Le Château (sample)

11. UNEXPECTED NEWS THE news first broke at the other end of the world, in The Sydney Morning Herald: “There have been social media reports that a major international hotel group based in Sydney is looking to expand its activities into Europe.” Reporter Don Brenner interviewed Tom Watson, managing director and CEO of the Frontline Hotel Group, to confirm that it was looking at acquiring a substantial property with a view to establishing a luxury resort in the south-west of France. “Things are at a very early stage, but yes we are. This sort of resort would cater for international businessmen seeking a place to relax that provided access to the very latest in communication technology,” Watson was quoted as saying. “For instance, it would provide online access to interpreters of all languages, and also maintain a small fleet of helicopters to take clients to the main business hubs of Bordeaux, Toulouse and Marseilles less than an hour away.” The report went on to say that while Watson had some properties in mind, the region was predominantly agricultural, and getting planning approval for a zoning change would be no easy matter in France. However, he claimed there could be a 117

NICK HAMPTON precedent: an application to turn a château in the village of Saint Audan into a resort was about to be lodged by its British owners. Watson confirmed that this project was in line with the visionary expansion plans of Frontline, which was owned by a consortium of Chinese property developers and operated resorts near Sydney, Melbourne and Perth. The mayor rang Mark. He was clearly agitated. “Adilah just saw on Facebook that a big developer is planning to build a luxury resort here,” Michel said. “One of her friends was surprised when she saw the mention of Saint Audan and copied it to her. Can it possibly be true?” “A friend of mine in Australia just sent it to me too,” Mark said casually. “I know the fellow who represents the developers, Tom Watson, and we stay in touch. I’ve mentioned our situation to him and we both think this is a great investment opportunity. If it all went ahead you’d have a thriving business community right here in Saint Audan, wouldn’t you? First the LeBlancs’ new reception centre and then a flash resort, creating plenty of jobs. Just what you’ve been looking for, Michel.” There was silence at the other end of the line. “I am not sure that this is what everybody wants. I shall have to think. Au revoir.” News of the resort proposal spread through the commune like wildfire. Soon friends were turning into foes and foes were becoming friends. Tweets were flying around and the major newspaper serving the south-west picked up the story the next day. Mark called a family meeting and flew to London with Pru, taking a suite at the hotel where Yves worked so they could talk in confidence over dinner. Sir Robert and Lady Ann were the first to arrive. “By Jove,” said the OB to Mark as he grabbed a scotch, 118

LE CHÂTEAU “you’ve set some hares running in your time, my boy, but this one is the biggest yet. Knowing you a bit over the last thirty-odd years, I’d say you might have something up your sleeve. I’ll wait till you tell us, but here’s looking at you.” He raised his glass to Mark, who smiled and returned the salute. “May have learned a few things from you over that time, you old bastard.” Christopher came straight from chambers and was next to arrive. “Sorry, but Diane won’t be able to make it,” he said. “Sends her apologies but she couldn’t get the usual babysitter and the kids are hard work for a new one.” He joined his grandmother on the settee and clinked his gin and tonic with her glass of dry sherry. After giving her fiancé a hug and a kiss, to the applause and cat-calls of the other kitchen staff, Lucy came up to the suite. “Thanks for inviting me, and Yves sends his love and best wishes,” she said as Mark gave her a glass of wine. Toby and Jenny were the last to arrive. “Don’t know whether to buy or sell,” Toby quipped to Mark. “You’ve certainly buggered all my algorithms this time.” “Okay,” Mark said. “Let’s order dinner for eight o’clock. That’ll give us an hour for talking.” With that done and everyone’s glass refilled, Mark began. “Sorry, Toby, but I’m going back to my old mantra: what do we want and how do we get it. Or in planning-speak—’ “First objectives, secondly strategies, and then tactics,” Toby interrupted. “Damned if you haven’t actually learned something, Toby,” Mark said. “Let’s start by redefining our objectives. Would everyone agree that our principal objective is to safeguard the château and our hopes for a tranquil life there in our retirement 119

NICK HAMPTON years, and ensure its continuing value as a major investment?” There was a murmur of agreement. “Right. And so far we have done all we can to defend that tranquillity against the threat of the LeBlancs’ development plans. Until the tribunal hands down a decision there’s not a lot more we can do. But another scenario has been suggested to us by our friend, Alain Frugier. He thinks that perhaps the LeBlanc threat is a smokescreen designed to drive down the resale value of the château, which it already has, and allow an unknown party to come in and steal it. At first I could hardly give any credibility to this idea, but think about it. We turn up, buy a run- down château, spend a bomb on the renovations and turn it into a showpiece – and now someone could waltz in and buy it for a song. Alain’s theory might be far-fetched, but I thought we should test it out.” “So, by Jove, somehow you’ve got these Chinese developers interested in our little château. How’d you do that?” asked the OB. “Or is it just The Sydney Morning Herald that thinks you have?” Lucy asked. “Go to the top of the class, Lucy,” Mark replied. “We’ve all heard politicians and others complaining about fake news, but now this isn’t just a rumour on Twitter, it’s a fact supported by a reputable Australian newspaper as well as the media in south- west France. Amazing what can happen when an old mate plants a juicy seed in the right place.” Toby proposed a toast to Tom Watson and they raised their glasses. “I heard Michel Ricard being interviewed on radio just before I left,” Mark continued. “He couldn’t add much to the story except to say that he had spoken to me and I didn’t deny it. You could tell he was rattled and really pissed off.” 120

LE CHÂTEAU It was Chris’s turn to have a say. “Dad, only a few years ago I had to show you how to switch on your iPhone. Now you’re a bloody media manipulator. Not sure whether to be proud of you or have you put somewhere where you can’t get yourself into trouble.” “Mark, I’m just glad you’re not running a hedge fund or you’d put the rest of us out of business,” Toby added. The OB was confounded, but congratulated Mark again for putting the cat among the pigeons. Mark went on. “My feeling is that the story will be a one-day wonder except in our little neck of the woods, which is where we want it to simmer. We’re not going to deny it. If anyone asks, we just smile and say peut-etre. We sit back and see if anything happens, and if it doesn’t, we haven’t lost anything.” They all agreed and went on their way after dinner. However, something did happen almost as soon as Mark and Pru returned to France. A man purporting to be a real estate agent called them. “Monsieur Escott?” he said. “I am calling from Toulouse where I represent the interests of some prominent businessmen. We understand you are selling the Château du Moulin.” “Well, it’s possible.” “Then may I come to talk with you?” “Of course, but please understand that nothing has been decided.” “I will come tomorrow if you are available. Say ten-thirty?” “That’s fine. I shall see you then.” Next morning a new-model Citroen stopped at the front door of the château and a shortish man in an expensive suit got out to meet Mark and Pru. “Bonjour, Monsieur Escott. I have the pleasure to introduce 121

NICK HAMPTON myself: Nicolas Demey.” “Bonjour, Monsieur Demey, and please call me Mark. May I introduce you to my wife, Prudence.” “The pleasure is mine,” Demey said, smiling at Pru as they ushered him indoors. “Would you like to look around?” Pru asked. “You are most kind, Madame, but I have received a briefing from my client who has a good idea of what you have here, and may I say it is absolutely magnifique – or as I believe one might say in English, stunning.” They walked through the hall, where a dark-timbered Bechstein grand piano had recently been installed, to the sitting room. Demey accepted an expresso coffee as Mark pointed him to a lounge chair. “Merci,” he said, declining the sugar bowl. “Madame Prudence and Monsieur Mark, I will come quickly to the point. We have heard and read that, for whatever your reasons, you are considering the sale of this excellent property to some Asian developers. Now we, and I speak for both my client and myself, have nothing against Asian people. Come to Toulouse and you will see hundreds from many different countries. But these old châteaux are part of our French heritage and we do not want to see this one turned into what the media are calling a luxury resort. However, if you are in fact looking to sell, my client might be interested, depending on the price of course.” “Really?” said Mark, feigning surprise. “May I ask if your client is aware of the development application that has been granted to the people who own the farmhouse next door? Do you know that if the consent is ratified by the tribunal they intend to extend the size and nature of their buildings, and open a salle d’accueil with parking for fifty cars?” “Indeed we are aware of that, and I have already made myself 122

LE CHÂTEAU familiar with the proposal by the LeBlanc family.” “And does that not concern your client?” “Not at all. In fact my client may well use those facilities from time to time himself as he is frequently involved in conferences and other large gatherings. He is, one might say, a potential buyer of a kind you would not in these circumstances find it easy to come across. Many others would probably be deterred by what might be built next door.” “Well, we are certainly interested in selling,” said Pru, “so let us meet with your client and discuss the matter further. Would you like to bring him here or would you prefer if we came to Toulouse? That might be better as we would want our lawyers present. But first, may we know the name of your client?” “I fear I cannot tell you that, Madame, as the purchase would be made by a company and my client insists on total anonymity. I have his full authority to act on his behalf, including the purchase itself. But I would be happy to meet with you and your lawyers in Toulouse. Now I will thank you for your hospitality and leave you my card. Please feel free to call me at any time.” Monsieur Demey stood up, bowed to his hosts, and pulled out of the driveway as Pru was writing down the Citroen’s licence plate on the back of his business card. “Now for a bit of sleuthing,” she said to Mark as they sat down for another cup of coffee. Pru looked at the card again. “A very new one I would say, just his name, a post office box and a phone number. No mention of his real estate business.” But sleuthing would have to wait. They had a concert to produce in three days’ time. 123