‘I’m willing to help with anything.’ Fran took a final sip of coffee and set the cup back onto its saucer. So long as she found out what she needed to know for her report and had some time left in her day for her continued search for Red, Fran could cope with a heavy work schedule. And it seemed she’d already gleaned a small nugget of information about the support offered to local businesses, or rather the lack of it. As she left the office, Fran glanced at Madame Beaufoy, head already buried in paperwork, a twinge of guilt pulling at Fran as she realised she was only supposed to be at the chateau for a matter of a few more days. With another assignment in the offing, Fran would be expected to head south for a stay in Wilding Holdings’ Monte Carlo hotel. Having only just promised to help her, Fran would have to leave Madame Beaufoy high and dry.
‘Aren’t you having anything else?’ Johnny asked as he watched Noel force down a croissant with his coffee, absently brushing crumbs from his lap as he glanced around the dining room.
Maybe Noel was feeling the after-effects of all the wine he’d consumed over the last couple of days. Perhaps it was nothing more than the result of his brother doing his best to ignore a hangover. Or perhaps it was something more fundamental.
‘Should have gone for room service,’ Noel muttered.
There wasn’t much which brought Noel down, even less to which he’d admit a level of insecurity, but his weight was one of those things. Johnny had always considered his brother to have been endowed more favourably in the looks department – his jaw was resolutely square, and his pale blue eyes could be used to devastating effect – even the fact he was shorter than Johnny by over a head was, it seemed, an advantage. Apparently, he sentout unthreatening, approachable vibes to a large percentage of the female population. But while Johnny had had to deal with the gawkiness of topping six-foot shortly after his twelfth birthday, he was well aware Noel had his own issues. He’d been plagued by puppy fat, and had decided early on that he would have to work hard to keep himself in the best shape.
According to Noel, it was all very well for Johnny; he’d always been the taller and leaner of the two of them. Not one for a whole load of physical activity, all Johnny tended to do was take his bike out a few times a week and he seemed able to maintain a decent amount of muscle mass alongside his lean lines. Whereas Noel felt he had to push himself in the gym, and often seemed dissatisfied with the results.
Johnny continued to work his way through an omelette. Ricky and Ed had opted for full English breakfasts, complete with black pudding and decent-looking slices of fried bread. A perk of the hotel having a UK company at its roots, he supposed, the fact that the British palate was being so well catered for – but the fried bread was an addition to their plates which could only serve to taunt Noel further, if his lack of appetite was connected to the notch he’d been able to reach when he’d fastened his belt that morning.
Noel folded his arms, sinking against the back of his chair as the rest ate. Johnny attempted to engage his brother in small talk, in a discussion about wineries they might want to visit while they were in the Loire, in plans for the business when they returned home. Anything to try to dislodge the black cloud that had settled over Noel’s head.
Nothing worked, and the remainder of the meal passed in almost silence. Something was eating at Noel, and eventually Johnny decided to call him out.
‘Whenever you want to tell me what’s bothering you, Noel, I’m all ears.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘You’re acting like someone threw up in your shoes. What gives?’
If anyone should be given a free pass on feeling down in the dumps at this very moment, Johnny rather felt his name should be at the top of that particular list. After all, he was facing the prospect of initiating divorce proceedings on his return, closing the door forever on the life he’d thought was his. In contrast, Noel had everything to play for. By the sounds of it, there was a woman back at home who was firmly in his line of sight and the business had never been stronger – the only two things Noel had ever been interested in.
Plus, they were staying in a top-notch hotel in a stunning part of France. They’d come a long way since they set up Taylor Made Wine.
It was easy to forget they’d started with nothing. A refurbished laptop, Johnny’s love for wines he couldn’t afford back then, and Noel’s determination to make a business out of the idea of sourcing the best wine at the lowest price and reselling it with a more favourable margin.
This trip should be the moment for Noel to settle back, bask in what they’d achieved, and feel good about himself. Instead, this morning, he looked unusually unsettled.
‘Maybe I’m fed up with having my judgment questioned all the time,’ Noel said.
Johnny shook his head. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘That nonsense with the Sancerre, last night, for example. It was an excellent wine, Johnny. I didn’t see Ricky or Ed complaining about it, until you came along and made a thing ofit. Treating me like I’m a kid who needs his choices checked by an adult.’
‘I simply thought it was a bit sharp. It wasn’t that big of a deal, Noel.’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’ Noel scraped back his chair, dumping his napkin on the table as the others turned their attention to him. He flashed them all a smile, but Johnny could tell it wasn’t authentic.
‘I don’t know about the rest of you and your plans, but I’m heading for the pool, and then I reckon one of those sun loungers has my name on it. Might get myself a massage later. After all, we’re on holiday, am I right or am I right?’
Glancing at Ricky, then Ed, Noel fist-bumped the pair of them, went to bump with Johnny but pulled back at the final moment, waggling his fingers as he retracted his hand and left Johnny with his gently curled fist hovering in mid-air.
‘Too slow,’ he said as he walked away.
Their phones pinged at the same time, and Penny and Fran pulled them out from their pockets in unison.
‘New rotas are up,’ Penny said, scrolling through the next few weeks’ worth of shifts. Her eyebrows hitched as she checked the list of names. ‘Looks like Fabienne and Angelique must have Covid really badly, they’re not on here at all. Which means more shifts for you and me, girl.’
She elbowed Fran, then fell still as another thought pressed itself forward. ‘Unless they’ve quit …’
‘Madame Beaufoy said something earlier about having trouble employing locals. Apparently the chateau is too remote.’
Penny frowned. ‘It’s not that isolated for anyone with transportation. I think there’s a bit more to the staffing issues than the location. According to Harry, who heard it from Louis the chef, there’s also some long-standing animosity from thelocals stretching right back to when Wilding Holdings bought the chateau and renovated it.’
‘Really?’
