The Little French Guesthouse (15 page)

I shrugged. ‘I’m only pleased I could help.’

‘Emmy is being ridiculously modest as usual,’ Rupert chipped in. ‘She’s been a complete star. You name it, she’s mucked in and done it – cleaning, cooking, organising, making suggestions, changing things...’

‘Oh?’ Alain smiled. ‘What sort of things?’

Rupert rolled his eyes. ‘Well, she’s got rid of Gloria’s diary for a start. Complete bloody shambles, that was. It’s all on a spreadsheet now. Emmy’s the spreadsheet queen.
And
she got rid of Gloria from the website.’

I glanced at Alain in a panic. Did he think I was being bitchy? Apparently not – he suppressed a smile.

‘Fresh flowers in the guest rooms,’ Rupert went on. ‘Individually wrapped guest toiletries soon to be banished for aesthetic and environmental reasons; solution decided upon this very morning.
And
she’s going to work on my website when she gets back home.’

Alain raised an eyebrow and rested that soft brown gaze of his on mine. ‘Impressive. Are you in hotel management back in the UK?’

I laughed. ‘Not at all. Marketing.’

‘Well, it’s good to know your skills are benefitting Rupert to such an extent while you’re here.’ His smile was warm and approving.

Our coffees arrived. Alain curled long fingers around his cup and brought it to his lips. He had a full mouth, I realised – none of that tight-lipped seriousness you might imagine in an accountant – and his face was tanned. Shouldn’t an accountant be pale from being stuck behind a desk all day, I wondered? Not that I was staring at him or anything.

As he got down to business, I resigned myself to my fate. Since I was here to help Rupert with his listening and retaining skills, I supposed I’d better pay attention.

Alain was concerned about Rupert’s financial situation now that Gloria had upped sticks, and it sounded as though he’d spent considerable time covering all bases. Rupert, ever the entrepreneur, had no trouble following all the possible scenarios and permutations. As for me, although I was a) pretending not to pay too close attention to Rupert’s personal business and b) mathematically lost, I followed the gist enough to understand that although
La Cour des Roses
was doing well, things might get tight if Gloria decided to take him to the cleaner’s – something not one of us around the table doubted would happen.

‘I know you’re doing well, Rupert,’ Alain concluded, ‘but you need to ensure you’re fully booked mid-season as well as at peak season. Maybe find a way to attract people in low season.’

Rupert looked taken aback. ‘I like being quiet in low season,’ he muttered. ‘Gives me chance to catch up – spring clean, decorate, sort stuff out.’

I shot Alain a sharp glance. After all Rupert had been through, he was being too pushy.

But he carried on regardless. ‘I’m not saying you should be busting at the seams all year round. I’m saying you should extend the season, that’s all.’

‘
La Cour des Roses
pays its way,’ Rupert said sulkily.

‘It
did
,’ Alain pointed out, ‘when you only needed to cover costs and boost your income. But if you have to pay Gloria off, you’ll need to maximise your profits.’

Alain looked across at me for support, his gaze holding mine as though I was the only other person in the café. Because he was interested in what I had to say? Or because of something else? I ignored my accelerating pulse and retuned his look with a glare. What did he think he was playing at? Rupert wasn’t well. His wife had just left him. He didn’t need to hear this right now.

‘Any thoughts, Emmy?’ Alain asked.

Oh, I had plenty of thoughts all right, but they weren’t remotely polite. I closed my eyes for a moment, corralling them into something constructive, then turned to Rupert.

‘Well, obviously I haven’t seen your books – and I don’t want to,’ I hastened to add. But...’ I thought about the bath salts by my chair. ‘Gloria didn’t necessarily do things badly, but I suspect she didn’t put much thought into them either. Maybe you could start by looking at whatever she dealt with. Those motel toiletries are a prime example. I know she ordered them in bulk, but they can’t be economical. People use them once and chuck what’s left, then put the rest in their suitcases. Even if they only stay a couple of nights, you’ve lost everything you put in that bathroom. I suspect the difference in cost will be small, but taken over time, it could add up. Besides, we’re not just talking cost here. We’re talking about something far more valuable, which has a knock-on effect – image.’

I was getting in the swing now, despite myself.

‘You’re tied down to the service you offer – for example, you have to cook three guest meals a week whether you have one room full or four. In which case, you might as well have all four booked as often as possible. Think about what image you want to convey and go for it, especially if you want to increase bookings through repeat business and word-of-mouth recommendations.’

I lifted my purchase from the floor and waggled it at him. ‘Those crappy toiletries do not convey class. The glass bottles do. Potpourri does not convey class. Fresh flowers in antique vases do. You have good quality linen on the beds, but a duvet cover is a duvet cover. Add character. Those throws you have in the
gîtes
? The patchwork quilts? Gorgeous. Put them in the guesthouse as well. Get rid of any ornaments and pictures that don’t scream “class”. It will cost money, but you can do it a bit at a time and it’s an effective, long-lasting change. What about local artists? They may be willing to donate a piece if you leave their business cards out...’

I paused for breath, only to realise that Alain and Rupert were both staring at me open-mouthed – Alain in surprised admiration, Rupert in sheer panic. Oh dear. Once the ideas got running, it was hard to stop the flow. I immediately felt guilty. Five minutes ago, I’d been livid with Alain for haranguing Rupert. Now I’d done the same... Which made me even more livid with Alain for leading me into it.

I thought fast. I’d got carried away with minutiae, when we needed to look at the bigger picture first. I had to give Rupert something simple and solid to think about.

And then I needed to collar Alain in a quiet corner and thump him.

I wafted a hand to indicate that my verbal diarrhoea was of no consequence. ‘Small things can be done over time. If you want to fill vacancies, the main question is how you’re advertising. I booked via an online site – although I looked at your own website before I went ahead. Do you only use the one?’

Rupert nodded, back in his comfort zone. ‘I pay a yearly charge to list the
gîtes
and a link to my website. And I’m listed with the local tourist board here. It’s done the trick so far.’

‘Okay. But now...’

‘More ideas?’ Alain asked with a smile.

I narrowed my eyes at him in warning.

‘The problem with the site I booked through is that it lists thousands of properties,’ I explained. ‘Maybe you need to advertise on more than one site. Or look at the
type
of site – see if there’s something more select, specialised to the region, so you’re less a drop in the ocean and more a splash in a pond. And we need to increase your chances of being found on search engines. What about social media?’

He grimaced. ‘No, thanks.’

‘You don’t have to tell everyone your darkest secrets or what you had for dinner, Rupert. Although maybe that isn’t such a bad idea. A photo of the food you cook for guests posted up three times a week might be quite tempting...’

Rupert suddenly stood. ‘I’m off to order more coffees.’ And without waiting for our response, he limped away to the counter.

Shit. I’d gone too far. Again.

Happy to share the blame, I rounded on Alain like a mother tiger who’d caught him too near her cub. ‘What was all that about?’ I hissed.

The look of surprise on his face would have been almost comical if I wasn’t on my high horse.

‘What do you mean? I’ve hardly got a word in edgewise for the last ten minutes!’

‘I know that,’ I said crossly. ‘But I wouldn’t have got started if you hadn’t been haranguing the poor man about profits and loss and how much he’s going to lose in the divorce, would I?’

He frowned. ‘You didn’t have to join in.’

‘Actually, I did, because by the time
you’d
finished with him, I wanted to give the poor man something practical to think about. What you were telling him was unsubstantiated at best. We have no idea what Gloria might do. Don’t you think this is all too soon for him? He needs time to gather himself together. All you’ve done is make him worry about things he needn’t worry about.’

We stared at each other as he absorbed my tirade, and I bit my lip before I said something I might regret. I turned to check that Rupert was still out of earshot, but he was nowhere to be seen, presumably at the gents’.

Alain held my gaze the minute I turned back. For the first time, I noticed golden flecks in the brown – and I desperately wished my pulse would behave. I was so mad with him I could spit, so the way my stomach flipped when he looked at me like that was just downright annoying.

I compensated by venting my spleen. ‘Nor do I think a café is the ideal place for a discussion like this.’

Alain gave me a disparaging look. ‘Neither do I. But I think you and I both have our suspicions about why he chose it.’

‘He
said
he couldn’t manage the stairs to your office, but that you didn’t have time to come out to
La Cour des Roses
.’

‘The first bit’s true enough. The last is pure fabrication. I offered to come to the house, but he insisted on meeting in town because he was visiting the market. With you.’

I took my time absorbing that one. It stretched into an awkward silence.

Alain sighed. ‘Emmy. I know you and Rupert have had a crap time, and I’m beginning to see how much you care about him. But, at this point, I would like to remind you that I have known him for six years. He was one of my first clients when I moved down here. That means I have also known Gloria for six years. And believe me, what you think of her is nothing compared to what I think of her. I have had to spend those six years biting my tongue every time I did Rupert’s books and saw what she’d spent on a new car, or some cocktail dress she was hoping I’d write off as a business expense, and her insistence on not renting out the London flat so she could use it for the occasional shopping weekend. Can you imagine the lost income on that?’

‘But that’s all you’re bringing it down to, isn’t it?’ I spat, incensed. ‘Income and profit and loss. Rupert’s comfortably off, from what I can gather. He has no aspirations to be mega-rich.’

‘No, but what I’m telling you – and what I’m trying to get across to him – is that he needs to start thinking about where Gloria will leave him at the end of all this. He needs to prepare himself for the worst.’

‘And what I’m telling
you
’ – I jabbed a finger in his direction – ‘is that he doesn’t need to hear this right now. Couldn’t you have had the decency to wait a few weeks?’

Alain’s lips thinned. ‘
I
could.
Gloria
might not. Look, Emmy, you go home soon, but I’m one of the people who will have to see him through this. I’m only trying to help a friend.’

‘Well, that friend has been seriously ill, Alain, and I would have thought you’d take that into consideration.’

He shook his head. ‘It’s a pulled ligament, Emmy. It’s hardly life-threatening!’

‘Oh, so you don’t see being dragged off in an ambulance with a suspected heart attack as serious?’

Alain paled. ‘What are you talking about?’

I
took
in the shock in his eyes. ‘You didn’t know?’

He shook his head. ‘No. So perhaps you’d better tell me before he gets back.’

The barman came over with our coffees, and I waited till he’d left.

‘The night Gloria and Nathan... Well, Rupert had what I thought was a heart attack. We called an ambulance and he spent the night in hospital. They said it’s only angina, but he’s on medication and he’s supposed to adjust his lifestyle. I presume that includes less stress.’

Alain ran a hand over his face. ‘Shit. I had no idea. He only told me about his leg! And the grapevine hasn’t told me any different. He must be playing it down to everyone.’

‘Then I’m sorry for what I said – but only to some extent. Even if he wasn’t ill, Gloria leaving has been more of a blow than you think. Just because
we
can’t stand the woman doesn’t mean...’

He kicked me under the table. Rupert was back.

‘Sorry about that. Someone I know through Jonathan. You two getting on alright?’

I narrowed my eyes at him as he settled back down with his coffee. Was he really trying to set me up with his
accountant
?

I glanced back at Alain. He was shaking his head at Rupert in friendly despair.

‘We’re having a few people over for dinner tomorrow night,’ Rupert said smoothly as Alain prepared to leave. ‘Can you join us? Around seven?’

Alain looked taken aback. He hesitated a moment, no doubt toying between showing support for his friend trying to resume his social life after his set-backs, and the prospect of having to spend an evening in the company of a woman who had just accused him of being an insensitive prat.

‘I...’ His shoulders slumped a fraction. ‘Sounds good. I’ll look forward to it.’

As he negotiated his way through the crowded tables to the door, Rupert elbowed me in the ribs.

‘What the hell have you done to him?’ he hissed. ‘Can’t I leave you for two minutes? He was all over you like an adoring puppy dog, lapping up your creative genius and that lovely smile... And by the time I got back from the loo, there were thunderclouds hovering over your heads!’

‘We... disagreed over something.’

‘What?’

‘Nothing you need worry about.’ I hurriedly changed the subject. ‘If the thunderclouds were so bloody obvious, why did you invite him to dinner?’

‘Because I fancied some company.’ He gave me a look. ‘And because Alain fancies you.’

‘Oh, for goodness’ sake, Rupert.’ Although, I had to admit Alain had given me that impression at the beginning – but I suspected the attraction had worn off after the way I’d lashed out at him.

But Rupert carried on, oblivious. ‘He’s half-French, half-English, you know. Best of both worlds, if you ask me.’

I rolled my eyes heavenwards. ‘Rupert Hunter, may I remind you that it’s not even a fortnight since my boyfriend ran off with your wife. I need time to lick my wounds, not to be on the lookout for a new bloke.’

‘That hasn’t stopped you romping in the bushes with my gardener,’ Rupert shot at me, his eyes twinkling as my skin went from delicate pink to an unbecoming puce.

‘What are you talking about? I haven’t... I didn’t...’

‘No point denying it. Heard the mating noises through my open bedroom window last week. Woke me from my nap.’ Delighted by my discomfort, Rupert patted my hand. ‘Don’t fret, Emmy. I don’t blame you. Ryan’s a good-looking young chap and you could do with a bit of fun after being with that stick-in-the-mud.’

‘It was only a rebound thing, a bit of comfort,’ I said sullenly. ‘Anyway, we’ve both agreed to call a halt to it. I just... I wanted to feel attractive again.’ Thinking I might have shared a step too far, I bit my lip.

But Rupert smiled. ‘I can understand that. Don’t take this the wrong way, Emmy – I should stress that I see you more as a sort of goddaughter than anything else – but someone needs to tell you because that blind boyfriend of yours obviously didn’t: you
are
attractive. You’re natural and curvy in a lovely, uncomplicated sort of way. A lot of men like that. Alain certainly seems to. We’ll find out when he comes to dinner.’

‘Yes, and about that. Who
are
these people who are supposedly coming to dinner tomorrow? Other than Alain?’

‘No one yet. I made it up. Don’t worry, I’ll think of someone. You could invite Sophie, if you like. I don’t want to end up playing gooseberry all by myself. Wear that floaty sundress with the low-cut neckline. Plump up your cleavage a bit.’

I rolled my eyes. Rupert the matchmaker. Heaven help me.

R
upert behaved strangely all
the way to the car, throwing little compliments my way – how well I’d squeezed into a small parking space, how I knew the streets like the back of my hand, how I’d ordered everything in French at the market stalls. It was the same on the drive back – how confident I was behind the wheel, how well I knew the road home. This was a side of him I wasn’t used to, and I found it rather unnerving.

True to his word, he spent half the afternoon on the phone, ringing round his cronies to see who might be free for his dinner party tomorrow, and he insisted I phone Sophie to do the same.

She was available and delighted to accept. ‘Now I will be able to picture where your exciting holiday has taken place and meet your Rupert!’

‘He’s not
my
Rupert, thank heavens. I’m only his temporary guardian.’

‘Cheer up, Emmy. It’s about time you had a change of company,’ was Rupert’s response to my long face as we ate dinner. I refrained from pointing out we’d only just got rid of my parents, and our night out with Ryan and
his
parents had held more than enough excitement for me. I knew I would be wasting my breath. When Rupert set his mind to something, it had a habit of staying set.

‘How much are your mortgage repayments?’ His question came out of the blue after supper.

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Just wondered.’ He tried for nonchalant disinterest, but I knew him too well.

‘Well, you can keep wondering, my friend.’

He ignored me. ‘Fixed rate? Variable? Tracker? Maybe I can help. You know I’m a financial whizz.’ He flashed that infectious smile of his.

I frowned. ‘Rupert, at no point since your over-tanned bony wife ran off with my no-good dull boyfriend have I mentioned any of my financial worries. What hidden agenda have you got whirring around in that under-occupied brain of yours?’

Rupert arranged his face into an indifferent mask. ‘No agenda. But it occurred to me that while I’m sitting here – under-occupied, as you say – with you scurrying around after me, I might be able to pay you back with financial know-how. Fetch me another beer, will you?’

I got him his drink. It was easier than arguing.

‘Thanks,’ he grunted. ‘So, how much is your mortgage?’

‘You’re not going to leave this alone, are you?’

‘Nope. What do you think I’m going to do with the information – sell it to the highest bidder? Imagine I’m your independent financial adviser, except I’m doing it for free. A lot of people would pay highly for my services, you know.’ He wiggled his eyebrows.

I laughed. ‘To be honest, I’ve been trying not to think about it. Besides, I haven’t heard from Nathan yet. How can I plan ahead without knowing what he intends to do?’

Rupert’s expression softened. ‘How you deal with Nathan isn’t any of my business. But if I give you some good advice, you’ll have things straight in your head when you discuss where you stand with him. You need to face up to the future. After all, you go home soon.’

‘I know.’ My heart plummeted southwards. Any impartial outsider would think I should be glad to be heading for home and some kind of normality, but the thought filled me more with trepidation than anticipation. I liked it here. I’d had a chance to just
be.
I’d grown used to Rupert’s low boredom threshold and demanding nature, and although he often irritated the hell out of me, we’d built up a good way of doing things, considering. And there was no denying the beauty of the house, the gardens, the weather.

But Rupert was right. Life at
La Cour des Roses
had been a surreal experience in many ways, but it was time I got to grips with reality.

I took a deep breath, a large gulp of wine, and looked Rupert in the eye. ‘Alright, maestro. What do you need to know?’

Rupert actually made notes. Our mortgage rate, the bank we were with, what we paid for the flat, its postcode and number of rooms. Our bills, our salaries.

Numbed by alcohol, I let him get on with it. Bless the old soul, he was probably bored and needed a project to get his teeth into. Besides, Rupert was pretty savvy about this stuff. His advice wouldn’t go amiss.

‘What’s the diagnosis, doc?’ I poured myself another glass in case there was bad news to come.

Rupert sat back and rubbed his eyes. ‘Well, it all looks pretty sound to me. The question is what to do if you and Nathan go your separate ways.’ He gave me a searching look. ‘I presume that’s what’s going to happen?’

I thought about the first time Nathan took me to view the flat: my pleasure and anticipation at the prospect of owning a home of our own, sharing our lives together. Nathan presenting me with a moving-in present – a picture I’d seen in a catalogue but thought we couldn’t afford.

And then I remembered his betrayal on the roof terrace. His non-existent effort to make amends. Driving off with Gloria.

I looked Rupert in the eye. ‘Without a doubt.’

We sat brooding for a moment, then Rupert startled me by slapping the table with his large hands, making our drinks slosh.

‘In that case, we need to carve you out a new future.’

I mopped up the spills with a napkin. ‘I wouldn’t go that far, Rupert. I just need to know what you think I should do about the flat and stuff.’

‘My dear Emmy, you need to broaden your vision. What savings have you got, and which are in your name?’

I was surprised to realise Nathan and I had saved quite a bit – although the pleasant feeling this evoked was dampened by the realisation that it was only because we’d worked so hard and had been too tired to spend our disposable income on going out or holidays or anything fun. Our main indulgences seemed to be expensive ready meals, Nathan’s attraction to the latest electronic gadgets and my habit of thinking that PMS justified extensive retail therapy. With a jolt, I remembered a small inheritance from my grandmother. I wasn’t sure Nathan even knew about that, since the old dear had died before we met. I told Rupert.

He jotted it down and sat back with a flourish. ‘Right then, here’s what I think you should do.’

Sitting forward in my seat, I eagerly awaited his sage advice.

‘In an ideal world, you could do with being rid of Nathan, cutting off all ties, but with your salary, I don’t think you could afford to buy him out. Not without substantial hardship.’

I’d already come to that conclusion during one of my many sleepless nights. ‘So?’

‘Either he could buy you out, or you could force a sale – but both of those options would throw you off the property ladder. Better still, you could persuade him to rent the flat out for now. It’s in a good area on a commuter route into the city centre. The rent would cover your mortgage and then some.’

‘And where would I live?’

‘Here at
La Cour des Roses
.’ He said it as though it was the most obvious answer in the world.

‘What?’
I stared at him, wide-eyed.

‘I’ve been thinking.’

‘Oh, God, no.’ I put my head in my hands. So much for sage advice. Rupert had cooked up one of his schemes, and I was the guinea pig he was roping into it.

‘There’s no need to be like that, Emmy. I haven’t got the hard facts and figures yet, but here it is in a nutshell. You rent out the flat which pays the mortgage, keeping you on the property ladder – albeit jointly with an unfaithful prick, but beggars can’t be choosers. Any leftover can be used towards maintenance, repairs, bills. Then you come and live here, and I pay you to help me run the place.’

My mouth gaped open and I had to make a conscious effort to close it. ‘You want me to give up a career in marketing to work part-time cleaning the
gîtes
for you?’ I couldn’t see where he was going with this, other than insane.

‘Not just cleaning. There’s more to it than that, and you know it. You’d be a sort of manager – of a much smaller enterprise than you’re used to back home, admittedly. But there’s advertising, bookings, hosting, tourist advice for the guests, bookkeeping. All those ideas you had today – you’d be able to implement those. And yes – shopping, cooking, errands and cleaning, I suppose.’

He cleared his throat. ‘I don’t want to give all this up, not yet, but I can’t do it on my own – nor do I want to. You’ve already proven yourself more than capable. I can’t imagine what it’s going to be like without you, and I can’t think of anything I’d like more than to have you here.’ He held up a hand to stave off the protests I was about to make. ‘You’d be living rent-free with no bills, so the money would be better than you think.’

I frowned. ‘Rupert, I know you do well here, but I don’t see how you could afford to pay me much. And if you give me a room, you’ll be lowering your income.’

He shook his head. ‘Actually, no, because you could have Gloria’s mother’s room.’

‘What?’

‘When we had that wing built, Gloria insisted we allow for her mother coming to stay. She said it wouldn’t be fair to bung her in with the other guests, so we had a room built specially.’

‘Crikey, that’s devotion to the in-laws. Did she like it?’

‘No idea. The old bat refused to come unless Gloria flew back to accompany her out here. When we’d made all the arrangements, she got pneumonia to spite us, turned up her toes and that was that.’

I knew I shouldn’t laugh, but the thought of an awkward, elderly version of Gloria giving them the run-around and then popping off out of spite made it hard not to.

Despite my better judgement telling me not to give Rupert’s ridiculous plot the time of day, my brain whirred dangerously. I hadn’t realised his private extension was so big, but I wasn’t sure I could countenance living in such close proximity to my wannabe mentor. Not that I was considering this with any seriousness whatsoever, of course.