Chapter 10
10
8 NOVEMBER
The next day, the first building contractor, a big burly thirty-something man named JP, arrives to quote. He wears a bright yellow hard hat and reflective vest. Probably sensible, what with the falling objects around L’Hotel du Parc. With clipboard in hand, he scribbles notes as we go from room to room.
He assures me the lobby, library and other shared guests’ spaces are mostly cosmetic to fix at first glance. The idea puts a spring in my step. Maybe the renovations will come in under budget? I motion for him to head upstairs to the suites. ‘This is the first of eighteen guest rooms?’ JP asks, tapping the clipboard with his pen.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him about the secret suites nineteen and twenty, knowing he’ll have to fix the damage we did bringing the wall down, but as we’ve been unable to locate keys, I want to keep the discovery of those rooms quiet for now. I send Manon a warning look, to keep her mouth closed.
‘ Oui , eighteen in total. For our soft launch we’re hoping to get three or four suites completed to start with, plus the ones we’re staying in, but ours don’t need the full treatment. Perhaps you can advise us as to which suites need the least amount of work and we can focus on those for our Christmas opening?’
‘ Bein s?r .’ He pushes the door open to Manon’s suite to find her lacy underwear strewn from one side to the other, including a pink G-string that hangs from the bedside lamp. My pink G-string. I take stock of the lingerie on display and blush when I realise it’s all mine and she’s staged this scene to embarrass the poor guy. Manon gives me a wicked grin. ‘Ahem. Ah.’ His cheeks pink as he drops his gaze, as if willing himself away.
‘Sorry, Manon is a slob.’ My cousin has never grown out of these sorts of high jinks.
‘It’s not my underwear,’ she says faux innocently. ‘Personally, I don’t understand the practicality of wearing a piece of material so thin it disappears up your…’
‘Anyway,’ I say, giving him a bright smile. ‘If you look past the, erm, clutter, we were hoping to get our rooms done first so we can settle in more comfortably. The bathrooms will need a little updating, perhaps new sinks, new tapware, as I’m hoping the budget’ – the very mediocre budget, I might add – ‘will mostly be to cover a few suites, lobby and guest lounge with a focus on the library. Manon and I can pitch in wherever you see fit, so we can save money.’
He does his best to swallow a sigh but fails. I guess us pitching in is more of a headache than helpful to him. ‘Right, but you’ve got mould on the ceiling here, which means there’s a leak of some kind. We’ll have to investigate and determine the cause. Repair and replace, and paint.’
I grimace. ‘Sounds… expensive.’
He shrugs as he jots notes. ‘It can be.’
I survey the ceiling, looking for mould, and can’t see any black or green spots. There are just some small swirls of discolouration where the crumbling cornice meets the ceiling. Surely that’s easy to fix? ‘OK, let’s continue.’ We go from suite to suite and JP examines every room up close like he’s a detective hunting for clues. I respect a man with an eye for detail – it’s a tick in the box for JP – but as usual Manon finds the pace tedious and lets out numerous exaggerated yawns. I shoot her a glare, but it bounces right off her.
We get to suite seven and I go to open the bathroom door with JP a step behind me and Manon trailing after. ‘So what do you—’ The words die in my throat, truly die, as we tumble backward and bang into one another in our hasty attempt to retreat while we’re hit with a stench so malodorous that it will outlast time.
‘ Mon Dieu ,’ JP says, his eyes bulging like he’s been poisoned as he covers his mouth with his clipboard and coughs and splutters like a man possessed.
Even Manon grimaces and doesn’t burst forth with any sarcastic comments. I rally, giving him a sunny smile, implying all is well. I don’t want him scared off. ‘I hope it’s easily fixed!’ In my mind my budget explodes and is replaced with all those zeroes Manon thought were missing.
‘The only thing that could fix this would be an exorcism ,’ Manon unhelpfully adds, recovering. The poor guy flinches at her comment and I fire her my best cease-and-desist glare, which she duly ignores.
JP peeks behind the shower curtain and gasps. That can’t be good.
‘I know salmon-coloured… everything can be a little overwhelming at first, but you get used to it.’
What is that smell? To say it’s overpowering would be an understatement, but the bathroom appears just the same as the others. Mostly neat and tidy with a layer of dust from being empty for so long.
‘It’s not the design per se, it’s the reek . Whatever’s causing it, it can’t be good.’
Manon takes a great big sniff and nods to herself. ‘Is someone buried under the bath itself?’ she asks. ‘I mean, it’s possible. With my wealth of experience as a true crime podcaster, I hate to say but these things happen all the time and are often unearthed during renovations.’
‘It could be a dead body, I can’t rule it out,’ JP says. ‘But, in all likelihood, it’s probably decades worth of mould. Bacteria growing faster than inflation ever could.’
‘ Pas possible! ’ Why I react more violently to a mould infestation than a potential hidden body, I’m not quite sure. The pressure must be getting to me.
‘It’s very possible!’ JP assures me.
I throw my hands in the air. ‘Great, more mould!’ Moralistically, I would prefer no one died and got buried here, but, from a fiscal standpoint, well, it would possibly be cheaper to remove human remains if authorities weren’t involved. What am I even saying ? I shake the craziness away.
‘From a health and safety perspective’ – JP wiggles his hard hat – ‘we need to get on top of this first.’
‘ Oui , of course.’ Renovation is clearly not for the faint of heart. By my calculations, a big chunk of the budget is going to be spent on mould removal. Will there be enough left in the coffers for furniture, beds, bedding? More importantly, books? A few Christmas decorations? Although, those beautiful vintage Christmas decorations we found in suite twenty would outshine anything we could buy. Perhaps we can set up the nativity village in the guest lounge window?
I lead him to the third floor and go through each room until we get to the last two at the end of the hallway. We’ve cleaned up the mess from the obliterated wall but we weren’t able to hide the jagged edges where the sheeting came off with Manon’s galactic-force swinging. ‘If you could tidy up this area.’ I point to the damage where the wall once was.
‘What happened here?’
‘Oh.’ I wave him away as if it’s nothing. ‘Not sure, it was like this when we arrived.’
Manon rolls her eyes.
‘And these suites? Wait. There’re twenty rooms in total?’ He checks his notes with a frown.
I managed to keep that secret for all of thirty minutes. ‘We can’t find a key for this door, so at this stage we’re just going to leave them as is. Maybe they’ll become an office or something down the track but they’re not important right now.’
JP leans down and sticks a finger on the keyhole as if it will magically open. ‘Have you called a locksmith?’
‘It’s on my list to do today.’ I’d been hoping to save the funds and find the key, but every search has proved fruitless.
‘OK, so I’ll quote to fix these edges where there must have been a dividing wall or something…’ He’s stuck frozen to the spot, running a finger along the messy join. ‘…But why would those two rooms have been blocked off?’
‘It was probably a doorway?’ I say, pivoting away in the hopes he’ll follow me. ‘The owners probably wanted some privacy from guests…’ A doorway to two more doorways doesn’t make much sense, so I let out a trilling laugh as if to say, What can you do? , but it must sound too forced because JP’s forehead furrows. ‘You know, extra sound protection, and erm?—’
‘Ignore my cousin,’ Manon says. ‘She’s imbibed a little too much, if you know what I mean.’ She gives him a salacious wink.
‘Coffee, she means coffee. Oui , I’m a little jittery from too much caffeine, but can you blame me?’
The man looks from me to Manon as if he’s landed in the twilight zone. And maybe he has. ‘Where were we?’ I’m officially losing it.
After our walkthrough is complete, JP says, ‘I’ll get the quote to you in a week or so. If you’d like to go ahead, I’ll need a deposit and then weekly progress payments.’
‘Sure. Anything we can do to cut costs will be appreciated. And anything we can do to make the process go faster would also be ideal. As mentioned, we’d like to soft launch before Christmas if we can, welcome some guests for the festive season and iron out any crinkles. And then, long term, work on renovating suites two at a time, funds depending.’
‘You and all of Paris,’ he grumbles, shaking his head. ‘We’ll do our best but old buildings like this, things crop up. Leaks, mould, electric issues, plumbing mishaps.’ That does not sound good. ‘It’s best to rectify those things fast so the damage doesn’t spread.’
I want to stick my fingers in my ears and block out all those expensive-sounding worst-case scenarios. ‘Of course, if there’s a serious issue we’ll have to fix it, but, for now, we’re just doing a gentle makeover.’
‘If you’d like things done rapidly I can hire more tradespeople, but the price will increase. How about I quote for both scenarios?’
‘ Merci, I’ll crunch the numbers when I get your quote and go from there.’ The expense of paying for more tradespeople would be offset by being able to open earlier and have paying guests.
Back in the lobby we say our au revoirs and he leaves. Once he’s out of sight, I throw a cushion at Manon. I’m thrilled she doesn’t sense the surprise attack as it hits her square in the face and springs off her nose. ‘ Pourquoi … ? ’ she screeches.
I sit on the arm of the green sofa. ‘Nice trick with the lingerie, Manon. Seriously. The poor man didn’t know where to look.’
She gives me a sly smile and slides onto the sofa beside me. ‘Genius, wasn’t it?’
‘Not genius. He’ll probably up the quote now or never return.’
‘ Or he might lower it.’ She gives me an exaggerated wink.
I take the elastic from my hair and redo my loose ponytail. ‘Right. With that and the whole spiel about the dead guy buried under the bath?’
‘How do you know it’s a guy buried there?’ Manon asks, suspicion heavy in her voice.
I rub my temples. ‘There’s no corpse, Manon! You have to stop saying that or the hotel will get a reputation as some kind of burial ground and then I’ll have no chance of selling it.’
‘ Or ghost hunters from all over the world will visit and set up those recording devices and those temperature things and we’ll become famous. In famous!’
‘Why are you so macabre?’ Only Manon would hope there’s a body there, and not because it will save on renovation costs.
‘I’m dark because the world is dark.’
I laugh at her dramatics. ‘I’m worried we’re going to blow the budget before we’ve even really begun what with all that talk of mould removal, not to mention if there’s an issue with plumbing and whatever else he warned about. Then what? We’re stuck here forever.’
I’m worried that sinking my savings into the hotel might be yet another misstep. ‘Back when Francois-Xavier did the deal, I paid a hefty deposit and if I lose that and more, I’d feel like I’ve taken a giant leap backwards. I’m at the pointy end of my thirties…’
‘Thirty-eight to be exact,’ Manon chimes in. ‘But what does age matter?’
I sigh. ‘It matters because I’ve worked so hard, and I lost so much in the divorce. The windfall I had from my last few books has been chewed up by this place and whatever’s left will go to mortgage repayments and renovations. And what if it fails? Then what?’ My lungs compress, making it hard to breathe.
‘What if it doesn’t?’ Manon gives my arm a pat, but her eyes shine with determination. Sometimes I wish I could have blind faith like she does. ‘It’s going to work out. The bad guy never wins in your books, so how could this be any different? You’ll rise like a phoenix and life will be sunshine and roses.’
I sit on the sofa, a green velour outrage that has somehow stood the test of time and is still structurally sound. ‘If only my life was as simple as a mixed metaphor, like a sweet, happy romantic comedy where the heroine prevails despite all the obstacles in her way.’
‘You need to write again, Anais.’ Manon’s voice is soft. ‘Writing is your happy place and?—’
‘Ooh, the Tin Man does have a heart.’
‘—without it you’re lapsing into this maudlin version of yourself. Next you’ll be wandering the hallways in your full-length nightgown at midnight, screaming for your lost love, and it can only go downhill from there.’
‘Wow, Manon, you really do know how to bring me back to earth with a thud.’ I need to shake the gloom away once and for all, but it’s easier said than done.
I gaze outside to the busy street. Most passersby walk in the direction of Luxembourg gardens because there’s so much to see and do inside the jardin . There are beehives near the Rue de Fleuris entrance, and an apple and orange orchard in the south-west corner. A pétanque field and tennis courts. A pond to sail model boats. There are busts of many a writer and poet, like Verlaine. There’s a statue of Gustave Flaubert, who wrote Madame Bovary . But what I like even more than all the beauty as far as the eye can see is walking in the footsteps of all those writers who came before. James, Faulkner, Stein, Hemingway and Wilde were all known to wander these very same gravel paths. So, as far as locations go, the hotel is well situated, especially with our literary theme.
And, personally, the 6th arrondissement is my favourite. There’s so much to see and do and there’s plenty for literature lovers, including the San Francisco Book Company, on Rue Monsieur le Prince , a cute-as-a-button English language bookshop that’s often overlooked in favour of the more famous shops like Shakespeare and Co. or the Abbey Bookshop. All three shops have an eclectic mix of used books and are a joy to spend an hour or two thumbing through, looking for treasure. We’ve got a lot to offer, not just at the hotel but in Paris as a whole, and I just need to focus on that and all the positives.
‘You’re right, Manon. I need to stop making excuses and write,’ I say. ‘It is my happy place and if I don’t find my way back there, then he’s won again, hasn’t he? By snatching away not only my income, but the work I love doing.’ It feels like a balancing act, and at the minute I’m teetering on the edge of the tightrope, looking down instead of looking ahead. That has to change. ‘And we’ll give this place the facelift it deserves. Soon enough we’ll be welcoming guests with big smiles and we’ll make them feel at home. We’ll build the business up, show potential buyers this is a great investment and then we can resume our normal lives.’
‘I don’t know,’ Manon says, gazing around the lobby. ‘This place, it’s growing on me.’
‘That’s probably the mould – you should get that looked at.’ Manon’s laughter follows me out of the room.
I go to the reception desk in the lobby and call a locksmith who says they’ll be out in the next day or two. Our next builder arrives to quote and this time I send Manon into the kitchen to prepare lunch so she can’t scare the guy off or pull any more pranks.