The Yellow Villa

by Amanda Hampson

  Strangely enough, she does miss Dominic a little. These days, she remembers the early years of their relationship more clearly, a time when he did make her laugh, when he was still a wonderful raconteur – before he became a crashing bore. Her memory has begun to play odd tricks, compressing time, changing her perspective. Now she sees their life together as a composite, not just the last years that were marred by anger and arguments, with such a terrible, tragic ending.

  Dominic’s imprisonment and death was almost like an elaborate suicide plan, but exactly how it occurred has never fully been established. It was probably as simple as him going down for a bottle of wine, forgetting that he didn’t have the key and closing the door. The keys were on the table. He could have found them fairly easily. Unless he went down at night. But why he closed the door, when he normally left it open, she will never know. It was fortunate that she had left the keys behind. The police accepted her version of events that when she left the house, Dominic was still asleep in the living room. The final conclusion was that his imprisonment was accidental.

  It was a full month before he was found. Arriving back in London, she had initially been caught up with settling herself into Reggie’s little house and being enfolded back into the family. Dominic didn’t call that week, which was a little surprising. He obviously knew the phone was on because he took that call from Michelle. Susannah didn’t think too much about it during the first week. Knowing him, he probably thought she’d have a change of heart. In retrospect, he would have been absolutely livid at her taking the car and badgering her to return it. By the end of the second week, she began to feel unsettled. Becky thought she was worrying too much. ‘He’s probably been pissed since you left,’ she’d said. How right she was.

  Susannah began to phone him at different times of the day and the silence grew eerie. There was that injury to his head. He could have had a stroke. She was determined not to involve the Tinkers again and the Van den Bergs were still away, so there was no one in the village who would be willing to check on him.

  Another week passed before Becky acknowledged that perhaps something was awry. Simon had a conference to attend in Geneva, so he agreed to fly via Toulouse on the way back, hire a car and drive to Cordes-sur-Ciel.

  Simon had let himself into the house with Susannah’s key and realised immediately that something was very wrong. The table was covered in the rotting remains of Christmas lunch. In the kitchen, pots and baking dishes from the meal were stacked unwashed and putrid in the sink. He searched the house thoroughly and finally made his way down to the cellar. He found the two keys on the table in the alcove. He only needed to open the door a crack to know he had found Dominic. Gagging uncontrollably, he walked into the garden and breathed the fresh air. Even so, his lungs seemed to retain some microbes from the stench of the cellar that remained in his nasal passages for hours afterwards. He alerted the gendarmerie, cancelled his onward flight and called Becky to break the news.

  The temperature of the cellar meant that, although he’d been dead for weeks, Dominic’s body was relatively well-preserved. Simon organised cleaners to come through the place and made arrangements for the body to be flown back to London.

  Her brother-in-law’s response to the situation had changed Susannah’s view of him. He’d always seemed stuffy and judge-mental, but now she saw a kinder version of him. He was solicitous and efficient, taking responsibility for what needed to be done without complaint. He had returned to the house a month later and had the entire cellar packed up and sent to auction. He appointed a local immobilier and put the property up for sale but, so far, not a single prospective buyer had made an enquiry.

  It was Becky who suggested that they bring Reggie down for a few days to enjoy the French countryside. Susannah had no desire to return but felt she didn’t have much choice. If she was ever going to visit, this was the easiest scenario with her family around her. It was time to make peace with the place. And now it was time to make peace with the Tinkers.

  The house on rue Albert Bouquillon looks much the same. The shutters are all open so clearly it is inhabited at least. With some trepidation, she walks up the steps and rings the bell. The door is opened by a small boy. Susannah greets him but he replies in French and runs off, leaving her standing on the doorstep. She realises with regret that the Tinkers have gone, and the child has run off to fetch a parent. So she’s all the more surprised when Ben appears. He does an exaggerated double take when he sees her and greets her warmly.

  ‘Come on in!’ he says. ‘I’m sorry we haven’t been in touch, we didn’t know where to find you.’ He crouches down for a moment and greets the pugs, rubbing their heads affectionately.

  Two more children cross the entrance hall and run up the stairs, chatting and laughing. As soon as she steps inside, Susannah notices a different energy in the house, a sense of industry and the sound of distant voices.

  ‘Oh, goodness, you don’t need to apologise, Ben. I’m the one who ran away in the night.’

  ‘Probably the only sensible thing to do, the way things went,’ he says. ‘I did come to check on you the next day but the car had gone and there was no answer. We thought you’d both left. I’m really sorry about Dominic. The story was everywhere online. Some pretty ugly headlines.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine that “Roxy” did very nicely out of it; talk about good timing. Although, if he hadn’t shut her in there … anyway, I’ve been over it too many times trying to make sense of it all.’

  ‘Come and see Mia. She’ll be really pleased to see you – we’ve wondered about you. It’s a bit crazy at the moment. We’re running our first summer art camp, and the place is crawling with kids.’

  He takes her through to the long room at the back of the house that opens onto the garden. Even before they reach the room, she can hear young voices twittering like birds. The last time she saw Mia in this room, it was in the dead of winter. The table was covered in the musty old books and records. Mia had seemed dwarfed by the scale of the room, as though she were existing in the shadows between present and past.

  Today this room is a world away from that one. The French windows are wide open, the sun pours in and a dozen children sit around the long table chattering and laughing. The table is covered in piles of paper, jars of coloured pencils and plastic tubs of paints. Colourful paintings are pegged up to dry. The children are supervised by a young woman who Ben introduces as Chloe, someone Susannah vaguely remembers seeing around the village. One by one, the children notice the pugs. Jumping up from the table, they gather around, kneeling down to pat the dogs and exclaiming to each other excitedly.

  Ben tells them, ‘Ils s’appellent Lou­Lou et Chou­Chou.’

  The children rush around, urging the pugs to follow them, calling out, ‘Lou­Lou et Chou­Chou, venez ici! Come! come!’ Chloe steps in to quieten them down, ushering them back to the table.

  When Mia comes in from the garden, Susannah sees that she is quite transformed. Golden from the sun, her face, always so tight and anxious, has softened. Her body moves with relaxed ease. It is as though she has come into herself. The realisation brings tears to Susannah’s eyes.

  ‘Susannah! How are you?’ Mia rushes over and hugs her tightly, then picks up both dogs at once and fusses over them. ‘Are you back for good?’

  ‘Just for a week or so – the house is being sold, but my family thought we might as well enjoy it in the meantime.’

  Ben grimaces. ‘How do you feel about that?’

  ‘I wasn’t keen at first, as you can imagine. But it’s all right. I won’t be going down to the cellar, obviously. It’s empty now, anyway. All the wine is sold … Mia, I’m so sorry I involved you …’

  Mia puts an arm around her shoulder. ‘I’m so sorry about everything that happened. I’m glad I could help you. I think you were incredibly brave.’

  Susannah thinks of Dominic’s pages curling to ash in the fireplace and has to agree, she had been braver than she ever thought possible.

>   ‘Will you stay for coffee? Come out into the garden. I’m so glad you’re here,’ says Mia.

  Ben excuses himself; he has a class underway upstairs. While Mia fetches the coffee, Susannah goes out to the garden. As she settles herself under the canopy of the chestnut tree she realises that, although she hasn’t known the Tinkers long, they have witnessed a period of her life that will forever be impossible to explain. To say you had to be there doesn’t begin to cover it. She feels overwhelming relief that the Tinkers survived it – and, despite it all, have flourished.

  She too has survived, and even begun to bloom a little. She has settled into life with Reggie and adjusted to his routines. Had she returned from France in the state she was in and found herself living alone for the first time in her life, it could have been the end of her.

  Through her own endeavour, she has secured a position as sales assistant in a little homewares shop within walking distance of the house. Thanks to work, and the structure of life in Reggie’s world, for the first time she can recall, there is something firm to hold on to after so many years of feeling that everything was slipping away from her grasp. She lives a life of quiet anonymity, for which she is deeply grateful.

  When Mia returns with coffee and butter cake, they pick up where they left off. Susannah has a strong feeling that her relationship with Mia, forged in fire, will endure where others have fallen away.

  Mia explains it was Chloe, the woman from the art shop, who gave her the idea for a summer camp. ‘I knew straight away that this was the perfect project for us. It had all the right ingredients. I knew we could make it work.’

  It seems they have a dozen children attend every day during the school holidays. Chloe’s mother is also involved, preparing a hot lunch for the students, which is apparently standard. ‘We’re starting small and hopefully we’ll expand to a residential summer camp for children and perhaps artist retreats for overseas visitors. Still in the planning, so we’ll see how it goes. We’ll close over winter and head back home for Christmas.’

  ‘Wonderful! I think it’s all just wonderful. Ben’s French has obviously improved too,’ says Susannah with a smile.

  ‘It’s had to.’ Mia laughs. ‘He’s still got a long way to go but he’s running our École des Passionnés d’informatique – Geek School – teaching kids how to code. The older ones learn English at school, so they meet somewhere in the middle. I don’t know how he gets by, but he does.’

  ‘I’m so glad you’ve made it work. And so thrilled you’re still here. I told you the sun would shine eternal for you,’ says Susannah. And as she looks around the garden and back towards the house, full of sun and children, she realises that the Tinkers have found their raison d’être. They have breathed new life into this house and it has offered them a new life in return.

  She wonders whether she will find something truly worthwhile to do with her time. A purpose. A reason for being. She had always thought of herself as helpless and a bit incompetent – a view that was reflected by those around her. The events of this last year have proved otherwise. The idea of being alone and entirely responsible for herself has always terrified her. Now she is discovering that she can stare into that abyss and see beyond the darkness. There is a faint glow in the distance, and as she moves towards it she knows it will become brighter and expand around her and she will be comforted by it. She will step into the light on her own. It will be her light. And she is determined to walk towards it every day.

  Chapter Forty

  Ben and I came to France in the hope that relocating would somehow restore our faith in ourselves and each other. We couldn’t accept that we had both changed. Everything we didn’t want to accept, everything too painful to discuss, was packed away, out of sight. Ben couldn’t face my sorrow; I couldn’t see the hidden depths of his disappointment.

  In the weeks after that terrible Christmas Day, we circled around each other. I didn’t have any plans and didn’t dare ask about his. Ben went back to work and I barely saw him. I walked the winter days away and would often find myself standing, gazing into the distance, seeing nothing. Waiting for something to change. The French don’t say I miss you, they say tu me manques – more like, you are missing from me. Ben was missing from me.

  The news of Dominic’s death changed everything. Ben was horrified by the thought of his lonely end, imprisoned in that dark cellar. Ben had gone to the house on Boxing Day, knocked at the door, walked around the outside of house. Now he wondered if he had heard someone calling. Did Dominic know he was there? He had probably been Dominic’s only hope of rescue.

  He was completely devastated. It was as if all his buried grief rose to the surface and gushed out. We spent hours discussing the circumstances surrounding Dominic’s death and once we started talking, we didn’t stop. We began to get to the heart of our own stuff. It was painful and upsetting. We cried and we argued. We listened to each other’s truth and I finally came to realise that, up until the time of our crisis, my life had been a golden one. I was a stranger to adversity and I didn’t cope well. I had sabotaged our life together because I couldn’t get what I wanted and didn’t know how to deal with that. Ben is the grounded one and he pulled me back to earth. In life, Dominic had divided us but his death reunited us.

  By the time that bitter winter turned to spring, Ben and I were growing back together. Around the entire perimeter of the house, strong green stems pushed their way up. Pods formed at the centre of each and the petals peeled back to reveal a perfect orange or gold crown inside; each a corona in a constellation of daffodils, nodding and dancing with the breeze.

  The dark ploughed fields sprouted bright-green barley. Wildflowers in pinks and blues and yellows threaded their way through the fields. The stark outlines of trees softened with blossom. The village itself woke from hibernation, kitchen chairs were brought outside to catch the morning sun, and people greeted each other with a new lightness.

  Chloe’s husband, Marc, speaks English and we began to spend time with them and their two children. One evening over dinner, Chloe talked about the difficulties of running her business during all the school holidays, eight weeks during the summer alone. As is traditional all over France, their boys are sent away to colonies de vacances – holiday camp. As I listened, the pieces of our puzzle began to slide into place. Our huge house. My love of art and teaching. Children to fill the silent rooms, just as Madame Levant had hoped. And so the first seeds of our venture were sown that night. As it turns out, the four of us have the perfect skill set for this little business. Marc works in the public service and could navigate the complicated bureaucracy for the permits we needed. Ben is our IT expert and Chloe is part of a whole community of artists and artisans – painters, ceramicists, leatherworkers, jewellers – people we can involve in future ventures.

  Sometimes I still have dreams about the child I thought we would have. It’s a nostalgic dream of lost love but I sense that loss is like any other scar – it will fade with time. I don’t put my energies into that longing any more. I had to let go of my dream child to share my life with many children. To be awake to the living world.

  Only a few months ago, we lived here in isolation hearing the children pass by every day. Now we have the chance to become part of the village and the children are a part of our lives. We don’t know how long we’ll stay – maybe a few years, maybe longer, maybe forever. But one thing I do know: Ben is here for me. And I am here for him.

  Acknowledgements

  Special thanks to all those who provided invaluable background information, support and considered feedback on early versions of the manuscript: Milan Wynyard, Tula Wynyard, Joseph Furolo, Tracey Trinder, Carolinda Witt, Catherine Hersom-Bowens, Laurence Clary, Helen Thurloe, David Parker, Richard Woolveridge, Marianne Hurzeler-Schranz, Fritha Borland, Jan and Murray Turnbull, Christianne Zeelen and Nico Thomassen.

  As always, a big thank you to the fabulous team at Penguin Random House: Ali Watts, Saskia Adams, Amanda Martin, Nerrilee We
ir, Chloe Davies and Louise Ryan.

  Book Club Discussion Notes

  Which of the characters did you relate to the most?

  What was your favourite moment in the novel?

  Do you think Susannah did the right thing leaving without telling Dominic?

  Could Susannah have stood up for herself earlier and made the marriage work?

  Was it a good decision for Mia and Ben to escape to France and another life?

  Do you think Dominic was an egotist and a narcissist, or simply a product of his time?

  Did Ben’s struggle to adapt to life in France highlight some of the potential difficulties of moving to a foreign country?

  If you had the opportunity to live in another country for a few years, would you take it? Where would you go?

  In what ways did the setting contribute to the story?

  Do you think the book was character driven, or plot driven? Why?

  Did your opinion of any of the characters change over the course of the story, and how?

  What did you think about the dynamics between the characters?

  If you were casting the film, who would you cast as Susannah and Dominic?

  Do the themes of this book relate to any of the author’s other books? In what ways?

  About the Author

  Amanda Hampson grew up in rural New Zealand. She spent her early twenties travelling, finally settling in Australia in 1979 where she now lives in Sydney’s Northern Beaches. Writing professionally for more than 20 years, she is the author of two non-fiction books, numerous articles and novels Two for the Road, The Olive Sisters and The French Perfumer.