pocket.
“You know, if you had a card or a poster for the guest house that we could put in the shop, we could perhaps send you some customers.”
“Could you? We need everyone to spread the word,” said Rachel, chewing her lip. “Madame Piquot is passing on her bookings for the next couple of months, but after that I’m on my own.” She looked gloomy. “I suppose I’ll have to get a website designed so new people can actually find us.”
Paul smiled. “I might be able to help you out there.”
“You could, really?”
“Sure. I set up a website for my uncle’s shop last week.” He dug around in his ‘man bag’ and drew out a shiny new postcard with the framer ’s website address on it.
“Coo, that’s very impressive.”
He laughed. “Don’t be too impressed – it’s really simple to do. You just choose a template then upload the images and format the text.”
Rachel frowned. “You might as well be speaking Greek – I’m hopeless at that sort of thing.”
“If you can take a few photos of the guest house and write a short description of what you are offering, directions to the property, that kind of thing, I’ll help you put it all together.”
“Really? You’re a lifesaver.”
“Uncle has told me that you are one of his oldest customers and that I should do my best to keep you happy.” He looked at her with his dark eyes all serious, but she had the distinct impression that he was flirting with her.
“Well that would make me very happy indeed.” She opened the front door, admiring his long legs and neat bum as he strolled over to the van.
“Better check underneath for more cats,” she said as Fudge stretched and hopped down from the bonnet.
He raised an eyebrow but turned away, knelt and looked under the van anyway. “All clear.”
“You can never be too careful.”
Paul smiled, obviously unsure whether she was serious or not. “Let me know when you have something ready for the website and I’ll come over if you’d like me to.”
Rachel nodded enthusiastically. “Yes please!”
As the van pulled away and trundled off down into the village, Rachel picked up the cat that had ambled over to her. Everything was coming together with the guest house and she’d met a man who might yet become a friend. “Things are looking up, eh scraggy?” she said, scratching the scrawny beast under the chin.
* * *
That afternoon she decided to cycle across the village to meet the children off the school bus. Neither of the kids approved of this motherly attention and Charlie quickly jumped on the bike and peddled off leaving Rachel to wait for Alice who took ages getting off the bus because she had to say farewell to all the friends she wouldn’t see for hours.
The bus was owned and managed as a co-operative and the villagers had a strict rota for who was doing the school run. This week it was the turn of Madame Lambert in the morning and Claude le Taxi in the afternoon. It was Claude who now gave them a toot as the bus pulled away. As he drove past, Claude winked and gave Rachel an approving look.
“God, Mum,” said Alice. “I wish you wouldn’t come out to meet us looking like that. It’s so embarrassing.”
“Everyone should have embarrassing parents. It toughens you up for the future,” said Rachel, giving Alice a hug. “You can imagine what I had to put up with from your Granddad.”
As far as Alice was concerned, her grandfather Harold could do no wrong. Sighing dramatically, she wriggled away from her mother’s embrace.
“Anyway,” said Rachel, jogging alongside her to catch up. “What’s wrong with me today? I think I look perfectly respectable.” She looked down at her cotton shirt and trousers, which had barely any paint on them at all.
“Yeh, right. Apart from the fact that everyone can see your underwear.”
“What? Nonsense,” said Rachel, before patting the back of her trousers.
It was only then that she realised that she was wearing her
“You know, if you had a card or a poster for the guest house that we could put in the shop, we could perhaps send you some customers.”
“Could you? We need everyone to spread the word,” said Rachel, chewing her lip. “Madame Piquot is passing on her bookings for the next couple of months, but after that I’m on my own.” She looked gloomy. “I suppose I’ll have to get a website designed so new people can actually find us.”
Paul smiled. “I might be able to help you out there.”
“You could, really?”
“Sure. I set up a website for my uncle’s shop last week.” He dug around in his ‘man bag’ and drew out a shiny new postcard with the framer ’s website address on it.
“Coo, that’s very impressive.”
He laughed. “Don’t be too impressed – it’s really simple to do. You just choose a template then upload the images and format the text.”
Rachel frowned. “You might as well be speaking Greek – I’m hopeless at that sort of thing.”
“If you can take a few photos of the guest house and write a short description of what you are offering, directions to the property, that kind of thing, I’ll help you put it all together.”
“Really? You’re a lifesaver.”
“Uncle has told me that you are one of his oldest customers and that I should do my best to keep you happy.” He looked at her with his dark eyes all serious, but she had the distinct impression that he was flirting with her.
“Well that would make me very happy indeed.” She opened the front door, admiring his long legs and neat bum as he strolled over to the van.
“Better check underneath for more cats,” she said as Fudge stretched and hopped down from the bonnet.
He raised an eyebrow but turned away, knelt and looked under the van anyway. “All clear.”
“You can never be too careful.”
Paul smiled, obviously unsure whether she was serious or not. “Let me know when you have something ready for the website and I’ll come over if you’d like me to.”
Rachel nodded enthusiastically. “Yes please!”
As the van pulled away and trundled off down into the village, Rachel picked up the cat that had ambled over to her. Everything was coming together with the guest house and she’d met a man who might yet become a friend. “Things are looking up, eh scraggy?” she said, scratching the scrawny beast under the chin.
* * *
That afternoon she decided to cycle across the village to meet the children off the school bus. Neither of the kids approved of this motherly attention and Charlie quickly jumped on the bike and peddled off leaving Rachel to wait for Alice who took ages getting off the bus because she had to say farewell to all the friends she wouldn’t see for hours.
The bus was owned and managed as a co-operative and the villagers had a strict rota for who was doing the school run. This week it was the turn of Madame Lambert in the morning and Claude le Taxi in the afternoon. It was Claude who now gave them a toot as the bus pulled away. As he drove past, Claude winked and gave Rachel an approving look.
“God, Mum,” said Alice. “I wish you wouldn’t come out to meet us looking like that. It’s so embarrassing.”
“Everyone should have embarrassing parents. It toughens you up for the future,” said Rachel, giving Alice a hug. “You can imagine what I had to put up with from your Granddad.”
As far as Alice was concerned, her grandfather Harold could do no wrong. Sighing dramatically, she wriggled away from her mother’s embrace.
“Anyway,” said Rachel, jogging alongside her to catch up. “What’s wrong with me today? I think I look perfectly respectable.” She looked down at her cotton shirt and trousers, which had barely any paint on them at all.
“Yeh, right. Apart from the fact that everyone can see your underwear.”
“What? Nonsense,” said Rachel, before patting the back of her trousers.
It was only then that she realised that she was wearing her
Similar Books
