‘And I’ll have you,’ said Andrew, looking at Louise with adoration.
‘And we’d love to have you, Meg,’ said Alexandra. ‘Near, if not actually living here. And I know David would be delighted.’
‘For a moment I’d forgotten David lived nearby,’ said Louise. ‘In which case, I’d be very happy for you to live here. We could come and visit.’
Everyone seemed so enthusiastic at the thought of Meg moving to France permanently, she supposed it must be a good idea. Yet she knew her heart was in a little corner of Dorset where, at the right time of year, the nightingales sang.
‘As long as you’re back for the wedding,’ said Andrew. ‘No substitutes accepted.’
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Until Meg had actually been offered a job at the restaurant, she and Alexandra decided it was better for Meg to stay living in the chateau. In fact, Meg wasn’t in a hurry to be independent. She loved all the family and they seemed to love her. She set off each morning in her car and came back each evening, delighted to see the chateau at the end of the drive, welcoming her home.
It was early August when Pierre came into the kitchen when they were clearing up after the lunchtime service. He went over to Meg and nodded his head towards the restaurant. ‘P’tite, you’re wanted out front.’
It was Justin. And he looked ghastly. Meg’s mouth went dry. It must be bad news but he didn’t speak when he saw her.
‘Is everything all right? My mother? Ambrosine?’
‘Both fighting fit. Can we talk?’
Pierre, who had come out to witness the meeting, nodded. ‘A man in love. You’d better hear him out,p’tite.’
Meg gave her boss a look which was as near to rolling her eyes as was polite, hoping to convey thathe was quite wrong about this, but she didn’t wait to explain more fully. ‘There’s a café next door. We’ll go there.’
They found an outside table and she ordered two coffees and some cognac for Justin. ‘Now drink this and tell me calmly what the problem is. You look terrible!’
He sipped the coffee and then laughed. ‘You don’t look terrible. Anything but!’
She suddenly became aware of how she must look, in her little cap and chef’s whites. She pulled off the cap and her hair fell round her face. She knew it needed cutting but she hadn’t had time. She also knew she’d picked up a bit of a tan recently, although right now she was probably bright red in the face. She pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear.
‘Why are you here, Justin? There must be something very wrong for you to come all this way.’
He took a deep breath, looked at her intently, but still didn’t speak.
‘Has something happened to Nightingale Woods? I wish you’d tell me because I’m now imagining that it’s burnt to the ground.’ Suddenly this seemed like a likely explanation. ‘Oh God—’
‘It’s not that – it’s nothing life-threatening.’
‘Then what is it?’
He exhaled deeply. ‘Nightingale Woods, which one day I will own part of, isn’t the same without you.’
‘Really?’ She felt a little breathless. She hadn’t expected this.
‘Yes. It doesn’t work in the same way without you in the kitchen.’
‘I find that very difficult to believe. You’re a professional chef. I’ve never been more than a … gifted amateur.’
‘I don’t expect being a gifted amateur makes you welcome in a restaurant like this.’ He indicated the restaurant next door to the café. ‘I looked it up. It has a very good reputation.’
She sat up straighter. ‘It has. I’m proud to work in its kitchen.’ She took a sip of coffee to give herself time to think of something else to say.
Justin caught the hand that had just put down the coffee cup and held it. ‘Meggy, I’ve come all this way – I came the long way round – to talk to you – to tell you – about how we all need you at Nightingale Woods!’
Something didn’t make sense. ‘My mother and Andrew were here, not long ago …’
Thinking about it, Meg remembered that her mother had said that Laura wasn’t working out very well. Meg had assumed she just hadn’t settled in properly and that it would all be working well by now.
