Sense and French Ability (12 page)

“We are turning a lot of business away if we refuse all the people with dogs,” Fliss said.

“We’ll discuss this tomorrow,” Madame Marie said. “I’m too tired. Perhaps tomorrow we will talk about the whole situation here.”

“As you wish,” Fliss agreed.

That night Fliss tossed about. She was hot and kicked the covers back. Then she was chilly and tucked her feet back in. Her mind would not relax as she dwelled on recent events. Fliss was concerned about Madame Marie’s reaction; she wanted to make changes and improvements and yet, overhanging all this, her doubts about whether Madame would relinquish the reins were increasing.

The morning dawned wet and grey.

‘Great.’ Fliss surveyed the flat, heavy clouds.

This suited her mood, weary and flagging, when she awoke. She showered and dressed and went along into the kitchen to start breakfast for the two of them. When Madame Marie arrived, Fliss gave her a tired good morning smile.

“Are you alright, my child?” Madame Marie asked her.

“I didn’t sleep too well,” Fliss answered but did not enlighten her as to the reason why. Fliss dug deep into her reserves to resist tackling the subject closest to her lips and to be patient. When breakfast was over and the table and kitchen tidied that Madame Marie asked “Shall we sit down and talk about where we go from here?”

“I’d welcome that,” Fliss said.

“My sister really wants me to go and live with her,” Madame started. “I haven’t been sure. This has been my home for so long and I have built up a successful little business.”

Fliss nodded her agreement. She sat ill at ease and leaned forwards. The tension crept up her back.

“Anyway, while I was there, and last night, I had a chance to consider all aspects. The time has probably come for me to move there and sell up here. I would give you first refusal on buying this place because you would not let the business go down-hill. From our brief conversation last night I can see you have ideas, good ones, for extending it and keeping up with the times. I’m getting too old to do that.”

Fliss sat, unsure of what to say.

“Is there a problem? Do you need time to think about it?” Madame Marie asked. “It is a big decision and a major change for you. I understand you need to sell your house in England. We could arrange the hand-over here to fit in with that.”

“I should like to stay here and buy this place,” said Fliss. She had wanted this for quite a while and had grown impatient for it. Now that the opportunity presented itself she must exercise caution. She needed to be certain. Fliss had spent years being careful when she lived with her mother. Gone was the carefree impetuosity of her youth. Severing her roots in the UK must be the correct thing to do.

“I need to think overnight. Would that be alright?”

“Yes, of course, my dear, and if you need to visit England to discuss it with someone, Edward perhaps, you must do that.” She raised her eyebrows in a question when she mentioned Edward’s name.

“No, I don’t need to discuss it with Edward,” Fliss informed her.

Later in the day, Fliss found the opportunity to spend time on her own in her bedroom. She decided to phone Jo. She needed good advice. Edward was not the person to give her an independent view.

“Hi, Jo, it’s me, Fliss,” she said when Jo answered the call.

“Hello, Fliss is everything OK?”

“Yes, fine. How are you?”

“I was going to phone you, actually.”

“Oh is everything alright with the house? Are you having problems?”

“It’s not that at all. I’m coming over for a long weekend again.”

“Fantastic! When? I must check we have a room free.”

“Well, that’s why I was going to ring you… I’m going to stay with Harriet.”

Chapter 12

Several days had passed since her call to Jo and it was not long for Fliss to wait before her friend drove into Fleurus-le-Comte. She had said she would call in on Fliss upon her arrival.

The great slab of stone at the front of the house had, at some time in its previous history, been part of the steps up to the door. Now it sat upon short pillars and acted as a seat. Fliss sat and relaxed with the warmth the stone absorbed. She had a book on her knee but it went unheeded as she looked down the street. She watched out for Jo, but her eyes were lured to the long, white farm house of Jean Chri. He was not to be seen, however.

‘I wonder what he’s doing,’ she thought. Then, ‘Why should I care? I don’t.’

Fliss had a hundred and one questions for her friend and awaited her arrival eagerly. Finally the car approached, arriving with wheels scrunching on the limestone chippings that covered the driveway.

Fliss waved and ran down the steps past the brimming troughs of bright geraniums she had placed along the low wall. She greeted her good friend, hugging her.

“I need to know you are not upset with me for staying with Harriet and not here,” Jo said.

“I’m not! I’m surprised, but not upset.”

Since Jo had opened the subject, as they climbed the steps to the front door, Fliss anticipated her explanation rather than waited until they were indoors.

“It’s as simple as the fact that she asked me,” Jo said. “We hit it off when I came for the ducasse. We seem to have quite a lot in common,” she added. “She’s a little lonely, too.”

“Yes, she’s been on her own since her partner died some years ago. The house is old and, what with the huge garden at the back, it’s all a struggle.”

“Yes, she told me all about that,” Jo added. “She has her work. She works from home too, even though the work is very different to mine. Money’s tight for her now.” She frowned.

“Anyway come on in and will you stay for a coffee?”

“A cup of tea would be even better,” Jo said.

After general greetings with Madame Marie, who then wandered off, Jo sat at the table. Fliss got out the mugs she had brought from England rather than use the tiny French coffee cups.

“Great to have you here, Jo” Fliss said. “So are you ‘just good friends’ with Harriet?”

“We’ll see,” Jo responded. “We seem to get on well we have a lot in common. She’s lost her partner and I’ve lost mine, albeit in different circumstances.” She winked and smiled.

“Have you been in touch since you left after the ducasse?”

“Mmm.” She nodded.

“Well?” Fliss was impatient. “Come on, tell me.”

“We’ve spoken on the phone . . . several times.”

“Mmm,” Fliss said.

“We’ll see how things go. It’s very early days. Don’t read too much into anything,” Jo insisted.

“OK, OK” Fliss said raising her hands.

“Tell me all the latest with you,” Jo demands. “The taster you gave me on the phone has whetted my appetite for all the brutal details.”

Fliss took a deep breath.

“Well, as I said, on the phone, Madame Marie has given me first refusal on this house and business. She’s ready to retire at last and move to her sister’s. The other thing we discussed that I need to share with you is she’ll fit in with my timescale for selling up the bungalow. All the probate’s complete, and so on, which makes things easier. I’m afraid this will affect you, living in my house.”

“Not a problem at all. You’re giving me good notice. Anyway, I’ll be on hand to show prospective buyers around if it helps.”

“That’s a relief,” Fliss said.

“…and where does Edward fit into all this?”

“Well, he doesn’t. I’ve been through all this with him umpteen times. He’s not a stalker, or anything, but he needs to learn to accept things for what they are. I hope he’ll find someone else soon.”

Jo looked sceptical. “Let’s be realistic, he’ll not take it well!”

“Well, he’s been aware for ages that this has been in my mind. I’ve not hidden anything from him. I’ve always been straight. He’s refused to listen and accept it. He thinks I’m having a mid-life crisis and all will just go away.”

“I’m not sure I picture Edward living the country life over here, anyway. He’s so conservative and… English, in his cord jacket!” She grinned.

“Don’t start,” Fliss said, lowering her head and looking at Jo from under her eyebrows.

They chatted a while more before Jo looked at her watch and announced that she must go. “I’ll speak to Harriet. You’ll come for dinner? I’ll call you. We’ll meet for coffee and gossip in a day or two anyway.” With that she got up, gave Fliss a hug and left.

*

A couple of days later, Jo called on Fliss and they headed down into the village for a stroll. The sky was cloudy but the rain looked like it would be holding off for a while, and it was a shame to be indoors. They walked along by the river.

“I like this way the best. The little houses are all interesting to look at on that side and the fullness of the river on the other,” Fliss said.

“There isn’t much front garden to these houses but some of the flower boxes on their window sills are pretty,” Jo said. “The water level of the river seems higher today.”

“Perhaps the weir down-stream, on the edge of the village, has closed a little. Apparently it gets blocked, though. It happens from time to time. Grass, reeds and silt seem to end up clogging the mechanism,” Fliss informed Jo. “Several articles in the local paper have mentioned it. There’s talk about removing the whole weir.”

“That sounds like major work,” Jo said.

“Some environmentalists seem to think it better, and the river would flow more deeply and quickly. On the other side, an action group say the strength of the banks would be reduced, or something. Other groups, the fishermen for one, don’t want the weir to go, either, because they say they can experience different fishing above and below it. I don’t understand. Plus it’s in a different language so even harder to follow, but I’m trying hard.”

“You sound well informed,” Jo said. “You’re getting into it all.”

“I do read the paper. It’s helping me get to grips with the language better.”

They passed Harriet’s little house but saw no sign of her.

“She’s busy in her studio,” Jo told Fliss “so it’s the perfect time for me to meet you and chat.”

They reached the bench near a willow tree and Fliss suggested that they sit.

“What about coming over here? You could work from home here as easily as in the UK.”

“It’s tempting. I make my appointments to meet clients say two days each week anyway. If I timed them together it might work,” Jo answered.

“So you considered the idea, then,” Fliss pursued.

“It’s a plan,” Jo said, “but only a fledgling plan. We haven’t discussed anything definite yet.”

*

The following week Fliss talked with Madame Marie about the possibility of converting the outhouse into a kennel for the larger dogs which might travel to the B and B with their owners. She had already agreed that one or two smaller ones might accompany their owners into their rooms. Fliss appreciated this major concession from Madame. She offered to use some of her savings for the conversion, having done research on the internet for costing of materials.

“Who will do the work?” the old lady asked.

“I wondered if Alexandre might help,” she answered.

Fliss had considered this because she wanted her to see it would be a good idea for increasing profits in a business where there is always competition.

“We’ll ask Jean Christophe first,” Madame Marie stated, almost as if it was her own idea. “He has more skill.”

Fliss took a deep breath to calm herself. She wasn’t sure she wanted Jean Christophe to be involved at such proximity. She had to agree, though, that his work was probably more skilful and accurate, being older and more experienced.

“Will you go down this evening and ask him?” Madame asked Fliss, with a glint in her eye.

‘In for a penny…’

When they judged that he had finished his day’s work and had time to wash and eat, Fliss headed down the road to Jean Christophe’s house, aware of each footstep flapping on the tarmac as she approached. She knocked on the door and waited. No response. The wind rustled the leaves on the tall ash trees to the side of the house. Fliss knocked again but heard no sound from within. She experienced mixed feelings of relief and disappointment. Just as she was about to leave, around the corner he came striding. His face lit up as he recognised her.

“Fliss, I was in the back yard and didn’t hear the door at first. What can I do for you?” His dark eyes crinkled and a deep dimple appeared.

Fliss coloured up, and became exasperated that she reacted to him in this way.

She explained the task that she hoped to undertake in as brief and business-like a way as possible.

“It’ll involve lining the old brick walls and ceiling to take some tiles. It’s not huge or high. The flooring seems alright and there’s already a drain in the middle to help with washing.”

“We shall need to modify the electricity.”

She told him of the part she would like him to take.

“No problem,” he said. “It’s quieter at the moment, apart from the milking. The hay is done and it wouldn’t take me long to do what you describe. Harvest won’t start for a while. The barley is coming on but not ready yet.”

She smiled up at him despite herself, pleased that her ideas may well come to fruition. “Would you be able to come and look and tell me whether what’s in my mind would work?”

“I can come now, if that’s convenient,” he said.

They headed back up the road together, chatting inconsequentially.

“If I tell you something will you keep it to yourself?” Fliss asked him, unsure why she was so confident that he could be trusted.

Jean Chri nodded his assent.

“I might buy Madame Marie’s house.”

“Why, that’s marvellous news,” he said. “Is that a possibility?”

“Yes. There are things to sort out first but it will happen.”

“What about your friend Edward?”

“He doesn’t like the idea.” Fliss did not enlarge on her curtailed relationship with Edward.

Suddenly he was quiet

“Oh,” he said. The easy banter between them became constrained. “You will still be able to visit him or he come here?”

“We shall see,” Fliss said, not confessing that her friendship with Edward was only that now.

‘What is it to him? He’s married still. This will help to keep him at bay.’

They arrived at the house and went around to the back so that Jean Chri could look at the project. Describing what she had in mind, Fliss became absorbed in it and forgot the awkwardness. He agreed what was possible. In a pragmatic way, he gave her some time-scales and his views on prices. He suggested one or two modifications to her ideas and they agreed what would be best.

“Will you come in for a beer or a coffee?” She asked this when they had finished their discussions.

‘I don’t like and don’t understand this stilted atmosphere that seemed to develop so quickly. Perhaps with the language difference I misinterpreted something.’

“No, I’ll head for home now. An early start tomorrow,” he gave as his excuse.

‘He wants to escape,’ went through Fliss’ mind.

After he had gone, Fliss had time to consider and question whether Jean Christophe’s reticence had followed their discussion of Edward.

*

The materials were delivered and Jean Chri was coming to start the work. Fliss would be the one to hold the screws and pass them as required. She looked forward to this different activity and was excited to offer an addition to the business.

Jean Chri arrived and they headed for the outhouse. The awkwardness of the other evening had gone. He was chatty and friendly. As there wasn’t much space in which to work, they giggled together as he tried to manoeuvre large pieces of plaster board into position. Lifting one end of the heavy board to help, Fliss grunted and huffed.

‘Mmm attractive,’ she thought, as she became aware of the noises she was making.

They took a break and Fliss made coffee. Sitting outside, they drank together congenially.

“I am enjoying this activity, working together. It is friendly and companionable. It is a long time since I did this. My wife always avoided my jobs or sharing these things.”

“I gather things have not been easy,” Fliss chanced, as Jean Chri he had initiated the conversation

“The life of a farmer’s wife is lonely at times. I was saying this to my brother but she is a farmer’s daughter so she knew this. I tried, truly I did. We will be separated. Things were never easy but before she left I could do nothing right.” He shrugged. “Many people will be surprised. I tried to pretend nothing is wrong. I’ve played it light with people but that is not me, really.” He sounded serious, as he hung his head and avoided her gaze.

Fliss put her hand on his arm – ‘Not maternal, no, not that!’ She could not have voiced exactly what she experienced, but she was concerned.