Page 42 of The Village Cafe in the Loire

‘Not an expected one.’

‘Nice arse.’

‘Amber!’ Although she had to admit, she thought, looking, that her friend wasn’t wrong. The man wore well-cut beige trousers, a white shirt. Had some sort of blue jumper or cardigan tied around his shoulders so that the main torso part fell down his back. His hair was black and thick, the back of his neck slightly red from too much sun earlier in the day.

He turned, and her heart sank. She recognised the black beard, the solemn expression. ‘Oh no. It’s Georges, themaire,’ she said. ‘Remember, he was really rude to me the other day when I popped in.’

‘Yes, but you didn’t mention he was… gorgeous,’ Amber said, fanning her face with her hand.

‘Really?’ Becky looked again. Perhaps, objectively, he was. But the way he’d treated her the other day – making her feel foolish – had completely overridden any physical attraction she might have felt. She wondered what he wanted now.

‘Bonjour,’ she said, smiling, as they approached. He might be a grumpy sod, but he was still themaire. She didn’t know much about the administration in France, but it seemed sensible to try to keep on the right side of authority figures just in case.

‘Bonjour, madame…’

‘Thorne. And this is my friend, Amber.’

‘Enchanté,’ he said, nodding his head. He smiled, looking completely different from the way he’d seemed in the office the other day. More relaxed, somehow. His startling blue eyes rested on hers and for a moment things seemed to pause.

‘Can I help you?’ Becky asked.

‘Oh, sorry. Yes, of course!’ He grinned. ‘Do not worry, I am not here in a professional capacity.’

It was a little relieving. ‘Oh,’ she said.

‘Although I did want to tell you that I appreciate what you are doing with the café,’ he added. ‘It is lookingtrès respectable. People are talking about it in the town.’

‘Well, that’s good.’

‘Oui, it is nice to see people making improvements. And you will still sell in perhaps two weeks?’

‘That’s the plan.’

He nodded. ‘Parfait.’

Obviously, she’d wanted him to support her desire to sell the place, but it was a bit rich saying ‘perfect’ to someone’s face when they told you they’d be disappearing in a fortnight. ‘Well… OK,’ she said at last, adding, ‘What did you want, by the way?’

He seemed to shake himself. ‘Sorry, I am going to see your great-aunt. And I wanted to know if you have any message for her. Or perhaps if you would like to come with me. It is not my business perhaps, but it seems strange that you haven’t yet gone to see her.’

‘Oh.’ It seemed odd that he would visit Maud’s grave again. Had they been close? She’d have to ask Pascal. And a message? Unless he was going to conduct a seance, she couldn’t see how that would work out.

‘Yes,’ Georges nodded earnestly. ‘I will tell her all about the café, of course. And how you have settled. And I realise you have not been here long. But if she asks me where you are, I am not sure what I will say.’

Becky gave a little surreptitious glance at Amber. This was actually getting a little bit weird.

‘Look,’ she said. ‘Monsieur, um…’

‘Call me Georges.’

‘OK. Look, Georges. I know that I should have been by now. It’s important to… pay respects. And you’re right, I’ve been busy. But I could probably have found a moment by now. I’ll try to go tomorrow, or the next day.’

‘So I can tell her this? Because,’ he grimaced, ‘she doesn’t have so much to occupy her at the moment and if I say that you will be there on Monday or Tuesday and you do not come, I know she will be disappointed.’

Clearly, Georges needed some professional help. Becky smiled. ‘Um, well, I’m not sure what you believe. And I respect your feelings. But in honesty, she’s not going to know if I am there or not, is she?’

Georges’s brow furrowed. ‘But of course she will know!’ he said. ‘Maud’s body has failed her a little, but her spirit is still strong.’

Becky took a step back. ‘I don’t mean to offend you,’ she said. ‘But I don’t believe in spirits.’

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