A French Affair (2 page)

‘In the sticks? Missing being able to get a good curry?’ Sally had never before acknowledged a single downside. Was she now feeling responsible for her sister’s happiness?

‘We have a truly brilliant balti, but maybe you’ll miss the buzz? I hope not. I’m so thrilled that you moved. We all are.’

‘Not just so I can babysit?’

‘Of course not! As if.’

Gina chuckled. She loved her nieces and although she found them fairly exhausting she always liked spending time with them. ‘I think I am a country girl at heart and it is so much cheaper renting here than in London.’ She paused. ‘But no matchmaking, you hear? If ever there comes a time when I think I might be ready for another relationship – say in about ten years—’

‘When you’ll be forty, nearly past child-bearing.’

‘—I’ll either let you know or go on the internet.’

‘That’s so unromantic!’

‘Good. I’ve had it with romance.’

‘You haven’t really. Everyone has a romantic side, they just don’t want to acknowledge it.’

Gina raised her eyebrows and tried not to smile. It was her sister who was the romantic. She herself was a hardbitten businesswoman who had a living to earn. She had absolutely no space for romance in her life, now or at any time in the future. Falling in love had been a disaster. From now on her head would rule her heart, and just to be sure, she’d avoid relationships altogether.

‘Now I know that you are never going near another man, is it safe to wonder what this Matthew Ballinger might be like?’ Sally continued. ‘Is he young or old? Same age as Aunt Rainey, do you think?’

‘He sounded middle-aged. And no, I couldn’t tell from his voice if he was married or single.’

‘I didn’t ask!’

‘Did Aunt Rainey ever talk about him? When she came to visit?’

Sally screwed up her face in thought. ‘Not that I can remember, but I had the babies and they took up most of the conversation, one way or another.’

‘I asked Dad on the phone if he knew anything about him. He didn’t. He did say that Rainey was prone to having younger men hanging round after her though.’

‘Perhaps he’s one of her young lovers.’ Sally sighed. ‘Maybe when I’m sixty-odd I’ll have young lovers.’

Gina laughed. ‘Not if Alaric is still around you won’t!’

Cranmore-on-the-Green was a Cotswold town known for its historic, picturesque buildings, antiques, tea shops and tourists. Now, on this bright, autumn day, it was bustling with people taking advantage of a few days of late sunshine.

Gina and Sally had found a huge car park seemingly miles from the town centre and, after a few minutes of struggle and ‘want to walk’, they managed to get both girls strapped into the double buggy. The little party then made its way through the crowds.

‘You’ve never been to the French House, have you?’ said Gina.

Sally shook her head. ‘No. Cranmore-on-the-Green doesn’t have a supermarket, so I don’t need to come very often, and there are so many antiques shops and centres I wouldn’t know it if I had seen it. I always send Alaric’s parents there for a little trip out when they stay. They love it. But I’ve got a little map so we should be able to find it quite easily.

‘It’s a shame he couldn’t have the girls,’ she went on, steering the buggy into the road to make way for a group of elderly women who had obviously had lunch in the pub and were now trying to find the coach park.

‘No, it’s good that he couldn’t,’ Gina said firmly. ‘He had to meet a client which might result in a good commission.’ Gina felt her artistic, romantic sister and brother-in-law needed to be a bit more businesslike and sometimes became over businesslike to compensate. She secretly thought of them as the Flopsy Bunnies, ‘improvident and cheerful’.

‘Yes, but not everyone likes children and we do want
this meeting to go well,’ said Sally, hefting the buggy back on to the pavement.

‘Oh come on. They’re adorable. Anyway, we’re only going to be five minutes, I expect. Here we are, the French House.’

‘Goodness!’ said Sally. They stared up at the building, which was old, stately and huge. It was different from the Georgian buildings on either side, the windows being closer together and taller. A curtain of Virginia creeper covered the walls with scarlet and a couple of slightly rusty brackets supported a sign proclaiming it was indeed
‘THE FRENCH HOUSE’.
A couple of bay trees in tubs stood on the front steps, which led to a pair of large double doors. The sign needed repainting and the bay trees had lost their original lollipop shape but to Gina the faint air of neglect made it look beautiful and romantic.

‘It sort of looks French, doesn’t it?’ said Sally.

Gina nodded. ‘I suppose it does.’

Sally sighed. ‘We’d better see if we can get the pushchair up the steps and through the door.’ The house didn’t look as if children ever went into it.

A bell jangled as they arrived in the entrance. Gina noticed there was quite a large hole in the carpet but the brass on the door was brightly polished. A pleasant-looking middle-aged woman came up to them. ‘Hello, I’m Jenny. Matthew is expecting you. Would you like me to mind the buggy? He’s upstairs.’

‘Thank you, that would be very kind,’ said Sally, after more introductions.

After some discussion about which twin wanted to go with Gina, they each picked up a golden-haired moppet
and followed Jenny up a grand-looking staircase. As Jenny knocked on one of the doors at the top of the stairs, Gina straightened her shoulders. She didn’t know what lay ahead but it was all a bit daunting.

MATTHEW BALLINGER STOOD
up from behind his enormous desk as the party entered, looking astonished and not at all happy as the tide of femininity swept into his office. He was very tall with dark eyes and hair to match. The hair needed cutting and the eyes seemed wary. For an instant he gave Gina the impression that he was an antique himself but then she realised this was crazy – he wasn’t even that old. It must have been because the room, which was not large and was crammed with furniture, looked like the set for a Dickens novel and made her think Matthew Ballinger should be wearing a high collar and tail coat. He cleared his throat.

Gina, feeling sorry for him, held out her free hand. ‘Hello! You must be wondering what on earth has happened. We’re Gina and Sally Makepiece – you’re expecting us. The girls – Persephone and Ariadne – are extras. They’re twins,’ she added, as if knowing this helped. And she’d stuck to their maiden name, Gina realised, wanting to keep things simple.

A look, which she interpreted as absolute horror masked by good manners, crossed his face. ‘Matthew Ballinger.
How do you do? Do sit down. I’ll find some more chairs.’ He was obviously well out of his comfort zone.

In spite of his reticence, Sally gave Gina several knowing looks while he was finding another chair. Her facial expressions and mouthings indicated she felt he was ‘gorgeous!’

Gina barely had time to roll her eyes and frown before the chair was produced. Her sister really was way out of order sometimes. Besides, a sort of saturnine cragginess didn’t always translate to ‘gorgeous’. Although, she had to admit – purely objectively – that he wasn’t bad-looking.

When Gina and Sally were seated, with Persephone and Ariadne on their knees, Matthew Ballinger retreated behind his desk. ‘Sorry, I wasn’t expecting so many of you.’

‘You don’t need to worry about the smaller versions,’ said Gina. ‘They’re only here for the outing.’

‘Couldn’t find anyone to look after them,’ said Sally apologetically, giving Persephone a hug.

‘Right, well,’ said their host, producing a file. ‘I’ve got a letter from your aunt’s solicitor which presumably is the same as the ones you’ve got? And then there’s the one we have to open together.’

‘Yes,’ said Gina, knowing if she’d been entrusted with a letter like that her curiosity would have got the better of her. She’d have at least put it up to the light. Sally would have had it over a steaming kettle in minutes. Perhaps Aunt Rainey had known that. How could he be so calm about it?

‘So, shall we open the letter then?’ said Sally after a few desperate seconds of waiting.

‘We might as well,’ Matthew said, producing the
envelope. He picked up a letter opener, slit the envelope with agonising precision and cast his glance down the page.

‘Oh dear,’ he said eventually. ‘It’s . . . it’s a bit complicated. Look, would you like a cup of tea or something?’

Gina and Sally looked at each other. Complicated? What did that mean?

‘We don’t need tea. We’d like to—’ said Gina.

‘I still think a drink would be best,’ Matthew interrupted, getting up and heading for the door. ‘I’ll see if there’s some squash for the children.’

‘Juice!’ said Sally. ‘They can’t drink squash. E numbers,’ she explained. ‘Makes them hyperactive.’

He shuddered visibly. ‘Jenny?’ he called down the stairs. ‘We couldn’t have some tea, could we? And some juice for the girls.’

‘Juice,’ said the twins, almost in unison. ‘Want juice!’

Gina wanted to press Matthew but he was looking so forbidding that she didn’t know where to start. Sally was distracted by the girls, who were getting visibly restless. Since her abilities as a mother included conjuring skills, she was able to produce a couple of rice cakes from her sleeve to placate them.

An old clock on the mantelpiece ticked loudly, slowing time with its measured pace. Something in the room seemed to sigh. Gina wondered if it had been her. It could have been the furniture.

At last the door opened and the Nice Lady they had met downstairs came in with a tray.

‘This is Jenny Duncan,’ said Matthew Ballinger. ‘She’s the backbone of the place.’

‘Oh, we’ve met, Matthew,’ said Jenny. ‘I have a pushchair the size of a family car in my cubby hole.’

The moment she spoke there was an eruption. Following the tea tray was what looked like a rather thin donkey. The girls began to scream.

Sally’s maternal instinct told her to lift Persephone up out of harm’s way but because of the size of the harm, it wasn’t possible. Gina, in charge of Ariadne, decided to carry her out of the room. She didn’t think she was in danger but the screaming was deafening her.

‘He won’t hurt you!’ said Matthew loudly but only just audibly. ‘It’s only Oscar.’

Then Oscar started to bark. The sound was so deep and terrible it seemed to come from the bowels of the earth. Gina hadn’t thought the girls could scream any harder but somehow they managed it.

‘Quiet!’ said the Voice of God, which turned out to be Matthew.

For a second or two there was silence. Oscar looked away, embarrassed, as if the bark had nothing to do with him. The girls, unaccustomed to being told what to do, especially by strangers, stopped screaming more from shock than obedience.

‘Jenny, if you wouldn’t mind removing the dog?’ said Matthew. ‘And you two,’ he said to Ariadne and Persephone, although Gina felt he was addressing her and Sally as much as he was the girls, ‘if you stop making such a noise we can get our business done quickly and efficiently and then we can all get out of here.’

As one, the girls began to weep, silently but wetly. Big fat tears slid down their cheeks from wide-open eyes. Gina remembered that Sally had always been able to do this as a child and wondered if it was a gift they’d inherited.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Sally. ‘I can’t concentrate while the children are so upset. We’ll have to do this another time.’

‘It shouldn’t take long,’ said Gina, who wanted to get it over with.

‘I think maybe Mrs – er – Sally is right,’ said Matthew. ‘Another time might be better. Maybe in the evening, when the children are asleep?’

‘Brilliant idea!’ said Sally. ‘Let’s meet at Gina’s house. Then if the children aren’t asleep, they won’t be my responsibility. Their dad can sort them out. Card, Gina!’

Gina was used to being the sister who was in charge. She felt in her pocket for a business card, glad she’d been organised enough to get them done immediately she moved. She handed one to Matthew. ‘It’s not far at all – only about twenty minutes away. How about tomorrow night? Sally, would that be OK with you?’

Matthew took the card and looked down at it. Just for a moment Gina wished it wasn’t quite so funky, but she was a PR person and she needed to present the right image. It just didn’t seem right this time, in such a dignified and old-fashioned setting.

‘Oh yes – but let’s get the girls out of here!’ Sally begged. The silent weeping was beginning to be audible. Gina knew from experience the screaming could start up again at any moment.

‘About eight suit?’ said Matthew.

Gina nodded. Ariadne had drawn breath for a shriek. As Oscar gave her a look of mild curiosity, Ariadne let rip. Gina ran out of the room with her charge. It was like being a moving car alarm, she thought.

A few minutes later, after a quick struggle with the
pushchair, Gina, Sally and the twins were outside the French House.

‘Quiet!’ said Gina, who had been impressed by how well this had worked on them before. The noise subsided. ‘I don’t know about you,’ she went on, ‘but given we can’t have a bottle of Pinot to help us recover, I’m going to need a bloody big pink cake!’

It took a little while, plus cake, ice creams and some sparkly hairgrips, before the party felt calm enough to discuss their recent experience.

‘I know the girls are a bit hysterical about dogs,’ said Sally, ‘but you must admit it was a giant.’

Gina nodded. Even she had felt unnerved when that monster had trotted in behind the tea tray.

‘And Matthew was hardly less terrifying,’ said Sally, whose talent for exaggeration had been enhanced by chocolate gateau.

‘I think he was just a bit overwhelmed by us all,’ said Gina. ‘He wasn’t expecting four of us and we did rather take over the place.’

‘Well, I think he’s a Mr Rochester: all dark and brooding.’

‘And sinister?’

‘Oh, not sinister!’ said Sally, affronted by the suggestion. ‘Mr Rochester was gorgeous, wasn’t he!’

‘Sweetie,’ Gina chuckled, ‘I know you’re really talking about Matthew here. But he’s an antiques dealer, which means he’s probably gay, or married. And even if he isn’t either, I’m still not interested. How many times do I have to tell you I’m taking a break from men? You wouldn’t push drinks on an alcoholic.’