Chapter 25
Fran fixed her gaze on the sheets of paper in her hands, the photo of the house in Lyme Regis shimmying at her as the paper creased with the movement of her fingers. Ammonite Lodge. A place that had crept into her dreams more than once when she was living in her mum’s cramped flat. And with the retail space beneath, Ammonite Lodge would give her endless space to renovate and sell her furniture. There would be space for Red, too. There would be space for ten cats, if she wanted.
Her father was offering her the future she’d decided she’d always wanted, with plenty of room for feline room-mates.
‘If you’re worried about the money, there’s no need to be. Buying the property would be a useful way to offset some tax,’ Bill said. ‘But you could call it your own, and you’d finally have the chance to follow your dreams, rather than feeling somehow indebted to work for Wilding Holdings. Win-win every way you look at it, don’t you agree?’
His glance at her report, still on his laptop screen, and the way his look was accompanied by a frown made Fran pause.
‘You don’t want me to continue working for Wilding Holdings?’ she said.
‘Well, I wouldn’t go that far.’ Bill cleared his throat. ‘Put it this way, your role was only ever going to be temporary. And it’s not as though you have any business background, is it?’
‘No, but I could learn.’
‘But you don’t need to. That’s what I’m trying to say. You’re my daughter, not an employee.’
‘Your sons both work for Wilding Holdings.’ Fran wasn’t sure where the words came from, but something about this exchangefelt off-kilter, even though what her father was offering would provide Fran with everything she’d wished for.
‘Well, yes, of course they do …’
‘And I’ve already said that I don’t want anything from you, other than the possibility of a relationship with a father I never knew existed.’
‘Which is exactly what we can have. Don’t you see?’ Bill tapped at the paper she held. ‘Why is it so terrible that I want to provide you with a nice place to live? Why are you making it difficult for me to care for you?’
Because it’s all coming twenty-six years too late, Fran thought. Not that the time delay was his fault, she supposed. But Fran had managed to make her way for twenty-six years without a father’s support.
There was a danger that she might have got this all wrong, that her father was totally genuine in his desire to tuck her safely away in Lyme Regis, quiet and occupied with the renovation of pieces of furniture. Most people would kill to get their hands on a property and a lifestyle like the one he was offering her.
But the fact remained he had flown out to the Loire within twenty-four hours of her having dared to question the way Wilding Holdings operated. That aspects of this meeting had felt as though he was troubleshooting. That she hadn’t seen him in a long time prior to this morning, and he hadn’t once asked her how she was.
‘I can get the paperwork pushed through, have that house ready for you in a couple of weeks if you like. You can use your stay in the south of France to take a proper holiday – we could extend the booking and, needless to say, there’s no need to report on anything. You could probably move straight into Ammonite Lodge when you arrive back home to Lyme Regis. And if you need a loan for buying some pieces of furniture to get yourselfstarted, I’m sure we can work something out. How does that sound?’
It sounded amazing. Anyone would say it’d be ridiculous to refuse such an enticing offer, that she was in danger of looking a gift horse in the mouth, and yet Fran was still hesitating. Eventually, she slid the estate agent’s document onto the smooth polish of the oak conference table.
‘Can I think about all of this?’ she said.
It made no sense for Johnny to be loitering in the hotel foyer, even if he appeared to be settled. He’d been seated there for ages, pretending to read a day-old copy ofTheTimeswhile a cup of coffee went cold beside him, wondering how long it was going to be until Fran and Bill Wilding exited the conference room.
After Madame Beaufoy headed away, chivvying members of staff as she went, Johnny remained fixed to the spot.
Fran had misled him, and not in a small way. It occurred to Johnny that he must be the most spectacular of idiots when it came to judging character. His brother, his wife, and now Fran? An impressive track record of failure.
And also – in fact, this was swilling around far higher up in the turmoil of Johnny’s mind than the fact that he was a total moron – why the hell had Fran been pretending to be a member of the hotel staff at all?
Why had she pretended tohimto be someone she wasn’t?
That question stabbed at the base of Johnny’s gut like a dagger in need of some serious time with a sharpening stone. It dug at him, again and again, searching for a way to pierce his skin and shred him.
The way she’d taken the envelope he’d left for her at reception, folding it and pocketing it with barely a glance – Johnny could imagine what she would think when she opened it. God, he was a prat. Fran’s father could buy Chateau des Rêves with thespare fricking change in his back pocket. Bill Wilding wouldn’t have any need for a detailed breakdown of the expected client base, a five- and then ten-year projection for the stages Johnny reckoned it would take for him to fully restore the entire property.
Sweat prickled at Johnny’s neck as he imagined Fran having a laugh at his expense.
Whatever had been going on, whatever her reasons were for pretending to be somebody she wasn’t, Johnny wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of caring. He was only hanging around to tell her to ignore the contents of the envelope – he might even ask for it back – and then he would pull the plug on the entire Chateau des Rêves idea.
If he was lucky, he might be able to get a flight out of Paris Charles de Gaulle later today. Once he was back in the UK, it would be far easier to let Fran go, to let his crazy dreams of Chateau des Rêves and a new life in the Loire fade away.
Bill’s time-checking flicks of his cuff became increasingly persistent, until Fran was under no illusion that he had somewhere else he needed to be. Unsurprising, she supposed, for a man who had built an impressive empire from the ground up. Time had become his most valuable resource.
