A French Affair (20 page)

Perhaps ‘gloomy’ was the wrong word – an unkind word. She could see now that there was a well of sadness in him, which he capped with dry humour and thoughtfulness, but which was always there, deep and occasionally overwhelming.

By the time he dropped her off at the end of the day she felt she could definitely count him as a friend. Annoyingly, for her anyway, he had people to see in the evening so she didn’t get the chance to find out if that flicker between them on Christmas Day had been real. Whilst he obviously enjoyed her company he probably didn’t want anything more, not while he was still suffering so from the fall-out from his marriage. One day, she told herself, when her silly crush on him had passed, his friendship would be special.

GINA WAS SITTING
at her desk pretending to work. She’d booked her flight for her visit to her parents and was now trying to interest herself in some filing. It was two weeks after Christmas and she was waiting for Matthew to call to make the final arrangements for the visit he’d promised her. In spite of herself, she was very excited about going to see his old friend. She kept her feelings from Sally though. ‘You know,’ she’d said, ‘he’s just taking me so he doesn’t look like Norman No Mates. It’s nothing remotely like a date. It’s two friends going to visit an old man.’

Fortunately Sally bought this. Much as Gina was upset by Sephie’s accident, she was pleased it had diverted Sally’s attention away from her and Matthew nicely. It had also stopped Sally speculating about his divorce, which she had done occasionally since the Christmas event, when Gina had told her what Anthea had said. Gina had not passed on any more details. Part of her longed to discuss her feelings for Matthew with her sister: they rarely kept anything from one another. But somehow it all felt too new, too tentative and too precious. Sally’s
Labrador-like enthusiasm, desperate to dissect every detail, could make it all vanish and send Gina back into no-men-for-me mode only too easily.

‘I’ll pick you up at about five,’ Matthew said when he rang. ‘We won’t stay for dinner.’

Gina was intrigued. She’d managed to tease a few more details out of Matthew: that it was a gorgeous old house and she’d love it; she’d love his friend, too. Apart from that he’d been frustratingly unforthcoming not wanting to spoil it for her. ‘Will he even offer dinner?’

‘He might, but it would be difficult for him. He has a man who looks after him – a cross between a butler and a carer, great bloke – but he doesn’t do catering.’

‘Five o’clock,’ said Gina. ‘So is that tea or drinks? And does “he” have a name?’

‘“He” does, it’s Nicholas. And it’ll be drinks probably but do you need to know?’

‘Of course,’ said Gina. ‘If it’s tea I’ll wear a tea gown!’

Matthew laughed.

Gina suppressed her
Downton Abbey
fantasies and wrapped up warmly. She wasn’t in the habit of visiting stately homes but her sketchy knowledge and imagination led her to feel they would not, unless owned by millionaires, be well heated. Thus she put on thick tights under her dress with a wrap-over cardi and her Uggs. Trousers would have been warmer but she knew old gentlemen tended to prefer young women in dresses.

When Matthew picked her up she still hadn’t got her coat on. He stood in her sitting room and looked at her. She tried not to feel she was being checked over.

‘Will I do?’ she asked a little tartly.

‘You will. You look delightful. Nicholas will be enchanted.’

Gina frowned slightly. ‘Do you want me to enchant Nicholas?’

He nodded. ‘I do, rather. I only took Yvette – my ex – to meet him once and it didn’t go well.’

‘Oh?’

‘She just didn’t get him. Consequently he didn’t get her. There was no point of contact.’

‘Did it matter to anyone?’ Gina was beginning to wonder if perhaps this Nicholas was like a father figure for Matthew and he felt he needed to get his approval before entering a new relationship.

Matthew shrugged. ‘Not really, I suppose. Anyway, get your coat. We don’t want to keep Nicholas waiting.’

As they got out on to the main road, Gina asked, ‘So, remind me, who is Nicholas, exactly?’

‘I told you he was an old friend of my father’s? Well, they met because Nicholas – who got out a lot more in those days – bought a sideboard from him and Dad delivered it. He lives in the most amazing house. Fairfield Manor.’

‘In what way amazing?’

‘Mostly because no one’s ever allowed in it. Well, none of the societies who have wanted to see it for years. It’s a lost gem –
the
lost gem almost – of Georgian architecture.’

‘Wow!’ She looked down at her outfit and wondered if a tea gown might have been appropriate after all.

‘Nicholas says he doesn’t want people ferreting around what is his home and exclaiming about the pedimented portico when they should be talking to him.’

Gina gulped. ‘I promise, I won’t mention it. I won’t even recognise it if it gets up and bites me.’

‘You would recognise it – will rather – and I think he’s slightly less defensive about it now. I think part of it is he likes to buy pieces that aren’t strictly in period. He says it’s ridiculous to imagine any house would only have one style of furniture in it.’ He frowned. ‘I think he said this to someone in The Georgian Group who was a purist and who disagreed. Nicholas felt he was being told off.’

‘I completely understand then. I hate being told off.’ She paused. ‘Has it all gone to rack and ruin, then?’

‘Oh no, it’s not lack of cash. Nicholas is very proud of his house really. And actually, all this was years ago. I think he might feel differently about it now.’

‘Which is why you’re bringing me?’

‘Oh no, he would always have wanted to meet you. He loves his pieces to be admired. He’s got some wonderful things – a lot of which my father found him, and some I did. He’s not ashamed of the house so I’m not entirely sure why he still won’t let people see it. Anyway, I thought you’d appreciate it, you’ve really taken to the antiques business. We’ll make a fine dealer of you yet.’ He smiled across at her and it felt like being given a medal. She was delighted he’d noticed her growing passion for the business and, whatever his reason for taking her today, she was thrilled he finally saw her as an equal.

‘Well, I feel very honoured to be invited. And more intrigued than ever,’ she said.

Matthew drew up in front of a house definitely big enough to be described as ‘stately’. There
was
a fine portico, Gina noted, with pillars and a triangular top
which she assumed was the pediment. The black-painted front door had a huge lion’s head knocker and generally the house had an air of grace and substance, not to mention history. Her excitement increased.

‘Bernard,’ said Matthew when the door had been opened by a man Gina assumed was Nicholas’s general factotum. He stepped aside and they entered as another man appeared, leaning on a stick.

‘Nicholas, hello. Let me introduce you to Gina Makepiece. She and her sister have taken over Rainey’s case at the centre.’

‘Good evening, my dear. How delightful!’ Nicholas slapped Matthew on the back, almost toppling over in the process. Matthew steadied him as Nicholas took Gina’s hand and kissed it. Wearing, among other things, a velvet jacket and monogrammed slippers, he was dressed for effect. ‘Come into the drawing room and have a glass of sherry.’

Gina found herself ushered into a beautifully decorated room that made her feel she was on the set of a costume drama. Palest blue walls were decorated with delicate plasterwork that reminded Gina of Wedgwood china or cake icing. She glanced up at the ceiling and saw more plaster mouldings depicting flowers, swags and garlands. She spotted a gathering of classical nymphs and shepherds in the middle.

What on earth was wrong with Matthew’s ex-wife that meant she wasn’t enchanted by Nicholas and his wonderful house? He might have been a bit of a showman and a flirt but he was lovely. And his house was heavenly. She tried, rather unsuccessfully, not to gawp.

Nicholas led her to a chair by the fire which crackled
merrily in a huge marble fireplace. ‘Now, what sort of sherry do you prefer?’ He indicated a silver tray with glasses and three decanters.

Gina was a bit stumped. ‘To be honest I don’t know anything about sherry but I’m sure I’ll like whatever you choose.’ She hoped she didn’t sound as if she was trying to suck up to him but sherry really was a bit of an unknown to her.

‘I think an amontillado then.’ He handed her a glass and waited while she sipped it. ‘Nice?’

‘Delicious!’

Nicholas poured more sherry and then they all sat down.

‘So, Nicholas,’ said Matthew, sitting back in his chair, glass in hand. ‘How have you been?’

‘Still creaking on. Mustn’t complain, gets damn boring. What about you?’

‘I’m well, thank you. I must tell you about a little French side table I came across the other day.’

‘Well, I’m not exactly short of side tables, God knows . . .’

Gina, fascinated by her surroundings, couldn’t focus on a discussion about furniture Nicholas might or might not want, and found her gaze drawn to the paintings.

Noticing this, Nicholas said, ‘Gina my dear, why don’t you take your sherry and have a wander round? Go through the double doors if you want – there are more things in there. Then Matthew and I can discuss my furniture needs and tear apart some joint acquaintances without boring you to death.’

Gina got up immediately. ‘Would that be all right? I’d love that.’

Nicholas had some amazing works of art, she decided, after circling the room and then going in to the second room. There was a very fine collection of porcelain displayed in a cabinet that she felt belonged in a museum, and another whole cabinet devoted to Chinese blue and white pottery. But it was the paintings that most fascinated her. Here her lack of knowledge didn’t matter, only her eye had to be satisfied.

Many were family portraits but there were also some lovely landscapes: views from the house from a much earlier period, a couple of little watercolours and views of classical ruins, which were possibly done by someone on the Grand Tour.

She drew to a halt in front of a full-length portrait of a young woman in evening dress. The woman had soft, light brown hair and was laughing, in a pose far less formal than in the other paintings. A group of spaniels gathered at her feet and behind her was a horse being led by a groom. Gina found herself wondering about her. Was the horse hers, or had it been put in because it balanced the painting? If she looked out of the window in daylight, could that view still be seen? She was still in front of the painting when Matthew and Nicholas joined her.

‘That’s Lady Mary, my grandmother,’ said Nicholas.

‘She’s very pretty,’ said Matthew.

‘She reminds me rather of Gina here.’ Nicholas scrutinised Gina for a moment or two. ‘Yes, the likeness is quite pronounced.’

Gina felt embarrassed. ‘I don’t know why that should be. We can’t be related.’

Matthew peered at her. ‘I do see what you mean, Nicholas. And it’s a lovely picture.’

‘Hmm.’ He stared at it for quite a bit longer. ‘Do you know? I think I’ve still got the dress. Gina, you should have it.’

‘No I shouldn’t!’ Gina said instantly. ‘It’s yours.’

‘Oh, do take it. It’s only mouldering away up there.’

‘I couldn’t possibly. It will be extremely valuable and I wouldn’t fit into it anyway.’ Gina hoped that this last protest would put an end to this embarrassing conversation.

It didn’t. Nicholas and Matthew both stared at her intently as if calculating her measurements and comparing them with those of the woman in the portrait. It made her even more uncomfortable. ‘I think you might,’ said Nicholas. ‘You’re only a slip of a thing and she was pregnant when the portrait was painted.’

It got worse and worse. ‘Now I wonder if I should take offence,’ said Gina, blushing.

‘Well, don’t do that,’ said Nicholas. ‘Have some more sherry. Or shall we move on to wine? I’ve got some very acceptable burgundy in the cellar. I’ll ask Bernard to bring it up.’

‘Well, that was one of the most enjoyable evenings I’ve ever had,’ said Gina as she and Matthew drove away.

‘Nothing to do with the fact that you and Nicholas sank a bottle of burgundy between you?’ said Matthew, smiling.

‘That is part of it, of course,’ said Gina, making sure she didn’t slur her words. ‘But it was just lovely. Nicholas is so funny and kind. And he knows so much about architecture and art and stuff.’

‘Well, he obviously took to you.’

Gina couldn’t tell if he was being disapproving or not.
She took a look to check. ‘He did rather ply me with alcohol. Only with no ulterior motive,’ she added, not wishing to imply criticism. She really had liked Nicholas. She paused. ‘I’m dying for a cup of tea.’

‘Before I drop you off—’ he said.

‘You won’t join me in a cuppa? I’ve got some biscuits and half a Christmas cake Sally made me take.’ She tried not to sound too eager.

‘I won’t, if you don’t mind, but I do want to ask you a massive favour.’

‘Oh! Ask away then.’ She wondered why he couldn’t stop for a quick cup of tea and if he was trying to avoid a full-of-potential moment alone with her.

‘Well, I told you, didn’t I, that I usually have Christmas with Jenny but that she had to go to relations this year?’

‘Mm.’ Gina was still fighting her disappointment. Was he worried she might try to jump on him the moment he was through the door? Had he been trying to put her off by telling her about his ex-wife?

‘Well, the relations in question can’t be left. It turns out they’re struggling to cope. I had a call from her this morning to tell me she can’t come back to the centre until she’s found a care home and has settled them into it. It might take weeks, months even.’

‘And?’ She had a hint where this was going now.

‘Well, you know she does an awful lot for me but what she does most and is the most important thing, of course, is look after Oscar when I’m away.’

Gina’s heart sank just a little. The thought of Oscar in her tiny cottage was daunting. ‘You want me to look after him?’