Chapter three

T

he dining room buzzed with muted chatter and laughter. Charlotte weaved between the tables to one set back in a corner, waved on by Louisa.

‘Paul won’t be long, he’s just checking all’s well in the kitchen. Which reminds me, Chef says hi and he’ll catch up with you tomorrow. So, how’s his book going?’

‘Very well. We should have it out in time for the Christmas trade. I’ve had great fun trying out all his juice recipes,’ Charlotte replied, wishing she was as good at writing as she was at being an editor and publisher. It had been an inspired decision to offer Chef a publishing deal and she was convinced the resulting book, Juice for Life, would be a best-seller. Juicing was becoming the buzz word in health and nutrition and she herself was both a committed convert and a great advert for Chef’s recipes. It was thanks to his juices and low-fat diet plan she had lost so much weight. ‘We managed to get an endorsement from that film star who stayed here in May, so it’s looking good.’

‘As long as Chef doesn’t let it go to his head and leave,’ Louisa said, frowning.

Charlotte nodded her agreement, not wanting to be the cause of such a loss to the centre. Just then she felt a hand on her shoulder and a familiar voice said, ‘Hi, Charlotte, great to see you again.’ She stood up to share a hug with Paul, who beamed at her with his usual warm smile. Conscious of what Louisa had said earlier, she searched his face for signs of stress, noting the dark circles around his eyes. Her friend was right: Paul was under pressure, something she could relate to. But for different reasons.

‘Hi Paul, how are you? Louisa says it’s been busy here lately.’

He shrugged, and dropped a kiss on Louisa’s upturned face.

‘I’m fine. But it has been hectic these past few weeks, which is great as it means La Folie’s proving to be a success. Malcolm should be well pleased when he returns.’

‘Which is…?’

‘Not for a couple more months at least. Last we heard he’s enjoying himself too much, staying at the top-notch spas of the world and he doesn’t sound keen to return anytime soon. It’s supposed to be research, but I think it’s more a chance to be pampered and have fun in exotic places.’

‘Bully for Malcolm! If he can’t enjoy himself at seventy, when can he? Why, he might even come back with a glamorous lady on his arm.’ Charlotte replied, with her throaty chuckle. Registering Louisa’s white face she immediately regretted her flippant remark.

Patting her friend’s hand, she said, ‘Hey, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean…’

Louisa took a deep breath and smiled. ‘It’s okay. Really. It’s just me being silly. Of course it would be lovely if he found someone after all those years on his own. He deserves to find happiness after…’ She fell silent and Charlotte saw her biting her thumb. Forcing down her own worries, she focused on her friend. It was only eight months since Susan, Louisa’s mother, had died after a violent burglary, and Charlotte knew the pain was still raw. Although Malcolm and Susan had parted before Louisa was born, thirty-five years ago, they had each been the one true love of their lives.

Paul flung his arm around Louisa and gave her a squeeze.

‘Whether he finds romance or not, Charlotte’s right, it’s about time Malcolm enjoyed himself. If I were rich and successful, I’d do the same.’

‘Oh, would you now? And how about me? Would I be allowed to tag along too?’ Louisa asked, sounding hurt.

‘Don’t be silly! Of course I’d want you with me. If only to keep the adoring females from pestering me,’ Paul said, with a smile.

Charlotte watched her friend’s face slowly break into a smile and heaved a sigh of relief. My! She is touchy. Talk about being insecure. Which makes two of us. She decided to see if she could help.

‘Thank you, kind sir, for allowing me that honour, but as things are at the moment your chances of becoming wealthy are slim. Apart from which, you’ve always said money doesn’t interest you,’ Louisa said, giving him a kiss.

‘True, on both counts. So it leaves me with no alternative but to vicariously enjoy long foreign trips through Malcolm. But a long weekend would be nice,’ Paul said, sighing.

‘Isn’t there anyone who can cover for you? Surely you don’t have to wait until Malcolm’s back?’ Charlotte asked.

‘In theory my assistant could take over but she’s been off sick so…’ He shrugged. As if realising this was no way to welcome her, Paul brightened and grabbed Charlotte’s hand. ‘Enough of me, I want to know all about what you’ve been up to in the big smoke. Oh, and I’ve already ordered for us – Chef’s preparing your favourite meal and the champagne’s on ice.’

Charlotte was touched and smiled her appreciation before chatting about her work and the latest publishing ‘do’ she had attended. At least she had some good things to share. The mood lifted, helped even more by the arrival of a bottle of Krug, triggering a laugh from Charlotte and grins from the others. Charlotte had chosen Louisa Krug as her pen name, partly in honour of her friend and a reference to being distantly related to the champagne family. She felt a quick pang at the thought of never using it. They chatted animatedly through the hors d’oeuvres and the seafood main course, which Charlotte declared to be the best yet at La Folie.

By the time they were sipping herbal teas, it was clear to Charlotte from the way they looked at each other, her friends needed to get an early night. And with each other. She pushed down a momentary feeling of envy.

Finishing her tea, she stood up, saying, ‘I don’t know about you two, but I’m ready for bed. It’s been a lovely meal, thanks so much for organising it. I’ll thank Chef in the morning. Night, night.’ She kissed them both and left, hoping Paul would take the hint and spend the night with Louisa. Charlotte had to settle for a book.

The next morning Charlotte caught up with Chef and they shared an animated discussion about his forthcoming book. A breezy Canadian named Chris, she found him a joy to work with and he seemed equally relaxed with her, already planning his next book about recipes for healthy meals. The talk of books prompted her to ask Nadine to let her know when Jeanne next booked an appointment so they could meet. She so needed to talk to her.

Needing to make a phone call Charlotte returned to her room. She had been putting off ringing her mother, a task she always dreaded.

‘Mother, it’s me. How are you?’

‘How do you think I am? All alone here and expected to carry on as normal despite…despite being on my own. And you never visit. I could be dying for all you care!’ her mother snapped.

Charlotte took a deep breath. It was going to be one of those martyr calls.

‘Mother, I know it must be hard, but you do have the staff to help and Daddy was hardly ever there anyway. He was too busy running the business in London. I’m sorry I haven’t been up for a while but–’

‘I know you’re avoiding me. You’ve hardly been here since…since your father died.’ There was a sniff down the line. ‘I had to organise the village fête entirely singlehandedly this summer. You could have shown me some support but, no, you were too busy as usual. Playing at being a publisher. No wonder Richard left. You only ever think of yourself.’

She dug her fingers into her hand, determined not to let her mother get to her. But it was hard. Her biggest sin in her mother’s eyes was being born a girl. Charlotte had known since a small child Lady Annette Townsend, to give her the full title, had wanted a son – an heir to continue the family name. She had even chosen the name Charles, after her own father. Fortunately for Charlotte, her father had not seemed disappointed, spending as much time with her as he could. He even taught her to ride and accompanied her to the Pony Club gymkhanas, her mother having complained she could not spare the time. In spite of knowing how much her father adored her, it had been hard growing up feeling her mother did not love her, gnawing away at her over the years. And now she had lost the loving parent and–

‘Are you listening to me, Charlotte?’

‘Yes, Mother, of course. I was ringing to see how you were. Have you seen your doctor yet? When we last spoke you said you were feeling off-colour.’

‘Humph. Yes and he’s arranged for me to see the consultant in a couple of weeks…’ Charlotte’s heart raced as the words evoked a feeling of dread, she barely heard her mother’s next words. ‘I’m sure it’s not necessary, just a lot of fuss about nothing. You know how these doctors are. Scared of being sued if they miss anything and charge a fortune for a load of tests.’ Her voice changed. Less angry – scared, perhaps? Charlotte felt herself grow cold. If her mother was scared then something was badly wrong. It wouldn’t be surprising after…But she had to focus, must not let her mother hear her own anxiety.

‘I’m sure he’s just concerned for your welfare, Mother. Do you still have the pain in your side and feel nauseous?’

‘Sometimes, but it’s probably just a reaction to the drugs I’m taking.’

‘Maybe, but I’m glad you’re seeing the consultant. Look, afraid I’m away at the moment but I’ll give you a ring when you’ve seen him. When exactly is that?’

Her mother told her then went on to say how well the roses had done that summer, winning First Prize again at the fête. Charlotte made the appropriate responses before her mother announced she could not waste any more time chatting, the housekeeper needed to talk to her, and rang off.

She was left feeling both exasperated and scared. She had been dreading something like this. Had her mother’s cancer returned? And if so, how serious was it?