‘Yes. Plus, the wages here are a joke, don’t you think? Louis and some of the others, like Alain the sommelier, are on decent wages, but the rest of us choose to suck it up because we get to live onsite and receive bed and board for free. It’s really no surprise that the locals aren’t clamouring for work here.’ Penny turned to face Fran. ‘I’m only staying at the hotel as a stopgap before I decide where I’m travelling to next, so I’m just here to admire the scenery. And not just the Harry-shaped scenery.’ She grinned, shooting her a sly wink. ‘What’s your story?’
‘Same for me, really,’ Fran said.
‘Well, for a start you can get your eyeballs off Harry, he’s all mine,’ Penny said, her grin intensifying as Fran laughed.
‘No, I didn’t mean him. The scenery around here is pretty special, though.’
‘Have you decided how long you’re staying?’ Penny asked.
‘Not a clue.’
It was an attempt at a breezy response, but Penny wasn’t convinced. Although she liked Fran, there was something about her which didn’t totally add up, hadn’t done since she arrived. In Penny’s view, Fran was a bit too old for someone going travelling, especially solo, and she didn’t give off the traveller vibe. Penny had been backpacking for a while, zigzagging her way all over the place, and in her opinion, Fran was a bit too ‘together’, a bit too sorted.
Whereas Penny could tell Harry was a fellow traveller the moment she met him – there was something in his messy energy which screamed nomad, that he wasn’t anywhere close to wanting to settle down. And she’d been spot on about him.
No, even though Fran was here, saying she was travelling, there was something about her which didn’t ring true for Penny.
‘Anyway,’ Fran added, ‘how about we do a bit of sightseeing when we get a day off. I’d love to visit a few of the historic chateaux; I want to see some of their original features. We could book a taxi.’
Penny loved the idea of spending time with Fran, getting to know her better, but she also wanted to make the most of any downtime she could spend with Harry. She didn’t say that to Fran, instead she gave her a non-committal smile and pocketed her phone, picking up the crate of cleaning materials ready for another morning of polishing and tidying up after other people.
Chapter 12
Fran had plenty to think about as she wound her way through the long grass at the very back of the chateau, the remnants of a ham and cheese croissant in one hand and a small pot of ham offcuts, courtesy of Harry, in the other.
Penny had rolled her eyes when Fran said she would use her break to search for Red, but after having no luck finding the cat the previous evening, Fran was more determined than ever to find him today. A walk on her own would also help Fran decide how much of the chateau’s problems with staffing and salary issues she should include in her report. It seemed difficult to accept that, with its massive portfolio and unerring determination to provide the perfect holiday for its guests, Wilding Holdings were underpaying their staff so badly.
A thought had Fran’s stomach dropping. Perhaps it wasn’t a Wilding Holdings issue. Perhaps it was a Chateau les Champs d’Or issue. Perhaps Madame Beaufoy was actually a criminal mastermind, fleecing both her staff and her employer.
Or maybe the intense heat from the unyielding sunshine was making Fran hallucinate. She was forgetting what Madame Beaufoy had said about her husband’s wine being sourced at rock-bottom prices. And what Penny had only just said about a level of animosity with the locals – Fran itched to know what that was about. What it did seem to point towards, though, was that Madame Beaufoy wasn’t the root cause of the hotel’s issues.
She would do her best to put on a sleuthing hat and find out what the true cause was. It was possible that whatever had happened, there was a chance to broker peace between the hotel and neighbouring towns. With any luck, it would encouragemore local people to come and work for the hotel – especially with the enticing offer of a better pay scale. Either way, she would put the details of what she’d found into her report, then it would be up to Wilding Holdings as to what they did with the information. Hopefully they would be able to assist Madame Beaufoy with the staffing problems she seemed to feel she had to deal with single-handedly.
A rustling up ahead had Fran pausing. Grassy seed heads wavered like an early-warning system, and she caught sight of a bushy ginger tail, held high and flicking at its very tip in rhythm with the grasses.
‘Incoming …’ Fran knelt, pulling the last traces of ham and cheese from the croissant. As the cat broke cover, Fran held the protein combo in outstretched fingers and held her breath.
Red hardly broke step, heading for her with a sense of determination before sniffing, then taking, the piece of ham from her fingers.
Fran grinned. Red had never been this bold before; he must be beginning to understand she wanted to help him.
The cheese was appropriated next, then the knob end of Fran’s croissant. Red licked at it before seizing it between startlingly white teeth and whomping it down. He swallowed hard, as though it was lumpy in his throat.
‘Serves you right for not chewing it properly,’ Fran whispered, taking the lid from the pot of scraps as quietly as she could. Before she could tip the contents onto the patch of flattened grass, Red was bumping at her fingers with the crown of his head.
‘All right, hold on. It’s coming.’
Fran emptied the contents of the tub and Red wolfed them down, hardly pausing for breath until every last morsel was gone. Once he was sure he’d hoovered everything, Red sat andstared at her, his tongue making a final inspection of his lips while his tail flicked. Fran wondered if his tail ever stopped moving as Red set about cleaning one paw, then the other.
Once his ablutions were complete, Red sauntered closer and didn’t flinch when Fran extended her hand to touch the incredibly soft fur on the bony shape of his skull. In fact, he pushed against her touch, turning himself so she could run her hand along the length of his body. Still way too thin, his spine and ribs too easy to feel below the softness of his fur, Fran felt a tug of sorrow.
‘You poor boy. Why doesn’t anyone love you?’ The words caught in Fran’s throat. ‘Well, I’m here now. I’ll look after you.’
Fran was rewarded with a rumble emanating from deep within the cat and he meowed at her as he pushed himself up onto her lap. Sitting on the dry grass with the cat nestled on her knees, Fran lost all sense of time as she felt her way over every bony inch of Red, tried her best to tease out the lumps of matted fur when her fingers faltered on them. Found herself chatting away to him about her life, about what had brought her to this chateau, about what might come next. It struck her that she knew nothing about how to import an animal into the UK, or how on earth she would look after him if she took him home with her, while continuing her nomadic lifestyle for Wilding Holdings.
Frowning, she pushed the difficulties to one side, concentrating instead on the fact that the cat had gone from skittish and wary, to covering her lap in fluff in a matter of a couple of days.
Perhaps she should attempt to learn something from the animal’s willingness to try again, where humans were concerned.
