she could have told her about her childhood: hating being different from the other girls, seeing the expressions on the faces as her dad came to pick her up from parties, going to the doctor with him, shopping for clothes with him. And she would never ever forget the day he had tried to explain the workings of the female body to her. She shook her head to clear it. ‘Yes, it was tough, but I survived.’
‘And your father, do you get on well with him?’
Faye nodded. ‘I love him to bits. He’s been mother and father to me growing up and it can’t have been easy for him. I was a right pain when I was a teenager.’
‘And since you and your boyfriend … Didier … broke up, is there somebody else in the wings, some nice young man you’ve got your eye on?’
Faye shook her head. ‘No, absolutely no men on the horizon at the moment. To be honest, I haven’t had the time or the energy lately.’ Then, deciding this sounded a bit too pathetic, she tried to sound more decisive. ‘Besides, after what’s happened, I’m off men for the foreseeable future. You know that old saying about once bitten, twice shy.’
‘Give it time, my dear. My heart’s been broken a good few times, too, you know. But you wait and see. Just when you’re least expecting it, it’ll happen.’ Miss Beech sighed. ‘Ah yes, the glance across the crowded room and then that amazing feeling when the spark comes, and you set off on the rollercoaster once again. Oh yes, Faye, it’ll happen, all right.’
Apart from the fact that there were unlikely to be too many crowded rooms when she came over here to work in the wilds of rural France, the one thing Faye definitely knew, with complete certainty, was that she had absolutely no intention of getting involved with another man, particularly another Frenchman, for a good long time. She gave Miss Beech a smile.
‘No, I really mean it. I’m just fine on my own.’
‘Being on your own can also mean being lonely.’ Miss Beech’s tone was gentle, sympathetic.
‘Well, I’m sure I won’t be lonely here. Everybody I’ve met here at the chateau so far has been so sweet and, of course, that includes Marlon.’ Faye nodded decisively. ‘Really, I’m just fine as I am.’
She avoided looking at Miss Beech’s face, preferring to return her attention to her meal.
As they were finishing their lunch and Faye had finally successfully managed to convince Claudette that she really couldn’t eat a second helping of îles flottantes, Miss Beech brought the interview to an end.
‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, my dear, I think I’d better go back upstairs for a nap. Claudette and Eddie will look after you for as long as you want to stay, and they’ll show you the stable apartment before you go.’ She reversed away from the table in her chair and hummed across to Faye’s shoulder. ‘I’m really so very pleased you’ve agreed to do this for me. I look forward so much to seeing more of you.’ She looked and sounded as if she meant it, and Faye felt another wave of happiness at the thought of forging a link with this kind, generous old lady. Not to mention her adorable dog.
She was about to stand up, but as Miss Beech was in her wheelchair it made more sense to stay seated. She held out her hand. ‘Thank you so much for offering me this amazing opportunity, Miss Beech. I promise I’ll do my very best to help you come up with something really great.’
The old lady took Faye’s hand in both of hers and gave it an affectionate squeeze. ‘I know you will, and I know it’ll work out well. By the way, I asked Silas to prepare a contract for you. Eddie’s got it somewhere. I’ll ask him to let you have it.’ She gave Faye a tired smile. ‘One thing you learn in Hollywood is that the old adage that a verbal contract isn’t worth the paper it’s written on is so, so right.’ Her smile broadened. ‘They say it was Sam Goldwyn who said that, but he never did, you know. Mind you, though, he told me once he wished he had done.’
Faye saw the old lady smile to herself at the memory, before refocusing as a sudden thought came to her.
‘Now I come to think about it, one thing Sam really did say was that nobody should write their autobiography until after their death. We’ll have to see if we can confound him.’
Faye smiled at the quote, but felt an immediate sense of regret that this dear old lady was approaching the end of her life. Somehow, she already felt a bond with her and knew she was going to enjoy this assignment more than she had hoped. ‘That’s very kind of you, Miss Beech. I’ll give in my notice as soon as I’m back at school so, all being well, I should be down here as soon as term ends.’
‘I look forward to it, my dear. Well, goodbye for now. It’s been lovely seeing you.’
‘Goodbye, Miss Beech, and thanks again. I really look forward to working with you.’ And she did.
When Faye got back to England, she phoned her father to relay the wonderful news to him. He sounded delighted for her, if a bit concerned that she would be moving so far away.
‘Terrific, Faye, but what about accommodation? Where are you going to stay?’
‘The most amazing place, Dad.’ By the time she had finished describing it to him, she got the impression he was definitely coming round to thinking that she had made the right decision.
Faye’s tour of the stables with Eddie Marshal had been mouth-watering. Whereas the chateau was traditional old French style, with a distinctly medieval flavour, the inside of the first-floor apartment in the equally old stable block had had the full interior designer treatment not that long ago, and had been brought bang up to date in the twenty-first century. From the steel and glass stairs to the recessed lighting, state of the art kitchen and huge flat screen television, it was a symphony of modern chic. It looked as though it had just come out of the pages of a style magazine and Faye failed to see why on earth Miss Beech reckoned it needed to be redecorated.
It was immaculate, with a bedroom for her that was twice the size of the room she had been renting since splitting up with Didier, and a separate, comfortable guest suite with its own bathroom, if she ever chose to have visitors. The place was fully furnished, and everything from the sleek sofas in the vaulted lounge, to the comfortable-looking beds, screamed class and expense. She had been open-mouthed by the end of the tour, but, even so, Eddie Marshal had managed to flabbergast her even more.
‘We’ll make sure it’s spruced up for you before you come back, Faye. Recently, we haven’t had many guests staying over. It must be a couple of years since the last visitor was here.’ He glanced at her with disarming nonchalance. ‘That was that rather nice American gentleman, Mr Clooney.’
Faye’s jaw dropped. ‘George Clooney slept here?’
‘Yes, and I seem to remember him saying how comfortable the bed was.’
It took some days before Faye managed to get over the thought that she was going to sleep in the same bed as George Clooney, albeit not at the same time. It would have been nice to tell her friends about this, and indeed about the identity of her new employer, but one of the conditions of employment had been to promise to keep Miss Beech’s identity secret for the duration of the contract, only telling close family, and that just meant her dad.
The next weeks rushed by.
Faye handed in her notice as soon as she got
