“The fireplace is lovely.” Brenda ran her fingers across its giant stone mantel. “And look at the parquet flooring. It’s in such good condition considering its age.”
Flick continued to take in the room. “Shame about the furniture though, eh?” She indicated to the scruffy sofa. Covered in dust, she had to question what the chateau owners were thinking. The room and its guests deserved better. “They could have at least put a throw on it. No one in their right mind would want to sit on that.”
Brenda laughed in response. “I suppose we should unpack the car,” she said, ever the organiser. “It’ll be getting dark soon. We can check the other rooms out properly once we’re sorted.”
Tempted to let their belongings wait, Flick reluctantly conceded that her mum was right, exploring the chateau would have to come later. But as Flick dragged her feet towards the door, the sound of a dog yapping caught her attention. A little Jack Russell suddenly scurried into the room. “Where did you come from?” Flick asked, before turning to her mum who simply shrugged. Crouching down to the dog’s level, Flick gave it the fuss it seemed to be after. “Maybe the owners have come to settle us in?”
Scooping him up, the dog wriggled as she headed outside to find out. “Stop that,” she said, giggling as the Jack Russell eagerly nibbled at her ear. With no one in sight, she at last heard footsteps crunching on the gravel, before some chap rounded the corner from the rear of the building.
“Alors, te voilà!” he said.
As he continued his approach, Flick felt a slight panic and her mind scrambled as she tried and failed to remember her schoolgirl French. If ever there was a time she wished she’d paid more attention in class, it was now. “Bonjour,” she said, refusing to let her accompanying smile falter at the sound of her own voice. Even toheruntrained ear, she couldn’t have sounded more foreign if she’d tried. Not that it mattered, Flick quickly realised. As the man silently took the Jack Russell from her arms and set it down on the ground, it was clear he hadn’t been talking to her anyway, he’d been talking to the dog.
She watched the man gently stroke its back, as he produced a lead from his pocket and clipped it onto the dog’s collar before straightening himself up again.
“Sorry about that,” he finally said, his switch to perfect English coming as a surprise and a relief. “He must have heard you coming up the drive.”
Flick expected him to carry on chatting, but without warning let alone another word, he began to leave, something she found a bit odd. As far as she was concerned, the least he could do was introduce himself and she suddenly stopped him. “I’m Flick,” she said, before he could get off altogether. She felt a tad awkward standing there with an outstretched arm. Clearly reluctant to accept the gesture, the man seemed more interested in getting back to wherever it was he’d come from. “It’s a sort of nickname,” she added, refusing to give up. “Short for Felicity.”
Their eyes locked, her tummy doing a little somersault as he finally shook her hand. The man might border on rude, she considered, but with his unruly blond hair and gorgeous green eyes she couldn’t deny his good looks, he was drop dead gorgeous. Not that she was bothered one way or the other, she decided, pulling herself together. After Matthew, this man could have had two heads for all she cared.
She continued to wait for him to tell her his name in return, but he persisted in revealing nothing. Instead he just stood there.
“Ahem,” he finally said, nodding towards his hand.
Realising she was still holding it, Flick felt herself blush and immediately let go again. She could see her embarrassment amused him but chose to ignore the little smile that appeared on his lips and the twinkle glistening in his eye. “And this is my…” She looked over her shoulder for a much-needed diversion. However, while expecting to see her mother, Brenda wasn’t actually there. “Oh,” Flick said. “Never mind.”
Turning her attention back to the man, she couldn’t help but carry on staring. The more she looked, the more something about him seemed vaguely familiar; curious considering she’d never visited that part of France before. She hastily wracked her brain in an attempt to figure out where else she might know him from, except try as she might she couldn’t place him.
“Right, I’ll be off then,” he said.
“This is going to sound strange,” Flick said, stopping him for a second time. “But have we met before?”
Flick saw the smile in his eyes immediately vanish, the one on his lips go from natural to fixed. Her question had clearly made him uncomfortable, guarded even. Not that Flick could think why.
“No. Not as far as I know.”
“Really? Because…”
“I think I’d remember.”
As he cut her short, Flick didn’t know how to respond. Going off his tone, his statement clearly wasn’t a compliment. Then again, she supposed it didn’t matter anyway; he obviously didn’t own the chateau. The man might not want to give his name, but common sense told her there was no reason he should omit to being their host. “Sorry,” she said, telling herself she must be wrong. “You’re probably right. Things have been a bit fraught lately. It’ll be my mind playing tricks.”
The man’s caution remained. “Or I just have one of those faces. In any case, I’ll leave you to it.”
Flick watched him turn and hastily head back the way he’d come, the little Jack Russell dutifully tottering alongside.That was weird,Flick thought.
4
Flick opened her eyes. Still half asleep, her strange surroundings confused her and she wondered where she was for a moment. Realisation dawned as she hunched up onto her elbows and looked around. “How could I forget?”
She took in the sparsely furnished room with its outdated wallpaper and threadbare rug, wondering what her mother had been thinking when she’d booked them into this place. Whichever travel agency or accommodation site she’d used there had to have been pictures. “Of course there were.” Flick looked down at the sleeping bag she was wrapped in. “How else would she know to come so prepared?”
There was no denying their accommodation had potential, its original features continued to wow even then her they were so impressive. There couldn’t be many bedrooms that housed a fireplace as big as this one. Still, in reality the building’s potential meant nothing. When it came to her and her mum’s holiday, what mattered was having the odd home comfort, like bed linen and a duvet. Flick slumped back down onto the pillow insisting she was just being ungrateful again. The chateau might not be perfect, but her mum had gone to a lot of effort. “And it’s not as if it’s all bad,” Flick had to admit. Despite spending the night on what had to be the oldest bed in France, she had just enjoyed a very long restful sleep, something she hadn’t experienced in quite a while.
She stretched herself out, before reluctantly unzipping her warm cocoon. Getting out of bed, she hastily grabbed her dressing gown. Regardless of the sunlight streaming in, there was a definite autumnal chill in the air and stuffing her feet into her slippers she moved towards one of the old cast-iron radiators. Flick had never seen a radiator as ornate as this before and reaching out to touch it, she traced the swirling leaves and flowers that were moulded into the shiny silver metalwork. “At least you look the part.” She let out a wry chuckle. Feeling the cold metal against her fingers, the heating system was clearly like the rest of the chateau, knackered.
Deciding to go in search of her mother, Flick made her way out onto the landing and down the wide sweeping staircase. As her hand glided along the well-worn bannister, she wondered about the building’s history, envisaging a host of giant portrait paintings of owners past displayed on the walls. She felt a frisson of excitement. To think she could be walking in the very steps once taken by French nobility really was quite something.
