A French Affair (24 page)

‘Of course not! You know me. Discretion is my middle name!’

‘Actually, your middle name is Maud, and I’d rather you left it to me to tell Mum and Dad.’

‘Oh, OK, spoilsport. But hey! Just imagine! France!’ Sally went on excitedly. ‘Some darling little hotel with shutters and a smelly shower and croissants for breakfast! The
perfect setting for a first time. So sensible of you to wait. Was he cool with that?’

‘Um – not actually the first time . . .’

Gina held her phone away from her ear while Sally screeched her excitement. ‘Even better,’ said Sally after she’d calmed down. ‘First times are always crap.’

Gina didn’t comment. Her first time with Matthew had been anything but crap. She hugged the memories of last night to her before changing the subject. ‘So, what have you been up to? Anything new to tell me?’

‘Well, not on a level of what you’ve just told me, no. And we did see each other the other day. But I have made some lovely cushions with some fabric I got at a car-boot sale.’

GINA AND MATTHEW
were going to France in three days’ time. They were not going in the Transit van Matthew usually hired for his trips and as Gina had expected, given he had furniture to bring back. They were flying and Matthew would arrange transport for the furniture, after he had checked on the restoration. While this seemed a bit extravagant, Gina didn’t complain. It would have been a very long drive, Matthew explained, and would mean him being away from the centre far longer than really necessary. Nicholas would be paying for the furniture to be shipped, after all.

As Gina waited for Matthew to pick her up and take her to the airport she felt she had never been so happy in her entire life. The man she loved was taking her away on a holiday where he would make love to her, take her on romantic walks, to French antique markets and wonderful little restaurants known only to the locals. It would be absolute bliss.

And even though Matthew’s idea of the right time to arrive at an airport wasn’t quite the same as hers she was able to reason that he’d done this journey hundreds of
times and anyway it would be his fault if they were late so she could relax.

She’d packed and dressed carefully, hearing Sally condemning some of her initial choices as ‘corporate’ in her head. Thus she ended up packing a couple of jersey maxi dresses, an old but still lovely silk dress with a selection of shrugs and cardigans in case as it was still so early in the year, a couple of pairs of jeans with a choice of tops and – after a bit of internet panic buying – a bright yellow raincoat that would be perfect to travel in and could never be described as corporate. She’d managed to reassure Sally that she didn’t need to come over and inspect her suitcase.

‘Good morning!’ he said softly when she opened the door to him.

‘Hello!’ she whispered back after a very satisfying kiss. ‘This is so exciting!’ Then she remembered it wasn’t quite so exciting for him and hoped she hadn’t sounded childish.

The smile he responded with reached every part of his face, from his dark eyes with crinkly corners and long lashes to his generous, slightly crooked mouth and straight teeth. Gina felt the sun had come out just for her. ‘Let me take your bag. Oh, you travel light!’

‘I thought I might not travel quite so light on the way home. I’ve left room for some French bits and pieces. You know, now I’m an expert and all that.’

He chuckled. ‘Anything big you can have put in with Nicholas’s stuff. That’s what I’ll do with anything that I might buy.’

Gina locked her front door, turning away from him so he wouldn’t see her blush. For a moment she had forgotten that for him buying things in France didn’t mean squashing
some knick-knacks into a suitcase – it probably meant large pieces of furniture.

As they drove through the countryside on the way to Bristol Gina relaxed so she could enjoy every moment. She hadn’t asked any questions about where they would stay – she wanted it all to be a surprise – but she had fantasised about little French hotels with shutters, tables on the street with umbrellas, with a pâtisserie on every street corner. She realised it was not yet March and even in the Dordogne it wasn’t going to be baking hot, but she could dream.

‘It’s so strange it being so sunny but there being no leaves on the trees,’ said Gina. They had picked up a hire car and were driving out of the Bergerac airport. ‘I haven’t been to France for ages although I’m a Francophile. It’s so gorgeously French, isn’t it?’

‘Pretty much,’ he agreed with a glancing smile that made her stomach flip. Just for a moment she tried to work out if her feelings for him really were true love or just extreme lust. Then she decided that she couldn’t separate them out and that it didn’t matter anyway. Whatever it was, it was lovely.

‘So, what’s the plan?’ she said, having looked at the passing scenery with the pleasant sensation of being in a Cézanne painting. The sky was bright blue and the trees, bare of leaves, stood out against it like children’s drawings. The vines in the passing vineyards consisted of just one shoot, giving no inkling of the lushness that would follow later in the year.

‘Well, I thought we’d book into a nice hotel I know. It’s right in the centre of town but in the back you’d never
know that, it’s so quiet. There’s a pool, a lovely garden, everything you could want, really.’

Gina might have said she’d share a single bed in a brothel with him – if such a thing existed. It would look so needy. ‘It sounds perfect.’

He parked the car in a small street in the middle of the town. ‘There’s the hotel,’ he said, pointing up to what looked to Gina like a mansion.

‘Wow!’ she said. ‘Weirdly, it reminds me of the French House.’

‘Not weird at all. The French House is called that for a reason.’ He got out and opened her door for her. ‘Come on. Let me get your bag.’

Matthew opened the huge old front door and they went in. The reception area was a large hallway, well lit and beautifully decorated, and completed the French-chic picture.

A woman came out from behind the desk. ‘Ah! Matthew!’ She kissed him on both cheeks. ‘How delightful to see you again,’ she said with only a hint of a French accent. ‘And who is this? Should I be jealous?’ As she said this with a broad smile and kissed Gina with almost as much affection, Gina didn’t take this too seriously.

‘Gina, this is Céline, who owns this wonderful hotel. Céline, this is Gina, my . . .’ He paused for a moment. ‘My friend – and colleague.’ Gina tried not to feel disappointed he hadn’t said girlfriend, or, even better, lover, but she thought Céline would probably assume this.

‘Come in. Come in. The formalities we can deal with later. Let me show you your room.’

As Céline found keys Gina looked down the hallway. At the end she could see doors open on to a garden and beyond that a swimming pool.

‘Follow me, then when you’ve had time to freshen up, we can go in the garden. It’s time for a little glass of something.’

As they followed Céline up the stairs Gina reflected that it was still quite early in the day for little somethings, but then decided she was on French time and to just go with it.

When they reached the spacious landing Gina paused to look around her. ‘You do have some lovely things.’

‘Thank you,’ said Céline. ‘I have always been a collector and was lucky enough to inherit some good furniture from an old uncle. And Matthew found me some pieces also.
Voilà!
Your room,’ she went on, opening a door. She ushered them into a huge room with two tall windows. A splendid four-poster bed stood opposite, its height from the floor meaning that one would enjoy the view the moment one opened one’s eyes.

Gina stood still, not daring to look at Matthew. Was his room next door? She hoped not, but he might have booked two rooms, not knowing at the time how things might stand between them.

‘This is beautiful. And so large,’ said Gina.

Céline crossed the room and opened a door. ‘Here are the facilities. A bedroom is one thing, but no woman should ever have to share a bathroom with a man. However, this is a hotel.’ She sighed.

‘We’ll be fine,’ said Gina, smiling. So they were sharing a room.

‘Well,’ he said when they were alone. ‘Will this be all right? I did presume rather . . .’ he asked and took her into his arms.

‘Mm,’ she said into his shoulder. ‘Think so.’ She held
on to him tightly, hardly believing her luck. She was in France, in a beautiful boutique hotel with a man she was very much in love with.

A little later, after a very happy time, they both had a shower and as they were getting dressed, Gina said, ‘Tell me about the house.’

‘Well, it’s very old, obviously, and was in bad condition when Céline bought it. She’s done a great deal of work on it – a lot of it herself.’

‘Really? And is there a Mr Céline?’

Matthew shook his head. ‘No, she has a shit-hot lover instead.’

Gina giggled slightly, surprised at Matthew’s wording. ‘I love that. Tell me more about the house. It’s so beautiful!’

‘It was used as a hospital during the war and of course it’s haunted.’

Gina, who had, quite recently, believed in ghosts, knew that if she had Matthew in bed with her, she wouldn’t notice a complete skeleton and dangling chain, and even if she did, she wouldn’t care.

‘I do wish you wouldn’t look at me like that,’ he said.

‘Like what?’ she replied indignantly.

‘Oh, I think you know.’

Gina turned away to hide her smile.

‘Come on, you wanton woman, Céline will be wondering what’s happened to us. We’ll have a glass of something, then I’ll show you the sights.’

‘So where are you taking me?’ Gina asked a little later after a very pleasant drink with Céline in the hotel garden.

‘Saint-Émilion,’ said Matthew. ‘It’s a World Heritage Site, but if you don’t fancy that, we could just go for a walk. It is beautiful down by the river.’

‘I think I ought to see Saint-Émilion. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a World Heritage Site before.’

‘OK. Let’s go. You won’t regret it.’

Matthew didn’t so much park the car as stop it dead in the street. ‘It’s early in the season and there’s space so why not?’ He gave a shrug.

Gina observed that Matthew was becoming very Gallic all of a sudden but decided she liked it.

The little town was beautiful: steep cobbled streets, wonderful old houses perched where no house should manage to stay upright and tantalising glimpses of the hills beyond. They wandered slowly up the hill, investigating the little shops and enjoying the stunning views.

There were some amusing sights: lovely young women all dressed up in high heels who hadn’t been warned about the cobbles, shiny with thousands of years of use. Finding themselves unable to stay upright they were now either carrying their shoes or clinging on to their escorts – wonderfully endearing. Gina was glad she’d put on her sensible, brightly coloured pumps.

They passed some enchanting clothes shops, and stores that sold the sort of fabric you instantly wanted to redecorate your house for. Her own feet slipped sometimes but Matthew’s arm was firmly round her. She felt she was in a travel magazine.

‘Oh, macaroons.’ She drew to a halt outside a very enticing window with a bright pink and chocolate coloured awning. There were macaroons to match displayed in the window.

Matthew stopped beside her. ‘Shall we go in? They are a local speciality.’

‘They were invented by the nuns,’ said the beautiful girl behind the counter.

‘I must buy some. Maybe for Céline? She’s been so kind to us.’

Matthew shook his head. ‘Her guests often buy them for her. Do you know what she says?’

‘No.’

‘“I ’ate bloody macaroons!” he said, imitating Céline’s accent perfectly. Gina laughed and, having bought some macaroons for herself, they headed back up the hill.

They reached the church at the top and stood and admired the view. On the far hills were endless acres of vineyards but it was the roofs beneath them that fascinated Gina. They seemed to face every angle and with their stone tiles looked like a sophisticated patchwork quilt. If only she could have bottled this moment . . .

‘Come on, let’s have lunch,’ said Matthew, breaking into her reverie. ‘I know where to take you.’

Right in the middle of the square, the bar was surrounded by shops and cafés. Awnings and window boxes added brightness and beauty and it was a place Gina would happily have spent hours in.

‘What do you want to do now?’ he asked after they’d eaten.

Suddenly, a yawn she wasn’t expecting overcame her. ‘Well . . .’

‘We did get up early,’ said Matthew.

‘And a nap is always OK when you’re abroad.’

‘Do you know what the French for nap is?’

She shook her head.

‘
Sieste amoureuse
.’

‘Oh!’ Gina was impressed. ‘Fancy you knowing that!’

‘You’d be surprised at what I know.’

‘Not as surprised as I once was,’ she said.

‘Shall we test the breadth of my knowledge?’ He took her hand and his look made his intentions perfectly clear.

‘Very good idea. I’ll let you know if you pass.’

As they drove back to the hotel Gina found she couldn’t stop smiling.

‘
I’D LOVE TO
see a proper French market,’ said Gina the next morning as they left the hotel. She felt wonderfully decadent after breakfast in bed and a languorous morning.

They got into the car and he started the engine. ‘Brilliant idea. I know one that’s not far. It’s quite big, too.’

‘Excellent,’ said Gina and sighed happily.

It wasn’t long before they were turning into the slightly larger town where the market was.

‘Gosh, you really know your way around the area,’ Gina said a bit later after Matthew had dived up and down the back streets and found an impossible space to squeeze the car into.

‘I have been fairly often on buying trips. It’s always a bit tricky on market days but this will do us.’

Gina felt she was in heaven or was the star of the best sort of romantic film. Walking along a French street, hand in hand with the man she loved, all her cares left behind in England, had to be the most delightful situation a girl – or woman – could be in.