Johnny smiled. ‘Fair point. Although I think I read somewhere about cats liking the warmth from the engine, about them sitting on the front tyres, up underneath the wheel arches.’
Fran glanced at the cloudless blue sky, with its huge ball of heat hovering overhead. Johnny watched, couldn’t help himself from noticing the way her lips pursed together, the stretch of her fingers as her flattened hand framed her face to protect her eyes from the glare of the sun.
‘Surely he doesn’t need to find warmth on a day like today, though?’ she said.
‘True. Perhaps he hides out in those bushes, then?’
Johnny was becoming increasingly aware that the cat was very much a secondary character in this conversation – for him, at least. He was far more interested in having a reason to eke out the time he was spending outside, chatting to Fran.
Fran checked her watch and sucked in a breath. ‘Trouble is, I haven’t got time now to check it out. I’m already running late.’
‘Tell you what,’ Johnny said. ‘I’ll volunteer to search those bushes for traces of ginger cat, if you agree to accept my apology.’
Fran’s smile came with a caveat, a touch of confusion in her eyes which gained intensity as she took a final look at the bushes, then turned back to him. ‘That offer seems stacked unfairly in my favour. There’s really no need to apologise for something you didn’t even do.’
‘I suppose not. But either way, I’m the one with time on my hands, so I’m happy tocherchez le chatand let you know what I find.’
‘OK. Thanks.’ Confusion gained the upper hand in her expression. ‘That means you’re going to look for the cat, right?’
‘Yes. I’m going to look for the cat.’
‘OK. Just checking. Thanks.’ Fran smiled as she backed away, then turned and headed for the chateau, the swing of her hair catching and holding Johnny’s attention until she disappeared inside.
Chapter 8
Penny took one look at Fran and began to laugh. Perhaps it was a bit early in their friendship to be laughing at her, but Penny got the feeling Fran wouldn’t take it the wrong way.
‘Harry said you’d gone out back to look for the cat. I’m kind of guessing you didn’t find it?’
Reaching to dislodge a cobweb on Fran’s collar, Penny crushed it between her fingers as Fran peeked in a mirror and brushed off the last of the dust from her sleeves.
‘Not out there. But I caught sight of him in the car park, so I know he’s around.’ Fran turned to look at her. ‘Do you think I’m being weird about him? It’s just he’s so thin, I can’t bear the thought of him suffering.’
‘I get it. I’ve just never been much of an animal person. Oh, by the way, Madame Beaufoy wants a word with you,’ Penny added.
To her surprise, Fran startled, as though she’d been bitten by something, looking genuinely worried as she said, ‘Why?’
‘It’s good news, no need to look so horrified.’ Penny grinned, but Fran continued to look concerned. ‘Like I said, she wants to sort out some paperwork, I think. Bank details for wages, that kind of thing.’
Fran began to shake her head. ‘Oh, I’m not going to worry about that right now, I wasted enough time outside looking for Red. Let’s get on with the rooms and I’ll catch up with Madame Beaufoy later.’
Penny frowned. ‘But surely you want to get paid?’
Number one priority, Penny would have thought. Every euro counted. Especially working in one of Wilding Holdings’ hotels. If it wasn’t for the on-site accommodation and free meals,nobody would tolerate the wages as being anything other than a stop-gap job while they looked for something better. It was also why, apart from a handful of the more prestigious positions, most posts at Chateau les Champs d’Or were filled by UK citizens, impressed by the stunning surroundings and keen to earn some money to fund their travels.
For her part, Penny had only ever planned to be here for a month or two, enough time to enjoy a bit of the beautiful Loire Valley scenery and save up a pile of cash ready for her next adventure. The Italian Riviera, maybe. If she played her cards right at Chateau les Champs d’Or, she might get a good enough reference to land something in a swanky seafront place. Or perhaps she might go one step further and join the crew of one of those superyachts. Now, that was an idea …
But then she’d met Harry. And despite what anyone might think, the fact that Penny was a massive Potterhead and didn’t travel anywhere without the Narcissa Malfoy wand her gran had bought her for her fourteenth birthday hadn’t played any part in her instant reaction to his name, or to him. That had come from somewhere deep inside and hadn’t faded. And if anything, it was becoming stronger the more time they spent together.
Not that they were ‘together’ in that sense, much to Penny’s frustration. Harry remained tantalisingly out of reach on a physical level. And while Penny was convinced Harry liked her, enjoyed her company, found her to be someone he actively wanted to be around, he had remained annoyingly hands-off.
The logical side of her brain had suggested there could be a million reasons why. On top of which she was fully aware they were both here on a temporary basis, and while her ties to the hotel became increasingly Harry-shaped, she knew there was every chance he would move on. Cheffing for Wilding Holdings was only ever a means to an end. Especially if you were a lowly sous-chef. Harry had explained he was here to gain kudos,rather than cash. And with enough of the former, he planned to get a job somewhere with a better employment track record. Somewhere he could build himself a proper reputation, gain the experience he’d need to be able to set up his own restaurant, in time.
Penny had tried to stop herself from daydreaming about finding somewhere together. They needed chefs on superyachts, right? What an adventure that might be for the two of them. And while she was aware she may be barking up the wrong relationship tree, and that Harry might continue to see her as nothing more than a friend, while he in turn fantasised about sharing his bed with head chef Louis – or whoever – the damned dreamy visions of holding hands in floaty, cinematic scenery wouldn’t stop.
Penny dragged herself away from her thoughts, refocusing on Fran, and the fact she hadn’t replied to her question.
Something was off in the way Fran shrugged her shoulders at the suggestion that she might want to get paid, something which didn’t seem to sit comfortably with someone working housekeeping, someone willing to take extra shifts in the restaurant on her first day. That suggested an eagerness to earn as much as possible, and yet if the hotel didn’t have her details, there was no way for her to get paid.
