in readiness for the walk. As she did so, she checked her watch and saw that it was almost four o’clock.
She went across the yard and into the kitchen, tapping on the door before opening it. It was a lovely big room, the ceiling supported by ancient beams, oak kitchen units around the walls to match – a perfect mix of medieval and modern. The floor was made up of the same pink terracotta tiles as in the lounge, while the marble worktop mimicked their faded rosy colour.
Faye found Eddie Marshal sitting at the table with a mug of coffee in his hand, Claudette hovering behind him. He was once again wearing a white T-shirt and jeans and Faye saw he had espadrilles on his feet. The housekeeper looked up as she heard the door and saw the dog charge across to greet Faye. ‘I’ve just made coffee and tea, if you’d like a cup, Faye. I just took some tea up to Miss Beech a moment ago, but she’s still having her afternoon nap.’
Faye was delighted to accept. This was a welcome opportunity to sit down and chat to Eddie and Claudette who, between them, surely knew all about Miss Beech and her life, at least since coming to live here in France. ‘Thanks. I’d like to go out for a you know what with our four-legged friend in a moment, Claudette, but a cup of tea, if it’s made, would be very welcome.’
‘Come and have a seat, Faye. How was your journey?’ Eddie Marshal pushed a chair out from the table and beckoned to her.
‘It was fine, thank you very much, Mr Marshal.’ Faye took a seat and felt the dog slump down onto the terracotta tiles against her ankle. A moment later she felt his tongue lick her toes and she was hard pressed to avoid giggling. She realized that, ticklishness apart, she really was feeling unusually cheerful.
‘Excellent, it’s a good long way from England, isn’t it? I don’t drive at the moment, you know. I’ve been having trouble with my hip.’
‘I’m sorry to hear about that. It must be very uncomfortable for you. So, if you don’t drive and Miss Beech doesn’t drive, how do you get about? Surely you need a car for shopping and things?’
‘My boy does the driving.’ Claudette looked up from where she was pouring the tea. ‘He looks after the garden and does all the outside jobs as well as driving the car. You’ll see him about. You can’t miss him.’ She brought the tea over, and inevitably, along with it came a plate of homemade biscuits. Faye took a look and an appreciative sniff and told herself it would be rude to refuse. She picked up a biscuit and nibbled it. It was exquisite.
‘Have you ever considered going into business making and selling your biscuits, Claudette? You’d make a fortune.’
Claudette smiled at her and shook her head. She had a lovely, open, friendly smile and Faye found herself thinking how wonderful it would have been to have somebody like this as a mother. She smiled back and thanked them most warmly for all the food and drink she had found in her flat, before asking a question about their employer. ‘Is Miss Beech feeling better now?’
Claudette glanced across at Eddie Marshal, deferring to him. He nodded. ‘Yes, indeed, thank you. She’s got a recurring condition that sneaks up on her from time to time, but she’s been okay for a few weeks now. I’m pleased to say that she’s moving around pretty well again.’ He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. ‘She’s been cared for by some of the very best doctors and clinics in the world, but anno domini is what it is. Nothing stays the same for ever.’ He paused and Faye registered the depth of the bond of affection he must feel for Miss Beech after half a century together. His serious look was immediately replaced by something more positive. ‘But she’s had a good run. Apart from this, she really can’t complain.’
Faye nodded. ‘She told me the same thing.’ She sipped her tea and scratched the dog’s ears with her free hand. Remembering her task, she gave Mr Marshal a hesitant look. ‘Um, Mr Marshal, I gather you and Miss Beech have been together for a long time. Would you mind if I ask you a few questions? You know, for the book. Miss Beech told me to find out as much as I can for the biography I’m supposed to be writing.’
‘Fire away. She told me to give you all the information I can.’ He glanced across the kitchen. ‘And the same applies to Claudette. We’re both at your complete disposal.’
Faye gave him a smile. ‘That’s terrific, thanks. So, what about you, Claudette? Have you known Miss Beech for long?’
Claudette smiled back. ‘I haven’t known Miss Beech anything like as long as Mr Marshal has. I first met her twenty years ago when she married the Marquis. They were still living in America then, but they regularly came back for holidays over the next few years. They moved back here properly about ten years ago now.’
‘So have you always worked here at the chateau?’
‘Sort of. I went to England for three years as a nanny when I was a girl – that’s where I picked up my English – but otherwise, I’ve been here all my life. My father and my grandfather both worked for the Marquis, so I suppose it was in my blood.’
‘So you’re the local expert then.’
‘I suppose so, but as far as Miss Beech’s life’s concerned, Eddie’s definitely the expert.’
Eddie Marshal nodded. ‘I’ve been looking after her since I was twenty-three. That’s fifty-two years ago now.’
Faye was amazed. ‘Gosh, that’s incredible. So you first started working for her when she was already big in Hollywood?’
‘That’s right. I was trying to make up my mind what to do after I’d finished school, and a friend fixed me up with a summer job skimming the pool and doing the garden in one of the swanky houses in Beverly Hills. It turned out to be hers.’
‘I thought Miss Beech said you were from Canada?’
‘And proud of it, but I did my law studies at UCLA. Anyway, that was the first time I met her and we became quite friendly, in spite of her being such a massive star by then. Around the end of the summer, just as I was about to head off back to Canada to become an attorney like my father wanted, she said she needed somebody to look after her, her affairs and her social diary, and asked if I’d like to try it for a few months. You can probably imagine my excitement. Here I was, fresh out of college, and I was rubbing shoulders with Hollywood greats.’ He was smiling into his mug of coffee now, as the memories came back. ‘It sounded like a hell of a lot of responsibility for a young man, but I didn’t hesitate. I told my mom and dad I’d give it a try for a little while, and look at me now.’
Faye was genuinely touched at the devotion Eddie had shown to Miss Beech for over fifty years. She took a better look at him and saw that, underneath the grey hair and the wrinkles, there had once been a young man, excited to go out into the big wide world. Somehow, she had a very strong suspicion that a biography of Eddie could prove to be every bit as interesting as his employer’s.
Eddie was happy to chat about his early days in Hollywood, mixing with the stars, and Faye looked forward to hearing more of his stories as the days went by and to incorporating them into the book. When her watch told her it was half past five, she stood up, reluctant to interrupt his reminiscing. ‘I think I’ll take Marlon out for half an hour before dinner. Where’s the best place to go?’
It was Claudette, the local girl, who answered. ‘There are lovely walks in the fields all around us, or up on the open land: what we call the garrigue. Alternatively, seeing as you’re new to the place, why don’t you just take him down to the town? He can show you round. For all his faults, he’s an angel on a lead and he won’t drag your arm out of its
