Chapter 27
27
Connie
Christmas was coming to the Chateau Villette. The villages that had been hibernating sprang back to life, the cafés and restaurants boasted festive prix fixes , the boutiques and art galleries reopened and the streets filled with markets. The air smelled of vin chaud and roast chestnuts.
The chateau did every time of year well. Coy in spring, with yellow mimosa and daffodils and tulips; resplendent in purple for summer, with the scent of lavender heavy in the air and rows of alliums and agapanthus; the fiery dying leaves of autumn, with its accompanying woodsmoke; and in December, it was starkly beautiful, slipping on its monochrome outfit like a woman putting on a little black dress, bare branches against a white sky, shimmering frost, birds of prey wheeling amidst the tree tops. As dusk fell earlier and earlier and we hurtled towards the shortest day, the lights inside the chateau burned bright, making it look like an advent calendar, each window waiting to be opened to reveal a treasure.
In true magazine editor style, I threw everything at it. I pulled acres of red berries and greenery from the garden, and ordered white velvet ribbon and pillar candles. One day I looked out of the front door and saw Rémy driving up in a flatbed truck with a huge Christmas tree on the back. He and Vincent manhandled it into the hallway, where it nearly reached the top of the staircase.
He’d brought mistletoe too. A huge ball thick with white berries.
‘Where did you get it?’
He tapped his nose mysteriously. ‘Everyone must have a marchand de gui .’
A mistletoe merchant. Along with a truffle merchant and a mushroom merchant, these were the people to know when you lived in France.
He saw my gaze flick up to the ceiling and sighed.
‘Vincent.’ He pointed upwards and Vincent shrugged good-naturedly.
‘I will fetch the ladder.’
An hour later the mistletoe was hanging from the hall ceiling. I couldn’t believe how kind and thoughtful they both were. Getting Daniel to put up the Christmas tree had always been a struggle. He was hopelessly impractical and I always ended up going out and getting it myself. Though I had to stop comparing him with Rémy. He didn’t have a chance of coming out of the comparison well.
I’d found a box full of white wooden angels in L’Isle-sur-la-Sorgue and hung them on the tree with gold ribbon, accompanied by gingerbread snowflakes made by Lilou. The chateau smelled of cloves and cinnamon and white roses and pogne fresh out of the oven: Delphine’s recipe for the sweet local brioche scented with orange blossom.
I was as excited as a child. Everyone I loved was going to be here. Lismay and Piers were arriving three days before Christmas, Dad was driving himself down (this alarmed me slightly, but he assured me he’d done the journey so many times when we were small that he could do it with his eyes shut), then Harry and Edie were flying in on Christmas Eve. I did feel as if we were taking over somewhat, but Lismay was adamant.
‘Darling, it’s our absolute pleasure and you are family,’ she told me on the phone. ‘You’ve done so much for us it’s the least we can do. And it’ll be such fun. I can’t wait.’
It was what we all needed. I knew the kids were tired. The autumn term had been a long one for Edie, in her final year, with dissertations and work placements, and Harry was feeling the pressure of his first proper job – I didn’t quite understand what it was he did, UXP for a software company, but we would have time to sit down and really chat about it. We could eat ourselves silly and wear pyjamas as long as we wanted and play games. A proper family Christmas.
Even though Daniel would be missing. I felt sad for him, because he’d miss all those silly rituals, like watching Die Hard on Christmas Eve and fighting over who got the stalky bit in the middle of a Terry’s chocolate orange, and racing the wind-up Brussels sprouts we’d got in our crackers one Christmas and kept. Where were they? I wondered for a moment. In a box in the attic in Cheltenham. Soon to be de-camped to my father’s. The solicitors were cracking on with the paperwork. I’d started to plan out the first edition of the magazine for Belinda’s approval. Change was happening, slowly but surely, and although I felt a certain amount of disquiet and uncertainty, I was determined to have a wonderful Christmas and make sure everyone else did. Then there was New Year’s Eve. Rémy was coming for dinner, along with his parents – he was going to Biarritz to be with Mimi and Camille for Christmas, but he’d promised to be back. Fiona was coming too.
I supposed it would be kind of a farewell dinner. Dad and I would be driving back to Chiswick, where I would slip back into my childhood bedroom overlooking the garden. And my new life would begin.
Coming here had been just what I needed. My confidence had been restored, and it had given me a new perspective on life. And I’d done a pretty good job of lifting the chateau out of its slump. I had trained Lilou up to a standard worthy of Claridge’s, and the weekend before I had got her to cook an evening meal for our guests, under supervision from Delphine and me. The reviews were back to a four-star average and with a few more happy visitors would get up to five, and the most recent comments were glowing. The Instagram and TikTok accounts were flourishing. Edie was posting all the content she had shot, and I added in photos I’d taken – the mistletoe went on straight away, hashtag #underneaththemistletoe. The comments were filled with people saying they were hoping to come and stay and bookings for next year were up.
Everything was as good as it could be.
I drove to Nice airport to collect Piers and Lismay, listening to Christmas songs on the radio. I paced up and down in the arrival hall. The flight had been delayed by twenty minutes. And then there they were, beaming with anticipation, Piers looking his ebullient old self, waving madly, Lismay behind him, bags of duty-free swinging from her arm. I hugged them close, this couple who had been almost as big a part of my life as my own parents, and as ever felt the dull ache of eternal grief that Mum wasn’t following on behind, swishing through customs in her Christmas coat with the fur collar. It was always there, like a battle scar, but sometimes it hurt more than usual. I was used to it, though, and I wasn’t going to let it show. I knew Lismay felt it too, by the way she squeezed me just that little bit tighter.
They talked all the way back in the car. Piers gave me a blow-by-blow account of his operation and recovery, even though I’d heard it all from Lismay. Lismay filled me in on London gossip and all the restaurants they’d been to and what she’d bought everyone for Christmas. They were slightly hyper, and I supposed they were excited about getting back home, for they’d been gone nearly three months. Which meant I’d been at the chateau nearly three months. It had flown by.
‘Here we are,’ I heard Piers say as we turned in through the gates and headed up the drive. I’d strung fairy lights around the fountain and the potted olive trees at the bottom of the steps, and made an outsize wreath for the door, finished with a huge organza bow. I hoped it didn’t look too naff, too self-conscious, for Lismay had always been under- rather than over-stated, but somehow I’d got carried away.
‘Oh darling,’ said Lismay as I pulled up outside the front door. ‘This is magical.’
Piers was staring at the fountain with a funny look on his face.
‘Is it awful?’ I asked him. ‘I can take them off if you like.’
‘No, no, no,’ he said. ‘They look great. Very festive.’
I wasn’t convinced. He looked a bit disapproving, which was odd, because Piers wasn’t usually one to interfere with design issues. Lismay had always been in charge of that side of things. Maybe I lacked her light touch and he found it unsettling? Were the fairy lights too much?
Lismay and Piers headed up to their room to unpack and get changed after the journey. Lilou and I had made a huge boeuf bourguignon as their welcome-home lunch, our tribute to Julia Childs and my favourite film, Julie and Julia . I’d sat Lilou down and made her watch it one rainy afternoon. We lolled on the big sofa and ate spiced popcorn and I got the feeling she had never really done anything like that. I’d lost count of the times Edie and I had watched movies in our hoodies and pyjama bottoms, scoffing junk food and taking it in turns to choose. Last summer we’d done all the Nora Ephrons, some French classics – Amélie , Chocolat , Jean de Florette – and the Sunrise trilogy. I guessed as Lilou’s mum was in prison she’d missed out – her grandmother didn’t look the type to curl up in front of a film with snacks. She watched, completely absorbed, and by the end of the film she was leaning against me, dipping her hand absent-mindedly into the popcorn, and it was all I could do not to put my arm around her and hug her.
The film came to an end and she turned to look at me.
‘ Maman is coming out in February,’ she told me.
I guessed she meant out of prison. ‘That’s good, isn’t it?’
She gave her trademark shrug. ‘She will probably go to Marseille. To be with my brother.’
‘Is that bad news?’
‘ C’est la vie. I will stay with my grandmother.’
I could see how trapped Lilou felt. Yet she was resigned to her lot. I wasn’t sure what to do. Whether to encourage her to fly the nest and explore the world, or to help her recognise that her loyalty to her grandmother was a rare and precious thing and that her reward would come, in time. In the end, I decided that all I could do was make sure that Lismay and Piers kept her on, so she was gainfully employed and people who cared could keep an eye on her. I didn’t want her slipping through the cracks when her grandmother finally passed away.
I broached the subject during lunch.
‘Lilou has really turned a corner,’ I told them. ‘Delphine has turned her into quite the sous chef, and her front-of-house skills are impeccable. I really think she could be your right-hand girl over the next couple of years. I know she’s young, but she’s not going anywhere for the time being, because of her grandmother, so make the most of her …’ I trailed off, realising that Lismay and Piers were looking at each other. ‘What?’
‘We need to talk to you,’ said Lismay.
I felt a flutter of panic. Was Piers ill, after everything? Or Lismay? They looked very serious. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Nothing’s the matter. It’s just … we’ve decided to sell the chateau.’ Lismay blurted it out.
‘Oh.’ The wind was completely taken out of my sails. I hadn’t seen this coming. I’d been so intent on making things right for them, assuming they’d carry on for ever. ‘Right.’ I sat down in my chair, taking in the news.
‘We wanted you to be the first to know, because you’ve done so much to help,’ she carried on. ‘But being in London made us realise it’s all too much for us. It’s a constant worry, and we’re not up to it anymore. It needs new blood. Someone to give it the love and care and attention it needs.’
I looked at them both. They were visibly upset. But now I understood Piers’s consternation when he’d arrived and looked at the fountain. He was looking at it knowing it would be his last Christmas here.
‘Well,’ I said, choosing my words. ‘I’m very sad. Of course I am. But I do understand. It’s a huge undertaking. And I have done my best but there is a lot more that needs doing, if I’m honest.’
‘We know. We’ve been winging it for a while now, and you’ve done a wonderful job keeping it afloat. But we’d rather sell now than be forced into it.’
‘I think that’s really sensible,’ I said, even though my heart was sinking. No more Chateau Villette in my life.
‘The good news is we already have a potential buyer,’ Piers added. ‘They approached me a while back and at the time we said no. But they’re still interested.’ I wasn’t surprised. People often joked when they came to stay that they would buy the chateau if it ever came up for sale. ‘We’ve just got to agree a final price and work out the small print.’
‘They’d be perfect,’ Lismay carried on. ‘Because their land used to belong to the chateau until the owner flogged it off in the 1800s.’
I was starting to feel uneasy. ‘So who is it?’
They looked at each other.
‘It’s the Gaspards,’ said Lismay. ‘Their wine has been doing so well and it’s the perfect proposition for them to extend the business—’
‘The Gaspards?’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
Actually, yes, I could. It made absolutely perfect sense. Gourmet weekends. Wine tasting courses. A captive audience. A jewel in their crown.
‘Great.’ I tried to smile, but I was churning up inside. It sounded like a done deal. And it was none of my business. I hadn’t told them about me and Rémy. I’d been waiting for the right time and this wasn’t it. Their relief was palpable and they obviously thought this was the best possible outcome. The chateau had been their whole life, so for them to know it was going to be in good hands must have been a weight off their mind. I gathered myself together.
‘It’s the end of an era,’ I said. ‘But you should be very proud of what you’ve done. You had a vision, and you made it happen, and you gave so many people a wonderful time, which is why they came back again and again.’
There was a lump in my throat. I couldn’t go on. There were too many emotions to deal with.
‘We won’t be leaving till at least spring, so stay as long as you like,’ said Lismay.
‘And the most important thing is to make this Christmas the best one ever,’ said Piers. ‘As it’s the last one. And, of course, the Gaspards will be here for dinner on New Year’s Eve. To celebrate.’
Oh my God. Did it get any worse?
‘Lovely,’ I said faintly. ‘Congratulations, both of you. Here’s to an exciting new future.’
As soon as I’d cleared away lunch and Piers and Lismay had disappeared off for a lie down, I drove over to the vineyard, in through a shiny new pair of gates that had been erected. The clues were all there. The place smelled of success, of expansion, of the naked raw ambition Rémy had brought with him. I screeched to a halt and flung my door open, leaving the car abandoned by the entrance to the courtyard.
I asked a startled man who was hosing down the cobbles where I’d find Rémy. He pointed towards the winery.
I threw open the door and looked around the double-height barn stacked with huge stainless-steel tanks. He was there, with a clipboard, deep in conversation with Vincent, in a capacious black roll-neck jumper with jeans and Blundstones. How dare he look so irresistible? He knew he was, and that’s how he got away with behaving just as he liked.
I didn’t know how to rein in my anger as I approached him. His eyes widened as he saw me. As well they might.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I demanded.
Rémy put his hands up as I pushed his chest. Vincent stepped away in alarm.
‘Connie. What is the matter?’
‘I don’t like secrets, Rémy. I don’t like people going behind my back.’
‘Behind your back?’ He did his best to feign confusion. He obviously didn’t want Vincent knowing the truth.
‘When were you going to say something?’
‘I don’t—’
‘How long had you been planning this? Right from the start?’
‘Connie. I don’t understand—’
‘We’re supposed to trust each other. And you used me to get information. You asked me questions. You listened to all my ideas and now you’re going to use them. You can’t deny it.’
I thought of all the plans I’d made on Piers’s and Lismay’s behalf, and how Rémy had listened. I thought of all the help he’d given me, when all the time he was getting under the chateau’s skin. It was no better than spying.
‘ Doucement , Connie.’ Rémy was urging me to calm down.
‘We’re done, Rémy. Finis! ’
Vincent shot him a glance which said ‘another bunny boiler?’, adding to my fury. I felt a flash of pity for Camille. Maybe Rémy drove women to despair with his manipulation? He might have pointed the finger at her for being mercurial, but wasn’t that better than being duplicitous? And calculating?
I turned to see Madame Gaspard open the door and head towards us, her face a mask of stone. Someone had obviously told her there was a commotion.
‘ Qu’est-ce qui se passe? ’ She demanded to know what was going on, her perfect slate-grey trouser suit rippling around her.
‘ Rien, madame ,’ I told her. ‘Nothing. Joyeux Noel. ’
I spat my Christmas greeting at her. She bristled at my rudeness. Rémy put a calming hand on her arm. I gave the two of them one last withering look and headed for the exit.
I’d been a fool to think I’d been embarking on some kind of perfect relationship. There was no such thing. There was always an imbalance, or an agenda. I climbed back into my car, tears pouring down my face. I’d fallen for rock-hard thighs and beautiful clothes and intoxicating aftershave and the memory of one perfect night. I was a complete and utter idiot.
I couldn’t go back to the chateau. I was incandescent with rage. With Daniel, for taking out the first Jenga block. With Piers and Lismay, for springing their news on me when I least expected it. And with Rémy, for bringing my whole life crashing down around my ears. I should have known better than to think I’d got everything under control. I shouldn’t have fallen under his spell.
I didn’t know where to go or what to do. If I’d been in England, I’d have gone to the pub and got smashed and no one would have taken any notice, but I didn’t feel I could do that in Barles. I had nowhere to put my anger.
My phone was ringing. Rémy. I declined his call, and with shaking fingers found his name in my contacts list to block him. I didn’t want to hear a word from his treacherous, beautiful mouth. I pulled into a gateway and curled up into a ball, but it was too cold to stay there for long. I thought about calling Fiona but I’d only howl, and she would tell me … what? To hold my head high and move on. Piers and Lismay were going to start wondering where I was. I should get back. Dad was arriving later this evening.
Maybe this was the best thing to happen? Maybe I’d been naive to think that our relationship could carry on, and a short, sharp break was the best thing? It would be less painful in the long term. I certainly wasn’t going to yearn after someone who could be so duplicitous. Had this been his plan right from the start? From the night we’d had dinner and fallen back into bed together? There was me thinking it was our mutual attraction, when all he was after was the Chateau Villette.
I should have paid attention to Lilou. She had never trusted him. Lilou might be young, but she’d seen enough in her life to make her a good judge of character. She’d seen Rémy for what he was.
I had a choice. I could berate myself for my stupidity, wail long into the night and fall asleep with my pillow soaked in tears. Or I could wrap the memory of my fling with Rémy up in a bow and tuck it away somewhere, then concentrate on the people who mattered. Dad, Harry, Edie, Piers and Lismay – they were the ones who were important. I wasn’t going to let the actions of one stupid, selfish man spoil our Christmas.