Читать книгу To Provence, with Love - T Williams A - Страница 10
ОглавлениеWhen Faye got back to England, she phoned her father to relay the wonderful news to him. He sounded delighted for her, if a bit concerned that she would be moving so far away.
‘Terrific, Faye, but what about accommodation? Where are you going to stay?’
‘The most amazing place, Dad.’ By the time she had finished describing it to him, she got the impression he was definitely coming round to thinking that she had made the right decision.
Faye’s tour of the stables with Eddie Marshal had been mouth-watering. Whereas the chateau was traditional old French style, with a distinctly medieval flavour, the inside of the first-floor apartment in the equally old stable block had had the full interior designer treatment not that long ago, and had been brought bang up to date in the twenty-first century. From the steel and glass stairs to the recessed lighting, state of the art kitchen and huge flat screen television, it was a symphony of modern chic. It looked as though it had just come out of the pages of a style magazine and Faye failed to see why on earth Miss Beech reckoned it needed to be redecorated.
It was immaculate, with a bedroom for her that was twice the size of the room she had been renting since splitting up with Didier, and a separate, comfortable guest suite with its own bathroom, if she ever chose to have visitors. The place was fully furnished, and everything from the sleek sofas in the vaulted lounge, to the comfortable-looking beds, screamed class and expense. She had been open-mouthed by the end of the tour, but, even so, Eddie Marshal had managed to flabbergast her even more.
‘We’ll make sure it’s spruced up for you before you come back, Faye. Recently, we haven’t had many guests staying over. It must be a couple of years since the last visitor was here.’ He glanced at her with disarming nonchalance. ‘That was that rather nice American gentleman, Mr Clooney.’
Faye’s jaw dropped. ‘George Clooney slept here?’
‘Yes, and I seem to remember him saying how comfortable the bed was.’
It took some days before Faye managed to get over the thought that she was going to sleep in the same bed as George Clooney, albeit not at the same time. It would have been nice to tell her friends about this, and indeed about the identity of her new employer, but one of the conditions of employment had been to promise to keep Miss Beech’s identity secret for the duration of the contract, only telling close family, and that just meant her dad.
The next weeks rushed by.
Faye handed in her notice as soon as she got back and was surprised and rather flattered at the attempts by Miss Dawes to get her to stay, all of which she cheerfully refused. At school, she burned the midnight oil, determined to do the very best for the students under her tutelage. She gave notice to her landlord and then spent more time than she had imagined packing her things, taking stuff to the recycling centre, paying bills, and informing people of her forthcoming change of address from London to Provence.
Often, as the weeks went by, she would take time to reflect upon how this major change of direction would affect her life. The writing job sounded fascinating, Provence charming and, even better, she knew that this would help her further distance herself from Miss Dawes and, above all, from Didier. Things were definitely beginning to look up at long last.
As far as her friends at the school and elsewhere in London were concerned, she could only tell them that she was going to France, where she would be working for a very secretive person, and she was constantly being bombarded with guesses as to just who it might be. Interestingly, George Clooney was suggested more than once, but nobody thought to mention Anabelle Beech. The interrogation became particularly intense on the last day of term, but she managed to keep the secret, even after her colleagues had forced liberal quantities of Prosecco upon her in the pub after work.
The next day her dad arrived in his car to collect her and her belongings. Faye hadn’t wanted to bother him, as she knew he was always so very busy, but she had just got too much stuff. Together, they loaded all her worldly belongings and drove back to Salisbury and, as expected, he spent most of the journey warning her to be careful of everything from poisonous snakes to the white slave trade, and issuing advice about exercise and diet, and even recommendations about what clothes to take to France. She didn’t mind, having got used to his incessant worrying for her wellbeing all the way through her life, and she put up with it with a smile. Her smile broadened as they arrived back home.
Standing on the drive outside the house she found a smart little white Fiat 500 with the red and green stripes of the Italian flag running along its side. She had asked her dad to find her a car, as she knew she would need her own transport and he knew the sort of thing she liked. She nodded to herself in approval. As they got out of his car, her father handed her the keys. ‘This one’s only a year old and it’s had one careful lady driver – or at least that’s what the salesman told me.’
‘Thanks, Dad. It’s exactly what I wanted. How much was it? With the huge wad of money I’m being paid, I should be able to afford it.’
He wouldn’t hear of it. ‘You leave that to me and save your money, Faye. Who knows how expensive life in Provence is likely to be.’
Somehow, Faye felt pretty sure that there weren’t going to be too many opportunities to spend money in St-Jean-sur-Sarde. Still, some time to herself, the opportunity to catch up with a whole heap of reading, and her own personal cinema promised to ensure that she wouldn’t be bored.
***
She left Salisbury late on Sunday afternoon and drove down to Portsmouth in the surprisingly nippy little car. She took the overnight ferry and managed to sleep reasonably well before arriving in France in the early morning. Although she probably could have done the drive in one long day, her father had insisted she should break her journey and, by the time she pulled into the car park of a budget hotel beside the motorway that evening, she was feeling very tired. That night, as she lay in bed, listening to the incessant rumble of traffic, the dominant thought in her head was how good it felt to be setting off on another chapter of her life, knowing that upon her return, she would be making a completely fresh start.
Next day she got up at seven, and by early afternoon was already in Provence, the road curling steadily upwards past olive groves and vineyards. She drove through sleepy little villages, the shutters of the houses tightly closed against the heat of the sun, with no living creatures to be seen. She blessed the instinct that had made her father select a car with functioning air conditioning, because it was absolutely scorching outside.
Shortly before three, she found herself at the self-same spot where she had stopped to ask for directions. This time there was no sign of a tall man and a black Labrador, but she knew where she was going. By the time she reached the gates of the chateau, she was feeling very excited at the prospect of what lay ahead.
She stepped out into the suffocating heat and pressed the bell. As she was waiting, she spotted a camera mounted high to one side, pointing down at her. Security, in a place like this, was clearly paramount. She gave it a little smile and a wave and wondered if anybody was watching. No sooner had she done so, than the gates began to open, so she gave the camera another wave before getting back into the car.
She drove round to the stable yard at the back of the chateau and parked right outside her new apartment, vaguely conscious of barking coming from the house. As she climbed out of the car, she was almost floored by the arrival of a very boisterous Marlon, clearly delighted to see her again. He was closely followed by Claudette, the housekeeper. She gave Faye a welcoming smile and dangled the keys to the flat in front of her.
‘Hello, Faye, and welcome back. It’s all ready for you. I’ve filled the fridge for you and Mr Marshal’s put in a few bottles of wine, but Miss Beech asked if you’d like to have dinner with her this evening. That is, if you haven’t any other plans.’
Faye disentangled herself from the Labrador and straightened up again, giving Claudette a big smile. ‘No, no other plans. Please tell Miss Beech I’d be delighted to have dinner with her. Your food’s so wonderful.’
‘By the way, that square thing on the key chain is the remote control for the gate, so you can get in and out any time you want.’ Claudette glanced down at the dog who was sitting at their feet, eyes trained adoringly on Faye. ‘And, if you want company, you can always take Marlon out whenever you like for a …’ She grinned at Faye. ‘I won’t use the word as he instantly recognizes it, both in French and in English. He never says no.’
Faye looked up. The sun was still shining down from a cloudless sky and it was very hot. Even so, a walk in the country with a big friendly dog sounded wonderful. ‘That’s a brilliant idea. Once I’ve got my stuff into the flat and got sorted out, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll take Marlon for a … you know what.’
‘Now, Faye, would you like me to give you a hand with your things?’
‘No, I’m fine, Claudette, thanks. I haven’t brought much stuff and I’ll easily manage. I’ll come over and collect the dog from you once I’ve finished, if that’s all right.’
‘Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen and the door’s just there on the other side of the courtyard. It’s never locked and there’s need to knock – just come in. Now then, Marlon, you come with me.’ Somewhat reluctantly, the dog got up and followed Claudette over to the kitchen while Faye opened the door to her new home and climbed the stairs, the feeling of excitement building inside her at the prospect of what was ahead of her. What she found in there only increased her delight.
The shutters were closed, but the windows were wide open and it was blissfully cool in there. A vase on the table held a lovely bunch of flowers, most probably picked from the garden, and their perfume filled the air. Faye went into the kitchen and found a fresh baguette on the bread board and half a dozen bottles of Gigondas on the worktop. She opened the fridge and saw that Claudette hadn’t been joking when she’d said she had filled it. It was packed with everything from salads to cheeses, ham, eggs, fruit and vegetables, butter and milk. Eddie had obviously decided that red wine wasn’t enough and there was a row of bottles of local rosé lined up in the door shelf, along with mineral water.
It took her barely ten minutes to bring her stuff up from the car and less than half an hour to unpack and put away the bulk of it. She was delighted to find there was a strong Wi-Fi signal in the stables and a similarly strong phone signal, so she would still be able to stay in contact with the outside world beyond the confines of this remote part of rural France. She was already wearing shorts so she located her old sandals in readiness for the walk. As she did so, she checked her watch and saw that it was almost four o’clock.
She went across the yard and into the kitchen, tapping on the door before opening it. It was a lovely big room, the ceiling supported by ancient beams, oak kitchen units around the walls to match – a perfect mix of medieval and modern. The floor was made up of the same pink terracotta tiles as in the lounge, while the marble worktop mimicked their faded rosy colour.
Faye found Eddie Marshal sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in his hand, Claudette hovering behind him. He was once again wearing a white T-shirt and jeans and Faye saw he had espadrilles on his feet. The housekeeper looked up as she heard the door and saw the dog charge across to greet Faye. ‘I’ve just made coffee and tea, if you’d like a cup, Faye. I just took some tea up to Miss Beech a moment ago, but she’s still having her afternoon nap.’
Faye was delighted to accept. This was a welcome opportunity to sit down and chat to Eddie and Claudette who, between them, surely knew all about Miss Beech and her life, at least since coming to live here in France. ‘Thanks. I’d like to go out for a you know what with our four-legged friend in a moment, Claudette, but a cup of tea, if it’s made, would be very welcome.’
‘Come and have a seat, Faye. How was your journey?’ Eddie Marshal pushed a chair out from the table and beckoned to her.
‘It was fine, thank you very much, Mr Marshal.’ Faye took a seat and felt the dog slump down onto the terracotta tiles against her ankle. A moment later she felt his tongue lick her toes and she was hard pressed to avoid giggling. She realized that, ticklishness apart, she really was feeling unusually cheerful.
‘Excellent, it’s a good long way from England, isn’t it? I don’t drive at the moment, you know. I’ve been having trouble with my hip.’
‘I’m sorry to hear about that. It must be very uncomfortable for you. So, if you don’t drive and Miss Beech doesn’t drive, how do you get about? Surely you need a car for shopping and things?’
‘My boy does the driving.’ Claudette looked up from where she was pouring the tea. ‘He looks after the garden and does all the outside jobs as well as driving the car. You’ll see him about. You can’t miss him.’ She brought the tea over, and inevitably, along with it came a plate of homemade biscuits. Faye took a look and an appreciative sniff and told herself it would be rude to refuse. She picked up a biscuit and nibbled it. It was exquisite.
‘Have you ever considered going into business making and selling your biscuits, Claudette? You’d make a fortune.’
Claudette smiled at her and shook her head. She had a lovely, open, friendly smile and Faye found herself thinking how wonderful it would have been to have somebody like this as a mother. She smiled back and thanked them most warmly for all the food and drink she had found in her flat, before asking a question about their employer. ‘Is Miss Beech feeling better now?’
Claudette glanced across at Eddie Marshal, deferring to him. He nodded. ‘Yes, indeed, thank you. She’s got a recurring condition that sneaks up on her from time to time, but she’s been okay for a few weeks now. I’m pleased to say that she’s moving around pretty well again.’ He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. ‘She’s been cared for by some of the very best doctors and clinics in the world, but anno domini is what it is. Nothing stays the same for ever.’ He paused and Faye registered the depth of the bond of affection he must feel for Miss Beech after half a century together. His serious look was immediately replaced by something more positive. ‘But she’s had a good run. Apart from this, she really can’t complain.’
Faye nodded. ‘She told me the same thing.’ She sipped her tea and scratched the dog’s ears with her free hand. Remembering her task, she gave Mr Marshal a hesitant look. ‘Um, Mr Marshal, I gather you and Miss Beech have been together for a long time. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions? You know, for the book. Miss Beech told me to find out as much as I can for the biography I’m supposed to be writing.’
‘Fire away. She told me to give you all the information I can.’ He glanced across the kitchen. ‘And the same applies to Claudette. We’re both at your complete disposal.’
Faye gave him a smile. ‘That’s terrific, thanks. So, what about you, Claudette? Have you known Miss Beech for long?’
Claudette smiled back. ‘I haven’t known Miss Beech anything like as long as Mr Marshal has. I first met her twenty years ago when she married the Marquis. They were still living in America then, but they regularly came back for holidays over the next few years. They moved back here properly about ten years ago now.’
‘So have you always worked here at the chateau?’
‘Sort of. I went to England for three years as a nanny when I was a girl – that’s where I picked up my English – but otherwise, I’ve been here all my life. My father and my grandfather both worked for the Marquis, so I suppose it was in my blood.’
‘So you’re the local expert then.’
‘I suppose so, but as far as Miss Beech’s life’s concerned, Eddie’s definitely the expert.’
Eddie Marshal nodded. ‘I’ve been looking after her since I was twenty-three. That’s fifty-two years ago now.’
Faye was amazed. ‘Gosh, that’s incredible. So you first started working for her when she was already big in Hollywood?’
‘That’s right. I was trying to make up my mind what to do after I’d finished school, and a friend fixed me up with a summer job skimming the pool and doing the garden in one of the swanky houses in Beverly Hills. It turned out to be hers.’
‘I thought Miss Beech said you were from Canada?’
‘And proud of it, but I did my law studies at UCLA. Anyway, that was the first time I met her and we became quite friendly, in spite of her being such a massive star by then. Around the end of the summer, just as I was about to head off back to Canada to become an attorney like my father wanted, she said she needed somebody to look after her, her affairs and her social diary, and asked if I’d like to try it for a few months. You can probably imagine my excitement. Here I was, fresh out of college, and I was rubbing shoulders with Hollywood greats.’ He was smiling into his mug of coffee now, as the memories came back. ‘It sounded like a hell of a lot of responsibility for a young man, but I didn’t hesitate. I told my mom and dad I’d give it a try for a little while, and look at me now.’
Faye was genuinely touched at the devotion Eddie had shown to Miss Beech for over fifty years. She took a better look at him and saw that, underneath the grey hair and the wrinkles, there had once been a young man, excited to go out into the big wide world. Somehow, she had a very strong suspicion that a biography of Eddie could prove to be every bit as interesting as his employer’s.
Eddie was happy to chat about his early days in Hollywood, mixing with the stars, and Faye looked forward to hearing more of his stories as the days went by and to incorporating them into the book. When her watch told her it was half past five, she stood up, reluctant to interrupt his reminiscing. ‘I think I’ll take Marlon out for half an hour before dinner. Where’s the best place to go?’
It was Claudette, the local girl, who answered. ‘There are lovely walks in the fields all around us, or up on the open land: what we call the garrigue. Alternatively, seeing as you’re new to the place, why don’t you just take him down to the town? He can show you round. For all his faults, he’s an angel on a lead and he won’t drag your arm out of its socket. When you’re away from the road, you can let him off. He won’t run away.’
The lead was produced and attached to Marlon’s collar, inducing considerable excitement on his part. Faye took a pocketful of poo bags, the remote control for the gates, and then off they went. Claudette was right. Marlon didn’t pull at the lead and he definitely knew where he was going. Together they walked the few hundred yards down the deserted country road towards the sign announcing the village, or the town as Claudette had called it.
Clearly there was more to St-Jean than Faye had imagined. As they passed the sign, they came to a farm entrance on their left. As she did so, a dog barked, only once, and seconds later she and Marlon discovered they had company. Another identical black Labrador emerged from the shade of an old building and charged across to say hello. Faye glanced down apprehensively, but immediately saw that he and Marlon were old friends.
She stood and looked on as the two dogs, tails wagging furiously, became reacquainted. As she did so, she suddenly felt herself being watched. She raised her eyes and spotted a figure standing in the shadowy interior of the barn. She gave a little wave and received a hint of a wave in return, but the man didn’t venture out of the barn. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and Faye had a suspicion he might well be the same man who had given her directions on her first visit to the area. After all, she told herself, there surely couldn’t be too many identical black Labradors round here.
She returned her attention to Marlon and clicked her tongue, deciding to set off down the hill towards the village once more. As she did so, there was the same double whistle and the other dog turned and charged off back to his master.
Before they reached the Coq d’Or, Marlon led her off to the left along a narrow path and Faye was happy to unclip the lead from his collar and let him make the decisions as to where they should go. He was very well behaved and didn’t attempt to run too far ahead as they followed the path alongside a dry gulley running down towards the river in the valley below. From the collection of bone-dry branches and weeds caught in the bushes lining the gully, it was clear that this would turn into a raging torrent after heavy rainfall, but for the moment, there was no sign of water at all. Everything around them was terribly dry, the grass burnt brown by the sun.
She picked up a stick and threw it for the dog. He ran for it, picked it up, but then steadfastly refused to bring it to her. Clearly somewhere along the line, his brain hadn’t quite got the hang of the retriever part of his ancestry.
As they walked along, a succession of startled lizards ran frantically for cover and Faye found herself hoping there were no snakes about, and this reminded her of her father. She had texted him as soon as she had reached the chateau to let him know she was safe and well, and she resolved to call him later to tell him all about her first day. All around there was virtual silence, and for somebody used to the never-ending background hubbub of London, it was almost disconcerting.
After a short distance, threading their way between dry stone walls, covered with wild vines, and among ramshackle old buildings, Marlon, still carrying his stick, turned left once more and led her over a bridge composed of a single irregular slab of limestone, well over six feet long. Faye wondered how many centuries it had been lying there and how on earth the people who had laid it had been able to do so in an era surely long before motorized cranes and mechanical diggers.
On the other side of the bridge, she saw her first human being.
‘Hello, Marlon. Who’s this you’re taking for a walk, then?’ The voice came from the owner of a very large shaggy mongrel that looked like a cross between a sheep and a grizzly bear. From the wagging of tails that was going on, clearly Marlon and he were already on good terms, which was just as well because Faye had no illusions as to her chances if it came to having to step in to stop a dogfight with this monster. The dog’s owner, on the other hand, looked big and strong enough to separate a pair of fighting wolves, if he had to. He looked down at her, fortunately with a smile. ‘You’ll be the young lady who’s going to be staying at the chateau, I dare say?’
Faye nodded and took a good look at the owner of the Beast of St-Jean. They say that dogs and owners often come to look alike and this pairing certainly added weight to that hypothesis. The man, maybe in his late thirties or early forties, was the size and shape of a wardrobe, with a hairstyle, if, indeed it could be called a style, not dissimilar to that of his dog. Fortunately, he was still smiling benignly at Faye and she summoned a nervous smile in return.
‘Yes, that’s right. I’ve just arrived. My name’s Faye. How did you know I was coming?’ She wondered for a moment whether this man mountain might in some way be related to Miss Beech, and it turned out she wasn’t far off the mark.
‘Name’s Albert. I’m the man who’s just spent a week redecorating the flat above the stables for you. My mum’s Miss Beech’s housekeeper and I do the garden and stuff.’ He extended a huge paw towards her in greeting. Gritting her teeth, Faye reached out and let him envelop her hand and shake it, mercifully remarkably delicately.
‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Albert. I’ve just been chatting to your mum now. I was telling her she should start selling her biscuits. They’re amazing.’
‘You’re telling me. My dad reckons that’s why I grew so much. By the way, most people call me Obelix. Can’t think why.’ He was smiling. ‘And I’m pleased to meet you, Faye. So are you going to be staying long?’
This was Faye’s first experience of a little village for a long time, but she knew the way the bush telegraph worked in a school and rightly assumed it would be roughly the same out here. If Claudette hadn’t told Obelix why Faye was here and how long she was staying, it wasn’t her place to enlighten him either. She took refuge in a little white lie.
‘I’m not sure. I’ve been teaching in London and I wanted a bit of time away from all the noise and bustle.’
‘Well, you certainly won’t have to worry about the noise out here. About the only thing to disturb you will be Marlon when he hears the postman. He barks the place down every time anybody he doesn’t know really well comes to the house. I dare say he barks at you too.’
Faye glanced down at Marlon who, after a bit of reciprocal sniffing with the Beast, had returned to take up position at her feet. His stick was now in the jaws of the Beast, and Faye didn’t blame him for surrendering it in the face of such a daunting adversary. For some reason Marlon appeared to have accepted her straightaway as a member of the household, if not a substitute pack leader, and it felt rather good. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was past six, so she knew she had better get back home in time to shower and change before dinner. ‘Tell me, is there a way back to the chateau without having to go back the way we came along the road?’
Obelix nodded and indicated a narrow footpath snaking off between two dilapidated stone walls. ‘Just follow that path up the hill until just before the lavender fields. You’ll smell them long before you see them and when you do, you’ll find there’s another path off to the left, just above the farm, that’ll take you home. Marlon knows it well enough. He’ll show you the way.’
‘Thank you … Obelix. Are you sure it’s all right to call you that?’
He grinned at her. ‘Everybody else does. My mum’s just about the only person who still calls me Albert.’
Faye smiled back at him. ‘By the way, the lavender farm – is that the farm I’ve just come past on the way down here?’
Obelix nodded. ‘That’s right.’
‘And there’s another black Labrador there, just like Marlon?’
‘That’s right. They’re from the same litter. He used to be Robbie’s dog.’
‘Robbie?’
‘He used to run the farm, but now it’s his brother who’s taken over.’ Obelix’s expression became more serious. ‘After Robbie was killed in the accident.’
‘Oh, how awful. Was that a farm accident? They say farms are dangerous places, with all the heavy equipment and so on.’
‘No, it was a road accident, up by the gorge. Very sad.’
Faye nodded in agreement before deciding she really had to get back. ‘Well, Obelix, I’d better get off. I’m sure I’ll see you again.’ Faye clicked her tongue and was gratified to see Marlon jump to his feet immediately. With a wave to the giant, she set off up the hill to home.
When she reached the lavender farm, she was greeted by the sweet smell of the flowers and a repetitive series of thuds coming from a corner of a nearby field where a man was hammering in a new fence post. Faye recognized him immediately as the same man she had met before. Clearly, he had now decided to venture out of the shade of the barn.
The temperature was still high and it looked like hard work. He was sweating profusely, his T-shirt sticking to his broad shoulders, his hair plastered down on his head. Even so, he looked like a movie star: handsome and hunky at the same time. Not that that mattered to Faye; as far as she was concerned, still raw after her treatment at the hands of Didier, he could have been James Dean and she still wouldn’t have been interested. Nevertheless, she did her best to be friendly, not least as it looked as though they were now going to be neighbours.
‘Good afternoon. That looks like hot work.’
Hearing her voice, the man stopped work and set the heavy hammer down at his side. As he did so, a black shadow emerged from beneath a nearby rosemary bush as his dog recognized his brother once again. Marlon trotted across to greet the two of them with his tail held high, wagging encouragingly.
‘Hello?’ The man raised a hand to his forehead and squinted and, as he did so, Faye realized she had the setting sun right behind her. She was quick to explain.
‘Hello, I’m the clueless girl who got lost a month or two ago. I don’t know if you remember.’
Comprehension dawned on his face. ‘Oh, yes. And you’re with Marlon?’
‘Yes. I’m staying at the chateau.’
‘Right.’
Although he didn’t sound unfriendly, he was certainly no more communicative now than when she had first seen him. Nevertheless, Faye tried again. ‘New fence post?’
‘Yes.’
‘Must be hard work.’
‘Yes.’
‘And very hot work on a day like this.’
‘Yes.’
Faye’s conversational skills were being severely stretched by now and she took refuge in a glance at her watch and what was, after all, the truth. ‘I’m afraid I can’t stop and talk. I have to get back.’
‘Right.’ With a smooth movement, he reached down, clasped the handle of the sledgehammer, and swung it up in a graceful arc above his head. ‘Well, goodbye then.’
Faye called to Marlon and left the taciturn man to his labours. She carried on along the rough path up the hill to the chateau. A minute or two later, she felt a stone under her heel and stopped to remove it. Grabbing hold of a branch at the side of the track to steady herself, she slid off the sandal and flicked away the tiny piece of gravel. As she did so, Marlon pounced on her shoe and bore it proudly away.
‘Marlon, bring that back.’
He stopped and turned back towards her, but showed no sign of any intention of relinquishing his trophy. She called him again, dangled his lead, and even tried to whistle, but he was having none of it. He trotted obligingly enough back to her, even let her grab the shoe in his mouth, but then stubbornly hung on to it like a limpet. Finally, Faye had to leave it with him, rather than risk damaging either the sandal or the dog’s teeth, and she limped up the hill on one shoe, treating the dog to a few good old-fashioned English expletives as she did so.
***
At seven-thirty as instructed, Faye – freshly showered, her dusty right foot carefully washed – changed into a light summer dress and her good sandals and went over to the kitchen, tapped on the door, and let herself in. She had locked the door to her apartment behind her but somehow, protected behind the barrier of the electric gates, she didn’t think she had much to worry about, not least if Marlon lived up to his reputation as a very vocal guard dog. There was no sign of Eddie Marshal, but she found Claudette bending down, looking at something in the oven. She looked up as Faye came in.
‘Have a nice walk?’
‘Yes, thanks, although the last half was on one leg.’ She smiled as she explained what had happened. Claudette smiled back.
‘I saw him with a sandal in his mouth when I came into the kitchen and wondered if it was yours.’ She indicated the shoe, now safely lying on the worktop out of reach of the dog.
‘How did you get it off him? I thought he was going to pull my arm out of its socket.’
‘The way you can always get a Labrador to do anything – food. I offered him a piece of biscuit and he dropped it like a flash. I should have warned you of that. When he likes somebody, he always tries to take something of theirs.’ She pointed at the wicker basket by the range cooker. ‘See that tatty red rag in there? That used to be one of Miss Beech’s scarves. He’s had it for years. Anyway, it shows he likes you.’
‘I’ll have to dig out an old sock or something for him. Walking up the gravel drive with one bare foot was a bit uncomfortable.’ She glanced down at the dog who was staring at her adoringly from his bed. ‘But no more stealing shoes, all right, Marlon?’ He wagged his tail and, if she hadn’t known better, it almost looked as if he winked. Faye sighed and returned her attention to Claudette. ‘Anyway, while I was out, I met your son.’
‘It’s hard to miss our Albert. Did he tell you they all call him Obelix?’ Claudette grinned. ‘Not too sure what happened there. His father’s not a lot taller than I am.’
‘He’s certainly a big chap. I suppose he’s the star of the local rugby team.’
Claudette shook her head. ‘He used to play a lot of sport, but he gave it up a few years back. Did he tell you what his hobby is now?’
Faye shook her head. ‘Wrestling bulls, lifting weights, or tearing up phone books with his bare hands maybe?’
Claudette’s grin broadened. ‘Embroidery.’
‘Embroidery?’
‘He’s this year’s president of the village embroidery circle. They’re in the process of renewing all the kneelers in the church. You should see some of the things he’s made. He’s far better than I am. He’s got such a delicate touch and a very good eye for colour and design.’
‘Wow.’ Faye was suitably impressed. ‘I must go down to the church to take a look at his handiwork.’
‘Miss Beech is in the dining room if you want to go and join her. Go through that door there and you’ll find her. Off you go and tell her I’ll be serving dinner in about ten minutes.’
Faye made her way through to the dining room accompanied by Marlon. Miss Beech was in an armchair by the fireplace, staring into the empty grate, lost in her thoughts. Sitting in another armchair to one side of the fireplace, holding a newspaper, was Eddie Marshal. As he spotted Faye, he gave her a little wave. Faye hesitated at the doorway, loath to disturb Miss Beech who looked miles away, but Marlon had no such qualms. He trotted over to his mistress and laid his head on her knee. His arrival roused her and she looked up towards Faye, beckoning her into the room with one hand while scratching the dog’s ears with the other.
‘Faye, come in, come in. How lovely to see you again.’ The grand old lady looked genuinely pleased to see her.
‘Hello, Miss Beech. It’s good to be back.’ Faye took a better look at her. ‘And you’re looking well.’ That was an exaggeration, but Miss Beech definitely looked better than the last time, and there was some colour in her cheeks this evening. Miss Beech smiled.
‘You don’t spend a lifetime in cinema without learning a thing or two about make-up. My looks are mostly out of a bottle nowadays, I’m afraid, but it’s sweet of you to notice. Come and join us.’
Faye did as she was bidden and stood by the hearth. The dog slumped down onto his rug with a thud and a sigh, as Faye remembered to deliver Claudette’s message. ‘Claudette says dinner’ll be ready in ten minutes.’
‘Excellent. That gives us time for a drink first. We really should celebrate your first night here, so I got Eddie to dig out a bottle of champagne. Would you like that? Otherwise we’ve got most things here. He could even make you a cocktail if you like.’
Eddie looked up eagerly, nodding his head. ‘Whatever you like, Faye. You name it, I can make it. Maybe a real American Martini?’
‘Champagne sounds absolutely wonderful, thank you.’ Faye spotted the foil-covered top of the bottle peeking out of an ice bucket. ‘But only if you’re going to have some. Please don’t open it specially for me.’
Miss Beech’s smile broadened. ‘Of course we’ll join you. I wonder, Faye, if you would feel like opening it, please?’
Eddie Marshal made an attempt at getting to his feet, but Miss Beech was quick to tell him off. ‘Eddie, for goodness’ sake sit down and let Faye do the honours. I’m sure she’s had lots of experience with champagne bottles.’ She grinned at Faye. ‘At our age, we deserve a sit-down. Besides, the doctor told Eddie not to put too much weight on that hip of his.’
‘I haven’t got much experience with champagne, but I’m a dab hand at opening Prosecco bottles.’ Faye went over to the ice bucket and managed to open the bottle without too much fuss. She filled three exquisite tall crystal flutes and took two of them across to the fireplace, handing them over one by one, before returning to pick up her own. Miss Beech raised her glass towards them both.
‘Cheers. Your very good health, Faye. Thank you for coming to join us.’
‘Cheers and thank you for having me. And cheers to you, too, Mr Marshal.’
‘Call me Eddie, would you, Faye? Besides, my name’s not Marshal really.’ In response to her raised eyebrows, he elaborated. ‘I’m really Eduard Maréchal, but the Americans couldn’t cope with the pronunciation, or the spelling, so I changed it to Marshal. So please call me Eddie like everybody does.
Faye went over and clinked her glass against Miss Beech’s, then Eddie’s, and took a mouthful. She watched as Miss Beech sipped her drink pensively before looking up. ‘Here’s something you can put in the book, Faye. They say alcohol slows the activity of the brain, but every time I drink champagne my mind’s flooded with memories of so, so many good times.’ She stared down into the wine glass. ‘To be quite honest, I’ve never really liked the stuff that much. Those bubbles always seem to go up my nose, but it’s what it represents, I suppose.’
‘Well, I haven’t had the opportunity to drink enough champagne in my life to develop a special taste for it, but this is gorgeous. By the way, talking of wine, thank you so much for all the food and drink you’ve put in the flat. The fridge is absolutely packed.’ As Miss Beech made a dismissive gesture with her hand, Faye took another mouthful of champagne. It really was excellent. She pulled up an ornate wooden stool and sat down to one side of Miss Beech, directly in front of the fireplace. ‘So, go on then, what’s running through your mind at the moment? What memories has this sip of champagne awakened?’
There was a moment’s silence while Miss Beech reflected on the question and then, to Faye’s surprise, she started giggling like a schoolgirl once more. ‘To be totally honest, Faye, it reminds me of the night I tipped a bucket full of ice into my leading man’s lap in an Italian restaurant in Beverly Hills.’
Faye gasped, feeling a fit of the giggles rising up inside her as well. ‘You did what?’
She watched as Miss Beech dissolved into laughter, her whole face flushed with pleasure as the memory returned. ‘It was at the end of a day’s filming of Faded Heart.’ Faye knew this to be one of Miss Beech’s best-known films. ‘All that day we’d been riding around on horses. As I recall, I was trying to show him how the stunt boss had been teaching me to jump onto a moving horse.’ She looked up. ‘We did a lot of our own stunts in those days, not like today – and as I leapt to my feet and stretched out one leg to demonstrate, my foot hit the bucket and … splash!’
Faye was laughing by now. ‘Who was the leading man?’
‘Charlton Heston.’
‘Wow, and what was his reaction? Was he angry?’
Miss Beech shook her head. ‘Not at all. He laughed his head off. Said it cooled him down. He was a good, kind man, was Chuck. Not like some others I could mention.’
‘When we get down to writing, I do so hope you’ll mention the baddies as well as the goodies. It would be good to make this a real warts and all story.’
‘Oh, I can give you warts, all right.’ Faye was then amazed to hear Miss Beech reel off three or four examples of the most appalling behaviour by some of the best-known names in Hollywood. Faye listened attentively, knowing that anecdotes like these would be box-office gold if the book ever got as far as publication. She resolved to contact Miss Beech’s lawyer just to be on the safe side, so as to know just how far she could go at naming names in a book like this. Even though it was going to have Miss Beech’s name on the cover, it presumably wouldn’t emerge until after the old lady’s death and that left just Faye. And she had no desire to find herself in the sights of a bunch of American lawyers, baying for blood.
‘Dinner is served.’ Faye looked up to see Claudette at the door pushing a trolley laden with food. The Labrador immediately leapt to his feet and headed over to greet her, tail wagging hopefully.
‘I hope you’re hungry.’ Faye was amused to hear Miss Beech’s whisper. She turned towards her and spotted her mischievous grin. ‘I think Claudette’s worried you’re a bit too slim.’
‘Well I certainly won’t be if I start having too many big meals. I’m going to have to be careful.’
‘When I was your age I existed on celery and nicotine. You should have seen some of the outfits I had to squeeze into. But you’ve got a lovely figure. A good meal every now and then never did anybody any harm.’
The meal was, indeed, excellent. Tonight, Claudette had chosen turbot and had cooked it to perfection with prawns and braised fennel. The aroma rising up from the plates was heavenly. Eddie joined them at table while Claudette retired to the kitchen, presumably to prepare yet more food. Eddie and Faye finished the bottle of champagne between them while Miss Beech just sipped hers from time to time.
Once that was finished, Miss Beech insisted that Eddie open a bottle of white wine and Faye found herself on the receiving end of a ten-year-old Sancerre Premier Cru that tasted every bit as good as the champagne. As they ate and drank, they chatted, or, at least, Faye tried to get Miss Beech to talk, but it was Eddie who did most of the talking. As Faye had imagined, he had a host of tales to tell and his memory, thankfully, was crystal clear and far more agile than his legs.
By the end of the meal, Faye’s sides ached from laughing so much. There was absolutely no doubt about it. If she could reproduce Eddie’s stories, the book was going to be a great success. More to the point, if things continued like this, it was shaping up to be a lot of fun. She was still wiping the tears from her eyes at the end of Eddie’s description of how a brown bear got into one of the luxury trailers used by the stars on location, causing one very famous actor to emerge through a window with his pants in his hands, when Miss Beech decided she had better go to bed. Taking a final mouthful of water, she set the glass back on the table, stood up quite nimbly, and looked across at Faye.
‘I used to be able to stay up all night and drink men twice the size of me under the table. Now, once the clock’s struck ten, I know it’s time for bed, so I’m afraid I’ll have to love you and leave you now. I do hope you’ve enjoyed yourself tonight, Faye. I’ve certainly enjoyed your company.’
Faye made to get up in her turn, but Miss Beech waved her back to her seat. Faye did as she was told and returned the wave. ‘It’s been wonderful, thank you so much. And many thanks to Claudette as well for such a super meal.’
‘You’re very welcome.’
‘Could you and I sit down together tomorrow and make a start on the book? You mentioned a box full of documents and photos.’
‘Absolutely, Faye. How about meeting up at nine o’clock? I’m normally fairly bright in the morning. Would that be all right?’
‘That would be lovely. I’ll come across at nine. Sleep well.’
Miss Beech gave a little wave of the hand and made her way out of the door, walking unassisted. As she did so, Faye couldn’t miss an expression of contentment on her face. She felt sure her new employer had enjoyed the evening of memories and she looked forward to more of them. After her departure, Faye stood up and looked across at Eddie Marshal.
‘Would it be all right if I take Marlon for a walk now?’ As Faye said the word, she saw the dog’s eyelids open as if by magic. ‘I’d like a bit of fresh air. Where do you take him at this time of night?’
‘Are you sure you’d like to do that? Aren’t you tired after your long drive?’
‘No, I’d love to.’ By now, the dog had rolled himself onto his front, all thought of sleep gone, and he looked poised to jump to his feet. ‘So, where do we go?’
‘That’s easy. Just go out of the gate and down the lane, towards the town. There shouldn’t be any cars about at ten o’clock on a Sunday night, but take a torch just in case. When you get to the lavender farm, there’s a footpath off to the right that’ll bring you back up here. Marlon knows the way.’
She gave Eddie a smile. ‘Right, then, that’s what I’ll do.’ She looked across to the fireplace. ‘So, Marlon, fancy a walk?’ As the dog leapt to his feet and charged across the room towards her, she shot a quick grin towards Eddie. ‘That is what’s known as a rhetorical question. See you later, Eddie.’
Faye helped herself to a torch from the kitchen, retrieved her missing sandal, and hurried across the courtyard to change her shoes, making sure she put on trainers with laces this time. She had no intention of walking about in the dark with one shoe again. The dog came trotting up the stairs with her and had a good sniff round the flat while she changed.
As she was about to turn the lights off, she was just in time to retrieve her newly washed sandal from Marlon’s mouth before he stole off with it again. Taking Claudette’s advice, this was remarkably simple with the aid of a piece of biscuit. She slipped the rest of the biscuit into her pocket and made a mental note to look for some less important item for him to have tomorrow.
Back outside again, she clipped his lead on and they headed down the drive towards the road. The sky was clear and the temperature had dropped a little, but it was still very warm. When they emerged onto the lane she found that the moon, well over half size, cast enough light for her to be able to find her way without the torch. As Eddie had predicted, she encountered no traffic as she walked down to the farm, although sinister noises from the other side of a row of trees rather unsettled her until she came to a gate and saw the field full of sheep, still grazing by moonlight.
As she walked down the hill, she pulled out her phone and called her father. He sounded pleased for her and she resolved to ask him to come over for a few days once she had settled in. He was always working, and a bit of time off would do him good. As she said goodnight, above her the moon looked almost close enough to touch. It was so clear she could see actual craters just with the naked eye. It was a delightful sight and she felt a sudden surge of happiness to be here and to have left the cares of her previous life behind. So far, so very good indeed.
As she reached the lavender farm she saw lights on in the farmhouse but no other signs of life. Undeterred, she let Marlon off the lead and followed him to the right along a narrow track and away from the road. Within a few minutes she found herself in dense woodland, her feet rustling in the dry leaves, a warm smell of resin in the air. By now her night vision had improved to the extent that she could just about pick out the path as it weaved to and fro among the trees. She could hear Marlon crashing about in the undergrowth, having a wonderful time. Along with the resin, there was a strong scent of lavender in the air and she realized the purple fields must be close by.
Suddenly she was almost tripped by a black shadow that came shooting along the path straight towards her, scaring her half to death, closely followed by another identical one. Four bright eyes reflected in the moonlight as Marlon joined the other Labrador and both looked up at her. Faye stared into the shadows, looking for the other dog’s master but, try as she might, she couldn’t see anybody.
‘Hello?’ But there was no reply. She stood there for a few minutes, feeling slightly apprehensive, wondering if he would suddenly appear. She felt sure it had to be him, the farmer, but what if it was a stranger? Here she was all alone in a dark wood. Her sense of elation began to dwindle. Then, finally, a not so distant double whistle sounded and one pair of bright eyes disappeared like a shot. As the noise of his paws in the leaves receded, Faye looked down at the remaining dark shape on the ground before her, reassured that the whistle had belonged to the man she had met earlier, but she was puzzled.
‘That was a bit strange, Marlon. I wonder what that was all about.’ Pretty clearly the man wasn’t interested in talking to her and, although it was a bit weird, that suited her just fine. He was a man, a handsome one as well, and, as such, she knew she was not interested in the slightest. She addressed the dog once more. ‘So, why should I care?’
For a moment, she had the distinct impression that one of the eyes winked at her again, but she could have been mistaken.
