A French Affair (29 page)

‘I know it will be all right eventually,’ Gina said, ‘especially if I can find somewhere else for Carmella to go. Mostly we get on really, really, well; we’re there for each other. But now suddenly, when I really need her, she’s not.’

‘And you need her to help you with this Gilbert and Sullivan thing?’

‘Not so much practically but for support, you know? I’m not convinced that even if we charge a fortune, sell every ticket and really cram them in, we’ll raise enough.’

‘Have you thought of having an auction in the middle of the evening? Have a supper break, make sure they’ve had plenty to drink and you’d be surprised what people are willing to pay for things.’

‘Tell me more.’ Gina sat up, her enthusiasm beginning to return. Perhaps it wasn’t too ambitious after all.

Anthea flung out a hand. ‘Nothing to it. I’ve done loads of them. I’ll do it for you too if you want. You have to make sure the lots are really attractive gift items. You know, jewellery, sports memorabilia . . .’

‘I’ve got you. And away days, and treats, like theatre tickets, helicopter trips, things like that.’ Gina’s enthusiasm dwindled again. ‘Only nothing we have to pay for.
I can probably drum up a few free items but not a whole auction’s worth.’

‘Why don’t you skip that part and just stick to selling things?’

Gina nodded. ‘I’ll think about it. But we’d definitely like the auction and it would be wonderful if you could do it for us.’ Matthew and Nicholas couldn’t possibly object, could they?

‘I’d be happy to,’ said Anthea. ‘And don’t worry about Sally. She loves you just as much as you love her. It’ll be sorted out soon, I’m sure.’

Gina wasn’t quite as sure as Anthea that she and Sally would sort out their issues. Nor was she certain of her welcome as she made her way up to the office to see Matthew at four.

‘Hi!’ she said breezily as she entered his office. ‘How are you?’

Matthew looked up, his expression customarily serious, but then he smiled. ‘Currently I’m fine. Just waiting for the other shoe to drop.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m just wondering if there’s anything else you want to tell me – confess, even.’

She laughed. ‘You are suspicious.’ But she realised to her relief he was teasing her again.

‘Hmm. Tea or a drink?’

‘Neither, thanks. I’ve just had tea with Anthea. Don’t let me stop you though.’

‘And what did Anthea have to say? I take it you didn’t just meet her for a gossip?’

It was now or never. ‘Never let it be said that I don’t
learn from my mistakes,’ she said. ‘Anthea suggested we have an auction in the middle of the evening. She said it would raise extra money.’ Gina looked as innocent as she could. ‘But I wondered how we’d source the right sort of stuff without spending more than we’d make.’

‘And what did Anthea think the right sort of stuff was?’ He was either deliberately ignoring her hint or genuinely didn’t realise what she was trying to get at.

‘Gifty things. Jewellery, memorabilia, the sort of things people might buy for their wives or girlfriends – or husbands, I suppose – if they’ve had a few glasses of champagne.’

‘I see. Tell me, Gina, how is this extravaganza going to make money? I get that we charge for tickets and the music is free – more or less. But you’ll have to feed people, give them champagne and all the extras or they won’t pay enough for the tickets. I don’t think a paying bar is appropriate.’

At least he was talking to her as if it was a viable proposition. That was a start. ‘Absolutely, I agree with you. Once people have paid for their vastly expensive ticket it will all be free. And of course we have to get caterers in. This isn’t the sort of thing we can do ourselves.’ She saw his expression change. ‘What?’

‘This probably isn’t useful at all but there’s a residential catering college not far away. Knowing you, you might be able to sweet-talk them into doing the catering more cheaply than professional caterers.’

Gina had her notebook out before she drew breath. This was even more promising – Matthew was actually giving her some help. She leant forward in her chair. ‘Address? I’ll get on to them. That could save loads of money. Thank
you for the heads-up.’ She could afford to be gracious now she no longer felt she was in the headmaster’s office about to be chastised.

Matthew looked at her. ‘I know you probably don’t believe it,’ he said wryly, ‘given that I live in the past and am a very negative person, but I am actually on your side in this, now I’m convinced that Nicholas really likes the idea.’ His self-mocking expression faded and once again his face became unreadable. ‘I’m touched that you want to help me so much but I’m sure you could devote your talents to a better cause.’

A better cause?
What did he think their time – their glorious, loving time – in France had meant to her? Had it meant nothing to him? No, that wasn’t possible; she wasn’t that poor a judge of people.

‘Matthew, I—’

His phone went and he stayed Gina with his hand. ‘Sorry I need to take this, I’m expecting a call.’ He answered then put his hand over the receiver. ‘Americans, I’ve got to plan a buying trip for them. Look, I’ll sort the items for the auction, don’t worry.’ He smiled and then returned to his call, ‘Hello, Bob, yes, just need the dates . . .’

Gina quietly left the room, went back to her car and drove home. Bloody phones! Yet again a call had interrupted a critical moment. If mobiles had never been invented she might have got to the bottom of what was going on in his head by now.

THE FOLLOWING MORNING,
she had just made an appointment to visit the principal of the catering college later that day when she had a call from Dan, her property-search contact.

‘Dan? That was quick! Surely you haven’t found somewhere already?’

‘Well, nothing is ever certain,’ said Dan, ‘but I think I may have found the perfect location. It’s not actually on the market yet, and it isn’t actually a shop.’

‘Oh Dan.’ This didn’t sound as if it was suitable at all.

‘Trust me. It’s got a change of use to become a commercial premises and the town is fantastic.’ He gave her a bit more detail and mentioned one of the larger claimants to the title ‘Queen of the Cotswolds’ – Middleford.

Gina gasped. It must be perfect after all. ‘That sounds amazing! Is there a link? I can’t wait to have a look.’

‘Not on the net yet. You could do a drive-by though and take some pictures on your phone. It’s a winner, I’m sure. I had a look at the French House and this is very similar. Same period, more or less, and a bit smaller but in a great position.’

‘I really hope you’re right.’ Gina was worried about the ‘bit smaller’ aspect.

‘I am right. I’m an expert.’ He gave her the address. ‘Now you go and take some pics and print them up on decent paper. I can email some details and a floor plan. This woman will bite your hand off for it.’

‘Can I put her in touch with you if she’s interested?’

‘Yup.’

When she’d disconnected she looked at Google Maps and found Middleford wasn’t far from the catering college. She could do her drive-by after her meeting. She noted that the town was far nearer the M4 than Cranmore-on-the-Green. It could indeed be a much more commercial prospect.

As she ate some toast for lunch she thought of ringing Sally. She hated them not speaking. But then she decided to check out the alternative premises first. If it was perfect and Carmella liked it she could say sorry to Sally and present the solution at the same time.

Matthew had phoned to say he was going to be away for a few days, at another antiques fair. She quelled the disappointment that he hadn’t asked her to go with him but she couldn’t spare the time anyway. She had too much to do.

She missed Matthew desperately, the way they’d been in France, but couldn’t see a way to bridge the gap. He had withdrawn from her – she didn’t know why – while she found her feelings had became stronger. She’d never felt this way about a man before – this aching yearning feeling, and it was pathetic. She’d been self-sufficient all these years; she couldn’t let herself become a needy female now. Especially when she wasn’t sure if he’d retreated because it had been a brief fling he was now regretting,
or because he was so preoccupied and just couldn’t concentrate on more than one thing at a time, or even because he thought he wasn’t the right person for her. What was that he had said when they got back from France – something about not being a good prospect?

Her thoughts sped on. Was he letting her go ahead with this event just to humour her and Nicholas or did he really hope it would help him out? Was he desperate and therefore now willing to let someone else help him at last?
She just didn’t know
.

And it wasn’t that he wasn’t friendly, but their easy intimacy had gone. Until the Yvette issue was resolved, Gina felt they would never be free of her and her looming influence. She was casting an ominous shadow over both their lives and she hated it.

She shook herself mentally. She couldn’t answer all these questions while he was away, and she had work to do. At least Egan had returned her money, which was something. She realised just how low her own bank account had got. It would at least keep body and soul together if not her heart.

She went to her meeting with the catering college with her shoulders back and her negotiating skills sharper than ever. She came out an hour later hugely impressed, very pleased with the deal and with a contact for a local wine merchant.

But even with a truly fabulous venue and entertainment for nothing, the food and wine would have to be paid for even if nobody came. However, persuading people to come to events and bring their friends was what she was good at. She just had to keep the faith!

Three days later she had her phone in her hand, her finger hovering over a number. Then she pressed it and put the phone to her ear, waiting for it to be answered.

‘Is that Carmella Romera? Hello. It’s Gina Makepiece.’

There was a tiny pause and Gina pictured a perfect eyebrow rising in surprise – just as far as the Botox permitted. ‘Yes?’

‘I have something I’d like to talk to you about. Can we meet?’ She could be short and to the point too.

‘Is this about the French House?’ Carmella asked suspiciously.

‘No.’ It wasn’t, directly. ‘But I think you’ll be interested.’

The pause was longer this time. ‘Very well. If you can be at Le Bistro in town for about half past six, I’ll meet you there.’

And so here she was, walking up from the car park in her favourite silk dress, slightly unsteady in heels which weren’t designed for outdoor use, towards a brightly lit bar and restaurant. She could see Carmella by the bar from across the street.

‘Hi!’ she said as she came in.

It was only as she reached Carmella that she saw Egan. She cursed herself for not realising he’d be there. Of course he would! He was Carmella’s partner.

But she was the one who had something she needed them to agree to, so she smiled politely and hoisted herself on to a stool, pleased she managed to do so without flailing around for something to hold on to.

‘What can I get you?’ asked Egan. ‘We’re drinking Bellinis.’

‘How very Venetian of you!’ said Gina, forestalling Egan’s inevitable description of the drink. He always thought he knew more than anyone else did and it was intensely boring. ‘Just sparkling water for me.’ She smiled, determined to be completely detached and professional.

‘So, why have you called this meeting?’ asked Carmella. ‘You say it’s not about the French House?’

‘No. Nor scent bottles.’ Gina hooked her bag round and took out the file. ‘I have a property that might interest you.’ She held on to the file, ignoring Egan’s outstretched hand. This was nothing to do with him.

‘Why do you think I would be interested in property?’ asked Carmella. ‘I have my plans in place.’

Just as Gina had taken a breath to deliver her spiel, her drink arrived. She took a re-energising sip.

‘You’re a businesswoman,’ she began, ‘and while you obviously have artistic interests, you really want your business to be successful. For that to happen, you need the perfect venue.’

‘I have my venue and while nothing is perfect, it is the best available. And such a bargain price.’ Carmella’s eyes glittered in delight.

Gina took another sip to regroup. ‘Have a look at this.’

‘What is it?’ asked Egan.

‘The most desirable retail space in the country. Once you’ve looked at that you will think the French House isn’t quite as good as it seems – rather small rooms, difficult to alter because of its listing, not really near enough to London.’

She handed over her envelope and then tried to control her breathing.

It took Carmella an agonisingly long time to peruse
those few sheets of paper. Thanks to Dan, Gina had managed to get a fairly good description of the principal rooms, she had a floor plan and a list of other shops in the area. But there wasn’t a lot of material – not nearly enough, Gina felt.

‘Well,’ Carmella said eventually, just as Gina thought she would have to demand an answer or threaten her in some way. ‘It is a very lovely property and in many ways it would be just perfect.’

The ‘but’ hung in the air like a neon sign.

‘There’s just one teeny tiny problem—’

‘I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be sorted,’ said Gina, all her PR positivity to the fore.

‘I doubt if you can do anything about it being leasehold,’ said Carmella.

‘But why is that a problem?’ Gina was baffled. ‘It’s a ninety-nine-year lease or something.’

Carmella shook her head. ‘I only ever buy freehold.’

Gina made a mental note to see if it was possible to turn a property that was leasehold into one that was freehold, but she wasn’t optimistic. It would probably have needed to happen ninety-nine years previously.

‘It is such a beautiful building,’ she said out loud, trying not to sound desperate. ‘It makes the French House seem so – so ordinary!’ She had picked the word deliberately and saw Carmella react to it. To one with such a sense of style as Carmella it was a damning description. Mentally she crossed her fingers. It had to work. So much depended on it. Not least, her relationship with Sally.