Page 7 of A French Inheritance

Briony left the bedroom curtains open and the window ajar when she went to bed that first night, hoping to hear an owl or two.

She didn’t hear any owls, but woke in the morning to the sound of the dawn chorus.

She lay there listening, wishing she could attribute more of the songs to the individual birds.

There was definitely a blackbird in there and a chaffinch.

Apart from the birdsong, it was quiet. No traffic noise. No neighbours. No police sirens in the distance. So different from Bristol, where, depending on the atmospherics, there was nearly always some sort of low background traffic hum.

Briony lay on her back looking at the faded solar system her dad had stuck to the ceiling many years ago.

The room’s wallpaper had been changed over the years, but the ceiling had remained untouched.

She remembered her excitement watching her dad stick all the stars, the moon and the planets in their places and had asked for the same for her bedroom ceiling at home.

But for some reason that had never happened.

As the birdsong died away and it grew lighter as the sun rose, Briony threw off the duvet and made for the bathroom, thinking about the day ahead.

Coffee with Lucy up at the farm this morning, possibly lunch in the village after buying some food supplies and then maybe Jeannie would want to start sorting things out.

That’s what they were here for after all, so a busy day to look forward to.

When she walked into the kitchen, her mum was already there, coffee made and fresh croissants on the table.

‘This looks good,’ Briony said, pulling out a chair.

‘I was up early and walked into the village,’ Jeannie explained. ‘The boulangerie is now run by a young generation of the DuBois family – still as good though,’ and she poured Briony a coffee.

‘You planning on walking into the village every morning?’

Jeannie smiled. ‘Probably not. Today I need to talk to you and I wanted to clear my head with a walk first.’

‘Is something wrong?’ Briony glanced at her mother, concerned.

‘No. I simply have to explain something. And to tell you about Granny Giselle’s last wishes.

It’s something that I should have talked about after I received the notaire’s letter, but Granny Giselle had asked me to wait until we were over here.

I think she felt that being in the cottage would bring back good memories and inspire you to really think about your future. ’

Briony waited as her mother pulled a croissant apart before taking a sip or two of coffee.

‘I agreed to wait because I naively thought it would be easier to do once we were here. Turns out to be just as difficult as it would have been back home.’

Jeannie took a deep breath.

‘There are two things I need to tell you. First, the bit that is straightforward and which I knew already but you probably did not realise. French inheritance law is uncomplicated in one major way only: property goes from parents to their children. In Granny Giselle’s case, sadly her only son, your dad, died before her, and there are no other relatives who have a claim.

’ Jeannie paused and looked at Briony. ‘The truth is you have inherited Owls Nest from Granny Giselle, not me. Giselle couldn’t leave it to me, even though I was her daughter-in-law.

You are her closest direct descendant, therefore, legally, the cottage passes to you. ’

Jeannie picked up her cup and drank her coffee before pushing the empty cup away.

‘The second thing I have to tell you is, Granny told me exactly what she would like, and what she hoped, you would do, when she was gone.’ Jeannie exhaled a breath slowly. ‘Before we discuss her wishes – how do you feel knowing that the cottage is now yours?’ She smiled questioningly at Briony.

‘Stunned,’ Briony said. ‘I’d always assumed Granny would leave it to you, and then in the future you’d probably leave it to me…’ Her voice trailed away.

Jeannie nodded her understanding.

‘But why didn’t Granny talk to me before she died? Tell me herself whatever it is she’s told you.’

‘She was going to talk to you the weekend you came home and told us about the divorce; then it didn’t seem the right time. She was so cross about the way Marcus treated you.’

‘Granny was never his greatest fan, was she? And, to be fair, she turned out to be right.’ Briony took a deep breath. ‘So what does she hope I do about the cottage?’

‘A few things. She hoped you wouldn’t sell it – although, of course, you are free to do that if you wish.

She wanted you to live in it, although Granny did realise that your current job would initially prevent that – but now there is no job.

’ Jeannie gave her daughter an ironic look before carrying on.

‘If you decide you can’t move here permanently, she wanted you to at least come to stay.

Use it like the holiday home you suggested to me. ’

Jeannie paused.

‘She also had another idea. This one makes me feel particularly awkward putting it into words as it concerns me, and I completely understand if you don’t want this to happen and say an outright no to it.

’ Jeannie bit her bottom lip anxiously. ‘If you can’t live in it, rather than sell it, Giselle said she would like you to let me move over and take care of the place. ’

Silence followed her words as Briony stared at her mother.

‘Is that something you would like to do?’ she asked finally.

Jeannie nodded. ‘I’d sell up in the UK, apply for a resident’s visa and move into Owls Nest and be very happy.

Look after it for you, maintain it, do the garden – anything that was necessary, so it wouldn’t be a burden on you.

And, of course, you could come whenever you wanted.

’ Jeannie pushed her chair back and, standing up, took the coffee mugs over to the sink.

‘Giselle might have made the suggestions I have just told you about, but they are not a legal requirement of her will. You can do what you like with the cottage – although Giselle did hope you wouldn’t put it up for sale immediately – if ever.

I do know that Giselle truly believed living here in France would be a good life for you.

And I know that is what she hoped you would decide to do.

So promise me that you will at least think about it. ’