Chapter 37
NOW
‘Green is very this season.’
Bella, leaning against the door-frame and admiring the freshly painted room, looked to see who was talking to her. Madame Roux was standing there, still bundled up in a winter suit despite the heat, nodding approvingly.
‘You like it?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘Yes. Of course!’
Madame Roux nodded. ‘It’s good.’
‘Thank you.’
She smiled. It was nice to have someone’s approval. Especially someone whose good opinion was hard-won.
Since Henri had interrupted their heart-to-heart in the kitchen the previous week, Bella had felt a distance between her and Brad. Something about the intimacy they’d experienced during that week of work together had dissipated.
Or perhaps she’d misread the signs completely.
At least the hotel seemed to be coming together. She’d finished writing the presentation, the two Superior rooms were painted, and she’d managed to source some artwork from a local gallery to hang on the walls.
Each room had a king-size bed with new linen in a complementary colour to the walls: rich greens and blues, creating a calming feel.
The art depicted forests and trees – and she had named each room too.
‘La forêt’ and ‘Le bord de mer’. The idea was that H?tel Benjamin would become a retreat – a place to escape from the hustle and bustle of Paris, yet still be present in the heart of the city. Outside: Paris; inside: Peyrat.
These rooms would be showcased on the night, but she’d made sure that prints of suitable artwork had been put up in the others, that bedding and soft furnishings had been changed to reflect the mood of the hotel.
In time, they would upgrade the rest but hopefully the theme, and the idea, would be enough to convince the Hotel Club representatives that H?tel Benjamin was a suitable match for their brand.
The entrance to the hotel had been altered too.
She’d managed to source an old, carved reception desk, with cupboards behind that had once been used in an apothecary’s.
The wood was worn and authentic-looking and created a charming contrast to the smart, white plastered walls.
The seating had been changed too, replaced with mismatched vintage chairs – all solid and in good condition.
Finally, she’d managed to find a company who could create ‘living pictures’ with foliage and fauna growing out of specially made frames.
Stepping into the space did feel worlds away from the street outside.
None of this would have happened without Brad.
Sure, a lot of the ideas had come from her, and she’d fleshed them out and made them work.
But it was his explanation, his structure, his calm measure of the problem that had got her off the starting blocks.
She’d invited him to the presentation the following week, but wasn’t sure whether he was going to come.
In fact, for the first time in months, she was feeling quite alone.
Despite everything seemingly going well in her professional life, her personal life was once again in tatters.
Henri, after his performance, had distanced himself from her – perhaps embarrassed – and seemed to have started dating someone else.
Odette hadn’t mentioned the business card.
Brad didn’t seem to be fully present when he was with her.
She still didn’t talk much to Kitty or Juliette, unable to face what might be their incredulity at her situation.
It was nice to have someone speaking to her, even if it was Madame Roux, even if she knew that Claudine thought of her as a nuisance.
Coco snuffled at her feet, and she bent down and tried to stroke it. The dog snarled a little, baring her teeth.
‘Oh, don’t mind Coco, she’s very friendly once you get to know her,’ Madame Roux said, looking at her little dog with as much love as a mother gazing at her newborn.
‘Sure.’ Bella straightened, feeling quite lucky to still have her fingers.
‘Well, good luck. I doubt I’ll see you again.’ Madame Roux turned and gave a small wave of her hand.
A surge of nauseous anxiety rose inside Bella’s chest. ‘I’m sorry, what do you mean?’ Did Madame Roux know something about her prospects that she didn’t? Surely that would all be decided after the Hotel Club visit in any case.
Madame Roux turned. ‘Claudine hasn’t told you?’
‘Told me what?’
‘I’m going. She’s found a home for me. For old people. One that will let me take Coco. I’ve no business living in a hotel for so long.’
‘Oh. That’s— I mean, that’s good. Is it?’
Madame Roux lifted a shoulder and let it fall. ‘We all get old,’ she said. ‘But the real age comes when we lose our independence.’
‘But—’
‘Oh, I know,’ the old lady continued, batting away what she imagined Bella was about to say.
‘I realise that living in a hotel is not exactly independence. But it was a way of living…’ she sighed.
‘A way of living a life that I wanted. Of living alone but not being alone, do you see? But Claudine, she thinks I need nurses. Care. And it is her hotel, so…’
Madame Roux let the last words fade away as she continued her walk along the carpeted corridor.
‘Madame Roux?’ she found herself calling.
‘Oui?’
‘Does she know? Claudine, I mean?’
‘Know what?’ The woman turned, looked at her.
‘How you feel?’
‘I don’t think that really matters, mon petit.’
‘I’m sure it would.’
Madame Roux laughed. ‘That’s because you are young.
When you get to my age you realise that people stop seeing you as a person.
They start seeing you as a problem. Claudine is a lovely girl, she has given me so much.
But she doesn’t really see me. She cares, in her own way.
But to her I am simply an old lady she is responsible for.
Not someone who is entitled to wants and needs and… Not someone who can add value.’
‘Oh, but you—’
There it was again, the flick of a hand. ‘Goodbye, dear,’ Madame Roux said firmly. ‘Good luck with your rooms.’
‘Thank you.’
As Madame Roux disappeared around the corner, Bella turned towards Claudine’s office. It was none of her business, but then her problems at work had been none of Brad’s business, yet he had helped her. Saved her, really. Maybe she could help Madame Roux in some way?
But before she could make her way to Claudine, one of the younger office staff turned up, almost breathless. ‘The artwork has arrived,’ she said. ‘Shall I send it up?’
‘Oh. Yes please,’ she said, excited to see the paintings she had chosen in situ.
Soon, a man and a woman, both casually dressed, appeared, carrying a large box.
Alongside them was a woman dressed more formally in a black trouser suit.
‘Where do you want them?’ she asked. Bella explained and the couple took the box into the first of the hotel rooms, carefully unwrapping the first painting and securing it onto the wall.
It was the forest painting – oil on canvas displaying such a mixture of greens and blues that looking at it made you feel as if your mind were being washed clean by nature.
It was impressionist in style, and here, from her position in the hall, Bella could see clearly the wood of the trees, the light sparkling through the branches.
Yet as she approached, she knew she would see individual blobs, brush-strokes that somehow together gave the illusion of space and light and trees and nature.
It was amazing how something that seemed so chaotic and messy could look so together and beautiful from a distance.
Back in her office an hour later, she ran through the list of things she’d tasked herself to prepare.
The caterers were booked, the key rooms for Hotel Club associates and delegates reserved.
There was a string quartet booked to play in the corner of the room before the presentation as everyone mingled and introduced themselves.
The leaflets she’d had produced looked professional and on point.
And for a moment she felt that she was Isabella. Someone capable and ready and professional. Someone who would help this hotel get the recognition it deserved. Not Bella, who’d turned up terrified and had had to lie to get her foot in the door. But someone brand new.
Smiling, she decided to check her emails one more time before leaving for the day. She pulled up her work inbox, but there was nothing new. Then she checked her personal emails to see if Juliette or Kitty had been in touch.
And there it was. A message from Pete.
Suddenly her breathing became erratic. Her hands felt tingly and not fully part of her body. She clicked on the message to read:
The notaire wants us to go to Peyrat to sign the contract. I thought maybe we could go together, sort out the last of the furniture before the house clearance people come. It would be nice to catch up. I’ve missed you!
It was as if someone had reached through and popped the bubble she’d formed around herself.
Letting the past back in. The feelings she’d had when Pete had left her resurfaced and she had to work hard not to sob.
Why after weeks, months, of no contact would Pete get in touch now?
They’d been working through the notaire until this moment and, while it made her sad to know that the B & B would soon no longer be theirs, she’d had no intention of visiting Peyrat again before the sale.
Looking at their house, stripped of its personality, knowing that some of their favourite pieces would be cleared and probably sold for a song, or placed in storage by a remover recommended by their estate agent, would be like identifying the body of a loved one after they’d died.
It wouldn’t be the home they’d loved, that had so much history for them. It would be an impersonal stone shell, ready for the next person to create a life.
And what on earth was Pete saying. That he missed her?
Was it a casual comment, or more meaningful?
She’d worked hard to put him out of her mind.
But the thought of him came now, fresh and urgent.
Pete had been her rock for so many years, her family when her own had deserted her.
The person she’d confided in and relied upon and built a life with.
She had been so lonely.
But she’d started to build herself up now without his help. To find her way.
She simply couldn’t let him come into her life again and risk his tearing it all down. She replied at last:
Bella
Sorry Pete. I’m really busy at work. I’ll just sign electronically if that’s OK. All the best.
Pete
OK. Fair enough. But I would still like to see you. Kitty told me you’re in Versailles? I’m over for a bit, sorting some stuff out. Can I pop over and see you?
Thanks, Kitty.
Bella
Maybe at some point. Look, I’m in the middle of something right now. I’ll be in touch in a few weeks, OK?
She pressed ‘Send’ and watched the email disappear from her screen.
Any traces of the high she’d felt from the thought of a job well done had disappeared with Pete’s words.
Another email from him quickly appeared in her inbox but she couldn’t bring herself to open it.
Instead, she deleted it and after a moment, blocked his address.
She would be back in touch. She would be friendly. They could catch up if that’s what he wanted. Just not right now. She had more important things to do first.