Poppy’s Place in the Sun: A French Escape. Lorraine Wilson
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 the Audrey Hepburn perfection there lurks a dry wit and a touch of snark.
I’m definitely a fan of a healthy degree of snark.
“No one would ever dare not invite her.” Sophie snorts and then lowers her voice. “Anyway, she runs the bakery in the village. We wouldn’t want to have to drive to Mirepoix for our bread.”
Thanks to Sophie, I’m still laughing as I enter the grand entrance hall of the chateau. It has an actual chandelier and exquisite tapestries hanging on the stone walls. I can’t imagine living in a place like this. I’ve stayed in a few chateau hotels with Pete, one where our room looked out over the moat, something that thrilled me. Now I remember I think Pete complained about the lack of air conditioning and the smell from the moat, and we argued.
Here in the Dubois’s chateau there’s a huge old tapestry almost covering one wall, its colours still rich and vibrant. It displays a hunting scene and has an intricate decorative leafy border I intend to copy into my journal later on. A huge staircase leads up out of sight. I’m itching to explore. I’ve always loved castles. I could stand forever even in a ruined room and imagine the past coming to life around me in vivid detail. It used to drive my family and then Pete nuts. I was forever being told to hurry up and stop day dreaming.
I was always ridiculed for living in my own world, but for me the daydreaming was magical. I’d hate to live in their cold, one dimensional worlds. I absentmindedly reach out to touch the stone wall, wanting to feel the connection, and I’m mid-daydream when Madame Dubois walks in.
“Bon Soir, Sophie. Good evening, Poppy.” She smiles. “It is a very special place, no?”
“Yes, it’s amazing. How wonderful it must be to live in a place like this.” I look around the entrance hall. “I would love to know the chateau’s history.”
“Leo can tell you all about the history. He’s done a lot of research and created a website all about the chateau and the village.” She smiles proudly. “Have you seen it?”
“No, I must look it up.”
Leo. My stomach lurches as we walk through to what must be their living room, but really it’s a great hall with a minstrels gallery. The fireplace is so huge I could walk into it and not even bump my head.
Leo nods over at me but goes back to an animated discussion he’s having with his father.
Madame Dubois tightens her lips, and instead I’m introduced to Jacob and Anya. They’re in their mid-forties, I’d guess. Jacob is virtually bald and has a strange moustache. It’s the kind villains in the old films used to stroke while working out how best to torture their enemies.
He’s very friendly and un-villain-like, though,