A French Affair (35 page)

I’m not sure if what else in there – lyrics written to me by the love of my life – will be valuable or not, but they are rare. I had to force him to let me keep them; he always insisted on burning all his drafts. If they are valuable, sell them. Money is always useful.

The other reason for this letter is to do with my niece Gina. The business side you already know about but I’m just hoping that your own innate good sense has meant you’ve got over that ghastly Frenchwoman and have discovered what a lovely girl Gina is.

She’s always been a bit overshadowed by her more flamboyant younger sister in my opinion, but she’s got the courage of a lion and a heart of pure gold.

This note is just to give you the heads up in case you haven’t noticed. Not that I would ever dream of matchmaking, of course. (Not much!!!)

With very much love from beyond the grave,

Rainey, née Doris Ivy Rainbow

Gina found she was crying. She got up and fetched her whisky and drained the glass. And what did Matthew think about Rainey’s words about her? Would he curse his old friend for meddling? Or be pleased that she’d helped to bring them together? It would be easier to work out if she knew how Matthew felt about her. And where on earth was he? It didn’t take that long to get to the office and back. She sniffed hard and composed herself.

‘Right,’ said Matthew, reappearing a few minutes later. ‘Where shall we start? Wikipedia?’

‘It’s as good a place as any but then let’s look on eBay to see if his artefacts have a value.’

‘Let’s just put his name into Google and see what comes up.’

A few seconds later Gina gasped. ‘I can’t believe it. He was obviously really famous. I feel I should have known about this.’

‘Me too,’ said Matthew, looking over her shoulder.

‘She used to talk about her life as a rock chick in a general way but I didn’t realise it had been with a French rock god. Mind you, she was good at keeping secrets. So now what do we do? We need to find out if song lyrics are remotely valuable,’ said Gina.

‘They are, definitely – for certain people.’

Gina chewed her lip for a moment. ‘I’m going to ring Anthea. She’ll have an idea. Or know someone.’

By the time she disconnected, Gina’s ear was sore and her cheek sweaty from being pressed against her phone for several minutes.

‘So?’ asked Matthew.

‘Well, there’s good news and bad news. Anthea does know someone and they could be incredibly valuable.
And, possibly better news, there’s a suitable sale coming up at Christie’s but it’s terribly soon.’

‘I see the problem. If we could get them into that sale, they might not have time to advertise them enough, get them into the online catalogue and drum up interest.’ He paused. ‘When’s the next sale?’

‘Not for months.’

‘We haven’t got months. And song lyrics aren’t the sort of thing you can borrow money against.’

‘Maybe I could—’ Gina started.

‘No. Absolutely not.’

‘You don’t know what I was going to say,’ she protested.

‘Not exactly, but I bet it involved you borrowing money on your credit card or something.’ He paused, looking stern, almost angry. ‘I’ve accepted a great deal of your kindness, in many ways, but I won’t do that.’

Gina could tell there was no point in her trying to say anything else on the subject. She was frustrated by his refusal to let her help but she admired the fact that he wouldn’t let her go into debt for him.

‘So what are we going to do?’ she said when she felt it was safe to speak.

Matthew took a breath. ‘We’re going to eat something, drink tea, more whisky possibly, and then we’ll decide. I’ll cook; you carry on searching the internet.’

While Matthew was making scrambled eggs Gina created a file. She put everything useful she found into it. If Matthew decided to put the lyrics into the sale in spite of the short notice, Gina wanted to have all the relevant details to pass on to Anthea’s contact. Just to make her tough job a little bit easier.

‘So, have you decided?’ she asked when he came back into the room with plates, a tea towel over his arm and a bottle of wine tucked under it.

He nodded and deposited the plates on the coffee table. ‘It’s a no-brainer. We risk not getting enough for them but on the other hand we’ll get something. And if we’re only a tiny bit short – well, I’ll sell Oscar or something.’

Oscar, hearing his name, raised his head and then lowered it again, as if it was too heavy to hold up if food wasn’t going to be involved.

‘Sounds good. Apart from selling Oscar. There’d be something else we could sacrifice before him.’

Matthew sat down next to her, having collected knives, forks and glasses. ‘Tuck in. I changed my mind about the tea and the whisky. Wine seemed a good compromise.’

‘I’ll make a cup later. I shouldn’t drink any more really.’ She was still feeling the effects of the enormous drink he had given her earlier.

‘Of course you can have tea if you want to. It’s up to you, but there is no need to worry about drinking and driving.’ He looked at her in a way that made her blush and giggle at the same time.

‘No?’

‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘You are going nowhere. I’m not letting you slip through my fingers again. Rainey was right. You have the courage of a lion and a heart of gold – and her letter made me cry. I never cry. But you’re worth crying over. So I’ve decided you’re staying here with me all night – or at least until I’ve given you twenty-seven orgasms.’

Gina found herself a bit breathless. ‘Twenty-seven? That’s a very specific number.’

‘I’m a very specific sort of man. Now eat up.’

OSCAR’S NOSE IN
her face woke her the next morning. Having disentangled her foot from between Matthew’s she looked at the clock next to his bed. It was seven o’clock – a perfectly respectable time to be woken.

‘Morning, Osc,’ she said, and rubbed his chest.

Matthew groaned and then pulled her to him. She hadn’t actually counted but Gina felt he might not have been far off when he’d said he wanted to give her twenty-seven orgasms. It had been blissful. She would have been even happier if they hadn’t fallen out since France but perhaps it had made the sex even more wonderful. And she understood now what had been happening. He’d got some ridiculous notion into his head that if he lost the French House and all his money she wouldn’t – or rather shouldn’t – be with him. Poor prospects. It was utterly Victorian. Antique even. But so like Matthew. She had informed him that he was an idiot and she wouldn’t care if she had to live in a tent as long as she was with him (although she had a perfectly good rented cottage of her own, of course). This had produced a thoroughly satisfactory response from him, and she giggled at the memory.

‘It’s time to get up!’ she said now, removing his hand from her breast.

He wouldn’t be put off. ‘This bed is quite valuable. It might be the last time I can make love to you in it.’

She kissed him but was firm. ‘Unless you’re planning to sell it today, I don’t think we need worry about that. But I must get on. I have to go and see Sally for one thing.’

‘Why particularly?’ He sat up on one elbow and watched her as she slid off the bed and began gathering her clothes.

‘I didn’t tell her how much money we made at the event – or didn’t make. And I must tell her about the lyrics and the letter.’ She looked over her shoulder at him for a moment before realising she was in danger of being hauled back into bed.

‘I still wonder why Rainey didn’t include you and Sally when she left me the lyrics.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why did she leave them to me exclusively?’

Gina shrugged. ‘I don’t know. She was a woman of mystery. But I’m very glad she did.’

‘Oh?’

She nodded. ‘Because if she hadn’t, you’d have insisted on splitting what they make three ways, which might not leave enough to pay off Yvette. Then you’d get all huffy about us giving you our share.’

He frowned. ‘Are you sure you don’t want a shower, at least?’

Gina shook her head. ‘I’m a bit wary of taking all my clothes off for one thing and I really want to get out of here before anyone sees me.’ She gave him a rueful smile. ‘I’m sure most people know we’re – well – together by
now, but I still don’t want to do the walk of shame in between the Chippendale and the Sèvres.’

He chuckled and she leant over to kiss him. ‘I’ll see you later. And if Anthea rings you instead of me, you will tell me, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’

It took a few minutes, but she managed to leave him and exit the French House without being seen.

‘Oh my God, look at you,’ said Sally, as she opened the door, still in her pyjamas.

‘What?’ Gina hadn’t showered but she’d brushed her hair and teeth and washed her face.

‘Shagged senseless. It’s obvious.’

‘Oh God, is it?’

‘Course. You’re glowing. Come in. I’ll make you some tea. I’m just giving the girls their breakfast.’

‘I was wondering if I could have a shower. I was going to wait until I got home but now you say you can tell what I’ve been up to . . .’

‘Help yourself, but be quick. Alaric might want it soon. Currently he’s reading the paper.’

Gina was quick but she was thorough and by the time she appeared in the kitchen she was damp but clean and wearing a pair of Sally’s knickers. ‘I hope you don’t mind,’ she said, after confessing to borrowing them without asking.

‘Just as long as you tell me everything the moment Alaric’s got the girls off to nursery—’

‘I thought you were going to take them?’ objected Alaric.

‘I was, but I’m not now. I have business to talk about with Gina.’

‘Auntie Gina,’ said Sephie. ‘Do you like Ready Brek?’

‘Not much, hon,’ said Gina, finding a mug and a tea bag.

‘I like it velly, velly much,’ said Sephie.

‘Do you think it’s a problem that she can’t say her “r”s?’ said Alaric.

‘No,’ said Sally. ‘Come on, girls, shoes on and into the car.’

‘Hang about. What about my shower?’ said Alaric.

‘Have it when you get back. I need to talk to my sister, now!’

Alaric shrugged. ‘I don’t know what can be so urgent . . .’

When Sally had finally shooed her family out of the door she sat down opposite Gina. ‘First things first, I gather things are going well between you and Matthew?’

Gina nodded encouragingly. ‘Oh yes. Velly, velly well, as Sephie would say.’ Gina sighed reminiscently for a second. She wondered if she should tell Sally about Rainey’s letter and then thought no, she wouldn’t. That was between her, Matthew and their late aunt. ‘But there’s more news,’ she went on. ‘Do you want the good or the bad?’

‘Oh, the bad. Let’s get it out of the way. The event lost money and now everyone’s in even bigger debt than they were before?’

‘No! Honestly, you’re as bad as Matthew. We did make money – five thousand! – just not enough.’

‘Oh, well done. So is that the good news?’

Gina shook her head. ‘You know that horrible Foo dog that Matthew was so attached to?’

‘I think so.’

‘I was forced to throw it at him – well, not at him, but anyway, it broke.’

‘It would, but what has this got to do with anything?’

‘There was something inside—’

‘No. Tell all. Was it details of a secret bank account Rainey had and we’re all going to be millionaires?’

‘No, Sal, stop interrupting. Something much more romantic. Do you mind if I finish the toast?’

‘Of course not, but you’ve got to tell me everything!’

By the time Gina had given Sally all the many details she required, Sally had made more toast.

‘So these lyrics are worth money?’ she said.

‘We think so. It’s all a bit risky though because although there’s a specialist auction next week, which is an amazing stroke of luck, they might not be able to enter them at such short notice. And Anthea says if they can’t drum up enough interest they won’t go for their full value, which would be a disaster.’

‘Oh no. How tantalising. When will you know?’

‘About what?’

‘About everything. If you can get it in – with enough interest – and when would the next auction be if you can’t.’

‘Anthea is on the case. She’s going to ring me or Matthew.’

‘But hey,’ Sally said. ‘I forgot in all the excitement. You’re not the only one with news. Carmella has bought a shop.’

‘Really? Tell
me
everything.’

‘Bizarrely it’s the one you found for her. She went for a look and has put in an offer. How about that? So I’m going to have my dream job after all, if just a bit further away.’

Gina got up and went round the table so she could hug Sally. ‘I’m so happy for you.’

‘And me you! I mean, you and Matthew.’

The sisters hugged until they realised their tea was getting cold.

Gina had gone home, caught up with some work, cleaned her house and made a cake and still there had been no word from Anthea. Gina sent her a text.

The reply was a terse
I’m on the case and will be back to you ASAP.
She harrumphed around with the hoover for a bit longer and then got in the car and went back to the French House.

Matthew was maddeningly sanguine. He’d cooked a meal and welcomed her with a glass of wine and a kiss. ‘Hello, you.’

‘Hello!’ A few fond moments later she said, ‘Hello, Oscar. How was your day?’

‘He’s been fine,’ said Matthew.

‘Anthea didn’t ring you?’

‘No. I told you I’d call if she did.’

‘I know but I just couldn’t wait so I sent her a text just now but she was very short when she replied.’ Gina sighed, and took out her frustration on some nuts.

At nine o’clock Anthea finally rang Gina’s mobile. Matthew and Gina had been playing Pontoon to, as she put it, stop her eating the cushions.

‘OK, here’s the deal,’ said Anthea. ‘I rang my friend who put me in touch with the auctioneer. Apparently song lyrics by Jean Reveaux are so rare they are nearly unheard of. I forwarded her the information you gave me, which was helpful. There are loads of collectors out there but she’s not a hundred per cent sure they could advertise
the lyrics sufficiently to get their absolute top price. She asked me to ask you if you want to wait and put it into the next sale, which is in September, when she can almost guarantee you top whack, or take a chance on this sale.’