Out of Sight by Isabelle Grey Read Free Book Online

arebellious inner voice crowed that the heart knows best, that sometimes it’s necessary to undergo a little pain in order to win something precious.
    And so, when an entire week had gone by without hearing from Patrice, she found herself inventing an excuse to call the number she had entered on the database, ostensibly about another villa client who might require a homeopath. He sounded pleased to hear her voice, so she ventured, as she had planned, to mention an outdoor concert to be held in the grounds of an abbey about fifteen miles away. Might he be interested?
    â€˜That’s a lovely idea, thank you, but I don’t drive.’
    â€˜Oh, no problem. We can go in my car, I don’t mind.’ She cursed herself for gushing.
    â€˜No. I don’t use cars. At all.’
    â€˜Oh.’ This time she managed to keep the disappointment from her voice. ‘That’s very ecological of you. You must have firm principles.’
    â€˜Well, it’s a decision I took when I moved to France,’ he explained.
    â€˜No, really. I admire you for it.’
    â€˜I even walked here. Followed parts of the Way of St James.’
    â€˜Wow, that’s amazing! If only we were all so strong-minded.’
    There was a lengthening pause. Leonie felt she could hardly suggest a second reason to meet, but he broke it. ‘It’d be nice to see you again, though.’
    She hid her triumph. ‘I’d like that.’
    â€˜I’ll call and we’ll arrange something,’ he told her, his tone purposeful. ‘Bye for now.’
    The phone went dead. Not until this moment, when her hopes plummeted, did she acknowledge how much emotional responsibility she had unreasonably placed on Patrice’s shoulders. She was behaving as if she were in the grip of a schoolgirl crush, and vowed to stop this nonsense!
    As always by the start of September, work was busy. Most of the properties had been continuously occupied since May, and the wear and tear was taking its toll. It never ceased to amaze Leonie how disrespectfully some clients treated the houses in which they stayed, failing to report breakages, leaks or stains, dragging furniture outside, leaving bathroom towels in sodden heaps by the pool. And worse.
    After her frustrating call to Patrice, she headed up into the hills to sort out an infuriated summons from a family from Reading who had arrived that weekend. It was not yet eleven o’clock when she parked beside a top spec Range Rover. She found the husband, who was about her age, down beside the pool, a can of lager in his hand, his hairy and reddening belly straining against outsize swimming shorts. His three young sons, their shoulders and noses also already painfully sunburned, stood in a row wearing full snorkelling regalia.
    They stared at her through their masks as their fatherranted about how much he had paid to rent the villa and the disgusting condition of the pool. In fact, as she knew, he’d opted to keep his kids out of school for the first week of term in order to get a slightly cheaper rate, but, as Leonie looked at the pool, she had to agree. Potato crisps floated atop scuzzy water that was already turning cloudy. Through the murk she could make out a Coke can resting on the bottom. It had not been there on Saturday when she’d done the pre-arrival checks, but she didn’t think it was a good idea to point this out. Instead, she commiserated and, in the client’s hearing, made the call on her mobile to the pool guy to come that afternoon. As she returned to her car, she didn’t blame the unfortunate wife for keeping out of sight: men like that gave her a lot of sympathy for Victorian women who embraced invalidism. It was definitely better to be alone than to be with the wrong man.
    Resolving to make the most of pleasures that did not require a romantic partner, Leonie decided to take her lunch break early so she could stroll through the Friday market in the