At school, she burned the midnight oil, determined to do the very best for the students under her tutelage. She gave notice to her landlord and then spent more time than she had imagined packing her things, taking stuff to the recycling centre, paying bills, and informing people of her forthcoming change of address from London to Provence.
Often, as the weeks went by, she would take time to reflect upon how this major change of direction would affect her life. The writing job sounded fascinating, Provence charming and, even better, she knew that this would help her further distance herself from Miss Dawes and, above all, from Didier. Things were definitely beginning to look up at long last.
As far as her friends at the school and elsewhere in London were concerned, she could only tell them that she was going to France, where she would be working for a very secretive person, and she was constantly being bombarded with guesses as to just who it might be. Interestingly, George Clooney was suggested more than once, but nobody thought to mention Anabelle Beech. The interrogation became particularly intense on the last day of term, but she managed to keep the secret, even after her colleagues had forced liberal quantities of Prosecco upon her in the pub after work.
The next day her dad arrived in his car to collect her and her belongings. Faye hadn’t wanted to bother him, as she knew he was always so very busy, but she had just got too much stuff. Together, they loaded all her worldly belongings and drove back to Salisbury and, as expected, he spent most of the journey warning her to be careful of everything from poisonous snakes to the white slave trade, and issuing advice about exercise and diet, and even recommendations about what clothes to take to France. She didn’t mind, having got used to his incessant worrying for her wellbeing all the way through her life, and she put up with it with a smile. Her smile broadened as they arrived back home.
Standing on the drive outside the house she found a smart little white Fiat 500 with the red and green stripes of the Italian flag running along its side. She had asked her dad to find her a car, as she knew she would need her own transport and he knew the sort of thing she liked. She nodded to herself in approval. As they got out of his car, her father handed her the keys. ‘This one’s only a year old and it’s had one careful lady driver – or at least that’s what the salesman told me.’
‘Thanks, Dad. It’s exactly what I wanted. How much was it? With the huge wad of money I’m being paid, I should be able to afford it.’
He wouldn’t hear of it. ‘You leave that to me and save your money, Faye. Who knows how expensive life in Provence is likely to be.’
Somehow, Faye felt pretty sure that there weren’t going to be too many opportunities to spend money in St-Jean-sur-Sarde. Still, some time to herself, the opportunity to catch up with a whole heap of reading, and her own personal cinema promised to ensure that she wouldn’t be bored.
***
She left Salisbury late on Sunday afternoon and drove down to Portsmouth in the surprisingly nippy little car. She took the overnight ferry and managed to sleep reasonably well before arriving in France in the early morning. Although she probably could have done the drive in one long day, her father had insisted she should break her journey and, by the time she pulled into the car park of a budget hotel beside the motorway that evening, she was feeling very tired. That night, as she lay in bed, listening to the incessant rumble of traffic, the dominant thought in her head was how good it felt to be setting off on another chapter of her life, knowing that upon her return, she would be making a completely fresh start.
Next day she got up at seven, and by early afternoon was already in Provence, the road curling steadily upwards past olive groves and vineyards. She drove through sleepy little villages, the shutters of the houses tightly closed against the heat of the sun, with no living creatures to be seen. She blessed the instinct that had made her father select a car with functioning air conditioning, because it was absolutely scorching outside.
Shortly before three, she found herself at the self-same spot where she had stopped to ask for directions. This time there was no sign of a tall man and a black Labrador, but she knew where she was going. By the time she reached the gates of the chateau, she was feeling very excited at the prospect of what lay ahead.
She stepped out into the suffocating heat and pressed the bell. As she was waiting, she spotted a camera mounted high to one side, pointing down at her. Security, in a place like this, was clearly paramount. She gave it a little smile and a wave and wondered if anybody was watching. No sooner had she done so, than the gates began to open, so she gave the camera another wave before getting back into the car.
She drove round to the stable yard at the back of the chateau and parked right outside her new apartment, vaguely conscious of barking coming from the house. As she climbed out of the car, she was almost floored by the arrival of a very boisterous Marlon, clearly delighted to see her again. He was closely followed by Claudette, the housekeeper. She gave Faye a welcoming smile and dangled the keys to the flat in front of her.
‘Hello, Faye, and welcome back. It’s all ready for you. I’ve filled the fridge for you and Mr Marshal’s put in a few bottles of wine, but Miss Beech asked if you’d like to have dinner with her this evening. That is, if you haven’t any other plans.’
Faye disentangled herself from the Labrador and straightened up again, giving Claudette a big smile. ‘No, no other plans. Please tell Miss Beech I’d be delighted to have dinner with her. Your food’s so wonderful.’
‘By the way, that square thing on the key chain is the remote control for the gate, so you can get in and out any time you want.’ Claudette glanced down at the dog who was sitting at their feet, eyes trained adoringly on Faye. ‘And, if you want company, you can always take Marlon out whenever you like for a …’ She grinned at Faye. ‘I won’t use the word as he instantly recognizes it, both in French and in English. He never says no.’
Faye looked up. The sun was still shining down from a cloudless sky and it was very hot. Even so, a walk in the country with a big friendly dog sounded wonderful. ‘That’s a brilliant idea. Once I’ve got my stuff into the flat and got sorted out, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll take Marlon for a … you know what.’
‘Now, Faye, would you like me to give you a hand with your things?’
‘No, I’m fine, Claudette, thanks. I haven’t brought much stuff and I’ll easily manage. I’ll come over and collect the dog from you once I’ve finished, if that’s all right.’
‘Of course. I’ll be in the kitchen and the door’s just there on the other side of the courtyard. It’s never locked and there’s need to knock – just come in. Now then, Marlon, you come with me.’ Somewhat reluctantly, the dog got up and followed Claudette over to the kitchen while Faye opened the door to her new home and climbed the stairs, the feeling of excitement building inside her at the prospect of what was ahead of her. What she found in there only increased her delight.
The shutters were closed, but the windows were wide open and it was blissfully cool in there. A vase on the table held a lovely bunch of flowers, most probably picked from the garden, and their perfume filled the air. Faye went into the kitchen and found a fresh baguette on the bread board and half a dozen bottles of Gigondas on the worktop. She opened the fridge and saw that Claudette hadn’t been joking when she’d said she had filled it. It was packed with everything from salads to cheeses, ham, eggs, fruit and vegetables, butter and milk. Eddie had obviously decided that red wine wasn’t enough and there was a row of bottles of local rosé lined up in the door shelf, along with mineral water.
It took her barely ten minutes to bring her stuff up from the car and less than half an hour to unpack and put away the bulk of it. She was delighted to find there was a strong Wi-Fi signal in the stables
