‘I wanted to make Chateau des Rêves more than our business,’ he said, setting the box down and reaching inside. ‘I wanted to make it a proper home, too.’
From the depths of the box emerged a kitten, held firm in Johnny’s hand. A silver tabby kitten, striped and with a long tail swiping to and fro as she observed her new surroundings.
‘I noticed the Beaufoys had a few cats at the winery, one of them was heavily in kit when I was last there. And after what happened to Red, well …’ He shook his head, refocusing on the kitten in his hand. ‘Meet Georgina.’ The corners of his mouth turned up at the name. ‘Madame Beaufoy thought it was a strong British name for her, but I think it would be OK to change it if you want.’
Fran’s eyes had already filled with tears, which loosed and ran down her cheeks as she began to laugh. ‘Good old Florence Beaufoy,’ she said.
Johnny’s eyebrows arched. ‘Florence, hey? You’re one up on me knowing that. I’ve only ever dared call herMadameso far.’
As Fran took the kitten from Johnny, cuddling the soft bundle to her chest, sniffing in the glorious kitten-ness, she noticed the box wobbling. Johnny followed her gaze and cleared his throat.
‘Ah, yes. Well, you see it wasn’t only Georgina who was looking for a new home.’
Delving into the box again, Johnny emerged with a tiny white kitten, barely bigger than the palm of his hand.
‘Meet Marie.’
Fran’s lips quivered over her smile as Johnny lifted the tiny kitten and kissed the back of its neck.
‘There’s no room for manoeuvre with this one’s name, I’m afraid. Estelle’s always wanted a white kitten, called Marie, so …’ He shrugged.
‘Oh, Johnny. This is perfect.’
Fran wanted to add ‘you’re perfect’. Instead, a yowling sound emanating from the back of the Citroën took everyone’s attention.
‘What’s that?’ Fran said.
Johnny rubbed at his face with his free hand, a grin of extreme magnitude taking control of his face. ‘I just knew he wouldn’t stay quiet. You’re never going to believe it, but …’
Popping the tiny white kitten back into the box, and carefully lifting Georgina from her hands, adding her to the kitten pile, Johnny tugged another wine box from the back of the van. The top of this box was taped closed, but something was headbutting the cardboard flaps, more yowls exiting from the hastily cut air holes along the box’s side.
‘Now, don’t freak out – either of you,’ Johnny said, in part to her, in part to the box. He began to peel back the tape and glanced at Fran. ‘Come closer, I think you should be on hand.’
Fran was shaking her head, an uncanny recognition of the sounds was confusing her, because the cat noises coming from the box sounded exactly like …
The flap on the top of the box exploded up, and a very dissatisfied ginger cat peered out.
‘Oh my God. Red? Is that you?’ Her words were probably incoherent, because all Fran could think about was pulling the cat from the box, her emotions getting the better of her as she sobbed into his fur. ‘You’re alive!’
‘Alive and well. He turned up at the Beaufoys’ winery a few days ago, apparently. Madame Beaufoy – Florence – has been looking after him in the meantime. All very clandestine, we wanted it to be a special welcome for you.’
‘Oh my God, it’s more than that. It’s …’
There weren’t enough words to describe how this moment was making Fran feel, so instead she mopped the worst of her tears and hugged Johnny, much to Red’s disgust, if the noise he made was anything to go by.
Johnny didn’t seem to have received the memo from Red, either, as he pulled her against the firm lines of his chest with unexpected strength. With his arm looped around her back, Fran slid her own arm up until it encircled his neck, resting her head against him. The mix of Johnny’s body spray alongside the furry box-concentrated scent of Red was a heady mix.
‘Thank you,’ she said, the words muffled against his shirt.
‘We’re going to make this work, you know?’ he said, the depth of his voice reverberating through his chest on its way to her ear.
‘The business?’ she asked, tipping her face to be able to study him.
‘Yes. The business. Why? What else did you have in mind?’
Her father’s words, about following her heart and going for what she really wanted, chose that moment to come to theforefront of her thoughts. It was time to tell Johnny exactly what she had in mind. She lowered Red to the ground, the cat circling their legs as Fran pressed herself as close to Johnny’s body as possible, leaning back to be able to see him more clearly, to watch his expression. They stared at one another, cat and kittens forgotten for the time being.
‘What if I was to tell you the business isn’t enough for me?’ Fran said. The thought of what she would lose if this backfired was like a sandbag strapped to her emotions, ready to drag them to the ground. But she’d come too far to stop now.
