Three years later
On a hot and sultry day in early July, Waltho Williams stood on the terrace of a shaded corner of his home, La Maison du Paradis, and posed a question. Would today, with the opening of the French Cookery School, mark the first day of the rest of his life?
Waltho raised his chin and thoughtfully stroked the newly grey tinge of neatly shaved stubble, a sharp contrast to his skin, the colour of night. Looking out to the garden, he filled his lungs with the sweet smell of wildflowers from a nearby border and watched the colourful heads sway in the warm breeze. Each petal created a carnival of colour against the rich soil, and his artist’s eye admired their fluidity and beauty. Reaching out, he picked a sprig of lavender from wands planted deep in an old terracotta pot. The intense, heady scent, pinched between his fingers, jogged his memory, and a sharp pain stabbed in his chest.
‘Oh, Lauren.’ Waltho sighed. ‘If only you had lived to see what you created.’ His eyes were misty as the years dissolved, and he remembered the journey that had led him to this place.
Three years ago, with Lauren by his side, Waltho had wandered through the streets of Chauvigny, huddled tight under the ruins of a medieval castle. Climbing steep winding alleys, they’d marvelled at monuments and been fascinated by pretty houses displaying window boxes abundant with fragrant lavender. It felt a million miles from the hustle and bustle of London with its overcrowded streets and rushed commuters. City life no longer felt attractive, and as their visits increased, the slower pace of life in France became appealing.
The sale of a two-bedroomed apartment in Gipsy Hill and Waltho’s studio in Crystal Palace provided funds, and Waltho remembered Lauren’s joy of discovering La Maison du Paradis, which sat in an enviable countryside position. Tired and run-down, the building was crying out to be loved and restored, and Lauren, a reputable dealer in antiques, convinced Waltho that they had found their dream home. A place where they could create a business, too, and guests could enjoy a holiday and learn something new. Taking a leap of faith and trusting in his beloved Lauren’s instincts, they moved life in its entirety to Poutaloux-Beauvoir, and their labour of love began.
Waltho stroked the warm stone of a smooth white wall typical of buildings in the area and looked up at the rustic roof that had been replaced. The new ochre tiles had been exorbitant, as had the many window shutters, freshly painted the palest blue. Neat pathways boasted flourishing lavender bushes, creating welcoming routes to the house.
A vivid memory of Lauren planting the young stems was haunting. Waltho rubbed a hand over his smooth bald head and clenched his fists. ‘Lauren,’ he whispered, ‘if only you were here.’ Despite the day’s heat, Waltho felt an involuntary shiver, and a chill ran down his spine. Her death was still crystal clear in his mind.
Biting on his lip, Waltho closed his eyes, almost feeling Lauren’s emancipated frame, held gently in his arms throughout the agony of her illness. Her cancer was a one-way ticket to eternity, deadly and swift. No matter how much Waltho willed strength from his body into Lauren’s frail and diminished figure, Lauren soon gave up the fight. Waltho shook his head to rid himself of memories etched deep.
In the years that followed, knowing that Lauren had insisted Waltho carry on, it was with a heavy heart that he set to. But La Maison du Paradis had broken the budget and the property needed to generate an income.
Now, he was ready.
Waltho took a deep and steadying breath, then set off to walk through a courtyard. He paused to study a plant climbing lazily over a gazebo and plucked several straggling leaves from the woody stem with nimble fingers. A long oak table was positioned beneath the gazebo and as Waltho traced the grain, he considered the fingerprint of nature.
‘If only humans could so lovingly be brought back to life,’ he whispered and remembered endless hours spent sanding and restoring the aged piece of furniture.
Gazing out to the garden, Waltho glimpsed a swimming pool. The surface water, unmoving, lay like a mirror beneath the sunny sky. His artist’s eye considered the subtle light that changed during the day, creating an evolving palate of colour. It looked so cool and inviting that Waltho was tempted to strip off and plunge in.
But there was no time to swim. A phone rang within the house, and moments later, Waltho heard footsteps crunching across a gravelled path.
‘Hey!’ a voice called. ‘Tomas has left the airport and is on his way.’
Waltho walked towards the woman who approached. ‘Merci, Angelique,’ he replied. ‘Everyone will soon be here. Are we ready?’
‘As ready as we will ever be. Housekeeping has finished preparing the guests’ rooms.’
Angelique wore a lime-green kaftan and inches of silver bangles on each wrist. They jingled as she moved. Her fiery red hair hung in long silky tresses, clipped back with two tortoiseshell combs, and her fingers gripped a mobile phone, the case encrusted with sparkling bling.
Waltho reached out to take Angelique by the shoulders and, leaning down, kissed each of her rouged cheeks. ‘I couldn’t have done this without you,’ he said.
‘Nonsense.’ She dismissed his words with a shake of her head but smiled with pleasure, touching her fingers to her hair. ‘La Maison du Paradis needed a loving owner, and I needed a job,’ she added. ‘Your hard work has paid off.’
Waltho nodded and thought of the website created to promote La Maison du Paradis. Themed with sunflowers throughout, the home page announced:
The French Cookery School
Immerse yourself in the French countryside and enjoy a week’s cookery holiday at La Maison du Paradis. Relax in our elegant residence surrounded by picturesque countryside and relish outdoor dining and cooling swims in our pool.
Your host welcomes you to his home and is proud to engage the services of a Michelin-starred chef who will guide you through the secrets of his kitchen.
Daily excursions will explore the beauty and history of the area. Leave with new skills, new friends and a feeling of well-being.
La Maison du Paradis awaits!
The description had worked and the course that was about to begin was full. Waltho anxiously looked at his watch. Tomas would leave Bordeaux Airport and arrive in less than two hours if the roads were clear.
‘Let’s have a cool drink,’ Angelique said, ‘before the party begins.’ She reached out and linked her arm through Waltho’s to lead him along the pathway towards the house.
Waltho paused and patted Angelique’s hand then took one last long lingering glance at his surroundings. Finally, after difficult years, his home was ready to welcome the first guests to La Maison du Paradis.