A French Affair (25 page)

‘This market sells everything,’ he said as they approached
row upon row of awnings. ‘And, as you see, is fairly enormous. Shall we do the brocante first?’

‘Oh yes, there’s something about French junk – see, my French isn’t too bad – that is so much more glamorous than English, isn’t there?’

He laughed and pulled her close.

It occurred to Gina that she and Matthew had never gone looking at antiques together in this casual way before. Now, she didn’t feel she was being tested or had to prove knowledge she didn’t have, she could just browse and look at things she liked as well as a lot of things she didn’t. One stall sold a lot of medical apparatus for example.

‘I really don’t see who would want someone’s old prosthetic foot!’ she laughed. ‘Let alone the glass eyes. Do you think they’re used? Or new?’

‘New, I should imagine, although I don’t know. But there is a market for that sort of thing. Look at this case of surgeons’ instruments, for example. It’s beautifully made and the steel is first class.’

They were nearly at the end of the antiques bit of the market when they came across some small silver items.

There was a little swan that drew Gina’s attention. ‘Oh that’s pretty. What is it, do you think?’

Matthew picked it up. ‘It’s either a salt or a pepper shaker. It is nice.’

‘It’s dreadfully expensive,’ said Gina, catching sight of the label hanging round its neck and swiftly putting it back down again. She spotted some clothes hanging on a rail further into the market. ‘Do you mind if I look? You stay here if you want. I won’t be long.’

She was long enough to buy a couple of lovely linen dresses and a pair of espadrilles she’d seen in England
for twice the price, and she was pleased that she’d managed to do it all in French. She only hoped they had a halfway decent summer in England.

Matthew cruised up and took her arm. ‘So you’ve bought something?’

‘Yes. Amazing bargains. I’ll show you later.’

‘Good. And you didn’t need a translator?’

‘Oh no, GCSE French did the job.’

‘I think you deserve a drink. Come with me.’

He led her through the rows of clothes, amazing vats of food – some of which looked and smelt delicious, others that looked like steaming tubs of sewage that smelt of fish – to an indoor market.

‘What is that?’ asked Gina, failing to hide her distaste as they passed a particularly disgusting tub.

‘It’s called
lamproie à la bordelaise
. It’s a regional speciality. It’s lampreys – similar to an eel. It’s cooked in its own blood for about twenty-four hours. Only for the very brave.’

‘I certainly can’t imagine eating a surfeit of them like that bloke in Shakespeare did.’ She shuddered.

He kissed the top of her head and then led her into the covered part of the market.

‘Drink first, then you can look round,’ said Matthew firmly as she pulled on his arm, dazzled by arrays of fish, most of which she didn’t recognise.

He took her to a bar with three or four tables outside. Then he went to the counter. The woman behind it obviously knew him, or was a very fast worker, because she came out and embraced him warmly, kissing him on both cheeks. They chattered in French for a few seconds before Matthew drew the woman forward.

‘Gina? This is Monique – an old friend of mine.’

Gina accepted the woman’s warm embrace.

‘You are so pretty! Now sit, sit, I’ll bring snacks and, Mathieu, your favourite? Yes?’

‘Yes please, thank you, Monique.’

Monique appeared with little rounds of toast with something spread on them. Gina took one. It was delicious but she couldn’t decide what it was. ‘This is lovely, but what is it? It’s salty, slightly fishy but also creamy?’

‘That about sums it up. It’s smoked fish made into a sort of pâté. Monique has her own recipe.’

A couple of minutes later Monique came back with a tray. On it were two glasses of what looked like champagne. ‘Kir
à la châtaigne
,’ she said as she put them down and then glided over to the next table. The bar was obviously very popular and they’d been lucky to get a table.

‘What is it?’ asked Gina picking up her glass.

‘Try it and see if you can tell.’

Gina took a tentative sip and then smiled. ‘It’s delicious! Champagne but with something else?’

‘Not actual champagne – sparkling wine – and with
crème de châtaigne
– which is chestnut liqueur. Monique introduced me to it years ago and I always have it when I come here.’

The woman in her forced her to ask, ‘Did you ever come here with Yvette?’

He shook his head. ‘No, Yvette doesn’t quite get market bars like this.’

‘Her loss,’ said Gina happily and took another sip.

Matthew bought Gina another Kir
à la châtaigne
and then, having said goodbye to Monique, who now seemed like a long-lost friend, they explored the indoor market. The
enormous, strange fish, obscene-looking sausages and cuts of meat that looked quite different to what Gina was used to were absurdly exciting. Then they went outside and Matthew found Gina a hat which he put on her head and paid for. Then they walked back to the car.

‘I thought we’d have dinner within walking distance of the hotel.’ He looked at her with eyes that held a disturbing twinkle.

Gina blushed.

After a leisurely breakfast the following morning – the day of their departure – and which they ate on the little balcony outside their room, Matthew said, ‘I have to go and check on the pieces I’m having restored for Nicholas and if they’re OK – which I’m sure they will be – arrange transport. Do you want to come and meet Henri, who’s doing the work? Or would you rather relax here or explore the town?’

‘I’d like to come. As an antiques dealer I feel I should find out about restorers.’ Actually she didn’t want to spend a second away from him if she could avoid it, but she didn’t say so. He needn’t know everything.

He grinned. ‘Great!’ He put his arm round her shoulders, and kissed her.

Henri the restorer’s workshop was in a little back street in a nearby town. As Matthew parked with the panache she had come to expect, Gina noticed a little clothes shop with a very pretty dress in the window. She was in the mood to buy a pretty dress.

‘Can I meet you here in a little while?’ she asked. ‘I just want to pop into that shop.’

‘Sure. There’s a café a little further along, do you see it, with the red check tablecloths? I could meet you there.’

Gina nodded, kissed his cheek before she got out and sighed happily.

Three-quarters of an hour later, having had a cup of coffee and feeling she’d waited long enough for Matthew, she decided to head towards the restorer’s. Matthew had obviously got caught up. She hoped there wasn’t a problem.

The door to the workshop was ajar and she pushed it open.

It took her a moment or two to work out what she was seeing. Matthew was glaring at a woman who was looking back at him with narrowed eyes. Neither of them was speaking but they were both clearly furious, like two cats about to hiss and strike.

A little sound escaped her and they both turned.

‘Oh, Gina, it’s you,’ said Matthew. His face was thunderous.

The woman, who looked very French, said, ‘How do you do? I am Yvette, Matthew’s ex-wife.’ She sounded very Gallic too.

Gina didn’t know how to reply. ‘Hello,’ she said. She had to admit Yvette was very attractive in that well-groomed style Carmella had. She felt scruffy beside her but was confident Yvette no longer held any sway over Matthew – at least not romantically. Not judging by the look on his face now.

‘I have heard about you. You are the girl who took over Rainey’s spot? Now Rainey, she was a woman.’ Yvette laughed. It was a strangely deep laugh, at odds with her petite, rather girlish frame.

Gina nodded. ‘She was my aunt.’

‘Yes? Interesting.’ Yvette’s look said ‘unlikely’. ‘Now,’ she went on. ‘I must go. Henri . . .’ She broke into rapid French. Henri nodded and murmured and at last she stopped. ‘Matthew? I have told you how things are. Goodbye!’

She swept out of the workshop, the picture of elegance in silk trousers, blouse and chunky gold jewellery.

Matthew said something to Henri in French and then, taking her elbow, ushered Gina out of the workshop. She realised things must be bad because he’d forgotten to introduce her.

They got into the car and still Matthew hadn’t said anything. Eventually, after they’d driven for a few minutes, Gina asked, ‘Were you expecting to see Yvette there?’ She wanted to ask much more but hoped he would tell her unprompted.

He growled. ‘No, but I told her about Henri so I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised.’

Another few kilometres passed. ‘Things didn’t go well between you then?’ she prompted.

‘You could say that.’

Gina was dying by inches from the desperate need to know what was going on. She waited until she couldn’t bear it any more. ‘Tell me what she said then. Please. I’d like to know. It’s obviously upset you.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s not your problem.’

This was at once hurtful and deeply frustrating. ‘Yes it is. We’re in this together. And I hate seeing you like this. Please tell me,’ she added gently.

‘It’s not your problem. This is something only I can sort out.’

It was so typical of Matthew to feel he had to take on all the burdens alone. ‘If you have to sell the French House we’ll all be affected,’ she said quietly.

‘In which case, you’re all affected. I do have to sell it.’ Matthew looked and sounded as forbidding and distant as the day she’d first met him.

Gina took time to breathe. Getting cross with Matthew or even Yvette would not help. ‘OK. When?’

‘As soon as possible.’

‘Matthew, could we stop? We need to talk about this properly. You’re too angry to drive right now.’

‘OK.’ He stopped at a viewing point and pulled on the handbrake. ‘Right. What do you want to say to me?’

Gina decided to be blunt. Pussy-footing round the issue wouldn’t help. ‘How much do you owe Yvette?’

‘It makes no difference. I need to pay her. If I don’t sell the house voluntarily she’ll sell it over my head.’ He paused. ‘All our heads.’

‘Is there anything legal that says you have to sell the house? Or do you just have to pay Yvette half the value of it?’ She remembered what Egan had intimated.

‘No, I only have to sell it because there’s no other way of raising the money. I’ve sold my own home, cashed in my pension. The house is all I have left.’

‘Do you mind me asking how much you owe? I mean it seems mad to sell the house, which must be worth over a million, surely, to raise twenty quid.’

‘Thirty thousand pounds. A bit more than twenty quid.’

Gina’s spirits lifted slightly. ‘Yes, but not a fortune. Surely to goodness we can raise that without selling the house.’ A second later she regretted speaking without thinking. Of course he’d done everything he could. The
house was the last resort, which was why he thought he had to sell it. ‘I’m sorry.’ She put her hand on his. ‘That was horrendously tactless.’ She paused. ‘But you’ve got me on the case now. I’m a PR girl. I work miracles for a living.’

‘Is that what they do? I’ve often wondered.’

Gina was so used to having her work dismissed she was only slightly offended. ‘Come on, fair’s fair. Think how much more business we’ve done since I’ve been here.’

‘That’s true. Having you and Sally involved has added a lot.’

She was touched. ‘And I’m still involved. I think we could raise the money without selling the house.’

‘So you say, but I don’t see how.’

Gina thought frantically for an idea. ‘I’ll come up with something, you’ll see. And Sally’s brilliant at these things too. We’ll sort it! It will be hard work but anything is possible.’

‘But why should you work hard to save the centre? You could take Rainey’s stuff – your stuff – to another centre and do just as well. Better possibly.’

In spite of all they’d shared she didn’t think she could just tell him the reason was because she was in love with him and would donate a kidney to him if he needed one, without thinking twice.

‘OK,’ she said, in PR-girl mode. ‘Well, for one reason, I don’t want you to have to give in to blackmail. Two, I do think it’s an amount we could raise. Three, think of all the dealers who might not find other outlets – or bother to look for one – who’ve been here since your father’s time. We – you – can’t just abandon them.’

He nodded. Weariness was etched on to his face. ‘It’s
because of them I haven’t sold the centre already. You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, Gina. I have tried very hard to raise money.
Very
hard – so you must forgive me if I’ve no confidence left. Yvette has the law on her side; she’s entitled to the money.’

‘But you haven’t had me on the case, as I said. Trust me, we can do this.’ She paused. ‘How long have we got?’

He looked at her blankly. ‘Two months.’

‘
DO YOU MIND
if we go to the French House first? There’s something I need to pick up and then I’ve got someone to see near you.’

They were on their way back from the airport after an almost silent journey. For once Gina hadn’t been able to think of a solution to this problem immediately: how to raise thirty thousand pounds in two months. And Matthew had barely registered her, let alone touched her. After he’d told her about his predicament, he seemed to shut down. A couple of times she tried to lighten the mood but to no avail. Eventually she felt the best thing to do was leave him alone. Where was the loving, romantic man she’d spent three glorious days with? Had he gone forever?

‘Can’t you even stop for a cup of tea before you have to go back to work?’ She tried again to lift the gloom that had settled on both of them.

He gave her a brief smile. ‘We can certainly have a cup of tea but if I’m going in that direction, it seems silly not to deliver that little table. Saves fuel.’

He sounded friendly enough but to Gina it felt as if he was saying, ‘Don’t think we can go back to the shagging
at every opportunity we’ve been doing in France,’ only more politely. She felt like someone had thrown a bucket of water over her.