Flick brought her car to a standstill and staring at the vehicle in front, she turned off the engine. She hesitated, wondering what to do for the best. Unlike her mother, who already gripped the door handle ready to disembark, Flick wasn’t sure if announcing their arrival was such a good idea.
“You ready?” Brenda asked.
Feeling uncomfortable, Flick frowned, as she looked from the big black hearse to her mother. “You do see what I see, don’t you?”
Brenda scoffed. “I think if someone’s dead they’d have sent word telling us not to come, don’t you?”
Flick didn’t agree. Thinking back to the immediate aftermath of her father’s passing, she easily recalled how dazed and disoriented she felt. Neither she nor her mother had the wherewithal to start informing anyone of anything. “I think if someone were dead, we’d be the last people on anyone’s mind.”
Brenda automatically released her door hold and like Flick, stared straight ahead. “So, what now?” she eventually asked.
“We can’t just sit here.”
“And we can’t go knocking in case.”
Flick took a deep intake of breath, filling her cheeks with air before blowing it all out again. “Then we go home, I suppose.”
She could see her mother’s disappointment. Having gotten the big reveal about the chateau out of the way, her mum had made no secret of how much she’d been looking forward to that night. In fact, she’d gone all out, insisting they both get dolled up for the occasion, which for some reason included the need for Flick to wear a dress. Apparently, the midi-length floral number that her mother had picked out was more befitting than the clean black denims she had chosen. But Flick had remained steadfast, only conceding in the shoe and make-up departments.
Self-conscious enough already, Flick felt relieved that they weren’t staying. As much as she hoped the hearse’s presence was purely coincidental, she had to admit she was glad of the excuse it had given her. She’d been the centre of attention for long enough back home and the last thing she needed was yet more scrutiny.
Putting one hand on the wheel, Flick reached for the ignition. But just as she was about to turn the key her mother put a hand out to stop her.
“Looks like that’s here for someone else,” Brenda said, suddenly smiling again as she indicated first to the big black car and then towards the house.
Following her mum’s gaze, Flick looked out of her side window to see Julia tootling towards them, a glass of something in one hand while waving with the other. Flick’s heart sank, the soirée was back on. As if life hadn’t already been cruel enough.
“You found us all right then?” their hostess called out.
Flick let her hands drop back down onto her knee. “At least we know everyone’s still alive and kicking,” she said, trying to look on the bright side.
“Smile,” Brenda said, more than happy to wave back. “It’s not every day you get a party in your honour.”
Realising her mum was as bad as the rest of them, Flick did as she was told and widened her lips. “Traitor,” she said, through gritted teeth.
She could just imagine what lay ahead. The locals were obviously keen to know what plans she had for the chateau, that night’s event in itself was enough to prove that. She tried to tell herself it was understandable, that they were bound to be curious. In their shoes, she’d probably be curious too. The trouble was, she didn’t have any plans. “How could you and Dad do this to me?”
“You’ll be fine,” Brenda said, clearly of the opinion that Flick was worrying over nothing.
Flick unclipped her seatbelt. “Easy for you to say,” she said, before climbing out of the car.
“It’s so lovely to see you again.” Julia threw her arms around each of them.
Flick noted how she expertly steered both her and her mother passed the hearse and towards the house, as if pretending it wasn’t even there. And although Flick’s naughty side was tempted, she thought better of making her face it with an enquiry, instead, choosing to focus on the rest of her surroundings. Stepping through the gates, she felt her breath catch. They weren’t so much met by a walled garden, but the most romantic of courtyards she’d ever seen. It might’ve been the beginning of autumn, but the sweet, calming fragrance of lavender still permeated the air. Blue salvia, phlox and grasses came together perfectly and pendant, bean-like seed pods formed on the branches of the wisteria that twined its way across the front of the shuttered stone house. “This is beautiful,” she said. A far cry from the neglected chateau, with its flaky paint and crumbly pointing, that she owned.
Julia downplayed the compliment. “It wasn’t always like this. You should have seen the state of the building when I first bought it. More of an old ruin really. Transforming it has been a labour of love, something you’ll no doubt experience with your place.”
It was an assumption with which Flick struggled to agree. When it came to her place, she’d so far experienced nothing but sheer panic. She’d spent the last few days pacing its corridors and wandering from room to room, all the while wondering what on earth her parents had been thinking. As far as she was concerned, the whole situation was nothing short of surreal.
She and her mum followed Julia through a set of patio doors that led straight into the lounge. As expected, with its posh décor and expensive furnishings, the room was as beautiful as the garden. Continuing to feel uncomfortable, Flick silently took in the welcome party that had gathered, all eyes full of anticipation as the group looked back. She felt the same fight or flight sensation that had enveloped her during her wedding reception. Everyone had stared at her then.How disappointed all these people must feel, she considered, to be met by little old her instead of an individual more becoming of a chateau.
Julia immediately began a round of introductions. It felt odd kissing strangers, but if anyone picked up on her unease they certainly didn’t show it. In what Flick could only describe as a polite production line of embraces, one by one they more than happily stepped forward, greeting first her and then Brenda. Her mum wholeheartedly throwing herself into the experience, she noted.
It began with Dee, a tall haughty woman, probably in her forties. Flick almost winced as she grabbed her shoulders, holding them in a vice-like grip as she planted her lips on Flick’s cheeks.
“Pleased to meet you at last,” Dee said, finally releasing her hold. She tilted her head, her face suddenly serious. “I was sorry to hear about your father. I might have only met him professionally, but in my game you meet all sorts, and believe me, your dad was definitely one of the good ones.”
“You sold him the chateau?” Although after that embrace, Flick thought it more plausible her dad had been strong-armed into the deal.
