Page 16 of A French Inheritance

Once she’d accepted Yann’s lunch invitation, Jeannie decided that there was no need to be secretive about lunch with an old friend of her husband’s.

‘Yannick has invited me to have lunch with him today,’ she told Briony at breakfast. ‘Just in the village – I expect there will be a lot of other people I can catch up with there too. You could always join us?’

‘You go and have a reminisce about the good old days. I might do a spot of weeding or just mooch around here, try to decide what to keep. Maybe open the garage doors and see what’s in there. Why not?’ Briony said as Jeannie shook her head.

‘I shouldn’t. There is so much stuff in there dating back years and years. Once you’re living here, there will be time enough to open those doors, trust me on that.’

‘That bad? Okay. What about the attic? Is that likely to be full as well?’

‘No, I don’t think so. The access isn’t brilliant, although there is a drop-down ladder. The family never found it that easy to put stuff up there – the garage was definitely the easiest dumping ground.’

‘I’ll do some weeding this morning and then maybe take a look in the attic,’ Briony said.

By the time Jeannie came out to say goodbye, Briony had weeded a couple of the flower beds and was starting on the pots. ‘The car keys are on the hook if you decide to go out.’

‘Thanks, Mum. I’m finishing up here and going for a shower. Have a good lunch. See you later.’

On the landing outside her bedroom, Briony glanced up at the ring in the ceiling hatch.

Maybe her shower could wait. There was a long pole with a hook in Giselle’s bedroom which fitted perfectly, as she’d known it would.

She gave it a gentle tug, the hatch opened and she pulled it and the ladder down carefully.

The ladder was steep and Briony held the handrails on either side as she climbed slowly and hesitantly.

A small roof window gave a little light into the attic which spanned the whole of the top floor of the cottage and was boarded.

Standing near the top of the ladder, Briony looked around.

At first glance, the attic appeared to be empty, but as she turned her head to look to her left, she saw two cardboard boxes tucked away out of sight in the corner of the attic underneath the sloping roof that was behind her.

Carefully, Briony stepped onto the boards and, bent double as there was no headroom, pulled both boxes nearer the open hatch.

One was open and seemed to be full of papers and cards, the other had been closed, with the cardboard flaps tucked in under each other.

Neither box was particularly heavy and Briony decided she’d take them downstairs and go through them.

The open one she simply dropped through the space between the ladder and the hatch onto the landing floor.

A veritable dust storm lingered in the air for moments after it landed.

She put the other, bigger box closer to the edge before stepping back onto the ladder.

Pulling the box closer and holding it against her chest with her left arm and hand, she began to descend.

Her right hand was tightly holding the stair rail as she slowly felt her way backwards down the ladder.

As her feet finally stepped onto the landing, she let out a long breath.

She placed the box beside the other one and pushed the ladder back up and the hatch closed into position with a definite click.

After a quick shower, she took the boxes downstairs to the dining room and put them both on the table.

The open box was full of a mixture of letters, newspaper cuttings, old birthday cards and lots of black-and-white photographs – mainly formal family pictures of people who were long dead.

And underneath everything was an old lockable leather-bound five-year diary complete with its key.

The second box, when she took a peek under the cardboard flaps, seemed to be full of sketches and a couple of finished watercolours.

Briony knew instantly that they were the work of her great-grandmother Marie-Louise; they were so similar to the one hanging in the hall.

Carefully, she closed the flaps down again.

Why had all these paintings and photographs been put in boxes and hidden away? Briony picked up the diary. Who had owned this diary? What secrets did it contain? And would any of those secrets reveal the truth about why the boxes had been left hidden in the attic for what appeared to be decades?

* * *

When Adam left to drive to the nearest builders merchants for some supplies, Lucy took advantage of the quiet to edit her latest video blog in preparation for loading onto the channel at her regular time on Sunday evening.

Once she was happy with the video she carefully scheduled it to go live Sunday evening at eight o’clock French time.

‘Hi, anyone home?’ Elliot called out as he opened the back door. Django shot out of his basket as Luna appeared and the two dogs greeted each other with enthusiasm.

‘Coffee?’ Lucy said.

‘Please.’

‘What you are you doing home?’

‘My day off today. Thought I’d take Luna and explore Lac de Saint-Cassien. Still early in the year, so it should be quiet. The water adventure centres won’t all be open yet.’

‘It’s a lovely day, wish I could join you,’ Lucy said. ‘What about tomorrow – are you on call? Sunday roast tomorrow as usual.’

‘No, I’m not on call, I’ll be here. Couldn’t miss one of your famous roast dinners.’

After Elliot left, Lucy wandered down to see Holly, who had messaged to say her daughter was better and she would be opening the pottery today.

If Holly was happy, Lucy planned to film a short sequence of her working at the wheel fashioning one of the beautiful jugs she made and decorated and also showcase some of the pottery on the shop shelves.

Passing the empty workshop on the way, she sighed. Hopefully someone would take it on soon. Having it standing empty was such a waste.

* * *

When a text from Yann saying he’d pick her up at eleven-thirty pinged into her phone, Jeannie had smiled to herself. She’d been wondering what the locals would make of her and Yann lunching alone together. It would definitely be more relaxing to be in a busy restaurant where they were unknown.

Now, sitting next to him as he drove them down towards Cannes and then along the bord de mer towards Mandelieu-La Napoule, Jeannie’s thoughts drifted down memory lane to the time when the three of them – Jeromé, Yann and herself – had been firm friends.

Life in those early days had been so carefree.

She and Yann had got on from the first moment Jeromé had introduced the two of them.

Something had drawn them together. Yannick had never heard the term ‘best man’ and when Jeromé asked him to be his, he had burst out laughing.

He’d turned to Jeannie. ‘If I’m the best man you should be marrying me!

’ A throwaway joke that the three of them had laughed at.

But Jeannie had registered the sad look in his eyes.

When they’d met and married, Jeromé had been six months into a two-year exchange contract with the English office of the French financial firm he worked for.

When Jeannie had said how much she was looking forward to living in France when he returned to the French office, Jeromé had looked at her.

‘ Mais non. We stay in England; my life is here now with you. I have already accepted a promotion in the English office.’

Jeannie remembered Giselle being upset at that decision.

She’d tried to hide it from Jeromé, pleased that he was doing so well in his career, but had privately admitted to Jeannie that she’d been looking forward to the day when the two of them moved back to France.

Once Briony had been born, Jeannie had told Jeromé that she would like to take Briony to spend most of the long summer holiday in France with Giselle every year.

As Briony grew, Jeromé insisted that they left Briony with her grandmother for a fortnight in the summer whilst the two of them enjoyed a holiday on their own.

‘We have the time for a short stroll to look at the boats if you like,’ Yann said, breaking into her thoughts as he drove into a space in the car park of the Port La Napoule.

‘I haven’t been here for years,’ Jeannie said as they walked the quay alongside the water, looking at the moored boats. ‘It’s much bigger and busier than I remember it. Do you still keep your small day boat here?’

Yann shook his head. ‘ Non. I sell it. The expense as the marina expanded was too much. Pauline and I had some good times on it together, but Evette was never a keen sailor. Now I come to look at the catamarans and the other wonderful yachts. And occasionally bring a beautiful woman for lunch to the new restaurant.’ He smiled at Jeannie and caught hold of her hand.

‘I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are finally coming to live down here and we can be in each other’s life from now on. ’

‘We’ve been in each other’s life for a long time,’ Jeannie said quietly.

‘ Oui , but not in the way I would like.’ Yann looked at her, a serious look on his face. ‘Now I like to think, it is our time.’