The French Retreat (Falling for France Book 1) (4 page)

‘If you’re sure,’ said Marcie. Secretly, she was relieved and wondered whether the gesture was out of lack of time or pity for her. She resisted the urge to make some smart arse comment about his stamina, just in case she shot herself in the foot and he changed his mind.

‘We’ll do the other route next time,’ said Will. ‘That’s if you’re still about. How long you staying for?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Marcie truthfully. ‘Until the fuss dies down at home, I suppose.’ From her peripheral vision, she was aware Will had turned his head to look at her. ‘I got myself into a spot of bother,’ she said.

‘You don’t strike me as the spot of bother type,’ said Will now looking ahead.

‘I used to work for a company which manufactured electronic components,’ said Marcie. ‘They won a contract with the MOD.’ She frowned as she thought back to her old admin job.

‘Right,’ said Will. ‘I take it from your tone of voice, you weren’t happy about it.’

‘I got a bit side-tracked by this guy I met. Ollie. We started dating,’ said Marcie. ‘He told me he was a Greenpeace activist. I got sucked into it all without even realising and went on what I thought was a peaceful anti-war demonstration.’ She stole a glance at Will, just catching him roll his eyes.

‘You’re going to tell me it was that big rally in Whitehall last month, aren’t you?’

‘That will be the one,’ said Marcie.

‘Where it all turned nasty, rioting, looting, arrests,’ said Will. ‘I suppose you can see the irony of the situation.’

‘Don’t worry, Ben’s already pointed that out to me,’ said Marcie. ‘I got arrested, not for doing anything criminal, but I was in wrong place at the wrong time. Literally. My picture appeared on the front page of the newspaper.’

‘And your boss saw it.’

‘Yep. I was hauled into the office and my contract terminated there and then on the spot.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘Official Secrets Act. They said they couldn’t trust me not divulge confidential information, bearing in mind who my boyfriend was and the sensitive information I had access to. This also meant that the contract on the company flat I rented was also terminated.’

‘Harsh.’

‘Mmm. Said boyfriend, promptly dumped me. It seems my boss’s hunch was right. Ollie just wanted to use me to get inside information so he and his mates could launch more daring protests.’ Marcie cringed inwardly as she thought back to Ollie. ‘I was a total fool, taken in by his charm and easily influenced like some impressionable schoolgirl. I couldn’t see it at the time but, afterwards, it was obvious. It didn’t end there, though.’

‘Really? There’s more?’

‘The local paper got hold of the story and ran it all over again,’ said Marcie. She scuffed at a stone in the track, kicking it into the bushes. ‘They made out I was some sort of trouble maker who only went there to cause a fuss. I had hate messages on Facebook, Twitter, even a note shoved through my letter box. I got lots of people coming out in support too, but sadly they weren’t the type of people I wanted to be associated with. It all got so out of hand, I had to close all my social media accounts and make my escape over here.’

‘All that for going on a demo,’ said Will. ‘Was it worth it?’

‘In a way, no. I lost my job, my flat and my dignity, all for an hour marching in Whitehall shouting anti-war slogans,’ said Marcie. ‘But, on the other hand, yes. It’s given me the chance to take stock of my life and of myself.’

‘Sometimes good things come out of bad things,’ said Will. ‘Don’t focus on the past, look to the future now.’

Marcie studied his face. He was doing his best to look distant and detached, but she could see the flick of a muscle in his neck. There was more to his words of wisdom than he was letting on.

As if sensing she was just about to ask a difficult question, Will picked up the pace. ‘There’s a little bridge and stream just up ahead. Apparently, in the summer months, it’s a great spot for dragonflies.’ He lengthened his stride and took the lead.

Marcie followed on, listening to him tell her all about the life cycle of a dragonfly and how it was different to a damson. All this from someone who killed people for a living and loved loud drum and bass music. There was certainly more to Will than met the eye.

The rest of the walk was spent discussing safer subjects. Will’s appreciation for the natural world was apparent as he happily snapped his way through the woods, patiently answering Marcie’s questions about what he was photographing and why.

They completed the loop of the woodland trail and then made their way back to The Retreat.

‘Hey, the wanderers return,’ said Ben. ‘Good walk?’

‘Excellent,’ said Marcie. ‘And excellent company.’ At which she realised she sounded rather enthusiastic. She saw Ben and Lisa exchange a look.

‘I think we’ve certainly walked that cake off from this morning,’ said Will, bending down to untie his laces.

‘I hope so,’ said Lisa. ‘Half a cake between you. Do you know how much butter and sugar went into that?’

‘I’m pretty certain we’ve walked off a slice, though,’ said Marcie. She ruffled Poppy’s ears as the little dog jumped up, resting her paws on Marcie’s knees.

Lisa went over to the pantry and brought out the Breton Butter Cake. One solitary slice remained. ‘And I’m pretty sure you had more than once slice.’ She laughed good humouredly.

Marcie stood up and looked at Will. ‘Did you have any cake?’

‘Nope. One slice is enough for me,’ said Will. He placed his wet boots in front of the fire.

‘It must be that ghost the villagers are all talking about,’ said Ben.

‘What ghost?’ said Marcie, catching the wink that her brother threw at Will.

‘Ah, the ghost,’ said Ben. ‘I haven’t told you about that, have I?’

‘It’s a load of nonsense,’ said Lisa. ‘It’s just a local rumour.’

‘The other week, we were telling Yves, the farmer from round the corner, that we want to renovate some of the outbuildings for more guest accommodation and he got all animated,’ said Ben. ‘He warned us of the ghost that lived in the barn. Told us we’d be cursed if we went ahead with the building works.’

‘He got quite worked up about it,’ said Lisa. ‘Apparently, some chickens have gone missing from his farm. I think he said he’d even seen a ghost but, to be honest, I wasn’t exactly sure if I was translating him right. He doesn’t speak English and the French he uses is a traditional Breton dialect.’

‘That probably explains things,’ said Will. ‘We bumped into him on our walk and he was having a rant about something.’

‘He’s always having a rant about something,’ said Ben. ‘We try to keep on the right side of Yves. He knows a lot of people. He’s quite influential locally.’

‘Anyway, enough of the ghost stories and miserable farmers,’ said Will. ‘I’m soaked and could do with a shower.’ He looked over at Marcie. ‘Do you want to dive in the shower first? Or shall I? I’ll probably be a lot quicker than you.’

Marcie looked down at Poppy who was now sitting by the front door, looking expectantly at her. ‘You go first,’ she said. ‘I think Poppy wants to go out. I might as well take her, seeing as I still have my boots on.’

Dusk was fast being swallowed up by the evening darkness. The lack of lighting made the garden seem even darker than usual. Ben and Lisa had spent a lot of time turning what used to be a pasture into both a relaxing and working garden. Stepping out from the kitchen there was a paved terraced area leading to the lawn with flower beds either side. In the summer it was a beautiful and relaxing place to sit, with trees on one side, giving plenty of shade from the sun. A small hedge separated the vegetable and herb garden beyond.

Marcie stood at the edge of the terrace while Poppy sniffed around on the grass. Marcie’s eyes grew more accustomed to the dark and she watched Poppy head off on the trail of something. Probably a fox or a rabbit.

‘Poppy! Come here, girl!’ called Marcie as the dog disappeared through the gap in the hedge to the vegetable garden. Marcie walked across the grass. Poppy gave a whine and then barked excitedly. ‘Poppy! Leave the rabbits alone.’

The moon slid behind a cloud and the wind whipped up, blowing Marcie’s hair around her face. Marcie paused as she reached the hedge. An unexplained feeling of apprehension came over her.

Poppy continued to yap. It wasn’t aggressive, but she was definitely excited by something. There was a rustling and Marcie could hear movement amongst the dead leaves. It sounded too heavy to be a rabbit. A fox, then? A small flash of light in the field caught her attention. She peered into the blackness trying to locate it again but it was gone.

The sound of more movement, this time behind her, made Marcie jump and she gave a small scream. The spun round and let out a sigh of relief. ‘Oh, it’s you.’

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you,’ said Will. ‘I was just coming to tell you not to stay out here too long in those wet clothes.’

‘I’ll come in now. All that talk of ghosts has got the better of me,’ said Marcie.

‘Just stories,’ said Will. He whistled to Poppy who came scampering back through the hedge. ‘There’s no-one out here.’

Chapter Four

The following week trundled along in the gentle French style Marcie was accustomed to. She could feel herself beginning to relax and the stresses of her London life slowly, but surely, slipping away.

She had been out on a walk with Will several times over the week, only declining on one occasion so her and Lisa could take a day trip down to the coastal town of Vannes for a bit of shopping, lunch and girly chat. Even that was at the typically laid back pace of the French, lunch being a leisurely affair of nearly two hours.

Marcie wasn’t convinced about the French fashion but managed to find a couple of bargains. With Christmas on its way and no job, she would have to be careful with her money. She’d start seriously looking for work when she could face going back to the UK. Her friend, Emily, had said there might be a job coming up at her place of work but Marcie wasn’t over excited at the prospect of another admin job. At least Marcie’s employer, make that former employer, had the decency to give her three months’ notice on the flat. She had until the new year to find somewhere else to live.

When Marcie awoke one morning, the relaxed feeling that had taken hold of her, seemed to have moved up a gear. For the first time since all the trouble back in London and since she had been here in France, she actually had the urge to play her flute.

The black case had rested accusingly on top of the chest of drawers since her arrival. Walking over to it, Marcie unclipped the silver catches and looked at the instrument snuggled in the black folds of the fabric. Her fingers tingled and automatically moved up and down as if playing the scales. She closed the lid and took a quick shower. It was too early to play the flute in the house but the wood store would make an excellent music room, far enough away from the house not to be heard.

With her hair still damp from the shower, Marcie headed for the wood store, her booted feet cutting a trail through the dew laden grass. She gave a shiver, wishing she had put on a thicker jumper. Winter had well and truly arrived here in the Breton countryside.

It was dark in the wood store, with only a small battery lantern to cast any light in the place. Resting the case on top of the logs, Marcie took out the flute and pushing the pieces together, she lifted it to her lips. She didn’t need sheet music to play
Edelweiss
, it was one of her favourite pieces; she had been playing it since the age of twelve.

Marcie swayed gently in time with the music, closing her eyes, losing herself in the simplicity and beauty of the tune. As she played it for a second time, something broke the moment. Still playing, she glanced around the building. As her eyes swept the length of the wall opposite, reaching the small rectangular window, a dark head bobbed down from the other side.

Marcie caught her breath, interrupting the flow of the music. There was definitely someone out there. She wondered if it was Will spying on her. Maybe he was playing a trick on her after that ghost story the other week. She gave a small smile. Well, if he thought he was going to scare her, he could think again.

Lifting the flute back to her mouth, Marcie carried on where she had left off. She pretended to close her eyes, but peered discreetly through her lowered lashes.

It didn’t take long before she heard a noise outside. As she resumed her swaying, this time a conscious movement, she kept an eye on the window. There it was again. Dark hair. But it wasn’t Will’s. As they face came into view, she could see it was, in fact, a child.

Two big brown eyes peered through the glass. Marcie opened her eyes fully and looked at the little boy, his face only half illuminated by the lantern. It was still a little dark outside, daybreak not quite upon them. As she made eye contact, the boy, who looked about eight or nine from what Marcie could tell, ducked down again but within a few moments was peering back through the glass, transfixed by the music.

Marcie controlled her breathing and continued to play to the end of the song. Then lowering the flute she gave a smile to the boy. He looked timid but his fascination was getting the better of him.

Marcie wiggled her fingers at him and smiled broadly. She gave a little tip of her head and began playing Strauss’s
Blue Danube
. She started off swaying and then seeing she had the lad’s attention, she began to waltz around the small space of the wood store, rising and falling in time with the music. As she twirled she looked back at the window, the boy was now smiling. Marcie played faster and twirled quicker to keep pace with the tempo. Encouraged by his smile, she went even faster. She could see the delight on his face, which urged her on even more. She span round and round, playing the tune so much faster than it was ever intended.

As Marcie spun round on yet another lap, the door to the wood store opened. Standing in the doorway, silhouetted against the dawn sky was Will.

Marcie stopped so abruptly that she lost her balance, stumbled and, overcome with dizziness, fell onto the earth floor.

Will let out a laugh but quickly caught hold of himself.

‘Shit. Are you okay?’ he said, striding over to her and crouching down.

She looked flustered as she sat up. ‘My flute!’ she said looking around her.

‘It’s here.’ Will passed it over.

‘I can’t see properly in this light,’ she said, examining the instrument closely. ‘I hope I haven’t damaged it. Why did you creep up on me like that?’

‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Will. ‘Here, let me help you up.’ He stood up and held out his hand to her. As she accepted his gesture, he couldn’t help noticing how soft her hands were. It had been a long time since he had held anyone’s hand. For a moment his mind went blank as he looked down at her.

She wiggled her hand free, breaking the trance and despite the dim morning light, Will noticed a small blush to her face. He gave himself a mental shake. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened there.

‘Have you hurt yourself?’ he said, taking both a mental and physical step back.

‘No, I’m fine,’ said Marcie. Then she swung round to the window. ‘He’s gone.’

Will followed her gaze. ‘Who?’

‘The boy. There was a little lad at the window,’ said Marcie. She rushed over to the glass and peered out into the garden. ‘Didn’t you see him when you came out?’

Will shook his head. ‘Are you sure he was there?’

‘Of course,’ said Marcie. Brushing by Will with her flute still in her hand, she hurried out into the garden.

Will followed. ‘There’s no-one there,’ he said. ‘Perhaps you saw the ghost the locals keep talking about.’ His grin was met with a frown.

‘I didn’t imagine it.’

‘I wasn’t saying that.’ He followed her round the wood store to the window.

‘What are you doing out here anyway?’ said Marcie.

‘Actually, Ben asked me to come and find you,’ said Will. He had got totally distracted by the sound of the music, he’d forgotten the reason for finding her.

‘Why does Ben want me?’

‘Lisa’s had a call from England. Her mum’s taken a fall. She’s okay but in hospital. Broken hip.’

‘Oh, no. Poor Lisa,’ said Marcie.

‘Ben and Lisa are getting the ten o’clock ferry from St Malo. I’m going to drive them up there. Lisa’s dad is meeting them in Portsmouth,’ explained Will. ‘We’re leaving in about half an hour.’

‘I’ll come too’ said Marcie. ‘Moral support and to keep you company. It’s a bit of a long drive there and back on your own.’

‘Okay, that’ll be good,’ said Will, finding himself more pleased at this thought than he anticipated.

A few hours later the MPV pulled up at the ferry port in St Malo.

Will helped unload the two suitcases, passing them to Ben. ‘Don’t worry about anything. I’ll look after things.’

‘Cheers, mate,’ said Ben, shaking hands with Will. ‘I appreciate that.’ He turned to Marcie. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?’

‘No. I’ll be fine,’ said Marcie. She gave her brother and sister-in-law a hug each. ‘Besides, someone needs to look after Will.’

Will raised his eyebrows. ‘Is that so?’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure I can look after myself. I think it’s more a case of me looking after you. Saving you from all those ghosts.’

This remark earned him a playful whack on the arm from Marcie.

They watched Ben and Lisa head off to the departures lounge and then climbed back in to the car and drove out towards the motorway.

‘Homeward bound,’ said Will, accelerating as they joined the motorway traffic.

The sun was making a valiant effort to warm the cold November morning and as they headed further south into Brittany, it broke free from the clouds.

‘Do you fancy stopping somewhere on the way home for some lunch?’ said Marcie. ‘We could do a bit of sightseeing.’

Will went to decline but stopped himself. For some reason he didn’t want to disappoint Marcie. He glanced over at her, an expectant look on her face. ‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Did you have anywhere in mind.’

‘What about Rochefort-en-Terre? It’s a really quaint, traditional village and they have a wonderful
chocolatier
there. Or they did the last time I visited.’

‘Woe betide a man getting in a girl’s way of chocolate,’ said Will.

‘Exactly,’ said Marcie.

‘Programme the Satnav, then,’ said Will. He pushed a CD into the player and turned up the volume as drum and bass music pounded out of the speakers.

Marcie clasped her hands to her ears. ‘Oh, no!’ she said raising her voice to be heard over the heavy bass. She reached across and turned the volume down.

‘Not this again,’ said Will. ‘I do believe it’s my turn to choose the soundtrack. I have a distinct memory of the
Hallelujah Chorus
last time we did this journey.’

‘I know but can’t we come to a compromise?’

‘Nope. Anyway, you might actually like it. Being the lover of music that you are, you should tune your ear in and appreciate just what goes into putting a track like this together.’

‘I’m not convinced,’ said Marcie.

Will twiddled the volume dial and took it down a level. ‘To be fair, you’re not listening to it the best way. You need a really high-tech sound system that can deal with low frequency drum beats.’

‘I can live without the experience,’ said Marcie. ‘It just sounds so aggressive. There’s nothing nice about it.’

‘Don’t think of it as aggression. Think of it as power,’ said Will. ‘Look, I’m no expert in classical music, but think of something like the
Flight of the Valkyries
. A great piece which you can interpret as aggressive but really it’s powerful. Power wins over aggression any time.’

‘Like in war?’

Will paused, surprised by her analogy. She wasn’t the dizzy blonde at all that Ben made her out to be. He, himself, had probably underestimated her too. Not a good thing in the soldier’s hand book. He nodded. ‘Yeah, like in war.’

‘There’s just no beauty, though,’ said Marcie. She winced as the bass dropped. ‘Certainly not in war.’

‘I agree with you on that point. However, in terms of music, beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Or ear, as the case may be,’ said Will. ‘You know drum and bass’s early influence was jungle and breakbeat, it took the rhythmic elements from one and the melodic elements of the other. It’s since gone on to influence a whole load of other subgenres, such as, hip-hop, step, house and many more.’

‘You actually know quite a lot about music,’ said Marcie. ‘I’m impressed.’

‘So, you’re going to listen and appreciate it?’ said Will. He gave a laugh at her horrified expression.

‘I wouldn’t go as far as saying that. However, I’ll listen to it, seeing as you listened to my choice last time. Although, I might need an antidote later and play my flute.’

The thought was actually quite appealing, although he wasn’t going to admit that to Marcie. There had been something quite captivating earlier that morning when he had watched her for a moment, as she danced around the wood store playing her flute. It had a natural organic feel to it, as if she was totally at one with the world.

Arriving at Rochefort-en-Terre, Will parked in the car park and on foot they headed into the car free centre of the village. The cobbled streets and old buildings were enchanting and Will could easily understand how it gained its accolade as one of France’s most beautiful villages.

‘I’ve only been here in the summertime,’ said Marcie. ‘Usually, there are geraniums everywhere. I was hoping the Christmas decorations would be up.’

‘It’s still a bit early for that, isn’t it?’ said Will. ‘I don’t think the French are quite as consumed by the festive season as we are.’

‘You’ll have to bring me back nearer Christmas,’ said Marcie.

‘You planning on being around that long?’

‘Why not? I’ve got nothing to go back to the UK for,’ said Marcie. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and looked down at the ground.

‘Hey, it’s not that bad,’ said Will. ‘Don’t let it get to you.’

‘I’m just cross with myself,’ said Marcie.