A French Affair (30 page)

She caught movement from out of the corner of her eye. Had that grey, loping shape been Oscar? She didn’t know, and she had to concentrate on Carmella making the right
decision. Deliberately she relaxed her fingers – they were revealing her desperation.

‘No, I don’t think so,’ said Carmella decisively, shutting the file but holding on to it.

Throughout it all Egan had sat there quietly. It indicated clearly who was the dominant partner. It made things a bit easier. She wouldn’t have wanted to deal with two of them. She also was obscurely pleased to see Egan powerless again. Seeing him sitting passively on his stool underlined his utter irrelevance in her new life. She was – as she had been protesting for so long – finally over him.

‘I will keep these details if you don’t mind,’ Carmella went on, ‘in case by some remote chance I can’t buy the French House, but I don’t think anyone, with any sense of style at all, could refer to that fine old listed building as
ordinary
.’

Honesty forced Gina to agree. She nodded, deciding there was nothing to be gained by staying. She’d done her best. She shot out her arm and said, ‘Ooh, is that the time? Sorry. Got to go.’ She pulled her coat off the stool but didn’t take time to put it on.

She was out of the building before Carmella could notice she wasn’t actually wearing a watch. She hurried down the road, hampered by her heels, and as she rounded the corner she saw him. Matthew. So it had been Oscar she’d spotted. Matthew was looking in a shop window while Oscar sniffed. ‘Wait!’ she called, panting hard.

He turned. She ran up to him and put her hand on his arm. ‘So lovely to see you.’

‘Hey! Are you OK?’

‘Fine,’ she muttered. ‘Do you have a moment? Can I come home with you?’

‘
Of course,’ he said. ‘But put your coat on, do. You’ll get cold.’

She did this and then hooked her arm in his and, for the time it took them to reach the French House, all seemed right with the world.

But by the time they’d got upstairs and Gina was sitting hunched by the fire while Matthew fed Oscar, her recent failure dimmed her joy at being with Matthew again.

He handed her a glass of wine. ‘What’s up? What were you running away from?’ He frowned. ‘Not that bastard ex-boyfriend of yours again?’

‘No. He was there but this wasn’t to do with him.’ She thought for a moment. She’d better tell him. He’d told her never to go behind his back again. Did this qualify? ‘I went to meet Carmella. Egan was there too but he was irrelevant.’

‘And why were you meeting Carmella?’

She didn’t need to look at him to sense his disapproval. She suddenly had the feeling that he always thought the worst of her. Well, she wasn’t going to lie to him. ‘I was trying to convince her to buy another property instead of the French House.’ There, she’d said it.

‘Oh?’

Just a single syllable and he could condemn her.

‘I thought if she had another property Yvette wouldn’t nag her to buy the French House which might take the pressure off you a bit.’ Why did her genuine and perfectly logical efforts to help seem like interfering and busybodyish? Why did he make her feel she was in the wrong? If it hadn’t been for her, he’d probably have sold the French House weeks ago.

‘I can deal with my own pressure, thank you.’ He sounded clipped.

‘Really?’ Gina choked back anger that was mixed with tears. She was doing her very best to save his house. He didn’t seem to be doing much about it.

‘Yes. And what was the property?’

She gave him as many details as she could remember.

‘I know it,’ he said. ‘Not all that suitable, I wouldn’t have thought.’

Silently she cursed him for being so knowledgeable but then realised of course he would know all the important historic houses in the area. ‘I think it would make an excellent shop,’ she said, stubbornly. ‘Just what Carmella needs.’

‘I’m not saying it couldn’t be converted but if Carmella wants to be here, Middleford isn’t going to attract her.’

‘Why not? It’s handier for London and so should do far better trade.’

‘But I thought Sally wanted to supply Carmella?’

Gina frowned. ‘How do you know that?’

‘She came in when I was flying out of the door with my Americans.’

Gina felt a little relieved. She couldn’t bear the thought of Sally and Matthew talking about her.

‘She was checking on your cabinet. She told me she was better at creating new things really and hoped Carmella would sell them. If Carmella moved to Middleford, it would be quite a bit further for her to travel.’

Gina wanted to kick herself. She had been so thrilled that Dan had tracked down a property so quickly that she hadn’t thought about Sally needing somewhere near her home. And while Middleford probably had nurseries, it
wouldn’t work if Alaric had to drive miles to pick them up. She had been so stupid she just wanted to howl. ‘Sally and I aren’t speaking. Did she tell you that too?’

He frowned. ‘No. And why aren’t you?’

Gina sighed deeply. ‘I don’t want to go into it. I thought finding a property for Carmella might fix it but obviously not.’

‘You can’t solve all the problems of the world you know. It’s very sweet of you to try but—’

Gina hated to be patronised more than anything. ‘I know that. I’m leaving world peace and famine to the big boys. I’m just trying to tackle a failing business – because I care about it and the people who work in it.’

‘I deeply resent that. It’s not a failing business!’ He glared at her.

‘Not since I had anything to do with it, no.’ She got up and put down her wine glass still half full.

‘Gina, honestly, this really isn’t your problem.’

She didn’t dare answer. She was too angry. Couldn’t he see? Why must he throw her help back in her face each time? She thought she’d been making progress. ‘I’d better go. I’ve got a lot on tomorrow.’

‘That is probably for the best. I’ve a lot of paperwork I need to do.’

‘I’m sure.’ She buttoned up her coat which she hadn’t got round to taking off.

‘But I don’t want us to part on bad terms,’ he said, standing now. He reached out to take her hands but she folded them round her bag and stepped away.

‘We could get something to eat – start the evening again?’ he tried. But it was too late.

‘No. We’re both tired and busy. I’ll just go home.’

As she made her way out of the flat she willed him to follow her, to take her in his arms and kiss her until she forgot about Carmella, the row with her sister and the whole Fairfield Manor event, which was giving her so much work and was so high risk. But he didn’t.

She was in a comforting, candlelit bath when Nicholas rang her. God, what now? If he pulled out now it would be such a disaster not even she would be able to think of a way round it.

Fortunately he was in buoyant mood. ‘Dearest, I wonder if you could put me in touch with the director of music for our evening. I just want to make sure they have as much rehearsal time as they need. I’m rather thinking that if this is a success we could make it a regular event . . .’

Even though her bath was cold when she got back to it Gina felt her resolve return. Nicholas’s call had been just what she needed. She could do this; she’d show them all, most importantly Matthew. And she still wanted to marry Nicholas. He was so positive. If only everyone were like him, the world would be so much more fun!

GINA MADE AN
excuse to go and visit Nicholas the following morning. She told herself – and him – that it was to reassure him in person that all would be well. But she knew it was because he would cheer her up.

‘How lovely!’ Nicholas said when Bernard escorted her to where he was contemplating a large Spanish chest. ‘I need your advice. Do you think we should move this out of here?’

‘Absolutely not!’ The chest was enormous, probably worth the price of a large family car and would be very difficult to shift. ‘Why are you even contemplating doing so?’

Nicholas shrugged. ‘Well, most of the other things in here could be described loosely as chinoiserie and I thought it would be rather charming to have songs from
The Mikado
in here.’

Gina nodded, wondering just how much trouble she’d be in with Matthew if Nicholas started shifting extremely valuable antiques as if they were stage props. She’d get the full-blown lecture about heritage being ruined and a frail old man put in danger, never mind that Nicholas
knew his own mind and knew exactly what he wanted and how to get it. ‘But it looks lovely in here. It goes fine with everything else, there’s no need to move it.’

Nicholas nodded. ‘Good. I’m so glad I asked your opinion.’

But as he led her from room to room asking what she would suggest she realised she was a bit out of her depth. She was just contemplating a charming little window embrasure that Nicholas wanted a duet in when she had a thought. ‘The person we really need to help us with this is my sister.’

‘Oh? And is your sister handy?’

Gina laughed but without conviction. ‘Well, she’s not very far away but she has baggage – namely two small daughters. And worse than that, we’re currently not speaking.’

‘My dear!’ Nicholas was horrified. ‘And is this a common occurrence? Are you often at outs with her?’

Gina shook her head. ‘Never – hardly ever – and it’s horrible. I tried to put it right but couldn’t.’

‘You mean she didn’t accept your apology?’

‘No. I didn’t apologise, I just tried to take away the cause of the conflict.’ She sighed deeply. ‘We were both in the wrong, I suppose. It’s not that I mind saying sorry – even if I don’t believe it was my fault – but I don’t know how to start. Because we never quarrel, this is all new to me.’

‘If you don’t mind taking advice from an old man . . .’

‘I’d love advice,’ said Gina quickly, hoping this didn’t look as if she thought he was an old man and thereby causing offence.

Nicholas patted her arm. ‘Ask for her help. Tell her we
need her here. She’ll be flattered, I’m sure, and very willing to forgive anything you did wrong.’ He paused. ‘What did you do, exactly?’

Gina grimaced. ‘Doing, rather. I’m trying to stop the French House from being sold.’ Nicholas knew most of this, if not every detail. ‘She wants the person buying it to have it so she can work in the shop – and create objets d’art for it.’ She frowned. ‘I think that’s what you’d call them.’

‘Ah. I see your difficulty. You’re both in the right really. One of you will have to give up what you want because your needs conflict.’

Gina nodded. ‘It’s a lose-lose situation,’ she said, trying to sound lighthearted.

‘I still think my solution might work. Go forth and do your best.’

As Gina walked across the expanse of gravel to her car she couldn’t help feeling that Nicholas was enjoying the situation more and more. He did seem to be relishing his role as agony aunt. And he was certainly loving the thought of having his house, which he’d kept private for so long, thrown into the spotlight. Gina wondered how long it would be before it was featured in all the house-and-garden magazines with Nicholas lounging in a velvet jacket against one of the more magnificent fireplaces.

Then, without giving herself a chance to think about it too deeply, she set off towards Sally’s house.

Losing her nerve a bit, she stopped at a local Spar and bought posh biscuits, fancy yoghurts the girls could ingest without the aid of a spoon, some wine and a large box of chocolates. If Sally wouldn’t see her at least she could
take it all back to Nicholas and they could comfort-eat in style. Although she realised Nicholas would dismiss her wine with a shudder and have something lovely brought up from the cellar.

She knew all these random thoughts that filled her head were displacement for what she should really be concentrating on: what to say to Sally.

No script appeared in her head and, just after she’d knocked at Sally’s front door, she decided she’d simply say whatever seemed right at the time. It didn’t help that Alaric answered.

‘Oh,’ he said, obviously at a loss too.

‘Hello. Is Sally in?’ Gina felt as if she was knocking on the door of a friend and asking if she could come out to play, only was unsure of her welcome.

Alaric didn’t answer immediately, probably unaware that every second was making Gina feel worse and worse. ‘Er – yeah – I’ll get her.’

He didn’t ask her to come in and Gina didn’t know if this was deliberate or if he just assumed she would follow him in. She stayed on the doorstep, clutching her presents, on the verge of tears. Supposing Alaric came back saying Sally didn’t want to see her?

After what seemed a very long time Sally appeared. She seemed to look older than when Gina had last seen her and she stared at Gina for a few seconds. ‘What are you doing on the doorstep?’ she said.

‘I didn’t know if you’d want me to come into the house.’ Gina heard her voice crack and cleared her throat.

‘Oh, don’t be so silly! Come in.’ But she spoke more with irritation than enthusiasm.

As Gina went in she felt as if Sally were the sister in
charge, and as she was the elder, this felt wrong. She had hoped, and expected, that Sally would open her arms to her, they would hug and cry and everything would be better, but it wasn’t happening like that. She followed Sally into the kitchen, which was exceptionally tidy.

‘Where are the girls?’ Gina asked.

‘Nursery,’ said Sally.

‘Oh. I bought them squashy yoghurt and you these flowers, and biscuits and wine. Bit early for the wine though.’

Sally looked her in the eye for the first time. ‘Shame.’

Gina nodded. ‘We could have tea and biscuits though.’

Sally put the kettle on.

‘So, what have you been up to?’ said Gina, having seated herself at the kitchen table.

‘Cleaning mostly.’

‘Why?’ Gina was amazed. While Sally wasn’t slovenly, cleaning was never her first priority. As long as her house wasn’t a health hazard she usually had something more interesting to do with the time she didn’t spend looking after her daughters.

Sally shrugged and then sighed, turning to face her sister. ‘Actually, I’ve been so miserable I haven’t been able to do anything creative. There’s only cleaning left.’