A French Affair (21 page)

‘More than that—’

‘
There’s more? You have a flock of sheep you never told me about?’

He chuckled. ‘No, but there is a bloody great antiques centre that you know all about already.’

‘Sorry, I don’t get you.’

‘I’m asking if you’ll move into the centre and look after it, and Oscar, while I’m away in France on this buying trip.’

‘When?’

‘In about a fortnight.’

‘I told you I was staying with my parents for a while, didn’t I?’ Gina asked.

‘You did. Remind me when you’ll be back?’

‘At the end of the month. I don’t go over very often so when I do, I stay.’

‘I won’t need to go until the first week of February.’

Gina swallowed. ‘How long for?’

‘Two weeks tops.’

‘Where would I live in the centre?’

‘In my flat, of course. Is it asking too much?’

‘No, of course not,’ she said after frantically thinking of a good excuse to say no. ‘I don’t see a problem.’ This was no time to tell Matthew it wasn’t the problems she could see that were the issue – it was ghosts. The thought of sleeping alone in that huge old house, full of antiques, scared her witless. But if she admitted that, Matthew would utterly despise her. She realised she’d also half hoped he was going to suggest she came with him on his trip as ‘good experience’.

‘Thank you, Gina. I knew I could depend on you.’

Gina made a pathetic attempt to laugh cheerily. Why had she ever felt being ‘just good friends’ could ever be a good thing?

AFTER A LOVELY,
lazy time with her parents, Gina came back to England. The next day she set off early for the French House.

Matthew had left Oscar with one of the dealers on the morning Gina was due to arrive. He was leaving at the crack of dawn for the ferry.

Although he hadn’t mentioned it since, Gina couldn’t help remembering that Matthew was planning to visit his ex-wife to see if she’d be reasonable. As she put her case in Matthew’s bedroom she wondered if this would work.

If she were an ex-wife and the judge had said she was entitled to an amount of money but it meant her ex-husband was forced to cripple himself financially, would she hold him to it?

She decided that it would depend on why the marriage had broken up. If she’d felt sufficiently resentful she might take all that was due her, but otherwise? It was hard to tell. No one knew what went on inside someone else’s marriage. She then found herself worrying if Matthew still had feelings for Yvette. Maybe that was why he hadn’t made a move or given any indication that he’d like to
recently – he was perfectly friendly but that spark she was sure had been smouldering between them at Christmas seemed to have disappeared.

The more she thought about it the more she was certain that had her phone not rung he’d have taken her in his arms on Christmas night. And he hadn’t sounded like a man still in love when he’d spoken about Yvette – more a man beleaguered by an irritant he wanted to get rid of.

And thinking of irritants and exes, she set up her laptop on Matthew’s desk and sent Egan an email. It was something she’d meant to do ages ago but now she felt the time had come to get tough.

Dear Egan,

It’s been a while but I’m writing to ask you for the five thousand pounds you owe me. I hope I have given you enough time to find the money.

A cheque care of the French House would be the best way of getting the money to me.

Best, Gina

She made a cup of coffee feeling proud of herself. She suspected wounded pride and the ghastliness of what he’d spent the money on – other women – had held her back from asking before, but she was a lot stronger now.

She looked again at the long list Matthew had left her and smiled. He was very thorough, but it was very much a note one might leave one’s cleaner. Not even one ‘x’, she noticed with a pang.

Gina enjoyed her day at the centre, relishing being in charge even if it was only temporary. She chatted to the dealers when they weren’t busy, and entertained some
children so their parents felt free to browse and buy. She definitely felt the centre was busier – with both locals and tourists – than when she and Sally had first seen it and this was pleasing. Although she realised Matthew would have to sell an awful lot of antiques to finally be free of Yvette’s grasping hands. She sighed. Maybe on this trip he would find the piece that no one recognised as valuable and sell it for a fortune.

Harold handed Oscar into her care and she took him for a walk along the river. She found it more like holding someone’s hand than having a dog on the end of a leash, and she enjoyed it: she felt she was bonding with Oscar, which was surprising, considering he didn’t say much.

When it was time to close up and go upstairs to the flat she decided she was going to enjoy her time here. She’d tell Matthew so if he rang.

She cooked supper, cleared up and then settled on the ancient leather sofa to watch Matthew’s tiny television. It was only after she’d taken Oscar into the garden for a last wee and they were walking up through the empty house that she remembered her fears about being there on her own.

‘But I’ve got you, Oscar,’ she said aloud and then wished she hadn’t. Her voice in the building made it seem emptier than ever, especially when it had been fairly busy and noisy during the day.

She ran up to the flat and pushed open the door. She’d feel safe when she was there and Oscar was with her. He was taking longer to get up the stairs than she had, not being fuelled by the fight or flight instinct that had suddenly infected Gina.

It was a bit better once she was in the flat and the door
was closed but she couldn’t help thinking about the big empty space below her. She poured herself another glass of wine and switched the telly back on. Something soothing would help. Then she realised, after clicking every number she could find on the remote, that for some reason the signal in Matthew’s flat meant she could only get three channels; she had a choice between a gloomy documentary about the polar ice cap melting resulting in the end of the world – probably by next week – a terrifying Scandinavian crime thriller with sub-titles and a serial killer, and a programme about brides whose mothers were even scarier than the Swedish axe murderer.

Maybe an early night was a good idea. If she was asleep she couldn’t get frightened, could she? She wished Matthew were here – and not only so he could keep away any spirits that might be lurking in the shadows. She thought she’d enjoy being in his space with his things around her but in fact it just made her miss him more than ever.

Oscar was very good about having his rug dragged into the bedroom and lay down the moment he could. ‘OK, Oscar,’ she said. ‘I’m going to turn the light out now and go to sleep. I’ll be able to get up early to take you out.’

She wasn’t sure what woke her. It might have been the church clock which she could hear beginning to chime. She counted the dongs. Midnight. It was only midnight and here she was, all her sleepiness gone and the whole night ahead of her.

The she heard a thump. Something or someone had moved on the floor below. She stifled a scream, knowing she would scare herself even more if she screamed out loud.

‘Oscar, what should I do?’

Oscar barely raised his head. He’d obviously heard the bang and ignored it.

‘OK, I know what I have to do. I have to go down there. It is not like in a gothic novel. I’m going down to check everything is all right. And everything will be. This is real life. But, Oscar, you have to come with me.’

She put on her slippers and her dressing gown and then she found the torch Matthew had left for her.

Oscar was not inclined to follow her. He clearly wanted to go back to sleep.

‘I know you must think me dreadfully neurotic and a scaredy cat, but I can’t go down there alone. Sorry!’

She bent and held on to his collar, ready to pull him up if she had to. Fortunately he took the hint and got up on his own: she wouldn’t have been able to make him if he’d refused to move.

She turned on all the lights in the flat before she left and propped the door open so she could make a quick dash back if she had to. Quite what she was expecting to find she didn’t know, but doing nothing when there was a noise was not an option: Matthew was relying on her. She may be a complete wuss but she didn’t want Matthew knowing that.

Oscar groaned as she hung on to him as they went down the stairs. ‘Oh Osc. I’m sorry, but I need you.’

She let go of him once they’d reached the floor below and looked around using the torch. Then she decided the torch made everything seem a lot worse – like an episode of
Scooby Doo
, where there were always monsters. She went over to the light switch.

The room looked as it normally did. No animate
shadows or intruders. She saw nothing that could have woken her. Could the maker of the noise be hiding behind anything, waiting to knock her out and steal the antiques? Or break into the safe with all their takings? With the light on, with Oscar, evidently bored, this seemed fairly unlikely. Although if it was an intruder, she’d have to hope just the sight of Oscar would scare him – Oscar wouldn’t actually do anything. As a guard dog he was a very good chocolate teapot – useless, in other words.

Then she spotted the culprit. Over in the corner were some mechanical toys. She could see where a toy soldier with a coggly leg had knocked over a wooden ball – part of a set of skittles. It must have shifted slightly. The ball in turn had thumped on to the uncarpeted floor and woken her.

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’ she said to Oscar. Cross with herself for being so scared of a toy, she stomped across the room, put everything back in place, propped up the soldier’s leg more securely and, making sure that nothing would touch anything else, she then turned off the lights and went back upstairs to bed.

She was woken the next morning by Oscar’s beard in her face. He’d had a drink of water first, so as a waking mechanism it was extremely efficient.

‘Is it that time already?’ She wiped her face and looked at the clock. ‘Do you always wake at six? Or is it only when I’m looking after you?’

She got out of bed and put on her slippers and dressing gown. Then she took Oscar down to the garden. Matthew warned her that although it was very rare for him to have an accident, if he did, she would be dealing with absolute lakes of wee.

Later, when she’d opened up and got the coffee machine going so it would be there for the dealers who were due in that day, she saw a man come through the doorway.

Maybe she was still jumpy from the night before but Gina felt instantly that something was wrong. He didn’t look like a browser although she had learnt by this time that you couldn’t tell what people were like by their clothes or accent or bearing. And yet he gave her the creeps. She had just dismissed this feeling as a hangover from last night when he came up to her.

‘Good morning. I’ve come to value the premises.’

Gina stood stock still. Her mind was a whirling but she tried not to let this show. Matthew hadn’t mentioned anything about this. She was alone – what should she do?

‘Do you have the authority to do that?’ she asked, wishing she had the confidence to send him away.

He produced a sheaf of papers. Gina glanced down them. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t recognise any of the names on there. You’ll have to wait until Mr Ballinger is back at the beginning of next week.’ Gina was expecting him a bit sooner than that but if this man was authorised to value the place, Matthew would probably like some warning. Was he though? And who had authorised it? She felt sure Matthew couldn’t have done, not without telling her.

‘I’m acting under instruction from Mr Ballinger’s ex-wife. See? That’s her name here. If you check the deeds you’ll see her name on them.’

Gina frantically tried to think of something else she could do.

‘I don’t suppose the deeds are here. Doesn’t the building society usually hang on to them?’ Gina suggested.

‘Only if the property is mortgaged,’ said the man firmly, as if she was an idiot for not knowing this.

She sighed, knowing her broken night meant her brain wasn’t fizzing along as it should be.

‘Can you hang on while I ring Mr Ballinger to check? I’ll get you some coffee in a minute. The machine is on.’

‘You can ring if you like but it won’t make any difference. I have strict instructions.’

This was all she needed. She prayed one of the dealers would arrive soon. Bloody woman, Gina thought as she ran upstairs to the office so she could ring in private. Yvette had obviously waited until she knew Matthew wasn’t here to get all this done. Then again maybe Matthew had forgotten to tell her. Surely he wouldn’t do that? No, of course he wouldn’t. There was no reply from Matthew. She left a message, and then thought what to do. She didn’t want to leave the man alone for long, but she had to do everything she could.

Should she look for the deeds? The man was so confident he had the right to value the house, would finding them make any difference? She took a breath. A valuation didn’t necessarily mean it would automatically go on sale. Yvette was probably seeing how much value was in the property and how much more she could extract. She just had to keep calm.

Led by her own need she decided to sort the coffee out first, and then, with luck, someone else would be there to keep an eye on the man while she tried to find the deeds. She felt she had to do everything she could to stop Matthew being taken advantage of.

Bill Morrison was in by the time she got downstairs and the valuer had already got his electronic tape measure out and was making notes.

She took Bill by the arm. ‘Can you keep an eye on him while I get us all coffee? I’m sure he won’t steal anything but you never know.’

‘Who is he?’ asked Bill.

Suddenly aware that she couldn’t confide in Bill about the centre being threatened (Matthew might not want the others to know, never mind her) she said, ‘Oh, I think Matthew’s thinking of having new carpets or something. He told me to expect someone to measure up.’