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Jessremembered whatElodiehad said about all the ways he kept himself occupied to avoid human interaction.Thissounded like another one to add to the list.
Theypassed through a village populated by stone houses with colourful shutters and green creepers covering the facades.Sheimagined that, if sheGoogled‘quaintFrenchvillage’, pictures of this place would pop up.Therewas even a man with a beret and a baguette walking a poodle.Seriously?!
Afew miles down the road,Gabrielpulled into a rocky drive that wove through a forest.Thetires crunched on gravel.Apair of doves launched themselves into the tree canopy as the car approached them, and a squirrel raced across their path.Emergingfrom the woods, they passed through an iron gate with an ivy-covered stone wall on either side.
Infront of her loomed a magnificent grey house.Shecounted three floors behind a round turret with a conical hat at the top.ApetiteCinderellastaircase hugged the turret on both sides, each leading up to an entrance.
Herjaw dropped open. ‘Ithought you said it was small.Thisis achateau.’
‘WelcometoChâteaude laPlénitude,’ he said, enjoying her surprise. ‘Myhome away from home.’
‘It’sbeautiful.’
Heparked the car in front of a crumbling wall and some rusty barrels, and she scrambled out, eager to get inside, while he retrieved their bags from the boot.
Jessloved old things.Athome she had a collection of antique teddy bears and vintage cookie jars.Sheadored watching shows about people refurbishing centuries-old buildings.WhileKrishpreferred aFridaynight film, she would sit next to him on thesofa with her headphones in, devouring restoration videos onYouTube.Thischateau filled her with giddy delight.
Gabrielslung his backpack over one shoulder and picked upJess’ssuitcase.Heled her up the left set of stairs and she marvelled out loud about the immaculate stonework.
‘Ittook ages.First,Ihad to scrub each stone with acid and then power wash them to clean them and get the old mortar out.ThenIhad to remix new mortar and colour match it and even out the steps.’Hisface lit up as he talked about his project.
Jesspictured it:Gabriel, shirtless, his powerful, sweaty chest glistening in theLoiresunshine, his strong, capable hands lifting the stones and reshaping the stairs.
‘Soundslike a big job,’ she said a little more breathlessly than intended.
‘Everythingin this chateau is a big job.Eventhe ones you think are going to be little jobs.’
Shewondered if his leg ever got in the way, if it took him longer because of it. ‘What’sits history?’
Hepulled out an oversized skeleton key from his bag andJessalmost squealed at the sheer perfection of it. ‘Itwas built in the 18thcentury.BeforeIbought it, it had been abandoned for almost 50 years.’Heturned the key in the lock. ‘Readyto see inside?I’mwarning you—there’s still a lot to do.Andthis is a working holiday.You’regoing to have to muck in.’
‘Soundsidyllic,’ she said honestly.
Thedoor creaked open and he stood aside so she could enter first, straight into a wood-panelled hallway.Apainted portrait of a sour-facedFrencharistocrat hung on the wall.Hisfrown reminded her of someone.
‘Relativeof yours?’ she joked.
‘Veryfunny.Ifound it at a flea market.Thoughtit worked with the decor.’
Next, her eyes followed the spiral staircase twirling up inside the turret. ‘Wow.’
‘Touror food first?’
Shechecked her watch.Itwas close to dinner time, but she really wanted to see the place. ‘Definitelythe tour.’
Gabriellaughed. ‘Whatthe lady wants.Letme just take the bags upstairs andI’lljoin you in a minute.’Shewondered if she should offer to do it for him because of his leg, but he was already halfway up the first flight and seemed to be managing just fine.
Jesswalked through the doorway across the hall and found herself standing in a huge, high-ceilinged reception room.Peelingpatterned wallpaper wilted like dying flowers, exposing crumbling plaster.Thetime-worn floor needed re-sanding and varnishing, and a once-glorious chandelier resting in the corner could use a good polishing.ButJesssaw its potential.
Whenhe caught up to her, she was spinning around in the middle of the room, imagining what it could be one day: a couple ofPersianrugs to create different spaces.Aset of slouchy sofas set around an antique coffee table.Chairsin a more formalFrenchstyle to contrast.Shepictured it so clearly.Shehad to remind herself that this wasn’t her project, and she’d only be here for a few days.Gabrielwasn’t her boyfriend.Shelived inLondon.
Still, it was fun to pretend. ‘Whatwill you do with this room?Perfectplace for a ball.’
‘Obviously.Ilove dancing.’Hisvoice dripped with sarcasm.
Shetilted her head to the side and held out her hand to him. ‘Maybeyou just need the right partner.’Aftershe said it she blushed, realising it sounded like she meantthe right girlfriend.‘Fordancing,Imean,’ she clarified.
Hehesitated before stepping towards her and sliding his left palm against hers.Ina surprise move, he spun her around and then clasped her to him, swaying her back and forth.
