Chapter 18

T

he next few days passed quickly and the furniture had been duly collected by Dan and his assistant without any mishap. Jeanne had kept out of their way as much as possible and Dan barely acknowledged her, which was a relief. It had been very satisfying to pocket the wad of cash he thrust at her once all had been loaded up and she made tracks to the bank as soon they left.

The celebratory meal with the Ogiers had been a chance to relax and Peter had generously opened a bottle of champagne.

‘It’s not every day we get a chance to dine with a famous author!’ had been his comment and even though they all knew that fame might still evade her, it was a happy thought and Jeanne was warmed by their generosity.

She made the most of the quiet time left before the builders descended, working on the book for several hours a day. She pored over library books and surfed the internet for background information, putting in motion a search for details of her ancestors, the Parisian restaurateurs. After coming across UK websites used for tracing family trees, she found similar ones in France, albeit in French. Naturellement! Not her strong point! She heaved a sigh as she scanned the pages of one such website, wishing she had paid more attention in her French classes at school. Her starting point was her great-great-grandmother from Normandy and after finding some possible connections she printed off the pages to discuss with Molly.

If the worst came to the worst she could always pop over to France, specifically Paris, for a more hands on approach. It would provide extra colour to her story if she could see where her family had lived and worked. And there was always Le Shopping – subject to a generous advance, of course.

On Thursday she received the quote and detailed plan for the proposed kitchen. Jeanne loved the design. The warm, buttermilk painted units would make the kitchen look light and bright without losing the homely look of the cottage – perfect with the oak and granite worktops. Colette would definitely be jealous. The price was less perfect, being on the high side of her budget. Still, as the estate agent had said, quality counts, so she lost no time in confirming her order before settling down to work.

On Friday morning Colette phoned.

‘Hi, Jeanne. I finally managed to talk to my boss last night and he’s agreed to let me have two weeks unpaid leave from the end of June. Luckily no-one’s off just then. And Nick’s happy to let us use his kitchen with the proviso that he gets to eat the fruits of our labours. All right with you?’

‘Yes, sure. And it’s good that Nick will be our official taster as he’s likely to be more objective than us. By the way, where does he live?’

‘At Bordeaux and it was our parents’ cottage. Nick moved in after Dad died, although it was left to both of us, it made sense for Nick to buy me out, being so close to his business.’

‘Well, it’ll be handy for the supermarket at The Bridge when I do the mountain of shopping we’ll need. Bit of a trek from here, mind. Have we got to promote the hotel as recompense for depriving them of their up and coming chef?’

‘Let’s just say that they wouldn’t be averse to some free publicity, but they’re not making it a condition of my leave. Oh, could I have a look at the recipes now so that I know what to expect?’

‘Sure, good idea. I’ll print off copies and have them ready later today. I could pop them in to you as I’m in town tonight with Marcus.’

All the recipes were now on the computer in English and easy to print off. The original handwritten recipes were safely stored in plastic folders and one of Jeanne’s ideas was to incorporate a few facsimiles of the originals in the book. She also planned to include photos of her grandmother, great-great-grandmother and anyone older she could trace, as well as the one of Wilhelm.

After a day spent researching, Jeanne was looking forward to an evening out with Marcus. As she changed into a linen skirt and a white top she asked herself what she was going to do about their friendship. He had made it clear he was pretty keen on her, but she had yet to feel a ‘spark’. If the chemistry wasn’t there now, would it ever be? From her own, admittedly limited, experience, there was usually a connection pretty early on. Although she had never been to bed with a man on the first date, there’d been times when it had been very hard to say no. With Andy, she’d lasted until the third date and she could still remember the frantic tearing at each other’s clothes before they fell naked and entwined into bed.

The erotic memory stirred her body with the old feelings of desire, dormant for so long. Oh my God, she groaned, guess the hormones are back on form! But the image that was uppermost in her mind was not that of Marcus or Andy, but of Nick. She shook herself. I think my brain’s got its wires crossed. Why am I not feeling like that with Marcus? He’s good looking and charming and I used to fancy him rotten. She sighed and decided that if there was no spark for her within the next couple of weeks then she’d stop seeing him. It wasn’t fair to string him along, after all.

Later that evening they were on the balcony at Christie’s enjoying the warm, balmy air as they waited for their first course to arrive. As soon as Jeanne had mentioned that she was going to have a book published, Marcus had insisted on ordering champagne as an aperitif.

‘At this rate I shall be permanently awash with champagne,’ she laughed as they clinked glasses. ‘Peter opened a bottle the other night and I haven’t even signed a contract yet.’

‘Just be positive. I’m sure it’ll all work out. After all, you’ve got the letter from the publishers to prove good intent.’

A letter from her agent, Sally Coulson, had arrived that morning and confirmed that negotiations were in progress.

‘True, so when I do get a contract I guess there’ll have to be more champagne.’ She smiled at Marcus.

‘If you’re going to be rich then you’ll have to pay for it,’ he joked.

‘Oh, I won’t be rich. But it would be nice to get a big, fat advance,’ she giggled, intoxicated by the bubbles.

‘And where are you and Colette going to cook up those delicious dishes?’

‘Nick’s kindly agreed we can use his kitchen as he’s hardly ever there.’

‘I see. Not sure if I like the idea of your spending time at Nick’s. I think he fancies you,’ Marcus said, scowling.

‘Oh, I don’t think he does. And I’m not likely to see much of him as I’m only helping Colette with the donkey work. I’ll be in and out, really.’

As both Molly and Marcus had now said the same thing, perhaps Nick did fancy her, she thought, her stomach contracting. She was lost in her thoughts for a moment and when she looked up she noticed that Marcus still looked sullen.

Jeanne sought to lighten the atmosphere between them and eventually he cheered up. By the time their coffee arrived he was laughing at a joke she’d heard.

As he dropped her back home Jeanne was subdued as they kissed – he with some passion and she with less enthusiasm.

‘I’m sorry for making a fuss earlier about Nick. But I think I’m falling in love with you and I don’t want to think of you spending time with another man,’ Marcus said. He was still holding her face between his hands and as she looked into his eyes they seemed to change and become those of his brother.

She blinked and the eyes were his own again. It startled her.

‘Please, Marcus. It’s too soon to talk of love. We hardly know each other and I’m not sure what I feel for you. And I don’t want to be told who I may or may not see!’

She was beginning to feel angry about his possessiveness and she slipped out of the car before he could reply.

Going straight upstairs she was relieved to hear his car pull out of the drive. With a shock she found her hands were shaking. Once she was in bed and trying to sleep all Jeanne saw were eyes – Marcus’s turning into Dan’s and then back again. Her sleep was restless with vivid dreams full of staring, baleful blue eyes.

The following week was to be a solitary interlude for Jeanne. She told her friends she wouldn’t be going out, what with preparing for the builders and working on the book, but planned to stay in touch by phone. Colette said she couldn’t wait to start work on the recipes, particularly the French ones. She thought that her two weeks would be enough to try out at least the oven based recipes. Others could be incorporated into her normal home cooking schedule.

‘It just means that we’ll be eating a strange mixture for a while, but I don’t think Scott will mind. He’s used to my experimenting on him!’ she laughed.

Marcus rang at the weekend to apologise again and she was quite cool towards him.

‘Let’s just take a break for the moment, Marcus. I’ve got a lot on my plate just now so if you want to ring me next weekend I’ll see how I feel then, okay?’

‘If that’s what you want. I hope you have a good week and miss me as much as I’ll miss you. Take care,’ he said, his tone sulky.

It was a relief to Jeanne to put Marcus on hold and concentrate on more practical matters. She had not proved to be very successful in the emotional stakes in the past and wanted to get it right this time.

On Monday she took flowers to the graves before going off to her appointment with Molly. The session went well and she felt even more relaxed than she had the first time. Molly taught her the self-hypnosis technique and she agreed to practise it religiously each day. If nothing else, it helped her stay focussed on her work and the pile of notes grew steadily.

Sally phoned about the publishing contract.

‘We’ve only really touched base so far. But I hope to receive the main deal points in the next few days. They’re proposing a high-quality hardback backed up with extensive marketing for maximum sales. The key figure is the advance which has yet to be confirmed so I’ll get back to you on that. Happy so far?’

‘Yes, fine. I’m sure I can rely on your impressive negotiating skills. Once the contract’s ready I’ll pop over to London and you can take me out to lunch to celebrate. That’s the tradition, isn’t it?’ Jeanne chuckled.

‘Might manage a burger and chips. See you soon.’

Jeanne had done very little work through Sally as yet, barely earning a cup of coffee, let alone a meal. But if this contract was as good as Sally expected then the lunch was likely to be, if not at The Ritz, at least at a decent restaurant, she hoped.

By Sunday Jeanne was fed up of her own company and was actually looking forward to the builders arriving the next day, in spite of the disruption they would bring. She knew her life would be turned upside down but at least things would be happening and within a couple of months she would have a home to be proud of. Assuming nothing went wrong.