In record time he was back, accompanied by a nurse, both wearing serious expressions.
‘It’s no big deal,’ Fran was saying, as Penny appeared at their shoulders. ‘Just need to be quiet for a bit.’
‘Is she all right?’ Penny asked.
The consensus was that Fran did need some rest, that there was nothing to be concerned about, and barring any unexpected mishaps, she would be discharged in the morning. After some rapid farewells, Johnny reassuring her that he would be back to collect her, the nurse drew the curtains around her bed with a sense of determination. A few minutes later the nurse returned with a miniature paper cup full of tablets, which Fran swallowed, and then she was alone with her thoughts.
By the following morning, Fran had shaken off the worst of her headache and the X-rays had confirmed the damage to her ankle was limited to a heavy sprain, while her wrist was only bruised. Strapped up, resourced by a selection of blister packs of medication, and with strict instructions to take it easy and to refrain from alcohol past a small glass of red wine – in itself a medicine, as far as the doctor was concerned, if her wink was anything to go by – Fran was ready to leave the hospital.
After going back and forth in her mind, in between bouts of sleep and moments of lucidity, she was finally ready to give Johnny an answer. She couldn’t wait to tell him that the idea of taking a dilapidated chateau and bringing it back to life, offering guests a top-notch holiday experience, was an exciting opportunity. One she was going to grab with both hands.
Although it wasn’teverythingshe wanted, she’d convinced herself it was the right move because of what it would give her – a new life of her own, the career of her dreams and a fresh sense of purpose. Spending time with Johnny, even if it was only as his business partner, was something Fran wanted more than she’d care to admit.
So, it was disconcerting to discover that it wasn’t Johnny waiting outside the hospital to take her back to the hotel, instead it was his brother, Noel.
Chapter 33
The journey back to Chateau les Champs d’Or was quiet. Noel apologised for Johnny’s absence but wouldn’t be drawn on the why. They settled into silence, with a French radio station bleating Europop as Fran stared out at the passing countryside.
Maybe Johnny had changed his mind again.
Or perhaps Fran was overthinking. Noel didn’t seem particularly awkward that he was the one picking her up, so perhaps there was a simple explanation.
Once they’d arrived back at the chateau, Fran could take her first look at the damage caused by the fire.
She climbed from the car, thanking Noel for taking her back as she looked around. To the front of the chateau, the casual observer would never have known there had been a fire of any kind – the frontage of the building was untouched. But to the side of the chateau there was no way to ignore the fact that most of the garden was gone. Blackened stubs of shrubs and scorch marks proliferated, the extent of the fire halted in random patterns, dependent on the reach and spray pattern of the fire hoses.
‘This way,’ Noel said, leading her past the scorched lavender bushes, around the side of the chateau.
The patio furniture had been hastily piled up against the chateau wall; it had the look of garden furniture left outside in a UK winter, soaking wet and belligerent. As they walked, Fran glanced at Noel, wanting to quiz him about why he was leading her around rather than into the building. Did he think she wanted to see the damage?
As they reached the meadow to the rear of the complex, Fran realised just how lucky she had been to escape the clutches of the fire – and its deadly smoke. The sheds containing all the abandoned pieces of furniture she’d stumbled across earlier in the week – those buildings and their contents were ruined. Blackened limbs and roof joists all that was left of the structures, piles of charcoal marking the final resting places of all the vintage furniture she’d coveted.
Her gaze moved away from the ruins, out towards the meadows. Towards the tree with the split trunk where Red had run to in his panic. The oak under which she and Johnny had lain after their abortive rescue attempt. The tree she thought she’d seen lit up like a beacon of flames through all the smoke of the previous day.
The tree was destroyed. The split in the trunk had finally given way, branches and twigs splayed across the burnt ground in opposite directions, all seared and blackened along with the surrounding ground. The stump was still smouldering. Beyond the tree and the meadow, blackened grounds and burned vines stretched into the distance.
But it wasn’t the devastation which held her attention. It was the small party of people standing a little way away from the remnants of the oak.
Madame Beaufoy was there, flanked by Penny and Harry, who was twisting his chef’s hat between his hands. The groundskeeper, whose name Fran still didn’t know, was leaning on a shovel. And Johnny was there, meeting her halfway across the blackened ground, nodding his thanks towards his brother as Noel headed past him and joined the others.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t come to collect you, but I hope you’ll understand why.’ He gestured towards the others, and it wasthen that Fran noticed a sapling, its roots wrapped in sacking cloth.
‘It took me ages to locate and collect the right type of tree,’ Johnny added.
‘What is all this about?’ Fran said.
‘Jacques wanted me to tell you that if he’d known the wildfires were going to trash his gardens anyway, he wouldn’t have been so gnarly about the cat.’
She glanced at the groundskeeper, appreciated the nod he gave her, a slight softening apparent in his otherwise craggy features as he jiggled at the ground with his shovel.
‘I’m sorry about his beautiful gardens, too,’ she said.
‘So,’ Johnny said. ‘I wondered if it might be good to plant something to permanently remind everyone of Red.’ He waved a hand at the sapling. ‘I was going to get an oak to replace his favourite tree, but then I found this. It’s a maple, which will grow into a decent-sized tree, perfect for any visiting cats to hide in.’
‘It’s got red leaves,’ Fran said, her voice hitching around the words.
‘Yes. It’s Red.’
