The Highest Stakes of All. Sara Craven
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Maybe I could become a private investigator, she mused, finding her place in the story. Except I don’t have someone likely to die and leave me a detective agency.
A more likely scenario, if things went badly wrong this time, was a swift return to the UK and a job for Denys in Uncle Martin’s light engineering works. It had been offered before, prompted, Joanna suspected, by her uncle’s very real concern for her future. Although he’d had plenty of troubles of his own in the past few years with the imposition of the three-day week, strikes and constant power cuts to contend with.
But her father had replied, as always, that it would kill him to be tied to a desk, and he had to be a free spirit, although Joanna could see no freedom in having bills you were unable to pay. One day, she thought, he might have to bite on the bullet and accept Uncle Martin’s offer.
And for me, a secretarial course, I suppose, she mused resignedly. But I’d settle for that, if it meant a normal life. And not being lonely any more. I’m just not the adventurous type, and I only wish I’d realised that much sooner.
It wasn’t really possible to make friends when they were so often on the move, but other girls tended to steer clear anyway. And apart from one occasion in Australia, which she’d tried hard to forget, she’d been left severely alone by young men, too.
She stopped herself on the point of another sigh. Forget the self-pity, she adjured herself, and find out how private investigator Cordelia Gray is going to solve her first solo case.
At that moment, she heard her name called, and turned to see Julie Phillips approaching across the grass.
Joanna sat up smiling. ‘Hi, there.’ She looked around. ‘What have you done with Matthew?’
‘Chris has taken him down to the village.’ Julie sat down beside her, shading her eyes from the sun. ‘He wanted to buy something for his mother from that little pottery shop.’ She sighed. ‘I can hardly believe our week is up. And, would you believe, we’re almost sorry to be going home. For which we have you to thank, of course.’
‘That’s nonsense,’ Joanna said roundly. ‘It was just lucky I happened to be at the desk that day, and was able to help.’
She’d been waiting to buy some stamps when she’d overheard the clearly distressed young couple protesting to an unsympathetic desk clerk about the hotel’s policy of barring babies and young children from the restaurant after seven p.m.
As their French was clearly minimal, she’d helped translate for them, even though their objections were ultimately met with a shrug of complete indifference.
They’d adjourned to the terrace bar for coffee, where Joanna had learned they’d won their South of France holiday in a magazine competition, but their intended destination had been a three-star hotel in the BelCote chain.
A fire had resulted in a grudging upgrade to the St Gregoire.
‘But we felt from the moment we got here yesterday that they didn’t really want us.’ Julie had said. ‘They made a fuss about putting a cot in the bungalow, told us there was no babysitting service, then dropped the bombshell about the restaurant. If we wanted to eat there, we had to have the special children’s supper at six.’
She’d sighed. ‘We’re just so disappointed with it all. It isn’t a bit as we’d hoped. Now we feel we simply want to go home.’
Joanna could only sympathise but she was unsurprised. The hotel was a place where little children might be seen but not heard, and Matt had a good pair of lungs on him.
But the St Gregoire had accepted this family, however reluctantly, and it was totally unfair to prevent them sampling the culinary delights on offer in the restaurant.
She took a deep breath. ‘I’ve had an idea,’ she said. ‘We—I—never have dinner until at least nine. If you’re prepared to eat early, I’ll come to the bungalow each night as soon as the children’s supper is over and look after Matt for you, so that you can dine together in the restaurant.’
There was a silence, then Julie said, ‘No, we couldn’t ask you. Couldn’t impose like that.’
‘I’d love to do it.’ Joanna bent, and ran a finger down Matt’s round pink cheek, receiving a toothless grin as a reward. ‘I can’t produce any references,’ she added ruefully. ‘But I used to babysit a lot for our neighbours in England. And I—I miss it.’
Husband and wife exchanged glances, then Chris leaned forward, his pleasant, freckled face serious.
‘Well, if you really mean it, we’d be endlessly grateful. We were actually going to find out today how much it would cost to cut our losses and fly home.’
‘Oh, you can’t do that.’ Joanna shook her head decisively. ‘Because the food really is fantastic. You mustn’t miss out on it.’
The final details of the arrangement were hammered out there and then. Julie assured her that Matt was a good sleeper who rarely woke in the evenings, but that she’d leave a bottle ready just in case. In return Joanna made it clear she would accept no payment whatsoever.
And on that they’d shaken hands on the deal.
Denys had received the news with far less amiability.
‘What the hell are you thinking of?’ he demanded incredulously. ‘Who are these people?’
‘A sweet couple with a nice baby they can’t take into the restaurant for dinner,’ Joanna informed him calmly.
‘Then why don’t they order room service, or switch from dinner to lunch?’ he demanded irritably.
Joanna gave him a straight look. ‘Because they’d be charged a lot extra and they can’t afford it. Not a pleasant position to be in,’ she added with faint emphasis. ‘And as long as I’m ready to eat with you later, why should you care?’
‘Because you might be seen, and there could be talk. You’re not here as some kind of domestic help, Joanna,’ he added with a snap.
‘No,’ she said. ‘But strangely I find I prefer it. And, whatever you say, I’ve promised. They’re nice people, very different to those I usually have to mix with these days, and I have no intention of letting them down.’
It was a decision she hadn’t regretted once, not even on the rare occasions when Matt had woken and grizzled. That brief hour or so in the lamp-lit peace of the bungalow’s small terrace had become a welcome refuge.
A blissful break before she had to be on show, pretending to be someone else, she thought now with an inward sigh.
She said, ‘I shall really miss my baby-watch.’
‘Like an aching tooth,’ Julie laughed. ‘But surely you’ll be leaving soon yourself, won’t you?’
Joanna looked away. ‘I—I’m not certain. It’s not really up to me.’
‘Well,