Chapter 50
SHE WOKE IN THE narrow single bed and sniffed. A familiar smell was wafting through the window.
She rolled over and looked at the time. Not even nine and yet Audrey was already downstairs, on her fourth or fifth cigarette of the morning. Some things would never change.
Other things had already changed quite considerably, Maggie thought, swinging her legs free from the duvet and standing.
It was a week on from Lord Bancroft’s phone call alerting Maggie to the fact that she owned a very precious book. After she’d hung up and spent several minutes staring at Jamie’s kitchen table, dazed at the idea that Phil had left such a valuable item simply sitting on the shelves, she’d picked up her phone to call Lord Bancroft back and instructed him to sell it immediately.
‘What if they change their mind?’ Jamie had screamed. ‘Quick, babe, get him back on the blower.’
The deal had been agreed that afternoon and the money transferred to Maggie’s account by the following morning, less 10.5 per cent commission, which Lord Bancroft and his friend Thomas had agreed to share.
This money didn’t stay in Maggie’s account for very long, however, because later that day Georges had rung, stammering that Boho House was pulling out of the sale after Bob Lacey’s PR team forwarded him a damaging newspaper article about the hotel. Maggie reassured Georges that it was fine because the chateau was now off the market.
‘But Maggie, ’ow? There is the debt, and I ’ave the bank on the telephone almost every day.’
She reassured him that this, too, was hopefully less of a problem because she’d recently come into some money and could pay off part of it, at least. Then she booked herself a one-way ticket to Nice, packed her bag and returned to Le Figuier.
It had been quite the week, she conceded, as she tied Phil’s old red robe around her and headed downstairs to the kitchen.
It was a dazzling June morning, the sun already pouring through the windows, making her squint as she crossed the floor towards the sink.
‘Audrey?’
Maggie moved to the (new) kettle and flicked it on. Then pulled a (new) mug from the shelf and reached for the (new) pot into which she’d tipped a bag of coffee grounds. She’d driven to the nearest Carrefour and stocked up on various household items the day she returned, along with new bedding, since the old ones had either been thrown away, and the more precious items were slowly working their way back to the UK in boxes, having been packed up and shipped before Boho House pulled out of the sale.
‘Audrey?’
Still, no harm in a few new items, Maggie reckoned, looking around at the kitchen. If she was going to take this place on and run it properly, she’d need various new purchases: new fridges, ideally a new cooker, new wine glasses and new dining room chairs because so many of them were falling apart. New sunbeds. Possibly a new roof. It was going to be expensive, but having paid off a chunk of the debt with the sale of Fran?ois Vatel’s delicate, faded book of recipes, she’d entered negotiations with the bank to agree a new loan. Despite Georges’s insistence that Bob Lacey’s deposit on the hotel was hers because he’d forfeited it by withdrawing from the sale, she felt too guilty to keep it and instructed him to wire the money back. Better karma. And Maggie wanted to build back up the hotel by herself.
Or at least, nearly by herself, because she also had the help of a new business partner who’d come on board with a generous investment. Maggie suspected Jamie also wanted an excuse to visit and continue his quest to sleep with Louis the barman, but that was fine by her.
Veronica, naturally, had declared Maggie ‘bonkers’ for moving to France and believing that she could take over the hotel. But Maggie had found it easier to shrug off her mother’s judgement since deciding that her marriage was over; she didn’t need her approval. She was grateful to her parents for the life they’d given her, but it didn’t mean she had to copy theirs. Newly liberated, Maggie wanted to live more like her aunt, to risk failure and pain, and wake up every morning in a place that made her heart sing. And if she never had a child of her own, well, Phil had taught her that didn’t necessarily matter, either. She had plenty to be getting on with in the meantime.
Although she’d have to find new staff if Le Figuier wanted to improve its Tripadvisor rating.
‘AUDREY!’ she shouted.
From outside, she heard a mumble and, a few seconds later, Audrey came through the back door. ‘I was ’aving my coffee.’
‘Would you like another one?’ Maggie asked calmly.
Audrey contemplated this for a few moments before shaking her head.
‘Are you sure ? Because we’ve got a lot to do today and I think we could both use it.’
‘What do you mean?’ Audrey looked suspicious.
‘We need to get this place ship-shape.’
Audrey’s frown intensified.
‘We need to give it a make-over,’ Maggie elaborated. ‘Not change it completely, but give it some love. Proper love. Not just a quick slap of paint. I’m going to make a list of everything we need to do. Builders, too, do you know anybody local?’
‘ Quoi ?’
‘Builders, to look at the roof, and the windows, and probably the electrics seeing as so many lights don’t work.’
Audrey continued to look confused, so Maggie tapped the word ‘builder’ into the app she’d downloaded to help them communicate. ‘ Constructeur . Do you know any constructeurs ?’
‘Ah, constructeur , oui , oui . Claude, he will know some. I will ask.’
‘Great.’ Maggie moved to the table with her mug. ‘And a plumber, because almost every bathroom seems to be leaking into the room beneath it.’
‘ Plombier !’ Audrey announced, a finger in the air. ‘I will ask Claude for that also. Peut-être you could ask Pierre if you wan—’
‘No, thank you. I’d rather you ask Claude.’ Maggie reached for a biro and wrote ‘To Do’ at the top of her notepad. ‘OK, so if you ask Claude about the builder and the plumber, I am going to speak to the bank today abo—’
She was interrupted by the sound of a knock on the door.
‘Shall I see who eet ees?’
‘It’ll be Georges,’ said Maggie, standing up. ‘He said he’d come up with various things for me to sign today although …’ she glanced at the clock, ‘he’s early.’
She glanced at her chest to check she wasn’t going to flash him, then padded through to the hallway and flung back the door.
‘Morning. Sorry that I’m only half dress—’ And then Maggie froze, because it wasn’t Georges standing on the step in front of her.
It was Gray.
‘Hi,’ he said, with a quick smile.
‘Hello.’ Maggie pulled the sleeves of Phil’s old dressing gown over her hands, then crossed her arms. She felt ridiculous and he looked exactly like Gray – tall and all handsome, with an overnight bag slung across his chest.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked him.
‘I wanted to apologize.’
Maggie frowned. ‘You flew a hundred thousand miles to apologize?’ She glanced behind to see a black Mercedes was idling in the drive.
‘It’s actually only six thousand miles between here and LA, but, yeah. Although, I was gonna fly to London, and then I messaged Jamie and he told me you’d come back here, and also that you and your husband have separated. Sorry about that, by the way.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So anyway, I came here instead of London.’
‘You messaged Jamie and you didn’t message me? And then you flew here? Gray, wha—’
‘I did message you. I messaged you on Instagram because I didn’t know how else to get in touch with you.’
‘I never look at Instagram.’
‘I figured. But I did message, and then when you didn’t respond, I messaged Jamie and …’ Gray looked beyond her into the hallway, ‘Can I come in?’
‘Audrey’s lurking …’ Maggie stayed in place, arms crossed.
‘Right, OK.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘I wanted to speak to you and explain; I left that morning because I woke to like a billion missed calls and messages from Holly and …’
Maggie remained perfectly still, her face impassive.
‘It’s not my baby, I knew that. But she was upset, and threatening me on the phone, and … yeah, it was a mess. So I’m sorry I went, but it was only because I had to, not because I wanted to.’
Maggie shook her head as she tried to concentrate. ‘So she’s pregnant, but not with you?’
He nodded.
‘And you’re … OK with that?’ she checked.
‘It was a shock. But honestly? Yeah. It’s like it was the impetus for us to talk properly, for the first time in months, she’s with someone else now, which I kinda knew, had done for months. Ever since I lay down in that fucking driveway.’ Gray paused and smiled. ‘But I didn’t want to mention any of this bullshit, not until I’d sorted it out. And now I have sorted it out. Or at least, I’ve started to.’
‘OK, but I still don’t get why you’re here now. It’s really good of you, although kind of mad, actually, to have flown nine thousa—’
‘Six thousand.’
‘ S ix thousand miles. But just to explain this?’
‘It wasn’t only to explain this. It was also because my agent saw that other piece and passed it on to me.’
‘What piece?’
‘The one in which you mentioned me.’
‘Oh.’ Maggie grimaced. ‘Sorry, I guess the rule is never to comment, but I kind of had to because …’ she waved a hand vaguely, ‘long story.’
‘Yeah, I was pretty upset by one part of it.’
‘Which one?’
‘Maggie!’ came a shout from the kitchen. ‘Georges, ’e is calling your phone!’
‘Not now, Audrey!’ Maggie bellowed, before turning back. ‘Sorry, you were saying?’
‘It was the part about us being friends.’
She felt a hot sting of embarrassment. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be presumptuous. It was just … OK, so I made this deal with that guy, with that journalist, because I needed to get the buyer to pull out of the sale, so I talked to him about the history of this place in return for a line about you and me.’
‘You gave him the story?’
‘Yeah, sorry.’
‘You should be sorry.’
Maggie felt ill. This was excruciating.
‘Because I read it and I didn’t really like it.’
‘I know, and like I said, I’m sorry,’ she gabbled, ‘but I had to do something to get rid of the buyer, and I promised him something about us and that was all I could think of.’
Gray smiled and stepped closer. ‘Maggie, you misunderstand me. I didn’t like it because it sounded so cold. Or at least, it did to me.’
‘Cold?’
‘Just friends?’
‘Oh,’ Maggie replied, finally understanding his tone. He was teasing.
‘So that’s why I’m here,’ he went on. ‘Because I know it’s complicated, but I wanted to see you, to see if you meant it, about just being friends, in which case I’ll go straight back home again. Or if …’
‘Or if?’
‘Or if there’s something else.’
Maggie paused while she tried to take this in. ‘I think there could be something else, maybe,’ she replied eventually. ‘But this is also quite a lot of information to process, and it’s early.’
‘You’re telling the guy who’s just got off a thirteen-hour flight,’ Gray replied, before he stepped even closer, so close she saw the corner of his mouth twitch in amusement.
‘Do you want a coffee? I just made some.’
‘A coffee would be great,’ Gray said, before reaching for one of her hands and wrapping his fingers around hers. ‘Hey, I meant what I said that night.’
‘What night?’ Maggie asked, now so close that she could feel the fibres of his shirt against her robe.
‘The night of the party, that leaving here was going to be difficult. It was difficult, and I missed it. And I missed you.’
Very gently and very slowly, he lowered his face and kissed her.
‘I kind of missed you too,’ she replied.
Gray laughed at the sky. ‘Kind of?’
‘Kind of, exactly,’ Maggie grinned. ‘But come inside, have coffee. If you’re here, I’m going to put you to work, you do realize that? This place needs work .’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he replied, ‘I was hoping you’d say that. And as it happens, I’ve had an idea.’