Т.А. Уильямс – To Provence, with Love (страница 4)
Suppressing a sigh, she let her eyes flit down to the table and she could hardly believe the quantity of biscuits and cake Claudette had brought in. There was a movement by her feet and the Labrador appeared as if by magic and positioned himself close by, nostrils flaring. Claudette looked down at him. ‘Don’t worry about Marlon. He won’t steal food from the table, but I’d advise you not to give him any bits or he’ll never let you alone. Always hungry, he is …’
‘
‘No, goodness, no. This is amazing. Thank you so much.’
He nodded and turned to Claudette, addressing her in fluent French. ‘Then we’re fine, thank you, Claudette.’
‘Just call if you need anything else. See you later, mademoiselle.’ Claudette gave Faye a brief smile and scuttled off.
Mr Marshal walked slowly across the room until he adopted a relaxed position with his back to the fireplace, leaning against the stone pillar at the side for support. ‘So, you and Miss Beech are going to write a book?’
Faye made her way over to the table and nodded. ‘That’s right – if she wants me.’ She risked a direct question. ‘I don’t suppose you know why she picked me, do you?’
There was a momentary hesitation before Mr Marshal shook his head. ‘She knows lots of people – important people. I imagine somebody must have recommended you.’
This shot even more uncertainty into Faye’s head. Anabelle Beech might well know lots of important people, but Faye was pretty sure she, herself, didn’t. But there was no chance to enquire further as a uniformed nurse appeared at the door, a bag in her hand.
‘Monsieur Marshal, I’ve finished. Miss Beech says for her visitor to go right up.’ Her eyes strayed to the table full of food and Faye saw Mr Marshal’s face crack into a hint of a smile.
‘Do come in and help yourself to a cup of tea or coffee, while I show Faye up to Miss Beech’s room.’ He turned to Faye. ‘Now, Faye, if you’d like to follow me, I’ll take you up to see Miss Beech.’
Faye gave the nurse a smile as they crossed paths and she followed Mr Marshal out into the hall and over to the imposing stone stairway. On either side of the stairs were suits of shining armour, standing there like soldiers on guard.
‘Convincing, aren’t they? These are props from one of Miss Beech’s historical romances.’ Mr Marshal reached out and tapped one as they passed. Instead of a metallic clang, there was just a hollow clunk. Faye followed suit and found herself grinning.
‘Totally convincing. I was expecting you to tell me they’d been made for a medieval knight by the royal armoury.’
‘Nothing so exotic, I’m afraid. As I remember, these were made by a firm in Long Beach, California, who normally made surfboards.’
‘Long Beach, California, sounds pretty exotic to me.’ As did this whole place.
Mr Marshal climbed the steps slowly, taking them one at a time, his legs clearly giving him trouble. Once they finally reached the first floor landing, he led her down a wood-panelled corridor a short way to a bedroom door. When they got there, he paused briefly, gave a little tap on the door and, without waiting for a reply, ushered Faye inside.
‘Here’s Faye come to see you, Anabelle.’ At that moment, Faye felt a warm body slip past her legs and head over to the bed. ‘And Marlon’s come too.’
‘Well I never. Fancy Marlon leaving his favourite rug.’ The voice came from the bed.
‘He seems to have taken a real shine to Faye.’ Mr Marshal indicated a chair set beside the bed. ‘Do, please, take a seat, Faye. Claudette will be up shortly with some more tea. Anabelle, can I get you anything?’
‘No, thank you, Eddie. I’m fine.’ As he left the room, Miss Beech beckoned to Faye. ‘Come over and sit by me, Faye. Please.’
As Faye walked across the room towards the bed, she did her best to process the impressions she was receiving. The room was huge, with a high ceiling, and there was what looked like an old tapestry covering one wall. She couldn’t see very well as the louvred shutters were closed against the heat of the sun, and the light that filtered through cast geometric stripes across the floor as far as the bed. This was a quite magnificent four-poster and in the bed was a little figure, propped up against three or four crisp white pillows. The voice was low, but clear, and the accent unmistakably English.
As for Miss Beech herself, as Faye drew nearer, she saw that the beautiful, alluring young girl of the photos downstairs had now morphed into an old lady. A few hours spent on the internet earlier in the week had told her that Miss Beech was now in her early eighties, but even so, in spite of her advanced years, she was still a very good-looking woman. Her blonde hair was now silver, but had been pinned up on her head in a style recognizable from the photographs. She was even wearing diamond studs in her ears. More importantly, she was smiling. This came as a considerable relief to Faye, whose biggest worry had been that she might find herself having to deal with a spoilt, irascible diva.
‘Do sit down, my dear.’ Far from irascible, Miss Beech sounded warm and agreeable as she waved Faye into the chair beside her bed, nodding approvingly as she took a better look at her. ‘You’re such a very pretty girl, Faye. I love your hair. Is that your natural colour?’
Faye had had blonde hair as a little girl and it was still a very light brown now. She nodded. ‘Yes, this is the real me.’
‘And how old are you?’
‘I’m twenty-eight.’
Miss Beech gave a little sigh. ‘Ah, how I’d love to be twenty-eight again.’
Faye didn’t give her time to become nostalgic. Remembering how the housekeeper and the PA had referred to their employer, Faye summoned her most enthusiastic voice. ‘Miss Beech, I’m most terribly excited to meet you. I’d already seen a number of your films and since I heard you wanted to interview me, I’ve downloaded some more and watched them. I loved them all, particularly
Miss Beech smiled graciously. ‘That was all a long time ago. Things change, I’ve changed.’ Faye felt the great lady still studying her closely, before the smile turned to a gentle grin. ‘And you don’t want to believe everything you see in the movies.’
‘But you still look amazing.’
Miss Beech’s expression remained the same, her eyes still fixed on her visitor. ‘You’re very sweet, Faye. Now, let me tell you what I’d like you to do for me.’
At that moment the door opened and Claudette reappeared with a tray bearing an exquisite Japanese tea set and another mountain of food. She put it down beside Faye and then went over to pour fresh water into the glass on Miss Beech’s bedside table. ‘Will there be anything else, Miss Beech?’ To Faye’s surprise, she was speaking English, and good English as well, with only a trace of a French accent.
‘No, thank you, Claudette. You get back to your cooking.’ Miss Beech glanced across at Faye. ‘You will stay for lunch with us, won’t you?’
‘That’s very kind. I’d love to.’ Faye waited until Claudette had left the room before whispering. ‘But, if that’s the case, I’d better not eat too many of these delicious-smelling biscuits.’
Miss Beech smiled. ‘Claudette’s a firm believer that a full stomach cures all known ills. Since I’ve been in bed this past week, she’s been doing her best to fatten me up.’
‘I’m sorry you aren’t well. I hope you get better soon.’ Faye dropped her eyes to the dog, now positioned at her feet. Absently, she rubbed him with her foot and heard him grunt contentedly.
‘Oh, it’s just a few aches and pains. I’ll be up and about again in no time, I’m sure. But, at my age, it’s to be expected that every now and then the body starts playing up. I certainly can’t complain. I’ve had an absolutely wonderful life. I’ve been spoiled and spoiled and spoiled. It’s the way of the world that we can’t stay young and healthy for ever.’
Miss Beech reached for the water glass and took a mouthful. ‘Do, please, go ahead and drink your tea.’ She lowered her voice. ‘If you eat a few of the biscuits, we can give Marlon another couple and Claudette will think you’ve had them.’ Faye was delighted to hear the old lady sounding quite mischievous, a naughty note in her voice and a twinkle in her eye. She discovered that she really rather liked Miss Beech. Picking up a biscuit, she did as bidden and found it was divine: homemade and still warm. Marlon wasn’t the only one in for a treat.
‘Well now, Faye, what I’d like you to do is to compile my biography for me. Just for me, you understand. I’m not planning on getting it published, at least as long as I’m still alive. What happens to it after my death isn’t going to worry me.’ Miss Beech looked across with a hint of a smile. ‘Over the years, I’ve kept a diary. Not religiously every day, but fairly frequently, especially when there were big events going on. You know, like getting married, winning an Oscar, getting divorced. That kind of thing.’ She gave Faye a grin. ‘I got married three times, won two Oscars, and went through two divorces, by the way.’