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By the end of the meal, Faye’s sides ached from laughing so much. There was absolutely no doubt about it. If she could reproduce Eddie’s stories, the book was going to be a great success. More to the point, if things continued like this, it was shaping up to be a lot of fun. She was still wiping the tears from her eyes at the end of Eddie’s description of how a brown bear got into one of the luxury trailers used by the stars on location, causing one very famous actor to emerge through a window with his pants in his hands, when Miss Beech decided she had better go to bed. Taking a final mouthful of water, she set the glass back on the table, stood up quite nimbly, and looked across at Faye.
‘I used to be able to stay up all night and drink men twice the size of me under the table. Now, once the clock’s struck ten, I know it’s time for bed, so I’m afraid I’ll have to love you and leave you now. I do hope you’ve enjoyed yourself tonight, Faye. I’ve certainly enjoyed your company.’
Faye made to get up in her turn, but Miss Beech waved her back to her seat. Faye did as she was told and returned the wave. ‘It’s been wonderful, thank you so much. And many thanks to Claudette as well for such a super meal.’
‘You’re very welcome.’
‘Could you and I sit down together tomorrow and make a start on the book? You mentioned a box full of documents and photos.’
‘Absolutely, Faye. How about meeting up at nine o’clock? I’m normally fairly bright in the morning. Would that be all right?’
‘That would be lovely. I’ll come across at nine. Sleep well.’
Miss Beech gave a little wave of the hand and made her way out of the door, walking unassisted. As she did so, Faye couldn’t miss an expression of contentment on her face. She felt sure her new employer had enjoyed the evening of memories and she looked forward to more of them. After her departure, Faye stood up and looked across at Eddie Marshal.
‘Would it be all right if I take Marlon for a walk now?’ As Faye said the word, she saw the dog’s eyelids open as if by magic. ‘I’d like a bit of fresh air. Where do you take him at this time of night?’
‘Are you sure you’d like to do that? Aren’t you tired after your long drive?’
‘No, I’d love to.’ By now, the dog had rolled himself onto his front, all thought of sleep gone, and he looked poised to jump to his feet. ‘So, where do we go?’
‘That’s easy. Just go out of the gate and down the lane, towards the town. There shouldn’t be any cars about at ten o’clock on a Sunday night, but take a torch just in case. When you get to the lavender farm, there’s a footpath off to the right that’ll bring you back up here. Marlon knows the way.’
She gave Eddie a smile. ‘Right, then, that’s what I’ll do.’ She looked across to the fireplace. ‘So, Marlon, fancy a walk?’ As the dog leapt to his feet and charged across the room towards her, she shot a quick grin towards Eddie. ‘That is what’s known as a rhetorical question. See you later, Eddie.’
Faye helped herself to a torch from the kitchen, retrieved her missing sandal, and hurried across the courtyard to change her shoes, making sure she put on trainers with laces this time. She had no intention of walking about in the dark with one shoe again. The dog came trotting up the stairs with her and had a good sniff round the flat while she changed.
As she was about to turn the lights off, she was just in time to retrieve her newly washed sandal from Marlon’s mouth before he stole off with it again. Taking Claudette’s advice, this was remarkably simple with the aid of a piece of biscuit. She slipped the rest of the biscuit into her pocket and made a mental note to look for some less important item for him to have tomorrow.
Back outside again, she clipped his lead on and they headed down the drive towards the road. The sky was clear and the temperature had dropped a little, but it was still very warm. When they emerged onto the lane she found that the moon, well over half size, cast enough light for her to be able to find her way without the torch. As Eddie had predicted, she encountered no traffic as she walked down to the farm, although sinister noises from the other side of a row of trees rather unsettled her until she came to a gate and saw the field full of sheep, still grazing by moonlight.
As she walked down the hill, she pulled out her phone and called her father. He sounded pleased for her and she resolved to ask him to come over for a few days once she had settled in. He was always working, and a bit of time off would do him good. As she said goodnight, above her the moon looked almost close enough to touch. It was so clear she could see actual craters just with the naked eye. It was a delightful sight and she felt a sudden surge of happiness to be here and to have left the cares of her previous life behind. So far, so very good indeed.
As she reached the lavender farm she saw lights on in the farmhouse but no other signs of life. Undeterred, she let Marlon off the lead and followed him to the right along a narrow track and away from the road. Within a few minutes she found herself in dense woodland, her feet rustling in the dry leaves, a warm smell of resin in the air. By now her night vision had improved to the extent that she could just about pick out the path as it weaved to and fro among the trees. She could hear Marlon crashing about in the undergrowth, having a wonderful time. Along with the resin, there was a strong scent of lavender in the air and she realized the purple fields must be close by.
Suddenly she was almost tripped by a black shadow that came shooting along the path straight towards her, scaring her half to death, closely followed by another identical one. Four bright eyes reflected in the moonlight as Marlon joined the other Labrador and both looked up at her. Faye stared into the shadows, looking for the other dog’s master but, try as she might, she couldn’t see anybody.
‘Hello?’ But there was no reply. She stood there for a few minutes, feeling slightly apprehensive, wondering if he would suddenly appear. She felt sure it had to be him, the farmer, but what if it was a stranger? Here she was all alone in a dark wood. Her sense of elation began to dwindle. Then, finally, a not so distant double whistle sounded and one pair of bright eyes disappeared like a shot. As the noise of his paws in the leaves receded, Faye looked down at the remaining dark shape on the ground before her, reassured that the whistle had belonged to the man she had met earlier, but she was puzzled.
‘That was a bit strange, Marlon. I wonder what that was all about.’ Pretty clearly the man wasn’t interested in talking to her and, although it was a bit weird, that suited her just fine. He was a man, a handsome one as well, and, as such, she knew she was not interested in the slightest. She addressed the dog once more. ‘So, why should I care?’
For a moment, she had the distinct impression that one of the eyes winked at her again, but she could have been mistaken.
Chapter Three
When Faye woke up next morning, it was to the drumming of rain on the roof and ominous trickling noises as water swept along the gutters and rushed down the drainpipes outside. She got up reluctantly, not really wanting to leave the wonderful comfortable bed where she had enjoyed a terrific night’s sleep, uninterrupted by dreams of the bed’s previous occupant or, indeed, any other man. After sitting up for an hour the previous night, scribbling down as many of Eddie’s stories as she could remember, she had dropped off almost immediately. She now felt rested and unexpectedly happy, in spite of the weather.
She went over to the window and peered out through the curtains. The day before she had had a view clear across the valley to the distant hills and even the mountains beyond. Today she could barely make out the village, although it was only a few hundred yards down the hillside. A thick grey blanket of rain had settled over everything, cutting the chateau off from the rest of civilization. Even so, even though she was now hundreds and hundreds of miles away from England, her father, and her friends, she knew she really didn’t mind. And the knowledge that she wasn’t going to have to face her irascible head teacher and a pile of paperwork brought a further smile to her lips. In spite of the rain, she was humming to herself as she went through to the shower.
When she got over to the main house just before nine, she found Claudette and Marlon on the kitchen floor, engaged in what looked like a wrestling match. What in fact was happening, Faye soon discovered, was that Marlon had returned from his early morning walk absolutely soaked and Claudette was doing her best to rub him dry with a towel, before letting him loose in the rest of the house. The kitchen smelt of a mixture of wet dog, toast, and coffee – an interesting, if unappetising, combination - but Marlon looked unapologetic.
He hurried across to greet Faye as she came in, wiping the rain from her hair and rubbing her laptop and notebook against her shorts to dry them as she did so. Although it was less than twenty yards from the stables to the kitchen, she was rather regretting not having thought to grab an umbrella before venturing out. Clearly, when it rained round here, it really rained. As she gently dissuaded the dog from jumping all over her and brushed the raindrops off her shoulders, she looked across to where Claudette was just getting to her feet again, wiping her hands on what was now a decidedly muddy-looking towel.
‘Good morning, Claudette, been for a walk?’
‘A swim, more like. I got drenched just walking up from the village so I thought I might as well take Marlon out for a quick walk. I’ve been trying to dry him off before he shakes himself in here.’ Claudette went across to the sink, dumped the towel in a bucket, and set about washing her hands. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘I slept like a log,’ Faye answered honestly. ‘I went out like a light.’ She grinned. ‘I can see why George Clooney liked it.’
‘Mr Clooney! What a nice man he was. It’s such a shame he hasn’t been back. We haven’t had guests here at the chateau for a good while now. We used to have all manner of celebrities, but that’s pretty much finished nowadays.’
‘Is Miss Beech up? I’m supposed to meet her at nine.’
Claudette glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘I would think so. I expect she’s in her study. Do you know where that is?’ Faye shook her head. ‘It’s the door right opposite the door to the dining room. You can’t miss it.’
‘Shall I take Marlon with me?’ The lower part of Faye’s legs were wet now, where the damp dog had rubbed himself against her. She saw Claudette’s eyes register the fact.
‘No, he can stay here with me until he’s dried off. Marlon, go and lie down.’ She pointed towards a dog bed to one side of the big range cooker and Faye was impressed to see him obediently trot over and slump down as instructed. ‘Good dog. You go on through, Faye. I’ll bring you both some tea in a little while.’
‘Thank you so much, Claudette.’ This would have been a good moment for Faye to tell Claudette she shouldn’t bring her too many of her wonderful biscuits, but her attempt at self-denial faltered and she said nothing. She was realistic enough to acknowledge that her resolve wouldn’t have lasted anyway when she smelt the next freshly baked batch.
She slipped through the door, closing it behind her, and walked along the corridor to the study. The door was open and a fine old grandfather clock was striking nine as she tapped on the door.
‘Come in, Faye, come in.’ Miss Beech had installed herself on a lovely old leather sofa and there was a big cardboard box on the floor in front of her. She was dressed in a long skirt and a voluminous but gorgeous linen blouse that somehow just emphasized how tiny and frail she really was. She wasn’t wearing make-up this morning and it showed. ‘I hope you slept well.’
‘Really well, thank you, Miss Beech. What about you?’
‘I was fine until the rain started. That woke me up and then I spent a long time trying to get back to sleep. I did a lot of thinking, though, and I’ve come to a conclusion. I really don’t want this to be a “kiss and tell” sort of book. We’ve all got skeletons in our cupboards if you look closely enough. I’d hate to think that my story might cause rancour in a community that’s been so good to me. Yes, I’ve met my fair share of bastards, but I’ve met a whole lot more good, decent folk. Last night you talked about “warts and all”, but I’d prefer it to be a celebration of my life and all the wonderful friends I’ve had the good fortune to make, instead of one of those rather nasty books that sets out to destroy other people’s reputations. Are you happy with that as a brief?’
‘Very happy, yes. And that way we won’t have any legal complications if it ever gets into print. That was going to be one of the first things I wanted to talk to you about. I loved Eddie’s anecdotes last night and it’s going to be great to include that sort of thing, but I’ll ensure that we pick the nice ones, rather than anything cruel or controversial. That way we should keep the lawyers off our backs.’ Faye glanced down. ‘So, is this the famous box?’
Miss Beech nodded and reached down, scrabbling at the cardboard as she tried unsuccessfully to bend forward enough to delve inside. Faye immediately saw the problem and picked the surprisingly heavy box up and set it down on the sofa between them. Miss Beech made an immediate dive for a cluster of battered diaries, held together with string, and handed the package across to Faye.
‘Here, Faye, your fingers are going to be better than mine at untying knots. Oh, dear, you’re going to get all dusty.’
‘These are old clothes. I’ll be fine.’ Faye made short work of undoing the string and arranged the diaries in chronological order on the coffee table in front of them. They covered most of the years from 1950 to 1980. She looked across at Miss Beech. ‘Where would you like to start? The beginning?’
‘No, let’s start in 1956. That was the year I got my first part in a film.’ Miss Beech hesitated. ‘My first speaking part, that is. Just think, in 1956, I was only twenty-two.’ She looked across at Faye. ‘That’s even younger than you are now, my dear.’
‘Erm, Miss Beech, that’s another thing I was wondering. Are you happy for me to mention your true age? I know some ladies like to subtract a few years.’
Miss Beech smiled. ‘No, publish and be damned, Faye. Tell them the truth. I was born on 17th March 1934 on the outskirts of Plymouth, and I don’t care who knows it.’
‘So you’re from Devon?’
Miss Beech nodded. ‘That’s right, a West Country girl.’ She looked up. ‘Where were you born, Faye?’
‘Salisbury. That’s almost West Country, isn’t it?’
‘And your father, what did … does he do?’
‘He’s an architect.’ She smiled at Miss Beech. ‘Quite a good architect, actually.’
‘And you didn’t fancy following him into architecture?’
Faye shook her head. ‘I’ve always had this thing about language and the written word. And that’s why I’m here.’ She leant over and picked up the diary with 1956 engraved on the cover in faded gold paint that was peeling off the brown leather. Wiping the dusty little book against the leg of her shorts, she handed it across to Miss Beech. ‘Let’s see how many memories this unlocks.’
Together, they spent a fascinating morning, interrupted only by a volley of barking as a distant bell rang and the postman came and went, and regular visits from Claudette, bearing food and drink. By lunchtime they had barely got through the first of the diaries and a handful of photos, and Faye still hadn’t seen any of the pages of notes Miss Beech claimed to have made, but she had already accumulated a mine of information.
As the hours went by and Miss Beech still showed no inclination to talk about her childhood and early years, Faye decided that she wouldn’t press her at this stage, but would begin writing from 1956. The early years could be added as and when the old lady decided she wanted to talk about them. From time to time there had been a hint of her youth, but nothing of substance. Hopefully, that would emerge later on.
Towards the end of the session, they started talking about Faye herself. Miss Beech demonstrated that her memory was still very good. ‘So, what about Didier? Are you over him now?’
Faye looked up and gave it some thought before replying. ‘I think so, or at least I’m getting there. At first I was angry, then sad, and then furious again. Now I’m just glad it’s all over.’ As she spoke, she was still turning the question over in her mind. No, she couldn’t really say she was completely over Didier, but there was little doubt that here, in such different surroundings, she had barely thought about him for a good while. That had to be good news.
Miss Beech nodded approvingly. ‘We need the downs in this life to help us appreciate the ups, you know. However badly it hurts at the time, it’s all good experience and it’ll make you better able to appreciate it when the real thing comes along.’ She gave Faye an encouraging smile. ‘And it will. Love’s like that.’
‘Well, for now, apart from my dad, there’s only one love in my life and he’s lying on the kitchen floor, drying out.’ As she said it, an image of the man from the lavender farm flitted briefly across her mind, but she made short work of chasing it away. ‘I was just thinking yesterday that even if James Dean came walking in the door, I wouldn’t be in the slightest bit bothered.’
Miss Beech didn’t respond, but Faye could read a considerable amount of scepticism in her eyes.
***
When Faye went back to her flat at lunchtime, having successfully persuaded Claudette that she really couldn’t eat anything more after consuming no fewer than four gorgeous, still-warm biscuits in the course of the morning, she made herself a mug of coffee and settled down to write up her notes.
At around four o’clock, she noticed the sky outside beginning to brighten and by half past four the first rays of sun were peeking through the clouds. The rain had finally stopped and Faye knew what she wanted to do. She put on her clumpy old walking boots, grabbed a jacket, and went over to the kitchen to see if the dog was interested in a walk. No sooner had her hand landed on the lead hanging on the back of the door than Marlon was at her side, raring to go. She was just clipping it to his collar when the kitchen door opened and Eddie came in. He was moving very gingerly and Faye raised an eyebrow as she greeted him.
‘Hi, Eddie, feeling a bit sore today?’
He gave her a smile and a nod. ‘Hi, Faye. Yes, it’s this damp weather – it plays hell with my hip. So, are you taking our friend out for a walk?’
‘Yes, I need the exercise and I’m sure he’s happy to go out. Any suggestions where to go?’
‘Long walk, short walk?’
‘Longish, I think. Say, an hour or a bit more.’
Eddie glanced at his watch. ‘Well, if you want a longer walk, you can turn left out of the gate, walk up to the top of the hill, and then if you turn right just after the big olive grove, you’ll find yourself on the open garrigue. Follow the track and it’ll take you to the top of the hill. The views from up there should be fantastic after all the rain.’ He looked down at her feet approvingly. ‘I’m glad to see you’ve got a solid pair of boots. It’ll be a bit soggy up there.’ He grinned. ‘I gather from Claudette you lost a shoe yesterday.’
‘Claudette finally managed to get him to give it up with a bit of bribery.’
‘Here …’ Eddie reached for the biscuit tin. ‘Stick one of these in your pocket. Marlon can’t refuse them.’
‘He’s not the only one. I took one with me last night just in case, and I found myself nibbling it as I walked along.’ Faye wrapped the fresh biscuit in a tissue, wondering how long her willpower would last this time.
She followed Eddie’s instructions and headed up the hill. The olive trees as described by Eddie were unmistakable, their misshapen trunks often thicker than her waist. No doubt they were tens or, more probably, hundreds of years old. She turned off as instructed and soon they were splashing along a rough track that led in the direction of a scrappy clump of trees on the hilltop.
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