who’s used to gawky English novices. Actually, if she works in the notaire’s office she probably meets a good few of us. “Where are your beautiful little dogs?”
“At home,” I reply, surprised she was expecting to see them.
“Pouff. They would have been welcome at the chateau.” Sophie pouts. She looks elegant, even though she’s only wearing dark indigo jeans and an asymmetric black top, the kind that looks amazing on someone like her but would just make me look wonky.
“They’re very skilled at making me feel guilty if I go out without them.” I grimace, remembering all the synchronised howling sessions I’ve had to break up in the past before discovering the magic of sticking a Katie Melua album on repeat and virtually emptying the cupboard of dog treats to distract them. I’ve tried introducing other singers, but the dogs insist it has to be Katie.
“We could go back and get them?” Sophie looks hopeful.
I hesitate but then shake my head. “No, we’re almost there, and they’d be bound to try and scent a priceless rug or something.”
They would show me up in front of Leo again. It would just add to my stress, trying to make sure they behaved. I’m so glad the village has two vets in the practice so I can choose to see Angeline when I have to take the dogs in.
Sophie seems disappointed.
“You’re welcome to come round for dog cuddles anytime.” I smile. “You can pop in on the way back if you like?”
“That would be nice, Poppy. Thank you.” Her English is perfectly pronounced but has a lovely musical lilt.
“Er, talking of dogs, I had this huge dog knock on my door early this morning.” I broach the subject cautiously, wanting to know what the big secret is before I have to face Leo again.
“That would be Maxi.” Sophie replies matter-of-factly.
Does no one other than me find the idea of an alarm clock dog a little bonkers?
“Yes, but Sophie…” I turn to face her. “Help me out please. I tried talking to Leo about it, but I was in a really crap mood. He just turned and walked off. I really don’t think I was that rude, not rude enough to warrant … Anyway, please can you enlighten me? I don’t understand what I’ve done to offend him.”
Sophie turns to me and meets my gaze, pausing before she replies.
“Okay, I’ll tell you,” she says after a while. “It might help if you know.”
She’s quiet for a while, and I’m afraid she’s changed her mind. Eventually she breaks the silence.
“Leo’s sister Madeline used to live in your house. You know that the house used to be part of the Dubois estate, yes? Well, I assume you do, it was on all your documents.”
I nod.
“Madeline had a little girl called Amelie. Leo adored his niece. He was more father than uncle to her. While Leo lived here, and then afterwards whenever he came back to visit, Maxi used to go to see Amelie in the morning. He’d go early to get a treat before he went off to work with Leo and then Amelie went to school. You moving in must’ve made Maxi think … think that Amelie was there again.”
I look at Sophie, who seems more ruffled than I’ve ever seen her.
“Where do Leo’s sister and niece live now then?” I ask.
Sophie lets out a deep sigh. “They don’t, Poppy. They don’t live anywhere. They were both killed by a drunk driver just over a year ago.”
“Oh God.” Now I feel truly awful. “That’s terrible, and so sad. I wish I’d known. I’d never have said anything to Leo. I would’ve found a dog treat for Maxi.”
Hot tears prick at my eyes. I stop in my tracks, not sure I’m up to facing Leo. I feel more like a usurper than ever. But Madame Dubois wouldn’t have invited me round if they didn’t want me to feel welcome here.
“It’s okay. Leo won’t hold a grudge. Don’t worry about it.”
Huh, why does everyone tell me to stop worrying? More than worry, I feel shame that I intruded on Leo’s grief, however unwittingly.
“Thanks for telling me.” I manage a vague impression of a smile and force myself to keep walking.
“You are very welcome, Poppy,” Sophie replies with her usual musical lilt that makes my name sound exotic.
“You speak English beautifully. You have a lovely accent,” I say, keen to move the subject away from bereavement.
“Jacques likes your accent, he says it is very sexy,” Sophie replies nonchalantly, startling me. I look at her and see a sardonic quirk of her lips that tells me she’s not particularly enamoured of her boss.
“Oh.” I frown, flattered but unsettled. I do want to be found attractive, especially after being dumped, but…
“It is okay, Poppy. He is my boss, but you will be my friend, yes? You can say what you like. I won’t tell tales. That is the correct idiom, yes?”
Her solemn words make me smile. “Thank you,” I laugh. “I have to admit I find him a little unsettling.”
“I know what he is like, Poppy. I have worked for him for two years.” Sophie shrugs. “You would be better to stay away from him.”
“My boyfriend…” My voice tails off. I can’t do it. What sort of friendship starts off with a lie? I lick my lips.
“Is not coming?” Sophie spares me the need to spell it out. How does she know? Then it occurs to me she probably saw me out of her office window, when I was sitting on the bench reading the texts, my face unguarded.
“He told me by text just after I left your office,” I admit, my words tinged with shame. I know I’m not to blame – at least, I think I’m not. But I feel ashamed anyway.
“Merde,” Sophie sums things up pretty succinctly.
“Yup,” I agree. “Merde.”
By now we’ve reached the grand front steps leading up to the chateau entrance.
“If I were you, I’d say your boyfriend isn’t coming after all. Right from the start, if anyone asks, which I’m sure they will.” Sophie’s tone is serious. “Otherwise it will get very difficult, everyone constantly asking you when he’s arriving.”
“Hmm, that’s true I suppose,” I admit, annoyed with myself for feeling ashamed. I’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. It was Pete who dumped me. It just feels like an inauspicious start to my life here. “Do you know who else is coming this evening?”
“I think Angeline is coming, and Jacob and Anya – they’re the Dutch couple who run the café in the village. They’ve lived here for ten years now. Madame Gilbert might be there, but don’t be put off by her. She hates and disapproves of everyone.”
“Why does she get invited then?” I laugh at the mock sour face Sophie pulls. I think behind
