‘No, well …’ said Justin. ‘It wasn’t so bad when they came over. It’s got worse since.’
She tried to move her hand but it was still enveloped in his much larger one. She couldn’t reply so she swallowed instead.
He cleared his throat. ‘Superficially, things are going smoothly, but the guests aren’t happy. They write veryhalf-hearted things in the Visitors’ Book and we’re losing bookings. Of course, it was a bad mistake, Laura cancelling the play.’ He paused. ‘In short, we’re lacking what made the hotel special.’
‘But surely Laura can put things right? So it all works properly and people are happier?’
‘Laura has left Nightingale Woods. It wasn’t her sort of place. She made very good macarons – although it took all day to do it – but she never got the hang of the nursery puddings everyone loves. And while she was efficient she had no …’ He paused, looking for the word. ‘Heart.’
How did Justin feel about this? He was giving no sign. ‘But you were practically engaged!’
Justin sighed. ‘Only in her mind. It’s true we were a couple for a while, but we broke up quite quickly after she came to Nightingale Woods. She didn’t like being buried in the country, as she put it. She didn’t get on with Ambrosine …’
‘Did that matter?’ Meg asked softly.
‘Yes,’ said Justin firmly. ‘Yes, it did. Ambrosine represents the spirit of Nightingale Woods. She’s charming, a little bit eccentric, but she knows what she wants and can be a bit demanding from time to time.’ He sighed. ‘Laura didn’t get the charming and eccentric bit. She was happy to give the guests bought biscuits in little packets instead of the home-made ones you always provided.’
‘It’s the attention to detail that makes all the difference,’ she said, thinking about Nightingale Woods and all the effort everyone had put in to making it special.She was sad and angry to think that all that effort wasn’t being kept up.
Justin put down her hand as if he’d forgotten he’d been holding it. ‘I know it’s really annoying of me, coming here when you’re working, but I had to tell you. You not knowing felt all wrong somehow.’
He was looking at her so intently that she had to look away. It was so bizarre, sitting in a French café, just after lunch, when a few moments ago she was wiping down surfaces. She shook her head to clear the thought. ‘I still don’t really know why you’re here.’
He raised his hand for the waiter, who was hovering, apparently fascinated by the young woman dressed as a chef and the man who looked as if he had been travelling all night.
‘Cognac formademoiselle, please,’ he said in French.
When it came, Meg took a sip, hoping it might help her clarify her feelings. While the news about her beloved hotel was so bad, she was ridiculously pleased to see him. She didn’t know what to think, what to say.
‘I would never ask you to give this up, Meggy.’ Justin’s gesture indicated the bustling town around them. ‘I know you’ve wanted to do thisstagefor a long time. It’s important to you. But could you ever see yourself coming back to Nightingale Woods …?’
She took a few more sips of cognac, knowing it was a bad idea when she had to think clearly. Had Justin really come all this way, and arrived looking as if he hadn’t slept, just to ask her to go back to the hotel? And what would going back mean? If he just wanted her back in the kitchen, and thus giving NightingaleWoods back its heart, would that be enough for her? Could she go back if he wasn’t going to be there too?
‘I would need to think about it.’ She looked at him across the café table. ‘Where are you staying?’
‘I telephoned Alexandra on the way here. So with her – with you – at the chateau. Do you mind?’
Meg shook her head. ‘Did you come to France on your motorbike?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I brought the car. Just in case I could persuade you to come back with me.’
She took a breath and then looked at her watch. ‘I need to get back to work now.’
‘Of course. But, Meg, can I see you later?’
Meg sighed. ‘Of course.’ Maybe by the end of her working day she would have thought of what to do. She needed to work out if she should give up the promise of a new life in France for a small hotel in Dorset. One thing she did know was that if Justin would be there and wanted her as more than a good cook, she’d go in a heartbeat. But how did he feel about her?
‘So,p’tite,’ said Pierre, who had obviously been awaiting her return with interest. ‘Did the young man propose to you? Are you now affianced?’
‘No! Nothing like that! He just wanted to talk about the hotel where I worked before. He says it isn’t thriving without me and has asked me to go back.’
Pierre thought this was highly amusing. ‘He came all the way here from England to ask you to go backto the small hotel in the country that you told me about? Do they not have chefs in England?’
‘Of course they do! Justin is a very good one.’
He made a large gesture as if Meg was lacking in comprehension. ‘Exactement!He wasn’t talking about you going there to cook. He loves you!’
‘I’m not even sure he likes me very much sometimes.’
