Chapter 21

T

he builders had continued to make progress, in their eyes anyway, although all Jeanne could see were holes in the walls and ceilings, wires hanging down everywhere and pipes force-fed around the skirting boards downstairs. It was a shame there were solid floors downstairs, she sighed, sympathising with her grandmother’s views on the ugliness of central heating. She was impressed that the plumber was hiding his pipes as much as possible and at least the radiators were slim and stylish.

Once she had caught up with Martin, Jeanne was glad to escape – floorboards were coming up that day and with her poor sense of balance she didn’t fancy tottering along the joists. After her visit to the cemetery Jeanne went off to The Bridge for some shopping and then, feeling the need to be with people, popped into the café for lunch. If she was at all honest with herself she rather hoped that Nick would be there but in that she was disappointed.

She had not long been at a table and was trying to decide what to order when a voice disturbed her thoughts.

‘Hi, Jeanne. Long time no see. May I join you?’

‘Nick! Of course you can. How’re things? Any nice, wealthy clients on board?’

‘Business is picking up, thanks. In fact I’ve just negotiated an order to fit out a brand new boat that’ll keep us pretty busy for a while. And the client is definitely much nicer than Mr Evans!’ His smile was so broad that his whole face lit up and Jeanne felt warmed by his obvious happiness. Mm, he’s really very attractive when he smiles. Quite fanciable! She felt a little frisson of desire and had to take a deep breath before replying.

‘That’s wonderful news. It must be exciting to work on a brand new boat and I’m so pleased for you. I’ve had some good news too,’ she said and told him about the book contract.

‘Well done! It looks like we both have something to celebrate. Shall we go mad and have a bottle of wine with our meal?’

The waiter took their order, returning promptly with a bottle of white wine.

‘Here’s to success! And to better times ahead,’ he said, clinking glasses.

As their food arrived she told him about her weekend in London and that she hoped to go over more often in the future.

‘Yes, London offers a great culture buzz and when I’m over on business I try to catch a play or two and wander around the museums. But like you, I prefer it in small doses. I’d get withdrawal symptoms if I was away from Guernsey for long,’ he said, his eyes locked on hers.

Jeanne felt she was being drawn into his gaze and had to force herself to continue the conversation, asking about his favourite plays. After a few minutes of comparing notes Nick asked how things were going at the cottage.

‘Oh, it looks awful! I have to get out during the day – it’s so noisy and dirty. And I’ll need to move out altogether soon as there’ll be no water or electricity. You don’t know of a cheap B & B do you?’

‘No, I don’t, I’m afraid. Not sure that there’s such a thing here. Certainly not in high season.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘I may have an alternative suggestion to make.’

Jeanne looked at him warily. He wasn’t going to confound her belief in him and suggest she stay at his place, was he? She had to admit it would have its obvious attractions but…

He must have noticed her expression and smiled. ‘It’s okay, I’m not going to make an indecent proposal!’

She wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not.

He continued, ‘It’s all above board. Literally, as it happens, that’s why I hesitated to suggest it. I could offer you sanctuary for as long as you need – on a boat…’ her face must have registered her alarm as he carried on quickly, ‘moored at Beaucette Marina and most definitely not going out to sea. I only bought it a few weeks ago and it needs some work but it’s completely habitable. It came with a six months paid-up mooring so I’m leaving it there until the winter. If you remember it’s the only marina on the island where live-aboard is allowed and there are some massive yachts there to prove it.’

He chuckled and went on, ‘I hasten to add that La Belle Élise is not one of those but a modest twenty-six foot motor cruiser. She has a good sized berth, working head with a shower and a well-fitted out galley. She’s even connected up to mains electricity. Anyway, I do understand if you’re not keen but it could solve your problem.

Jeanne was still taken aback.

‘I…don’t know what to say. You know how I feel about boats. But, as it happens, I’ve been having some hypnosis and I think it’s making a difference. And if it’s moored…Look, I’m going for a session this afternoon and I could ask Molly what she thinks. If she’s happy for me to try, perhaps I could come and have a look at it?’

Nick nodded and was just about to say something when Jeanne’s mobile rang.

‘Oh, hi Martin. Anything wrong?’

‘No, but we’ve found something under the floor in that there small bedroom.The plumber was getting ready to lay his pipes but this, er, bundle is in the way. Would you be able to pop along and take a look? Don’t want to touch anything.’

‘Thanks for letting me know. I’m just finishing my lunch at The Bridge so won’t be long.’

Wondering what on earth the ‘bundle’ could be, she explained to Nick what had happened.

As they stood outside the café Nick gave her a quick hug.

‘Let me know about the boat and I’d be interested to know what’s under those floorboards. Perhaps it’s the family fortune!’

She laughed. ‘Not much chance of that! But I’ll call you later and let you know, don’t worry.’

Jeanne was met by Martin at the cottage and he took her upstairs to what had been the small bedroom. Most of the floor boards were up and pipes snaked around the edges. Martin pointed to what appeared to be a bundle of rags squeezed between the joists in the middle before leaving to direct operations downstairs.

She had to tread carefully as she slowly inched her way across the joists. There was a piece of wood lying nearby and she grabbed it to kneel on as she got close enough to pick up the bundle. It still looked like rags, grey and dusty. She grinned at the thought that it was unlikely to be ‘the family fortune’ as, lifting it up, it didn’t feel very heavy. Unless it was wads of paper money, she thought. Slowly she unwrapped the layers, crying out as she stared at the mummified remains of a baby.