A French Affair (3 page)

Her sister regarded her through narrowed eyes. Sally, in spite of being short of both money and time, was both
in love with her husband and happy, and she wanted everyone else to be happy too. She felt the only way was through the love of a good man, but before she could launch into her well-honed speech about success in business meaning nothing if you had no one to share it with, Gina said, ‘So, Matthew’s read the letter now and we haven’t. I hope that doesn’t put us at a disadvantage.’

‘I don’t suppose it will,’ said Sally, retrieving yet another hair-slide, from the floor this time. ‘After all, Aunt Rainey wouldn’t leave something in her will to a stranger when she had us.’

‘She was eccentric,’ said Gina. ‘Maybe she would.’

Sally shook her head. ‘She did live in France a lot in the sixties and dye her hair well past the age when orange was a good colour for her, but she had all her marbles. That’s why Dad got almost everything and we got mysterious letters.’ She glanced at Gina. ‘And an intro to Matthew at the same time.’

Gina didn’t rise to the bait. She got up and retrieved her coat from the back of her chair. ‘Well, we’d better get going. I want to get home before it’s dark. Spooky country roads and all that. Besides, the parents will be dying to know what went on today. I’ll ring them.’

‘I’m not sure they’ll be all that interested,’ said Sally, who had never forgiven her parents for moving to Spain just when she became pregnant.

Gina, who had also felt a bit let down at the time, nodded. ‘I’ll tell them anyway.’

The little girls stared out of the window singing to themselves on the journey home. Gina and Sally didn’t talk much. Gina was thinking about the chaos that was currently her home and wondering which bit she
should tackle first. Sally had a vacant expression on her face. Gina knew from experience she was probably working away at something in her head and briefly envied her for being an artist. Gina loved her work as a freelance PR but public relations, although stimulating and creative in its way, lacked a decorative side. She felt this missing element far more than not having a boyfriend.

When they arrived at Sally’s house, Alaric carried his daughters inside while Sally made the usual offers of supper and a bed for the night.

‘Honestly, I must get back,’ Gina had to say at least three times. ‘I’ve just about got a path between my bed and the door but I should make a bit more space.’

‘You’re not going to do that this evening. Stay with us. Alaric can bath the girls and we’ll open a bottle of wine.’

‘Tempting though that sounds I must do something useful. That’s the trouble with being freelance, you don’t get time off in the same way. And I should do some unpacking. I’ll see you very soon.’ She started the car engine.

Her sister spoke through the open window. ‘At least we know one thing . . .’

‘What?’

‘My gaydar, which you know is impeccable, tells me he’s not gay! And before you ask, you know perfectly well who I’m talking about.’

Gina laughed and drove off, leaving her sister waving madly in front of the little cottage she had made a home. Gina couldn’t imagine why on earth her sister felt so sure Matthew Ballinger wasn’t gay. Just because he wasn’t camp didn’t mean a thing. Nor did the fact that he had a dog the size and colour of a donkey. He did run an
antiques centre, and even though she hadn’t looked that closely, all the bits and pieces in his office had looked well kept and lovingly arranged. Although, thinking about it, she remembered a rather dodgy china dog, all Chinesey, with huge, rolling eyes. Would a gay man put up with something so ugly in his work space? Maybe Sally had a point, but it was nothing to her. Gina had forsworn men.

MATTHEW RANG THE
following morning to ask if he could bring Oscar with him that evening.

‘Normally he’d be all right at home, or I’d leave him with Jenny, but she can’t have him and there are so many firework parties at this time of year. He hates bangs.’

As Gina had been sure when she’d heard his voice that he was going to cancel, she found herself saying, ‘Oh, that’s fine. Bring him. The girls aren’t going to be here after all. I’m not that keen on bangs either.’

‘Good. I will. Thank you. I’ll see you at eight then.’

Gina sat where she was for a few minutes after they had disconnected. What had Aunt Rainey been thinking of? What on earth had been going on in her mind when she wrote those letters and left the strange instructions with her solicitor? Was she, Gina, going to experience more life changes than she’d already taken on? And if so, was she up for it?

Gina went through to the sitting room which was also her office. The little cottage, though enchanting, didn’t have room for a separate work space. Her friend Dan, a property search consultant who had found her new home
for her, had been concerned about that, but she had reassured him that when the cupboard-cum-second bedroom was no longer full of stuff to unpack, she could move up there.

It was going to be tough setting up her business in an area where she only had one business contact. The first thing she’d done when she’d arrived the previous week was to get herself online and her post redirected.

Her client would pay the bills for a month or so but would not cover anything extra. She had to find some more work as soon as possible. At least as a public-relations person who specialised in marketing she had plenty of ideas as to how to do that, and she decided a leaflet was the answer. When times were hard it was more important than ever to make sure your name was out there, and she would do this by getting her leaflet to every business in the surrounding area. Later that day, when she was at last happy with her copy, she looked up a local printer and drove over to see him.

Sally arrived at quarter past seven that evening, laden with baskets and boxes.

‘This is so you can do a makeover on my house?’ asked Gina while she and Sally were still kissing each other hello.

‘I know you’ve only just moved in and won’t have had time to do anything to make this place anything like a proper home. I’m just here to help.’ She looked around critically.

‘I’ve been frantic all day working!’ said Gina, wishing she didn’t sound as if she was apologising for attending to the practicalities of life and not the aesthetics.

People meeting the sisters for the first time often assumed that Gina was the stronger character, but now she surrendered to the soft and scented bulldozer that was her sister on a mission.

Gina moved boxes, found chairs and rugs and generally assisted as Sally performed the sort of miracle usually seen on television with a staff of thousands and a celebrity to help.

By ten to eight Gina slumped in the only armchair and looked about her. ‘Wow!’ she said.

‘Hmm, not too bad, given I didn’t have long,’ said Sally, looking around her with a satisfied-bordering-on-smug expression.

Tea lights glowed on every surface. A rug lay in front of the fireplace and Gina’s work area was covered with a deep red cloth studied with tiny mirrors which reflected the candlelight. What had been a desk looked like a cross between a dresser and a shrine. The papers were in a box Sally had converted into a filing tray; the computer had been relegated to the bedroom.

Gina’s pillows had been wrapped in more red tablecloths – a student trip to India meant Sally had dozens of these – so the sofa and armchair looked deeply inviting. There was a bunch of Michaelmas daisies and Japanese anenomes from Sally’s garden on the windowsill as well as more tea lights.

Sally twitched a cushion. ‘Looks OK, doesn’t it?’

‘Frankly I think it looks like a bordello, but a very cosy one,’ said Gina.

‘Now all you need is a fire. Does the fireplace work?’ said Sally, ignoring Gina’s comment.

‘Yes, and the landlady had the chimney swept.’ She
paused. ‘But it’s not that cold and the heating works OK. Do we really need a fire?’

‘It’ll make the place look more welcoming,’ said Sally, rummaging in the only basket not yet empty. ‘Matches, matches, come to Mummy.’ She looked at her sister impatiently. ‘Now find some glasses, do. I’ve brought wine.’ Sally was setting the scene and it had to be perfect.

Gina found the glasses and a cloth to polish them with in case they were dusty after the move. She didn’t bother to protest that it was a business meeting and not a party because she knew Sally wouldn’t listen. As far as Sally was concerned, where there was more than one person gathered together it was a celebration, the space had to look pretty and if it was after six o’clock there had to be wine. She had inherited their mother’s gift for hospitality. Gina hadn’t to the same extent; although she liked people to be comfortable and for the place to be tidy, she couldn’t dress a room quite as well as Sally could.

Once Sally had the makings, including candle ends, newspaper and kindling, she looked up at her sister. ‘OK, over to you. Light the fire.’

Gina smiled as she knelt on the hearthrug. Her sister could do the pretty bits but Gina could get a fire going quicker than anyone.

When the wood Sally had brought had caught and the fire was going nicely, Sally gave her sister a critical inspection. Gina was wearing jeans and jumper.

‘This is fine,’ said Gina, brushing bits of stick off herself. ‘The jeans are clean, the jumper is newish and I’ve put mascara on. Look.’ She batted her eyelashes to demonstrate. ‘If I put any more on he’ll think I’m weird. I wasn’t wearing any make-up when we first met.’

‘I know,’ said Sally grimly. ‘You never do. You are thirty, you know, maybe it’s time to stop relying on your wonderful natural complexion.’

Suddenly worried, Gina peered into the mirror. ‘Do I look old?’

‘Of course not. Anyway, you look great in candlelight. Now let me just have a final check that everything is perfect . . .’

By the time there was a knock on the door, a little after eight, the cottage looked cosier than it had for years and certainly since the short time Gina had lived in it. Even by Sally’s high standards it was extremely pretty and inviting.

In the flurry to create the perfect
Country Living
effect Gina had forgotten to mention Oscar. She’d forgotten about him herself until she opened the door. Fortunately Sally managed to stop herself imitating her daughters as Oscar loped into the cottage; she kept her exclamation down to a small squeak.

‘Matthew, welcome,’ said Gina, to give her sister time to breathe deeply. ‘Sally has insisted on making the cottage look dressed for a party, not a meeting, so I hope you’re up for a glass of wine.’

Oscar, not waiting for an invitation, flung himself in front of the fire, thus taking up most of the floor space.

‘Thank you, that would be nice,’ Matthew said.

‘Why is your dog so big?’ Gina heard Sally ask as she went into the kitchen to fetch the drinks.

As she came back in again she heard Matthew reply, ‘Because he’s mostly Irish wolfhound and big is how they come. And although he’s huge, he’s terrified of bangs. It
makes it difficult to leave him alone at this time of year, with firework parties going on at all times.’

‘Oh I see!’ said Sally, softening somewhat.

Gina handed him a glass of wine and then one to Sally, who was sitting in the armchair with her feet curled under her. Spiders made Gina do that, not dogs the size of hearthrugs.

‘So what’s the rest of him?’ asked Gina, having seated herself on the kitchen chair. She didn’t feel she knew Matthew well enough to sit next to him on the sofa.

‘He’s technically a lurcher,’ said Matthew, ‘but he’s mostly wolfhound, which makes him largely unsuitable for lurcher-like activities.’

‘Largely is about right,’ said Gina. ‘And I’m not going to ask about lurcher-like activities because I’m sure I don’t want to know – but he’s lovely,’ she added, suddenly realising she did like him. He was a gentle giant. Matthew was certainly a giant – he and Oscar took up most of the room – but was he gentle, like his dog? She dismissed the thought swiftly. He certainly seemed less imposing than he had in his office.

‘Oscar dearly loves a good fire,’ said Matthew. ‘It was kind of you to light one.’ He was perched on the edge of the sofa, as if he wanted to make a quick getaway.

‘That was Sally’s idea actually. She said it made the place cosier. I felt it might be a bit hot.’

‘We can always open a window,’ said Sally, who seemed to have summoned up enough courage to put her feet on the floor now.

‘So what about Aunt Rainey’s letter?’ said Gina, who was feeling more and more anxious. She had forgotten her sister was afraid of dogs and felt guilty for inflicting
such a big one on her. And Matthew seemed ill at ease too. In fact, only Oscar seemed remotely comfortable.

‘I took the liberty of taking photocopies so we’ve all got one.’ He handed the girls a piece of paper each.

They both studied them for a few seconds.

‘Actually,’ said Gina. ‘I can’t read in this light.’ She looked at Sally, knowing she would hate it if Gina ruined the effect by turning on the overhead lamp.

‘Nor can I,’ said Sally, ‘but Matthew, you’re near the lamp. You read it aloud. It’ll go in better that way anyway.’

‘OK,’ he said, and began. ‘“My dears . . .”’ He looked up, making it clear he would never use an expression like that.

‘You’re probably wondering what this is all about. Let’s just say I’m a meddling old woman but indulge me! I want my lovely nieces to discover the joy of the antiques business. Some people call it “the Disease” but it’s such a delightful one, I have no qualms in infecting others with it. So, I’m giving the girls £500 to start off with and I’d like you, Matthew, to take them on, let them have my space and what’s left of my stock, guide them through the first tricky months and if you make a profit within four months, you will all get a bit more money. Have fun!’

Matthew stopped reading and looked at them both.

‘Go on,’ said Sally.

‘That’s it. That’s all it says,’ said Matthew.

For a few moments, the only sound to be heard in the room was Oscar’s gentle snores and the crackling of the fire.