T Williams - To Provence, with Love

‘My boy does the driving.’ Claudette looked up from where she was pouring the tea. ‘He looks after the garden and does all the outside jobs as well as driving the car. You’ll see him about. You can’t miss him.’ She brought the tea over, and inevitably, along with it came a plate of homemade biscuits. Faye took a look and an appreciative sniff and told herself it would be rude to refuse. She picked up a biscuit and nibbled it. It was exquisite.

‘Have you ever considered going into business making and selling your biscuits, Claudette? You’d make a fortune.’

Claudette smiled at her and shook her head. She had a lovely, open, friendly smile and Faye found herself thinking how wonderful it would have been to have somebody like this as a mother. She smiled back and thanked them most warmly for all the food and drink she had found in her flat, before asking a question about their employer. ‘Is Miss Beech feeling better now?’

Claudette glanced across at Eddie Marshal, deferring to him. He nodded. ‘Yes, indeed, thank you. She’s got a recurring condition that sneaks up on her from time to time, but she’s been okay for a few weeks now. I’m pleased to say that she’s moving around pretty well again.’ He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. ‘She’s been cared for by some of the very best doctors and clinics in the world, but anno domini is what it is. Nothing stays the same for ever.’ He paused and Faye registered the depth of the bond of affection he must feel for Miss Beech after half a century together. His serious look was immediately replaced by something more positive. ‘But she’s had a good run. Apart from this, she really can’t complain.’

Faye nodded. ‘She told me the same thing.’ She sipped her tea and scratched the dog’s ears with her free hand. Remembering her task, she gave Mr Marshal a hesitant look. ‘Um, Mr Marshal, I gather you and Miss Beech have been together for a long time. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions? You know, for the book. Miss Beech told me to find out as much as I can for the biography I’m supposed to be writing.’

‘Fire away. She told me to give you all the information I can.’ He glanced across the kitchen. ‘And the same applies to Claudette. We’re both at your complete disposal.’

Faye gave him a smile. ‘That’s terrific, thanks. So, what about you, Claudette? Have you known Miss Beech for long?’

Claudette smiled back. ‘I haven’t known Miss Beech anything like as long as Mr Marshal has. I first met her twenty years ago when she married the Marquis. They were still living in America then, but they regularly came back for holidays over the next few years. They moved back here properly about ten years ago now.’

‘So have you always worked here at the chateau?’

‘Sort of. I went to England for three years as a nanny when I was a girl – that’s where I picked up my English – but otherwise, I’ve been here all my life. My father and my grandfather both worked for the Marquis, so I suppose it was in my blood.’

‘So you’re the local expert then.’

‘I suppose so, but as far as Miss Beech’s life’s concerned, Eddie’s definitely the expert.’

Eddie Marshal nodded. ‘I’ve been looking after her since I was twenty-three. That’s fifty-two years ago now.’

Faye was amazed. ‘Gosh, that’s incredible. So you first started working for her when she was already big in Hollywood?’

‘That’s right. I was trying to make up my mind what to do after I’d finished school, and a friend fixed me up with a summer job skimming the pool and doing the garden in one of the swanky houses in Beverly Hills. It turned out to be hers.’

‘I thought Miss Beech said you were from Canada?’

‘And proud of it, but I did my law studies at UCLA. Anyway, that was the first time I met her and we became quite friendly, in spite of her being such a massive star by then. Around the end of the summer, just as I was about to head off back to Canada to become an attorney like my father wanted, she said she needed somebody to look after her, her affairs and her social diary, and asked if I’d like to try it for a few months. You can probably imagine my excitement. Here I was, fresh out of college, and I was rubbing shoulders with Hollywood greats.’ He was smiling into his mug of coffee now, as the memories came back. ‘It sounded like a hell of a lot of responsibility for a young man, but I didn’t hesitate. I told my mom and dad I’d give it a try for a little while, and look at me now.’

Faye was genuinely touched at the devotion Eddie had shown to Miss Beech for over fifty years. She took a better look at him and saw that, underneath the grey hair and the wrinkles, there had once been a young man, excited to go out into the big wide world. Somehow, she had a very strong suspicion that a biography of Eddie could prove to be every bit as interesting as his employer’s.

Eddie was happy to chat about his early days in Hollywood, mixing with the stars, and Faye looked forward to hearing more of his stories as the days went by and to incorporating them into the book. When her watch told her it was half past five, she stood up, reluctant to interrupt his reminiscing. ‘I think I’ll take Marlon out for half an hour before dinner. Where’s the best place to go?’

It was Claudette, the local girl, who answered. ‘There are lovely walks in the fields all around us, or up on the open land: what we call the garrigue . Alternatively, seeing as you’re new to the place, why don’t you just take him down to the town? He can show you round. For all his faults, he’s an angel on a lead and he won’t drag your arm out of its socket. When you’re away from the road, you can let him off. He won’t run away.’

The lead was produced and attached to Marlon’s collar, inducing considerable excitement on his part. Faye took a pocketful of poo bags, the remote control for the gates, and then off they went. Claudette was right. Marlon didn’t pull at the lead and he definitely knew where he was going. Together they walked the few hundred yards down the deserted country road towards the sign announcing the village, or the town as Claudette had called it.

Clearly there was more to St-Jean than Faye had imagined. As they passed the sign, they came to a farm entrance on their left. As she did so, a dog barked, only once, and seconds later she and Marlon discovered they had company. Another identical black Labrador emerged from the shade of an old building and charged across to say hello. Faye glanced down apprehensively, but immediately saw that he and Marlon were old friends.

She stood and looked on as the two dogs, tails wagging furiously, became reacquainted. As she did so, she suddenly felt herself being watched. She raised her eyes and spotted a figure standing in the shadowy interior of the barn. She gave a little wave and received a hint of a wave in return, but the man didn’t venture out of the barn. He was tall, with broad shoulders, and Faye had a suspicion he might well be the same man who had given her directions on her first visit to the area. After all, she told herself, there surely couldn’t be too many identical black Labradors round here.

She returned her attention to Marlon and clicked her tongue, deciding to set off down the hill towards the village once more. As she did so, there was the same double whistle and the other dog turned and charged off back to his master.

Before they reached the Coq d’Or, Marlon led her off to the left along a narrow path and Faye was happy to unclip the lead from his collar and let him make the decisions as to where they should go. He was very well behaved and didn’t attempt to run too far ahead as they followed the path alongside a dry gulley running down towards the river in the valley below. From the collection of bone-dry branches and weeds caught in the bushes lining the gully, it was clear that this would turn into a raging torrent after heavy rainfall, but for the moment, there was no sign of water at all. Everything around them was terribly dry, the grass burnt brown by the sun.