‘Thank the Lord for that. Are you comfortable? Do you need anything?’
‘No, I’m absolutely fine, thank you. I’m being looked after very well.’ Fran glanced at Johnny, who was doing his best not to appear as though he was listening in to a private conversation. His awkward expression made her smile, and it broadened as he climbed to his feet, indicated he was going for a top-up of coffee, and left her to her call.
‘They’ve confirmed the chateau suffered some smoke damage, but nothing more severe,’ her father said. ‘Gardens are gone, but they can be replanted. Fire brigade made a bit of a mess, but Madame Beaufoy says she has it all in hand. All in all, we had a lucky escape.’
Fran caught her breath. Not everything had been so lucky. However much she wanted to believe Red had scarpered intime, the heat of that blaze, the way the oak with the split trunk exploded like a pyrotechnic device, the situation looked bleak for the little cat.
Her father was still talking, and Fran did her best to focus back on his words.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me to come and collect you? I could have you flown back to the UK in a few hours if you want to come home. At the very least I hope you’re in a private room. Tell them to send the invoice to me – I insist …’ Bill’s voice cracked, and he fell quiet.
‘I’m going to be fine. Please don’t worry. Plus, I’m not here by myself, I’ve got some friends visiting me right now. Johnny and Penny. The hospital is only keeping me in as a precaution.’
‘Now, that’s fortuitous, because – and tell me if it’s the wrong time, or you’re feeling tired, or anything, I can always leave it for another day – but I also wanted to speak to you about your document.’
Fran’s smile slipped. Was he circling back to her report on Chateau les Champs d’Or? He’d made it plain in their meeting only this morning that her input wasn’t particularly wanted and had intimated that the whole set-up of her visiting his hotels had been little more than a guilt trip on his part.
‘The document you dropped on the grass by the helicopter.’
The vestige of her smile was replaced by a frown of confusion. She hadn’t dropped anything by the helicopter, had she?
‘I picked it up thinking it was of no consequence,’ Bill continued. ‘Nothing more than rubbish which had dropped in error from your pocket. Didn’t look at it properly until we’d taken off, and it was only then I realised it was an unopened envelope, addressed to you.’
He must be referring to the envelope Pierre had handed her on her way to the conference room – only a few hours ago, but it feltlike a lifetime had passed since. The envelope left at reception by the person Pierre had described as ‘the tall Englishman, the one with the punch to his face. Still very ’andsome, I think’.
Johnny’s envelope.
Her father was still speaking, and Fran did her best to focus back in on his words.
‘So, I apologise for opening it, but I thought it would be quicker to do that, scan it and send it back to you that way, rather than using snail mail. The last thing I wanted was you to think I was trying to invade your privacy.’
‘I don’t have much in the way of secrets anyway.’ Except for you, she almost added, and then smiled at the thought that even that secret had evaporated, at last.
Bill laughed. ‘I take it you’ve never been on the receiving end of industrial espionage, then.’
‘Funnily enough I haven’t.’
‘Has the email landed with you? The attachments are in it.’
‘Hang on, let me check.’ Fran fiddled with her phone, hoping she didn’t cut the call as she tried to check her emails. ‘Yes, it’s in my inbox.’
‘Good. Why didn’t you tell me you had a whole business idea of your own in the pipeline?’
‘A what?’
‘And even though it’s less than thirty miles from Chateau les Champs d’Or, I don’t think there will be an issue with competition. After all, you’ll be offering something rather different, won’t you?’
What on earth had been in Johnny’s envelope?
‘The business plan looks very sound.’ Bill’s tone was more animated than Fran had ever heard; he almost sounded excited. ‘It’s just like the kind of thing I used to put together in the early years. An excellent balance of fact, projection, and a littlesprinkle of magic to get the investors biting your hand off. Love it.’ Bill barely paused for breath. ‘Now, I’m not sure where you and your business partner are with the whole thing, but if you’re still looking for investors, I would be delighted if you would consider me. Will you have a conversation with Mr Taylor and get back to me?’
‘Um. Yes. I suppose so.’
‘I wouldn’t want to hog the entire project, but perhaps a partial stake in the game would be appropriate?’ Her father explained what he was proposing, and that he would be delighted to meet with them both to discuss it further.
‘I’ll chat to Johnny and let you know.’ Fran was working blind, her head aching with the rapid flow of her father’s words, and the fact she was playing catch-up with the whole situation.
‘One minor detail,’ Bill said, and Fran could hear the smile in her father’s voice. ‘Whoever added the illustrations is definitely no Van Gogh. Good job you’re not planning on setting up an artists’ retreat, isn’t it?’
