The French Gardener(36)

“He’s a bit old for the Feathers Ball, Ava!”

“Well, Tramp then, or Annabel’s. I wouldn’t know, I don’t like London.”

“He doesn’t look like your average gardener, does he?”

“Do you see what I mean? He’s too neat and tidy.”

“I never trust a man who’s neat and tidy. I once had a Spaniard who folded his clothes on the chair before making love. By the time he’d finished piling them up like a Benetton shop assistant I’d gone off the boil.”

“You do pick them, Toddy!”

“Jean-Paul better be a closet mess or I’ll stop fancying him!” She chuckled throatily.

At that moment Jean-Paul appeared in the doorway. He had changed into jeans and loafers, a pale blue shirt neatly tucked in to show off a leather cowboy belt. Toddy gave Ava a look, which she chose to ignore. “Right, children, to the table, please. Lunch is up.” The children clambered onto the banquette. “Jean-Paul, help yourself to a drink. You’d better get to know your way around if you’re going to be here for a while. Drinks are in the fridge or in the larder out there,” she instructed, pointing to a door leading off the kitchen. “Glasses up there, in the cupboard. Did you have a good morning?”

“Fantastic!” he exclaimed. “We rode up on the hill, so high we could see the sea.”

“We galloped over Planchett’s plateau,” Toddy added, putting down her glass so she could help dish up. “Big Red went like the clappers!”

“He’s a strong horse. I had to use all my strength to stop him running away with me.”

“I knew you could handle him,” said Toddy. “I wasn’t worried.”

“I was, a little,” he admitted with a grin.

Both women wavered a moment, spoons in the air, disarmed by the allure of his smile. Hastily, Ava dug her spoon into the dish of steaming peas.

Bernie wandered in, panting from having chased a pheasant across the lawn. His glistening chops were heavy with saliva. He went straight up to Jean-Paul and nudged him with his nose. Ava grabbed the towel which hung beside the Aga for this very purpose and hurried to mop up Bernie’s wet mouth. She expected Jean-Paul to edge away, appalled at the sight of those slimy gums threatening to end up on his jeans, but he didn’t. He bent down and swept back the dog’s ears with both hands, looking him straight in the eye. Bernie, who wasn’t used to people gazing at him so intensely, lowered his head bashfully. Jean-Paul took the towel from Ava’s hands and wiped Bernie’s chops himself, without comment. Ava didn’t risk catching Toddy’s eye. She could feel her friend staring at him from the butcher’s table, spoon in midair, clearly remembering the Argentine polo player.

Jean-Paul handed out the plates, helped the children to ketchup and gravy and was now busy carving chicken for the three adults. The children were sitting quietly, eating their food. “Jean-Paul, you’re a natural!” gushed Toddy, taking a plate and helping herself to some slices of chicken. “If you get bored over here you can always come and help out at Bucksley Farm.”

“This household is very English,” he replied, smiling at Ava. “If it continues like this, I think boredom will be the least of my problems!”

“I’ve finished the cottage,” Ava said, finally sitting down with her lunch.

“Ah, good,” he replied.

“I’ll take you there this afternoon. Then you’re independent. You can come and go as you wish. It’ll be your home for as long as you are here.”

“You are very generous.”

“Don’t thank me until you’ve seen it. It’s rather rustic, I warn you.”

“I have no problem with rustic.”

“That’s good.”

“And you can come out riding with me whenever you want,” Toddy interjected slyly. Then, responding to a warning look from Ava, she added: “I have some cousins your age who live nearby. The girls are especially pretty. They’d be good company for you. If you prefer, you can ride out with them.”

“I have a lot of choices,” he replied, taking a mouthful of chicken. “Ava is a marvelous cook!” He nodded appreciatively. “Everything you prepare is delicious. I don’t think I want to go and live in the cottage after all!”

Ava was flattered. “You can have lunch and dinner with us whenever you like.” Though, she doubted he’d do either once he had settled into the cottage.

After lunch they all walked through the field to the river to show Jean-Paul his new home. The children left their camp to play on the bridge, throwing twigs into the water. The air was damp, the sky gray on the horizon, bad weather was coming in off the sea. It would rain later.