As the first light broke over the French countryside, Fran began her morning stroll. She felt a gentle glow as she looked up to see that the sky still had the cool shades of a pre-dawn rhubarb pink and blue. Birds were beginning to twitter, and the vast field of sunflowers stretching beyond the garden appeared like a thousand cheerful faces, smiling and nodding as she strode by.
‘Good morning, sunny sunflowers!’ Fran called out as the slender stems bent and swayed, their golden petals radiating energy and joy. ‘My last day in paradise,’ she said as the soft, dry earth crunched beneath her fluffy slippers. With her hands in the pockets of her robe, Fran closed her eyes and held her face to the sun. ‘By heck, Sid,’ she mused, ‘this has been a cracking week. You were so wise to send me to this magical place.’
Fran thought of the things she’d learned and the recipes she would aim to perfect when she got home to Dunromin. Sid’s dream of a fancy restaurant might become a reality. After her initial doubts, and her week in France, Fran felt rejuvenated. Maybe she could produce a menu to attract Lancashire folks to Blackpool.
As she walked back to the house, she thought of the company she’d enjoyed. They were a lovely group, and Fran hoped everyone would keep in touch with news of their newly acquired cookery skills.
Most surprising had been her blossoming friendship with Caroline.
Fran had never dreamt that the ice queen she’d encountered all week would break down and pour out her troubles. It had taken a near-death experience to shatter Caroline’s frosty manner. But, as the gloves came off and Caroline began to melt, Fran was saddened by Caroline’s problems.
Still, Fran thought as she paused by a bench, Caroline’s difficulties could ultimately be overcome, and if there was any way she could help, she intended to step up and get stuck in. Fran thought of her spare bedroom at Dunromin with its plumped-up cushions, pink quilted bedspread and lacey net curtains. Hardly Kensington style, but Caroline was welcome to stay if she needed space and a bed.
The tabby cat appeared and wrapped its ageing body around Fran’s legs. Like a slow-starting motor, Tabby’s purr stuttered and juddered to a happy crescendo as Fran stroked her soft fur.
‘I’d best be getting back,’ Fran said, tickling Tabby’s chin. ‘It’s our last day of learning, and Waltho says we have a surprise tonight.’
Turning away from the garden and, together with Tabby, Fran made her way to her room.
* * *
Caroline stood on her balcony and held onto the rail. She’d slept like a log, and as the new day dawned, she felt as though a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Years of pent-up frustration and months of anxiety had melted in the last twenty-four hours, and having poured out her heart to Waltho and Fran, Caroline knew that she could face her future and sort out her problems, no matter how dark the days ahead might be.
She looked out to the swimming pool, where sunlight reflecting on the surface created light and shadow. It looked so inviting. Unlike the raging river she’d encountered the day before. Caroline imagined swimming in the refreshing water and wondered if she would ever have the confidence to learn.
A cool breeze caressed her skin, and as she wrapped her silky gown tighter, Caroline thought about Stanley. Was he sitting in bed with a breakfast tray on his knee while Celia sat nearby, slathering her face in expensive cream? Had Stanley placed his size tens so firmly in the indulgent lifestyle on offer that he was now set for life? Caroline assumed that his position was permanent, and Stanley didn’t give a moment’s thought to the wife he’d tossed so casually to one side when a better offer had come knocking on his door.
But there was little point in wasting any more energy on Stanley. From now on, she had to focus on herself. She turned from the railing and sat down. Taking a glass of water, Caroline sipped slowly. The air was scented with sweet flowers, and as she stared out to the field of sunflowers, she saw Fran strolling along a path with Tabby by her side.
Dear Fran. When Caroline was in need, Fran was a friend indeed.
Caroline hated herself for being so vile to the woman who had never retaliated or taken umbrage when she’d been on the receiving end of Caroline’s sharp tongue. The previous evening, with kindness and consideration, she’d patiently listened to Caroline’s problems and made her realise that there was nothing that Caroline couldn’t overcome. All that, on top of saving her life.
Caroline smiled as a butterfly landed on a vase of blossom.
She studied the delicate wings, and her thoughts turned to Waltho. What a wonderful host he’d been. Despite his pain being brought to the surface, Waltho had done everything possible to ensure the guests were well looked after. Caroline watched the butterfly continue its weightless ballet. In a confined environment, her personal problems had been exposed. But instead of being rebuffed or rejected, the guests, too, had reached out, and their closeness had been like a warm, welcoming blanket, wrapping itself securely around her with unspoken understanding and love.
At dinner the previous evening, she’d received hugs from everyone and words of encouragement. Somehow, they seemed to understand her problems when Caroline made a speech, thanking Fran for saving her life. Caroline explained that her week had been burdensome as she faced divorce and an uncertain financial future. Her near-death experience was a wake-up call. It was time to be kinder to herself and, most of all, to everyone around her. Caroline apologised if she’d upset anyone and hoped they could forgive her. As she reached for the heart-shaped box of chocolates that Ahmed had gifted, she removed the ribbon and encouraged everyone to indulge.
When Waltho took the box, their eyes met, and Caroline felt a strange tingling sensation. Now, she stared at the beautiful butterfly, alight on the blossom, and remembered the fluttering feeling in her stomach akin to the butterfly’s wings. Her heart had begun to beat faster as Waltho’s hand brushed her own, and his smile almost made her gasp. Hints of gold had flickered in his amber eyes, and it was all she could do not to reach out and kiss his handsome face.
Caroline sighed.
Somehow, she’d pulled herself together and torn her eyes away from the host. It was ludicrous to feel such emotion for someone she hardly knew. It was even more ridiculous to contemplate that any such feeling might be reciprocal. Waltho had been kind to his guest, a listening ear when needed. It was a kindness he proffered to anyone staying under his roof.
Caroline stood and, gripping the water glass, took a lingering look at the garden then went into her room to prepare for the day ahead.
* * *
Sally sat up in bed and reached for her laptop. The week was drawing to a close, and she needed to finish gathering all the information for her articles. Daniel had risen a few moments ago, muttering that he had a task in the kitchen.
‘Keep the bed warm,’ he’d pleaded, ‘I won’t be long.’
Despite Daniel’s almost hourly suggestion that she return to the Cotswolds with him at the end of the course, Sally had work to do. Prioritising her career over his ridiculous request, she collated her notes.
All in all, the week had been successful, and as her thoughts settled into working boxes, she remembered dinner the previous evening. Despite the late hour, everyone had been in good spirits, especially when Fran and Caroline appeared, and it became clear that their differences were overcome. Many guests had tears in their eyes as Caroline gave a speech of thanks and told them of her troubles. Sally was deeply moved to see how everyone bonded and offered accommodation should Caroline need it and help to find a job, assuring her that it was never too late for change and to become what she wanted to be.
In one short week, friendships that might last for the remaining years of their lives had been forged. Sally, fingers paused over her keyboard, was thoughtful. Could she capture the unique experience in an article?
La Maison du Paradis was a recipe for success. Add all the right ingredients, no matter how strange, and bind them together. Et voila! What have you got?
With eyes alight, Sally frantically began to type.
* * *
Waltho rose early and, after his cold shower, hurriedly dressed. From the moment he opened his eyes, he knew he had a sudden and essential task. Hurrying through the silent house, Waltho went to a building adjacent to the staff accommodation.
Pushing a pile of old bicycles to one side and taking a key from his pocket, Waltho unlocked the aged stable door, where a horseshoe had been nailed above the framework. The door creaked on rusty hinges, and stepping into the gloom, he felt the weight of centuries ooze from the weathered stone walls. Sunbeams filtered through murky windows, and light flooded in as he opened shutters. Cobwebs dangled from the rafters, and a delicate lace brushed his face as he moved around in the gloom.
In this old stable, where horses had been the heartbeat of daily life and history whispered through the timeworn walls, Lauren had commandeered the space for her partner and insisted that Waltho use it as his studio.
Bunches of dried lavender hung from beams. Dusty and frail from two years of neglect, the dried-up blossoms dissipated as Waltho tore them down. A battered oak table was covered with boxes of paint, and glazed pots held an assortment of brushes, and stacked around the room and covered in dust sheets lay canvasses of every size. Reaching down, Waltho peeled back dustsheets, his eyes scanning the paintings beneath.
In the centre of the room stood an easel. It was covered with a length of cloth. Waltho could almost hear a ghostly sigh as he tentatively held the edges.
‘It’s time…’ Lauren whispered.
Taking a deep breath, Waltho gripped the edge and drew the cloth away from the easel. Beneath stood a large, blank canvas.
‘Yes, my love,’ he said, staring at the canvas, ‘It’s time,’ he whispered softly, and in moments, Waltho began to paint.