T Williams - To Provence, with Love

Comprehension dawned on his face. ‘Oh, yes. And you’re with Marlon?’

‘Yes. I’m staying at the chateau.’

‘Right.’

Although he didn’t sound unfriendly, he was certainly no more communicative now than when she had first seen him. Nevertheless, Faye tried again. ‘New fence post?’

‘Yes.’

‘Must be hard work.’

‘Yes.’

‘And very hot work on a day like this.’

‘Yes.’

Faye’s conversational skills were being severely stretched by now and she took refuge in a glance at her watch and what was, after all, the truth. ‘I’m afraid I can’t stop and talk. I have to get back.’

‘Right.’ With a smooth movement, he reached down, clasped the handle of the sledgehammer, and swung it up in a graceful arc above his head. ‘Well, goodbye then.’

Faye called to Marlon and left the taciturn man to his labours. She carried on along the rough path up the hill to the chateau. A minute or two later, she felt a stone under her heel and stopped to remove it. Grabbing hold of a branch at the side of the track to steady herself, she slid off the sandal and flicked away the tiny piece of gravel. As she did so, Marlon pounced on her shoe and bore it proudly away.

‘Marlon, bring that back.’

He stopped and turned back towards her, but showed no sign of any intention of relinquishing his trophy. She called him again, dangled his lead, and even tried to whistle, but he was having none of it. He trotted obligingly enough back to her, even let her grab the shoe in his mouth, but then stubbornly hung on to it like a limpet. Finally, Faye had to leave it with him, rather than risk damaging either the sandal or the dog’s teeth, and she limped up the hill on one shoe, treating the dog to a few good old-fashioned English expletives as she did so.

***

At seven-thirty as instructed, Faye – freshly showered, her dusty right foot carefully washed – changed into a light summer dress and her good sandals and went over to the kitchen, tapped on the door, and let herself in. She had locked the door to her apartment behind her but somehow, protected behind the barrier of the electric gates, she didn’t think she had much to worry about, not least if Marlon lived up to his reputation as a very vocal guard dog. There was no sign of Eddie Marshal, but she found Claudette bending down, looking at something in the oven. She looked up as Faye came in.

‘Have a nice walk?’

‘Yes, thanks, although the last half was on one leg.’ She smiled as she explained what had happened. Claudette smiled back.

‘I saw him with a sandal in his mouth when I came into the kitchen and wondered if it was yours.’ She indicated the shoe, now safely lying on the worktop out of reach of the dog.

‘How did you get it off him? I thought he was going to pull my arm out of its socket.’

‘The way you can always get a Labrador to do anything – food. I offered him a piece of biscuit and he dropped it like a flash. I should have warned you of that. When he likes somebody, he always tries to take something of theirs.’ She pointed at the wicker basket by the range cooker. ‘See that tatty red rag in there? That used to be one of Miss Beech’s scarves. He’s had it for years. Anyway, it shows he likes you.’

‘I’ll have to dig out an old sock or something for him. Walking up the gravel drive with one bare foot was a bit uncomfortable.’ She glanced down at the dog who was staring at her adoringly from his bed. ‘But no more stealing shoes, all right, Marlon?’ He wagged his tail and, if she hadn’t known better, it almost looked as if he winked. Faye sighed and returned her attention to Claudette. ‘Anyway, while I was out, I met your son.’

‘It’s hard to miss our Albert. Did he tell you they all call him Obelix?’ Claudette grinned. ‘Not too sure what happened there. His father’s not a lot taller than I am.’

‘He’s certainly a big chap. I suppose he’s the star of the local rugby team.’

Claudette shook her head. ‘He used to play a lot of sport, but he gave it up a few years back. Did he tell you what his hobby is now?’

Faye shook her head. ‘Wrestling bulls, lifting weights, or tearing up phone books with his bare hands maybe?’

Claudette’s grin broadened. ‘Embroidery.’

‘Embroidery?’

‘He’s this year’s president of the village embroidery circle. They’re in the process of renewing all the kneelers in the church. You should see some of the things he’s made. He’s far better than I am. He’s got such a delicate touch and a very good eye for colour and design.’

‘Wow.’ Faye was suitably impressed. ‘I must go down to the church to take a look at his handiwork.’

‘Miss Beech is in the dining room if you want to go and join her. Go through that door there and you’ll find her. Off you go and tell her I’ll be serving dinner in about ten minutes.’

Faye made her way through to the dining room accompanied by Marlon. Miss Beech was in an armchair by the fireplace, staring into the empty grate, lost in her thoughts. Sitting in another armchair to one side of the fireplace, holding a newspaper, was Eddie Marshal. As he spotted Faye, he gave her a little wave. Faye hesitated at the doorway, loath to disturb Miss Beech who looked miles away, but Marlon had no such qualms. He trotted over to his mistress and laid his head on her knee. His arrival roused her and she looked up towards Faye, beckoning her into the room with one hand while scratching the dog’s ears with the other.

‘Faye, come in, come in. How lovely to see you again.’ The grand old lady looked genuinely pleased to see her.

‘Hello, Miss Beech. It’s good to be back.’ Faye took a better look at her. ‘And you’re looking well.’ That was an exaggeration, but Miss Beech definitely looked better than the last time, and there was some colour in her cheeks this evening. Miss Beech smiled.

‘You don’t spend a lifetime in cinema without learning a thing or two about make-up. My looks are mostly out of a bottle nowadays, I’m afraid, but it’s sweet of you to notice. Come and join us.’

Faye did as she was bidden and stood by the hearth. The dog slumped down onto his rug with a thud and a sigh, as Faye remembered to deliver Claudette’s message. ‘Claudette says dinner’ll be ready in ten minutes.’

‘Excellent. That gives us time for a drink first. We really should celebrate your first night here, so I got Eddie to dig out a bottle of champagne. Would you like that? Otherwise we’ve got most things here. He could even make you a cocktail if you like.’

Eddie looked up eagerly, nodding his head. ‘Whatever you like, Faye. You name it, I can make it. Maybe a real American Martini?’

‘Champagne sounds absolutely wonderful, thank you.’ Faye spotted the foil-covered top of the bottle peeking out of an ice bucket. ‘But only if you’re going to have some. Please don’t open it specially for me.’

Miss Beech’s smile broadened. ‘Of course we’ll join you. I wonder, Faye, if you would feel like opening it, please?’

Eddie Marshal made an attempt at getting to his feet, but Miss Beech was quick to tell him off. ‘Eddie, for goodness’ sake sit down and let Faye do the honours. I’m sure she’s had lots of experience with champagne bottles.’ She grinned at Faye. ‘At our age, we deserve a sit-down. Besides, the doctor told Eddie not to put too much weight on that hip of his.’

‘I haven’t got much experience with champagne, but I’m a dab hand at opening Prosecco bottles.’ Faye went over to the ice bucket and managed to open the bottle without too much fuss. She filled three exquisite tall crystal flutes and took two of them across to the fireplace, handing them over one by one, before returning to pick up her own. Miss Beech raised her glass towards them both.