The meal was, indeed, excellent. Tonight, Claudette had chosen turbot and had cooked it to perfection with prawns and braised fennel. The aroma rising up from the plates was heavenly. Eddie joined them at table while Claudette retired to the kitchen, presumably to prepare yet more food. Eddie and Faye finished the bottle of champagne between them while Miss Beech just sipped hers from time to time.
Once that was finished, Miss Beech insisted that Eddie open a bottle of white wine and Faye found herself on the receiving end of a ten-year-old Sancerre Premier Cru that tasted every bit as good as the champagne. As they ate and drank, they chatted, or, at least, Faye tried to get Miss Beech to talk, but it was Eddie who did most of the talking. As Faye had imagined, he had a host of tales to tell and his memory, thankfully, was crystal clear and far more agile than his legs.
By the end of the meal, Faye’s sides ached from laughing so much. There was absolutely no doubt about it. If she could reproduce Eddie’s stories, the book was going to be a great success. More to the point, if things continued like this, it was shaping up to be a lot of fun. She was still wiping the tears from her eyes at the end of Eddie’s description of how a brown bear got into one of the luxury trailers used by the stars on location, causing one very famous actor to emerge through a window with his pants in his hands, when Miss Beech decided she had better go to bed. Taking a final mouthful of water, she set the glass back on the table, stood up quite nimbly, and looked across at Faye.
‘I used to be able to stay up all night and drink men twice the size of me under the table. Now, once the clock’s struck ten, I know it’s time for bed, so I’m afraid I’ll have to love you and leave you now. I do hope you’ve enjoyed yourself tonight, Faye. I’ve certainly enjoyed your company.’
Faye made to get up in her turn, but Miss Beech waved her back to her seat. Faye did as she was told and returned the wave. ‘It’s been wonderful, thank you so much. And many thanks to Claudette as well for such a super meal.’
‘You’re very welcome.’
‘Could you and I sit down together tomorrow and make a start on the book? You mentioned a box full of documents and photos.’
‘Absolutely, Faye. How about meeting up at nine o’clock? I’m normally fairly bright in the morning. Would that be all right?’
‘That would be lovely. I’ll come across at nine. Sleep well.’
Miss Beech gave a little wave of the hand and made her way out of the door, walking unassisted. As she did so, Faye couldn’t miss an expression of contentment on her face. She felt sure her new employer had enjoyed the evening of memories and she looked forward to more of them. After her departure, Faye stood up and looked across at Eddie Marshal.
‘Would it be all right if I take Marlon for a walk now?’ As Faye said the word, she saw the dog’s eyelids open as if by magic. ‘I’d like a bit of fresh air. Where do you take him at this time of night?’
‘Are you sure you’d like to do that? Aren’t you tired after your long drive?’
‘No, I’d love to.’ By now, the dog had rolled himself onto his front, all thought of sleep gone, and he looked poised to jump to his feet. ‘So, where do we go?’
‘That’s easy. Just go out of the gate and down the lane, towards the town. There shouldn’t be any cars about at ten o’clock on a Sunday night, but take a torch just in case. When you get to the lavender farm, there’s a footpath off to the right that’ll bring you back up here. Marlon knows the way.’
She gave Eddie a smile. ‘Right, then, that’s what I’ll do.’ She looked across to the fireplace. ‘So, Marlon, fancy a walk?’ As the dog leapt to his feet and charged across the room towards her, she shot a quick grin towards Eddie. ‘That is what’s known as a rhetorical question. See you later, Eddie.’
Faye helped herself to a torch from the kitchen, retrieved her missing sandal, and hurried across the courtyard to change her shoes, making sure she put on trainers with laces this time. She had no intention of walking about in the dark with one shoe again. The dog came trotting up the stairs with her and had a good sniff round the flat while she changed.
As she was about to turn the lights off, she was just in time to retrieve her newly washed sandal from Marlon’s mouth before he stole off with it again. Taking Claudette’s advice, this was remarkably simple with the aid of a piece of biscuit. She slipped the rest of the biscuit into her pocket and made a mental note to look for some less important item for him to have tomorrow.
Back outside again, she clipped his lead on and they headed down the drive towards the road. The sky was clear and the temperature had dropped a little, but it was still very warm. When they emerged onto the lane she found that the moon, well over half size, cast enough light for her to be able to find her way without the torch. As Eddie had predicted, she encountered no traffic as she walked down to the farm, although sinister noises from the other side of a row of trees rather unsettled her until she came to a gate and saw the field full of sheep, still grazing by moonlight.
As she walked down the hill, she pulled out her phone and called her father. He sounded pleased for her and she resolved to ask him to come over for a few days once she had settled in. He was always working, and a bit of time off would do him good. As she said goodnight, above her the moon looked almost close enough to touch. It was so clear she could see actual craters just with the naked eye. It was a delightful sight and she felt a sudden surge of happiness to be here and to have left the cares of her previous life behind. So far, so very good indeed.
As she reached the lavender farm she saw lights on in the farmhouse but no other signs of life. Undeterred, she let Marlon off the lead and followed him to the right along a narrow track and away from the road. Within a few minutes she found herself in dense woodland, her feet rustling in the dry leaves, a warm smell of resin in the air. By now her night vision had improved to the extent that she could just about pick out the path as it weaved to and fro among the trees. She could hear Marlon crashing about in the undergrowth, having a wonderful time. Along with the resin, there was a strong scent of lavender in the air and she realized the purple fields must be close by.
Suddenly she was almost tripped by a black shadow that came shooting along the path straight towards her, scaring her half to death, closely followed by another identical one. Four bright eyes reflected in the moonlight as Marlon joined the other Labrador and both looked up at her. Faye stared into the shadows, looking for the other dog’s master but, try as she might, she couldn’t see anybody.
‘Hello?’ But there was no reply. She stood there for a few minutes, feeling slightly apprehensive, wondering if he would suddenly appear. She felt sure it had to be him, the farmer, but what if it was a stranger? Here she was all alone in a dark wood. Her sense of elation began to dwindle. Then, finally, a not so distant double whistle sounded and one pair of bright eyes disappeared like a shot. As the noise of his paws in the leaves receded, Faye looked down at the remaining dark shape on the ground before her, reassured that the whistle had belonged to the man she had met earlier, but she was puzzled.
‘That was a bit strange, Marlon. I wonder what that was all about.’ Pretty clearly the man wasn’t interested in talking to her and, although it was a bit weird, that suited her just fine. He was a man, a handsome one as well, and, as such, she knew she was not interested in the slightest. She addressed the dog once more. ‘So, why should I care?’
For a moment, she had the distinct impression that one of the eyes winked at her again, but she could have been mistaken.
When Faye woke up next morning, it was to the drumming of rain on the roof and ominous trickling noises as water swept along the gutters and rushed down the drainpipes outside. She got up reluctantly, not really wanting to leave the wonderful comfortable bed where she had enjoyed a terrific night’s sleep, uninterrupted by dreams of the bed’s previous occupant or, indeed, any other man. After sitting up for an hour the previous night, scribbling