Chapter 18
18
Connie
I spent the morning restoring order, and without Delphine and Lilou to help, it was exhausting, but by mid-afternoon the kitchen was gleaming and the bed linen was on the go. I’d searched each room for the missing watch, but I hadn’t found it. Of course I hadn’t.
I’d tortured myself by looking at Colette’s Instagram where she’d posted more photos of their weekend. I was angry when I saw the evidence of what a wonderful time we’d given them. As far as I was concerned, her brother was a lying crook. My head throbbed as I went over and over what to do about it.
At three o’clock that afternoon, fine mists settled onto the fields around the chateau as the sun kissed the rooftops and a flock of crows circled around the chimney pots. Winter was definitely on its way to the Chateau Villette, the russet and saffron and crimson of autumn fading to something more monochrome, bare branches etched against the sky. I went for a walk to clear my head and as I headed back, the lamplight glowed amber and the woodsmoke from the chimney curled into a question mark, as if it had no more idea what to do than I did. I felt filled with uncertainty and anxiety, my confidence shot. I turned as I heard the sound of an engine. There was a camper van heading up the drive, its headlights flashing. For a moment I tensed, expecting trouble.
‘Hey!’ Fiona drew up along beside me, rolling down her window. ‘Any chance of a bed for the night?’
I had never felt so relieved to see someone. A friendly face, but also someone with common sense who might put everything into perspective for me.
‘I’ll have to check with the receptionist, but we might be able to squeeze you in.’ I put my head through the window and we kissed each other on the cheek, French-style. ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you. Park up by the fountain.’
I waited at the top of the steps for her. She came bounding up, in a shearling coat and long suede boots, her hair wild and loose this time, those streaks of silver glinting in the last of the sun. She did not look like a woman to be messed with and I could feel myself absorb some of her energy. Straight away I felt stronger, as if everything was going to be all right. I took her arm and led her into the hall, feeling as proud as if the chateau was really mine.
She looked as everyone did when they stepped over the threshold: charmed, delighted and a little overwhelmed.
‘It’s perfect,’ she said, as I led her from room to room. ‘It’s just right. Sort of cosy, but still grand.’ She gazed up at the beamed ceiling in the drawing room, took in the long windows as I went to close the shutters, and the elm parquet. I’d turned on the lamps just before I left for my walk, and the room benefitted from the subdued lighting, its imperfections disguised.
‘It’s a bit tired these days. It could use a makeover.’ I laughed. ‘Like me.’
She nodded her agreement. ‘And me. It goes with the territory when you’re over fifty.’
We were doing that typically female thing of putting ourselves down. But she really didn’t look in need of anything, with her sparkling eyes and glossy scarlet lips. Even the way she walked had a youthful energy: she strode, with her head high and her shoulders back, as if she owned the room. I’d got into the habit of sidling around as if I was apologising for my very presence. I pulled in my stomach and stood a little taller.
In the kitchen, I pulled a bottle of white wine out of the fridge while Fiona went into raptures over the Lacanche and the copper saucepans.
‘This whole place is my vision board come to life. It’s like walking into my own dream.’ She sighed as she ran her fingers over a row of blue-and-white enamel storage jars, inscribed pates , farine , sucre , café , poivre .
I put a glass of white wine in front of her.
‘I’ve completely messed everything up,’ I told her. ‘I couldn’t have made a worse job of it if I’d tried.’
‘Right,’ she said. ‘You better tell me.’
I hesitated for a moment. She was so together, I felt embarrassed to reveal the extent of my incompetence. And she hadn’t come all this way to listen to me moaning on. But I needed perspective, and I knew she’d give me good advice. It all came pouring out – Daniel and Ashley and Delphine and Lilou – and by the end of it, she hadn’t said a word.
I trailed off, shamefaced.
‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure things will sort themselves out.’
‘No. Things never just sort themselves out . You have to take control.’ She thumped the table with her fist, and I saw a glimpse of the fierce adversary she would have been in the courtroom. ‘You need a plan. A strategy.’
‘I don’t know where to start. It’s all such a mess.’
‘This watch business for a start. That’s the first thing we need to deal with.’
‘What can I do? He’s got me over a barrel. I can’t risk people thinking they’re going to get their stuff nicked when they come here. Lismay and Piers have spent years building up their reputation and it would be destroyed overnight—’
‘Connie.’
I stopped and looked at her. ‘What?’
‘It’s bullshit.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There is no missing watch. It’s the oldest trick in the book. He’s banking on you being scared of ruining the chateau’s reputation.’
I blinked. I’d known in my heart of hearts he was having me on, but I’d been so anxious to get everything right, and so exhausted by the time they left, I hadn’t been able to think straight.
‘He thinks you’re out of your depth because Piers and Lismay are away and he’s taking advantage of you.’
Fiona was right. Ashley had gone for my weak spot. Probably in revenge for me pulling him up on the cocaine. I’d tried to play hard ball, but he knew I wasn’t tough enough, and he’d hit back even harder.
‘So what do I do?’
‘Call his bluff,’ she said, her hands outstretched and her eyes dancing. ‘Phone him up and tell him you’ve found it.’
I started to laugh, delighted by the obviousness of her solution. ‘I can’t!’
‘You can. Tell him you’ll send it on once the bill’s been paid. What can he say? He’ll have to pay up.’
I shook my head in admiration. ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re a genius?’
‘Frequently.’ She laughed, and her mirth was infectious.
I grabbed my phone and dialled Ashley’s number, putting him on speakerphone so Fiona could hear. If I thought about it too long, I’d lose my nerve.
‘Good news,’ I told him when he answered. ‘My chambermaid found the missing watch.’
‘Oh.’ He sounded surprised. Very surprised. ‘Where was it?’
There was a tightness to his voice. He was playing for time.
‘It had slipped down behind the drawer. On the inside. We’re so relieved, I can’t tell you. Poor Lilou felt sure everyone thought she’d stolen it.’
He didn’t reply. I could almost hear his brain cells whirring. He’d been caught out and he knew it. Fiona was doubled over trying not to laugh out loud.
‘Anyway, I’ve got it right here. I can send it back to you recorded delivery.’
‘Right.’
‘As soon as you settle our invoice.’
There was an astonished silence.
‘Or I can contact Colette, if that’s easier?’ Colette had given me her number. I felt sure he wouldn’t want her to know anything about this, because the truth would be out in a flash and he would be exposed for the villain he was.
‘No need to do that,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll sort it out right now.’
‘Wonderful. And we do hope to welcome you back to the chateau sometime soon,’ I cooed, my voice as soft as a dove. ‘It was a pleasure hosting you all. It really was.’
‘Ha ha ha,’ said Fiona as I hung up. ‘A classic case of he knows that you know that he knows that you know, and he can’t do a thing about it.’
‘I can’t believe I didn’t call him out in the first place. I’m so bloody naive.’
‘When you’ve seen what I have in court, you end up not trusting anyone.’ Fiona grimaced. ‘Actually, that’s not true. It means you can spot the bad guys a mile off.’
‘Handy,’ I said drily.
‘But you can spot the good ones too. I knew you were a good person as soon as I met you.’
I appreciated her words. I thought I was a good person, deep down, but doubts had crept in of late as I wondered if I had deserved everything I’d got. If I’d been a better editor, would I have been made redundant? If I’d been a better partner, would Daniel have left me? If I’d been as good as I thought I was, Delphine and Lilou would still be here. I knew I shouldn’t be so insecure and doubt myself, but it was hard not to.
I certainly wasn’t as bad as Ashley, though. None of my shortcomings came from premeditation.
‘Why do people behave like that?’ I asked her.
‘Because they can get away with it. They’re bullies and liars and sneaks and cheats. They don’t win in the end, though, because they’re never happy. Not really.’
‘He looked quite happy to me.’ I pictured Ashley swaggering off, pleased with himself.
‘No. He might have all the trappings but he’ll be hollow inside.’ Fiona gave a dismissive flick of her wrist. ‘Now, what about your staff? I presume you want them back?’
I sighed.
‘Of course I do. I’m stuck without them. I can’t manage everything on my own. And they are good people.’ The thought of coping without them was overwhelming. ‘Although Lismay and I have talked about Delphine. She’s getting old and slow. But we would never have got rid of her like this.’
I sighed, remembering again how badly I’d handled the two of them.
‘All you can do is go and see them. Tell them how much you value them and apologise for any misunderstanding. They may well have calmed down by now and realised they’ve made a mistake. Where else could they work that’s so beautiful, with such lovely people?’
I nodded. ‘Delphine is almost like family. And Lilou was really settling in. She’s a smart kid. She just hasn’t had the opportunities, but I reckon with a bit of confidence and a push in the right direction, she’d fly.’
‘OK, so tomorrow morning you go into Barles and you talk to them. If they want to come back, they will. If not –’ she shrugged, then grinned – ‘I’m a dab hand at washing up. I can help out till you find someone.’
‘Don’t you need to get home?’
‘I’d have to jiggle things round a bit, but I can certainly wangle another week. That was the whole point of changing my life. I can do exactly what I want. I’m not answerable to anyone.’
I gazed at her in admiration, envying her independence and her autonomy, her absolute confidence in her destiny.
‘Now,’ she said, leaning her elbows on the table and cupping her face in her hands. ‘Your ex. What are we going to do about him?’
I felt a nest of worms writhe in my stomach at the memory of Daniel’s last text. So obdurate and smug and unbending.
‘He’s not having any of it. He wants fifty-fifty. And Mum would be livid. No way would she want him waltzing off with half her money.’
‘Would he agree to mediation?’
I gave a hollow laugh. ‘Daniel doesn’t really do mediation. He’s not a very compromising person.’
‘In that case …’ She reached out and took both of my hands in hers. ‘You’re going to have to be very brave and take him to court. Prove that your mum’s intention at the time of the gift was that it should be for your benefit. Presumably your father could confirm that?’
‘He’s already made a statement.’
‘Good. Though there’s no guarantee you’ll get it back. It’s at the court’s discretion. But I can help you put together a pretty watertight case.’
My eyes filled with tears. For the first time in a long time, I felt protected. And looked after. ‘I can’t believe you’re being so kind.’
‘Don’t be silly. That’s what friends are for. I bet you’ve been there for your mates, over the years.’
I thought back. Of course I had. I’d provided support, and advice, and a shoulder to cry on, dozens of times, through break-ups and job losses, miscarriages and bereavement, mid-life crises and fallings-out. I’d lent friends money, given them references, and helped them write job applications. I’d baked them birthday cakes, helped paint houses, gone to change a tyre in the driving rain. She was right. A good friend meant giving help when it was needed, but also not being afraid to receive it. It was a two-way thing.
The trouble was, I’d drawn away from my oldest friends during my recent troubles. I’d become a bit of a loner, thinking I couldn’t share my woes with them. I realised now how foolish that was. Of course they’d have been there for me. Instead, I had sent airy texts with promises to meet up, effectively pushing them away.
Was it too late to get them back?
That was a question for a later date. I had more pressing issues to deal with. I was committed to the chateau until Christmas, but after that, I would reach out and rekindle all those lovely friendships that had got me through me teens, my twenties, my thirties, my forties … a lifetime of faces flashed through my mind and I smiled. They belonged in my fifties too, that motley collection I’d gathered at school, at uni, at work, on holiday, at the school gate … The people who had made me.
I picked up my phone. I called up Daniel’s text of earlier, still feeling my stomach churn as I reread it. I swiftly typed a reply, bolstered by Fiona’s support.
Court it is, then. Buckle up!
I couldn’t help smiling. It wouldn’t be what he was expecting, and he would be livid. I didn’t care about his response. I’d already dealt with one bully today. I could deal with another.
I put the phone down on the table, jumped up and grabbed a cast-iron pan from the rail.
‘Will an omelette do for supper?’ I asked. ‘I’ve got green salad, and lots of cheese left over from the weekend.’
‘ An Omelette and a Glass of Wine ,’ Fiona flashed back. ‘My favourite Elizabeth David book. I can’t think of anything nicer.’
Moments later, the air was filled with the scent of hot melting butter and Fiona lit the stubs in the candelabra that were waiting to be polished after the weekend. I filled up our glasses. The panic I’d been feeling subsided, to be replaced with determination as I whisked up the eggs and poured them in. They hit the metal with a satisfying hiss and I turned the pan expertly this way and that. I knew what I was doing. I was back in control.