Chapter 15

I

n the post on Wednesday there was a letter from her bank. Opening it she was pleased to see that her mortgage had been approved. Reading further she was informed of the need to attend Court in two weeks’ time to sign for the Bond on her cottage. Relief surged through her as the window shopping was proving very expensive to date and now she could order the sanitary fittings.

Nick had phoned the previous evening to say that the others could all make that Sunday and he’d already checked that the weather forecast was favourable. Everyone was going to contribute to the food and drink so Jeanne didn’t have to worry about feeding the proverbial five thousand.

When he asked her how she was feeling she told him that she was much better and had arranged to see a therapist.

‘Good. We don’t want to have to keep plying you with alcohol every now and then, do we?’ he teased.

Jeanne laughed. ‘No problem with the alcohol, I just don’t want any more flashbacks.’

After putting down the phone Jeanne hummed to herself with pleasure. Never thought that within a few weeks of being back I’d be a vibrant part of the local social scene. She smiled.

That afternoon Jeanne went for a long walk on the beach, beginning to fill up thanks to the hotter days. Now June, summer was showing her very warm, sunny side to the world, or at least to this little twenty-five square mile corner of it. The sea sparkled under the sun’s rays but not many people were venturing into its chilly embrace. A few small children paddled, chaperoned by bored looking parents with their trousers or skirts tucked up out of harm’s way. Farther out, surfers encased in wetsuits rode the waves.

Wonderful, for those who had no fear of the sea, Jeanne thought, with a slight shiver. Still, with Molly’s help she might soon be frolicking about in the surf herself, just as she did when she was younger. Images of her teenage self, splashing in the sea with her friends came floating in and she remembered how much fun it had been. Sighing, she carried on walking briskly up the beach and, after another half hour, turned back, accompanied by groups of sea gulls. They swooped up and down, looking for picnic scraps, calling to each other with a high pitched shriek whenever they hit gold.

Back at the cottage she had plenty of time for a leisurely bath before changing for her evening out with Marcus. With the rise in temperature outside, the cottage felt much warmer and needed little heating. The sitting room, in particular, got plenty of sun during the day and felt pleasantly warm at night.

Acknowledging the arrival of summer, Jeanne chose a bright patterned cotton skirt with a toning plain top. The time spent outdoors had produced the healthy glow of a light tan and it was good to know how much better she looked than on her arrival. She was also feeling so much better.

Marcus arrived promptly at eight looking relaxed in jeans and a short sleeved shirt.

‘Hi. Hmm, you’ve caught the sun and I like it.’ He stroked her face before kissing her.

‘I’d better do some serious sunbathing and start soaking up the compliments as well as the sun,’ she replied, grinning.

With the roof down Marcus drove along the coast away from the red and gold rays of the slowly setting sun. A light breeze blew Jeanne’s hair out behind her. It was only a few minutes’ drive to L’Eree and Marcus parked at the back of the restaurant. Although it was right opposite the sea, unfortunately there were no views once inside but the Indian décor created its own ambience.

Marcus ordered drinks as they studied the menu and discussed their favourite Indian dishes.

‘I prefer the milder ones like korma, pasanda or tandoori,’ Jeanne remarked.

‘Yeh, they’re okay, but real men eat real curries like vindaloo or jalfrezi!’ he replied, beating his chest with his fists, Tarzan style.

Jeanne laughed and they agreed that he would order a vindaloo and she a korma after a shared starter of lamb tikka and onion bhaji. While they waited for the food they chatted about the few days since they’d met and it seemed that Marcus was as busy as ever. Jeanne told him that she was now ordering fittings for the cottage and then mentioned the barbecue and asked if he could come.

‘Of course. I’m looking forward to seeing this garden I’ve heard so much about. And perhaps we could play hide and seek in the orchard!’ he teased.

Jeanne retorted, ‘I’m afraid fruit trees have very small trunks. No chance of hiding behind any of them. And you’ll have to behave yourself as Peter Ogier is coming.’

‘Oh no!’ he feigned a look of horror which was quickly replaced by a smile. ‘He was always such a nice old stick that we wouldn’t want to upset him, anyway. Any other old codgers coming?’

‘Hey, don’t be so disrespectful of my friends! And remember we’ll all be ‘old codgers’ one day.’

The service was particularly quick and it didn’t seem long until it was time for desserts. They both chose Indian pistachio flavoured ice cream and it slipped down a treat after the curries. When the waiter asked if they’d like coffee Jeanne said yes as she didn’t want to offer Marcus coffee at home. He’d been very tactile during the meal and he might want more than a good night kiss. Perhaps it was time for honesty.

‘Marcus, you know I told you that I’d recently split up with my boyfriend?’

He nodded.

‘Well, what I didn’t tell you is that I became pregnant by him and I…I had a miscarriage some weeks ago. So I’m still dealing with a lot of emotional stuff and that’s why I don’t want to rush into a new relationship. I wanted you to know that it’s not personal,’ she smiled uncertainly.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry. It must have been rotten for you.’ He reached out and held her hands. ‘Don’t worry. I admit I’d like us to be more than friends but I can see that this isn’t good timing at the moment. Can we still see each other?’ Again the lop-sided grin worked its charm.

‘Sure we can. I won’t be in Purdah for ever! And thanks for dinner. I really enjoyed it.’

‘So did I. By the way, are you, er, getting nightmares still? Only you mentioned them last time and I don’t like to think of you getting upset,’ he asked, fidgeting with a teaspoon.

‘No, I’ve not had any nightmares lately, but I did have a flashback the other day.’ Her eyes lost focus as she remembered.

His hand jerked and the spoon went flying. After he picked it up, he reached to squeeze her hand, looking worried. ‘Let’s…hope you won’t get any more. I want you to enjoy yourself now you’re back here.’

Jeanne nodded and the waiter arrived with the bill.

The air was cooler as they strolled back to the car and Marcus put the heater on as they drove back to her cottage. When they arrived he gave her a kiss as they exchanged good nights.

‘See you on Sunday!’ he called as he drove off and Jeanne went upstairs to curl up with her book. How long before I’m ready to share my bed with a man instead, she wondered, with a heavy sigh.

A low rumble, followed by a sound resembling a motorbike doing wheelies woke Jeanne the next morning. What on earth! Still drowsy, she reached for her dressing gown and peered out of the window but couldn’t see what was causing the noise, definitely coming from the garden. Garden – lawnmower! Of course – it was Thursday, the day Carl was due for the fortnightly trim. Glancing at her alarm clock Jeanne saw it was ten past eight.

Downstairs in the kitchen she thought it lucky Carl was here just before the barbecue. At least the garden would look immaculate for her guests, compensating for the current state of the cottage.

After clearing away the breakfast things she spread out the kitchen brochures and browsed for ideas. She became so absorbed in drawing a rough plan of the kitchen that it took a few moments to register the ringing of the phone, competing as it was against the even louder noise outside.

‘Hello, Jeanne speaking.’

‘Hey, thought you were out – it’s me, Freya.’

‘Sorry, didn’t hear the phone. Did you get the outline from my agent?'

‘Yes, that’s why I’m phoning. I loved it and my boss is just as fascinated as I am. The upshot is she’s going to present it at the next editorial meeting on Monday morning. There’ll be a vote but my boss’s views carry a lot of weight. So, it’s looking good! I’m so excited for you and I’m convinced it’ll make a great book.’

Jeanne felt her heart hammering away in her chest and had to take a few deep breaths before replying.

‘That’s great, Freya, thanks. Sounds like you’ve done some pretty good PR for me. When will I know whether you’re going ahead and would there be an advance if you do publish?’

‘Officially, your agent won’t hear till the end of next week but I’ll know immediately so I’ll ring you, probably about lunchtime. So make sure you hear the phone ringing!’ Freya laughed and then continued, ‘There’d certainly be an advance and if we go all out on the marketing, aiming for high sales, then it could be generous. But that’s not my province, that’s where my boss and the accountants come in.’

‘Uh huh. Could ‘generous’ be enough to help renovate my cottage, d’you think?’

Freya chuckled. ‘Depends if you’re going in for gold taps, a Jacuzzi and a swimming pool, girl! If you’re being more modest, then yes, it certainly could. Don’t panic, I’ll be rooting for you. And I’ll also tell them how photogenic you are and what a draw you’ll be at book signings.’

It was Jeanne’s turn to laugh and she said, through her laughter, ‘Okay, don’t let’s get too carried away now. But I promise you this, Freya, if I do get a contract and the deal’s a good one, I’ll treat you to a slap up night out in London with all the trimmings.’

‘I’ll hold you to that, never fear. Now must go, lots of other authors to talk to, egos to massage, etc. etc. Bye-e.’

Jeanne replaced the receiver and went back to the kitchen and sat down heavily on her chair. Although she had good vibes about the book she knew how few were ever accepted by publishers and the odds had been against her. But it looked promising and she now had to get through the next four days without thinking about it. Definitely not easy as she tried to focus on her proposed kitchen.

Remembering that Carl would be needing his usual cuppa, Jeanne broke off from the kitchen plans and made tea for him and coffee for herself.

‘How’s it going, Carl?’ she asked, handing him his mug.

‘Ta. Won’t take too long, I reckon. Another hour should see me finished, miss. You’ve got the beds looking good, you have. Those herbs are coming on a treat, they are.’ Carl nodded towards the herb garden, looking well established with the new plants firmly bedded in.

Jeanne left him to his tea break and returned to her plans, sipping her coffee for caffeine-induced inspiration. It seemed to work because an hour later she was pleased with the rough plan she had sketched out.

While she had been playing with her ideas she had decided that, if possible, she’d like to knock a doorway through to the dining room from the kitchen. Making a note in her building file, she wondered how many more bright ideas she’d have before the work began and whether or not she could afford them.

Rachel rang the bell at seven thirty and they set off for the cinema.

‘We’re looking forward to your barbecue on Sunday,’ she said. ‘Hope you didn’t think I was putting pressure on you to have one when I said you had the ideal garden?’

‘No, not at all. I just realised that I might as well have one sooner rather than later. If it’s a success we could have more through the summer, providing the builders don’t make a mess outside. As you rightly pointed out, I do have plenty of room.’ She giggled. ‘We can think of it as a sort of house warming party without actually being in the house!’

They arrived at the cinema shortly before Colette and Sue and they went through to watch the comedy they had chosen.

An hour and a half later they were still laughing at the misadventures of the hapless hero as they walked out.

‘Fancy a quick drink in the bar, anyone?’ asked Sue.

Minutes later they were seated at a table nursing their drinks. A pleasant half hour passed as they discussed their week and how great it was that summer had arrived.

‘Should be T-shirts and shorts on Sunday,’ Rachel remarked. ‘Trouble is, my legs are so white that I look like I’m balancing on inverted milk bottles!’ They laughed and shared their own dislike of pale legs on display. All of them admitted to cheating with fake tan until the real thing became established and there was talk of checking their bathroom cabinets for supplies when they got home.

Hugs were shared and they split off to their cars. On arriving at Le Petit Chêne Jeanne invited Rachel in for a coffee, but she said she needed an early night in order to face year five the next day.

‘They’re lovely really, but so draining. I don’t know where they get their energy from. You can give me a guided tour of the cottage on Sunday. Night.’

Rachel backed out of the drive as Jeanne went inside, switching on lights and drawing curtains.

She wasn’t at all tired and settled down with a hot drink, Joanna Trollope (nearly finished) and Kylie to while away an hour or so before going up to bed.

The thought of the crucial editorial meeting on Monday kept her awake for a while. It was a bit like having a job interview without actually being there in person. Would her words be persuasive enough to convince the editors that she was a star in the making? Or would they decide she was just another talentless wannabe?