There are no delusions of grandeur because of the simplicity of style, but at three storeys high and with the trademark grey slate, Mansard-style roof – often referred to as a French roof – the four sloping sides do make it rather whimsical. Three elaborate dormer windows with the traditional lead dressings make the scale pleasing to the eye. It’s not just a roof, it’s a statement and one repeated throughout the city of Versailles.
The ground-floor frontage of number six comprises an integral garage, next to which is a storage facility accessed by double wooden doors. A few feet the other side of that is the entrance. A standard rectangular building face-on, inside it only extends back the depth of one room, albeit generously sized.
The lintels and reveals around the garage, doors, and windows have been fashioned from huge pieces of stone and are beautifully preserved. The whitewashed stonework contrasts nicely with the soft colours of the paintwork and the attention to detail adds to the overall charm.
None of the other properties have a garage, I’m surprised to see, but mainly because there are four raised flower beds housing manicured shrubs and a couple of medium-sized trees. Three of the properties have weathered metal chairs and bistro tables in front of them and, together with the greenery, it feels neighbourly and well loved.
I’m tempted to check out the garage first, grateful I went for a smaller, economy hire car, which I hope will fit easily inside. Street parking is notoriously difficult so close to the palace. The taxi had to double park while I popped into the boulangerie to collect the key and the entrance code for the gate.
Instead, I turn the key in the front door and lug the two suitcases inside. After more than a year of planning, it’s all suddenly happening and it’s hard to take it in. I’m buzzing with optimism and I can’t wait to get started. But first things first.
I realise I can only carry one suitcase up the stairs at a time. Just as well I sent the taxi driver away, as two of us wouldn’t have fitted into this tight space, anyway. But what it lacks in size, it makes up for in cuteness.
Easing the first suitcase around the sharp turn in the stairs, I hold in my elbows as I push through into the open-plan living area. With beautiful old sash windows to the front and rear elevations of the room, it’s wonderfully light and, while the kitchen area in the far left-hand corner is compact, it’s perfectly adequate.
Placing my heavy load down on the floor, I stroll across the room to gaze down onto the courtyard. It feels peaceful and rather decadent. With all the windows closed there’s hardly any sound from the traffic at all, with only the noisy wail of a siren in the distance disturbing the peace.
Glancing around at the other properties, I have no way of knowing whether any of the other five cottages are occupied, or not. Maybe they’re private holiday homes rather than rentals. They have all been sympathetically maintained as beautifully as this one and in keeping with their character. Registering the aged parquet flooring beneath my feet, I turn around to take in every little detail of the room.
With a double sash window above the garage and a single above the front door, the amount of light helps to make the space feel a lot bigger than it is; the only drawback is that when I stare out I’m looking directly at the two cottages on the opposite side of the courtyard.
‘Note to self,’ I say out loud, as I retrace my footsteps to retrieve the second suitcase. ‘No walking around naked.’
In the centre of the room there are two three-seater sofas facing each other, to the right of which is a charming alcove with an inset, bespoke cupboard. It follows the general rustic style of the cottage and has been hand-painted, many times probably, over the years. A TV screen sits on top of the lower half of the cupboard and above it are several shelves crammed with old books.
With a case in each hand, I head towards the rear-facing windows. They look out over a higgledy-piggledy collection of roofs and beyond, in the distance, a forest of tall trees looking naked without their leaves. Very possibly they could even stand within the luxurious parc, or grounds of the palace itself.
Part way along the wall to my left, the kitchen area comprises one double base sink unit sandwiched between an upright fridge-freezer and an oven and hob, in front of which is a generously sized table and four chairs. A range of wall units, in an off-white shaker-style, wrap around the corner section and tie in well with the design of the alcove cupboard on the opposite side of the room.
The staircase spirals upwards, disappearing into a shaft of brilliant white light. The metal steps are much wider than they looked in the photographs on the website, which is a relief, although I climb them rather gingerly, my hands full. Looking upwards, I see above my head a vaulted ceiling with a large Velux window. Despite the chill in the air, the sun is making a bold appearance and streaming through; little particles of dust kicked up by my feet are like a shower of tiny confetti.
Surprisingly, it’s not quite as cramped as I’d feared, and the light from above filtering into the small, square landing makes a huge difference. It’s usually wasted space anyway, I muse as I’m faced with the choice of two doors.
The one to my left is partly open and I nudge it back with my foot. It turns out to be a reasonably sized, elongated bathroom with a rather grand reclaimed slipper bath, a toilet and hand basin; there’s also a half cupboard set into a recess next to a dormer window.
When I stoop to open the doors to the cupboard, I’m surprised to see there’s a washing machine inside. Well, I guess I won’t want for anything while I’m here, but a shower would have been handy. Guess I’m going to have to factor in a little more bathroom time every morning, as you can’t possibly slip into such a grand old bath with anything other than a little pampering in mind.
I head back out onto the small landing area to check out the door directly in front of me. As I step through, the wall to the bathroom runs along the left-hand side creating a small inner corridor, but as the room opens out it’s at least double the size of the bathroom. My eyes go straight to the apex of the roof where the beautifully exposed timbers ooze charm.
I was expecting restricted headroom as is often the case with attic rooms, so this is a bonus and it actually feels light and bright. On the far wall there is a king-sized bed flanked by two shabby chic bedside tables. To my left, where the wall of the bathroom returns, there is a hand-painted desk and chair: a perfect niche for a study area. The two larger dormer windows to the front give plenty of natural light over the desk and mean it’s easy to access the other side of the bed.
Opposite the windows is an enormous built-in wardrobe, which is a great use of the eaves space where the angle of the roof slopes rather steeply.
The paintwork in here is a very soft blue and the walls plain white to match the bedding. It’s simple and it works. Slipping off my shoes and leaving them next to the suitcases, I head back into the bathroom, the old oak floorboards creaking slightly beneath my feet as I walk.
What I already love about this place is that it isn’t full of things; there are no ornaments cluttering up the space and yet it feels so welcoming. Simple, country charm at its very best with a hint of elegance and it’s all mine for the next three months.
Throwing my arms around my body, I hug myself tightly, letting excitement wash over me. This is the culmination of a dream I’ve had for a very long time and, for all my bravado and gritty determination to succeed, I needed a place to stay that felt special. Like a home from home. The moment I saw the photos of this place online it was calling out to me and now I’m here it feels so right.