of habitation, just the occasional house or small village with its church spire visible, and maybe a couple of tractors working the fields. I can’t help but wonder how much it has truly changed in the last seventy or so years.’
‘Quite a lot, I suspect,’ Peter said. ‘There would have been horses and people working those small fields from dawn to dusk for days and weeks on end until about the sixties or seventies, I suppose. Hi-tech tractors and combines arrived then and got the work done so much quicker with less manpower. Cottages began to be abandoned as agricultural workers were needed less and less. Hedgerows were pulled out, joining three, four, five of the smaller fields together. The gallop dirt track around the estate was a casualty of all that. The stables that housed working animals alongside the thoroughbreds changed too as the world moved on after the Second World War.’
‘I’m so glad our land still consists of smaller fields and woods and copses. It’s better for the wildlife.’
‘Right now, I’m glad Jean-Paul is paying us rent for the use of some of those hectares.’ Peter’s voice was grim. ‘Together with that unexpected DIY livery in the stables starting soon, it does at least mean some money coming in.’ The enquiry from one of the villagers who needed somewhere to stable her horse had been a complete surprise. Neither Peter nor Ingrid had realised there would be a demand for something like that. Their long-term plan had been to turn the stable blocks into self-contained holiday accommodation.
Ingrid nodded. ‘We’ll see how this first one settles in and then clear the other stalls and ask around, see if anyone else would like to rent one. I still haven’t decided what to do with all the horse memorabilia I found in the tack room. Horses have been such a big part of the chateau’s history, we can’t just ignore it and throw it all away. We need to display it somewhere, I think.’
The path they were on took them past the empty house currently known as La Maison du Jardinier, which they planned to renovate sometime in the future. Soon they were standing looking for signs of life in the small lake in front of the Cottages du Lac.
‘D’you remember how last summer there were so many dragonflies, tadpole spawn and damselflies?’ Ingrid said. ‘I loved coming down here and watching them. Butterflies too love that buddleia by the front door of No. 2.’ She was silent for a few seconds before turning to look at the cottages. ‘I still think these would make two lovely g?tes. Which would be another source of income for us.’
‘At the moment, we haven’t got the money to do the necessary upgrade,’ Peter answered. ‘And we require an injection of cash right now so we can finally get the chateau open this summer for guests and start to get our name out there for events. The occasional wedding or maybe vintage car rally, car boot sales or…’ Peter shook his head in exasperation. ‘I don’t know what. I do know we said we’d never break up the remaining estate, but things have changed so much in the last year, selling the cottages seems to be the only avenue open to us.’
Ingrid nodded thoughtfully. ‘Everything has been so much more expensive than we expected – despite all those flow charts and spreadsheets we created.’ She gave Peter a small smile. His unexpected redundancy at sixty had given them the opportunity to change their lives and they’d seized it happily. They’d both done their ‘due diligence’ at the time of buying the chateau, but they’d definitely been guilty of looking at things through rose-coloured glasses with a touch of naivety thrown in.
‘This offer we have then – is it close to the asking price? Or do we have to try to negotiate for a few extra thousands?’ Peter asked.
‘Close enough. It’s eight thousand short, but we did agree that the maximum we could drop would be ten thousand euros. So,’ Ingrid shrugged, ‘Solange says the couple have really fallen in love with the place and are cash buyers, so the sale should go through quickly. The man – I forget his name, Solange did say – will be looking for work and could be interested in helping with the grounds.’ Ingrid hesitated. ‘There’s something that worries me though. What if whoever buys the cottages doesn’t fit in, doesn’t like living here, and in a few months they put the cottages back on the market? We’ll have no say then about who they sell to.’
Peter was silent for a moment. ‘We could try to put a clause in saying that if that happens, we have first refusal and the right to buy the cottages back. And then cross our fingers that if that does happen, it won’t be until the chateau is established and earning its keep with guests and events. I’d rather turn them into holiday rentals too, but…’ He caught hold of Ingrid’s hand. ‘The chateau rooms are ready for guests this year, and the money from the sale of these two cottages will give us enough to finish the chapel renovations so we can offer a full wedding package. We need to employ a gardener and general handyman to help me finish sorting out the grounds, ready for safe public access. And then we can start doing some proper publicising for the chambres d’h?tes . I know it has been a struggle getting this far.’ Peter glanced at Ingrid. ‘And the last year has been hard on both of us. I also know people thought we were mad at our age to take something like this on, especially in a foreign country. Do you regret taking it on? I know it was my idea to leave England, my dream to live in France more than yours.’ He hesitated. ‘If you feel it’s too much for us, rather than just sell the cottages, we could sell up completely. The chateau is in a much better state than when we bought it, so we should at least get our money back.’
Ingrid shook her head defiantly. ‘No regrets.’ Peter might be the one with the French ancestors, but she loved their life in France and felt completely at home there. ‘I love the place, and the last year, seeing it come back to life has been worth all the hard work, and I’m longing to see it filled with guests and busy with people enjoying themselves. And don’t forget Penny. She loves it here too and I’m just hoping the time will come when she…’ Ingrid paused, thinking about their daughter and weighing up her words carefully, ‘decides to join us and make a life for herself here in France.’
‘I know you and I weren’t that keen on Rory the one and only time we’ve met him after we moved over here,’ Peter said. ‘And I have to admit, I can’t quite see suave Rory giving up his job to come and live in rural France. Paris maybe, but not Brittany.’
Ingrid gripped Peter’s hand hard. ‘They aren’t even living together yet and my gut feeling is they never will. I think Penny is holding back from that commitment for some reason. Anyway, back to our current problem. I refuse to sell up and let someone else benefit from all the hard work we’ve already done. Selling the chateau will be our very last resort. I say we accept the offer on the cottages and continue with our dream.’