‘I thought it would be a good bit of promotion for you,’ he said blandly. ‘It isn’t often you get a second chance in the publishing business, Jay, and I have to say, I thought you’d be a bit more keen to make the most of this one.’
‘Oh.’ It wasn’t what he’d expected to hear, and for a moment he was taken off-balance. He wondered what exactly Kerry had been saying.
‘Plus, I don’t like to rush you, but I’m still waiting for your signed contracts and the last part of the new manuscript. The publishers are getting edgy, wondering when you’re going to finish. If I could only have a first draft-’
‘No.’ Jay could hear the strain in his voice. ‘I’m not going to be pressured, Nick.’
Nick’s tone was suddenly, terrifyingly indifferent. ‘Remember you’re an unknown quantity nowadays, Jay. A bit of a legend, sure. That’s no bad thing. But you’ve got a reputation, too.’
‘What reputation?’
‘I don’t think it’s very constructive at this-’
‘What fucking reputation?’
Nick’s shrug was audible. ‘O?. You’re a risk, Jay. You’re full of great ideas, but you haven’t produced anything of real value in years. You’re temperamental. You don’t meet deadlines. You’re always late to meetings. You’re a bloody prima donna living on a reputation ten years out of date, who doesn’t understand that in this business you can’t afford to be precious about publicity.’
Jay tried to keep his voice level. ‘What are you trying to say, Nick?’
Nick sighed. ‘All I’m saying is be a little flexible,’ he said. ‘Publishing has moved on since Jackapple Joe. In those days it was OK for you to be eccentric. It was expected. Even a little cute. But nowadays you’re just another product, Jay, and you can’t afford to let anyone down. Least of all me.’
‘So?’
‘So I’m telling you that if you don’t sign the contract and finish the manuscript within a reasonable time – say a month or so – then Worldwide will pull out and I’ll have blown my credibility for nothing. I have other clients, Jay. I have to think about them, too.’
Heavily, Jay replied, ‘I see.’
‘Look, Jay. I’m on your side, you know.’
‘I know.’ Suddenly he wanted to get away. ‘I’ve had a bad week, Nick. Too much has been happening. And when Kerry turned up on my doorstep-’
‘She wants to help, Jay. She cares about you. We all do.’
‘Sure. I know.’ He made his voice gentle, though he was burning with rage. ‘I’ll be OK, Nick. You’ll see.’
‘Sure you will.’
He hung up with the definite feeling that he’d had the worst of that interchange. Something had shifted. As if with the removal of Joe’s protective influence he had become suddenly vulnerable again. Jay clenched his fists.
‘Monsieur Jay? Are you all right?’
It was Joséphine, her face pink with concern.
He nodded.
‘You’ll have some coffee? A slice of my cake?’
Jay knew he ought to be getting back to check on Rosa, but the temptation to stay awhile was too strong. Nick’s words had left a nasty taste in his mouth, not least because they were true.
Joséphine was full of news.
‘Georges and Caro Clairmont have been in touch with an English lady, someone from the television. She says she might want to make a film here, something about travel. Lucien Merle is full of it, too. He thinks it could be the making of Lansquenet.’
Jay nodded wearily. ‘I know.’
‘You know her?’
He nodded again. The cake was good, glazed apple on almond pastry. He concentrated on eating. Joséphine explained that Kerry had been talking to people for several days, making notes with her little tape recorder, taking snapshots. There was a photographer with her, too, an Englishman, très comme il faut. Jay read disapproval of Kerry in Joséphine’s expression. No wonder. Kerry wasn’t the kind of woman other women took to. She only made an effort with men. It seemed that both of them had been in the region for some time, staying with the Merles. He remembered Toinette Merle was in journalism. That explained the photograph and the article in the Courrier d’Agen.
‘They’re here because of me.’
He explained the situation, from his hasty departure from London to Kerry’s arrival. Joséphine listened in silence.
‘How long will they stay, do you think?’
Jay shrugged indifferently. ‘As long as it takes.’
‘Oh.’ Pause. ‘Georges Clairmont is already talking about buying up derelict properties in Les Marauds. He thinks land prices will go up when word gets out.’
‘They probably will.’
She looked at him oddly. ‘It is a good time to buy now, after the wet summer,’ she continued. ‘People need the money. There’s been no harvest to speak of. They can’t afford to keep unproductive land. Lucien Merle has already spread word in Agen.’
Jay couldn’t shake the idea that her eyes were disapproving. ‘It won’t harm your business, though, will it?’ he said, with an attempt at lightness. ‘All those thirsty people hanging around the place.’
She shrugged. ‘Not for long,’ she said. ‘Not here.’
Jay could see what she meant. Le Pinot had twenty cafés, restaurants, a McDonald’s and a leisure centre. Local businesses had closed down to be replaced by more enterprising outfits from the cities. Locals had moved away, unable to change rapidly enough with the times. Farms had become unviable. Rents doubled, trebled. He wondered if Joséphine could handle the competition. On the whole, it was unlikely.
Did Joséphine blame him? Impossible to tell from her expression. Her face, usually so flushed and smiling, seemed closed now. Her hair fell lankly across her brow as she fussed with the empty cups.
He drove back to the farm with a feeling of unease which Joséphine’s lukewarm goodbye did nothing to alleviate. He saw Narcisse on the road and waved at him, but he did not wave back.
IT WAS ALMOST AN HOUR LATER WHEN JAY GOT BACK TO Château Foudouin. He parked the car on the drive and went in search of Rosa, who, he supposed, must be getting hungry. The house was empty. Clopette was wandering about at the edge of the vegetable patch. Rosa’s raincoat and hat were hanging on the back of the kitchen door. He called her. There was no reply. Feeling slightly worried now, he went around the back of the house, then to Rosa’s favourite spot by the river. Still nothing. What if she had fallen in the water? The Tannes was still dangerously swollen, its banks eroded to the point of near collapse. What if she had wandered into one of the old fox traps? Or fallen down the cellar steps?
He searched the house again, then the grounds. The orchard. The vineyard. The shed and the old barn. Nothing. Not even footprints. Finally he crossed Marise’s field, hoping the child might have gone to see her mother. But Marise was putting the finishing touches to her newly dry and repainted kitchen, her hair bound up in a red scarf, paint on the knees of her jeans.
‘Jay!’ She seemed pleased to see him. ‘Is everything all right? How’s Rosa?’
He couldn’t tell her.
‘Rosa’s fine. I wondered if you needed anything from the village.’ Marise shook her head. She seemed not to have noticed his unease.
‘No, I’m all right,’ she said cheerfully. ‘I’ve almost finished here. Rosa can come back in the morning.’
Jay nodded. ‘Great. I mean…’
She flashed him one of her rare, warm smiles. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very kind and patient. But I know you’ll be pleased to have the house to yourself again.’
Jay grimaced. His head was beginning to hurt again. He swallowed. ‘Look, I should be getting back,’ he said awkwardly. ‘Rosa…’
She nodded. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘You’ve been very good with her. You can’t imagine-’ Jay couldn’t bear her gratitude. He ran all the way back to the farm.