Just A Summer Romance

by Karen Abbott

  Lys shook her head.

  “Thank you, madame, but I would rather sleep at home. I would only lie here worrying in case they came back! Don’t worry! I won’t try to tidy it up tonight … and I’ll make myself very secure!”

  Which she did, by pulling the kitchen table across the barred door. Then she quickly re-made her bed and was soon snuggled down in it. She lay awake for a while, wondering if Xavier would return as he had promised. Would he only return when he knew for sure that the thieves hadn’t got the necklace? The thought of his possible complicity depressed her greatly.

  She awakened just after nine o’clock and spent the next hour tidying up the kitchen and throwing out the ruined flour, sugar and other commodities. She salvaged some fruit for her breakfast and tried her uttermost to be cheerful as she worked, although, inside, she felt low in spirit. She knew it was a reaction to the previous evening’s events and the uncertainties of the future of her friendship with Xavier.

  She sighed deeply. She had misjudged him over the imagined phone call. She hoped she was still misjudging him1 Would he forgive her … or was it over between them?

  And what was the truth about it all? Xavier himself hadn’t been all that open with her! What was his connection with the attempted theft? Would the truth, should he choose to tell it, put an insurmountable barrier between them?

  Her thoughts tumbled round and round and it was a relief when madame Giraud bustled round just after ten o’clock, bringing a basket of fresh croissants and bread rolls and a pot of steaming coffee.

  Lys spent all of Sunday and Monday tidying up the mess in the cottage, thankful that her grandfather was content to remain at madame Giraud’s cottage until their home was habitable once more. She took the opportunity to give the cottage a thorough cleaning. The energetic activity helped to keep her mind off Xavier’s possible connection to the attempted robbery and his prolonged absence. Maybe, once he left the airport, he was hitchhiking to wherever he was going after all and wasn’t even there yet.

  On Tuesday morning she replenished the spoiled groceries and felt reasonably content that the cottage was fit for her grandfather to return home before he got too used to the comforts of madame Giraud’s home.

  A surprise visit from the municipal clerk brought the exciting news that their application for a grant had been presented to a council meeting the previous evening and, in consideration of the irregularities that had occurred, the decision had been rushed through … and the award granted. There was nothing to stop them proceeding with their plans!

  Lys rushed round to the patisserie to share the news. Everything was beginning to go so well … everything except her relationship with Xavier.

  After lunch, Lys left Etienne having an afternoon snooze in madame Giraud’s armchair and returned to her grandfather’s cottage to devise a work-schedule for the parts of the renovations she could do herself and sweep through the cottage with a long-handled brush.

  An hour or so later, the sound of the heavy pounding of rotor blades beating the air drew her to the cottage doorway. Was it an air-sea rescue helicopter flying low over the island? It happened a few times each year ... but they didn’t normally come as close as this one sounded.

  Once outside, she gasped in amazement. The helicopter was hovering just overhead and …! Surely, it wasn’t going to land by the windmill! The pilot must be mad!

  She shaded her eyes with her hand and gazed up at the cockpit. The pilot was wearing a flying helmet with earphones but there was something familiar about him. He raised a hand in salute. It couldn’t be!

  But it was!

  Xavier had returned!

  The helicopter landed smoothly in the space that was destined to be their car park and the engine was cut. Lys stared as Xavier jumped to the ground, bending low under the still-revolving blades. She wanted to run to him … but her feet seemed rooted to the ground. She watched as he turned to give a helping hand to an older man. Not that he needed it. The man jumped down and straightened his suit.

  He seemed to be aged between forty and fifty, Lys guessed. His hair was beginning to grey but that only added to his air of sophisticated charm. Lys had no doubts but that he was Xavier’s father ... and here she was in her old jeans and T-shirt with a sweeping brush in her hand!

  Xavier turned to face her. He seemed different. Of course! He was dressed in a casual suit, though, as he removed his flying helmet, his familiar dreadlocks tumbled into view. Was the suit a sign that he wasn’t staying? It seemed like an unspoken message that he didn’t belong here any more.

  The two men walked towards her. Xavier was speaking to his father. His arm indicated the windmill and then the cottage and Lys presumed he was saying something of what she and her grandfather were hoping to achieve.

  And then, he was just a couple of metres away.

  Lys’s heart was pounding. It all seemed too formal … and out of her league. Xavier had flown the helicopter! His father oozed wealth! Even Xavier looked like a city-dweller. Where were his fraying cut-off jeans and scruffy T-shirt?

  Xavier halted and smiled a little uncertainly.

  “I came back, as I promised,” he said softly.

  “Yes,” Lys acknowledged noncommittally. Unsure of what this flamboyant arrival meant, she didn’t know what else to say.

  Xavier, too, seemed more constrained than usual.

  “I’ve brought someone to meet you,” he said. “May I present my father, comte de Monsigny. Papa, I present mademoiselle Lys Dupont.”

  Lys swallowed. Comte de Monsigny! Xavier’s father?

  Bewildered, she held out her hand.

  The comte took hold of it and bowed formally.

  “Enchanté, mademoiselle!”

  His grey eyes twinkled at her, surprising her with their warmth.

  “I believe my son has a lot of explaining to do. I have come to vouch for him and, more seriously, to apologise for the activities of my elder son, Henri.”

  “Monsieur?”

  Was that how one addressed a count? She didn’t know! She looked from father to son, her emotions still in turmoil. She might have misjudged him … but he had allowed her to think he was a penniless artist, working for a meagre living! Not the son of a count! Why had he deceived her?

  She squirmed with embarrassment as she thought of the times she had offered to buy him food. Why had he pretended to be poor? She felt belittled, ridiculed. Had he been laughing at her efforts?

  The count’s reference to his elder son sank into her mind and she immediately pulled her attention back to him. He had implied that his other son was implicated in the burglary. He, also, would be torn between emotions, she surmised … with shame for his elder son’s behaviour being uppermost at present.

  Remembering the niceties of life, she invited the two men into the cottage, glad that it was presentable once more. The bowl of fruit on the table gave a welcoming sight.

  Xavier and his father stood behind the two chairs that Lys indicated, waiting until she had seated herself in a third.

  Xavier reached out towards Lys’s hands, which she had clasped in front of her, resting on the table. Fearful of the ready response she might make, she swiftly withdrew them, wishing she didn’t have the overpowering urge to be gathered in his arms.

  He grinned sheepishly.

  “I’ve … er … been less than honest with you, Lys. I’m sorry. It wasn’t deliberate deception. I really am an artist and I came here to spend the summer sketching and painting on the island. I enjoy the simple rustic style of life … I like to live side by side with other artists. There are fewer complications … usually!”

  “You said your name was Piquet. That was deliberate deception!” Lys said coldly.

  “It is my mother’s family name. We often use it.”

  “You must have had fun listening to me gabbling on about what you could or couldn’t afford! I thought you were poor, eking out a living sketching people’s portraits! Why didn’t you say you are the son of a count
and could probably afford to buy the whole island?”

  Xavier laughed. “Hardly!”

  He cast an amused glance at his father … and then back to Lys. “Sure, I had a privileged upbringing … but I now support myself. I am the younger son,” he hastened to add. “I had to learn to make my own way in life. My brother inherits the title and all that goes with it … if there’s anything left by then!”

  “What do you mean?” Lys was intrigued, in spite of her pique.

  Xavier’s father leaned forward. He smiled wryly.

  “Maybe, if I take over here, mademoiselle. You see my elder son, Henri, has no intention of soiling his hands in any form of honest endeavour. He knows that, at some point of his life, maybe he hopes sooner rather than later, he will inherit our family fortune … a fortune I have sustained by running a successful stable and stud farm. Unfortunately, Henri has already started to spend it … in disastrously large amounts! Even more unfortunately …”

  He paused and seemed to find the words hard to say. His face looked bleak and Lys felt sorry for him.

  He sighed. “… Henri has been selling family treasures that are irreplaceable. He visits my home and … poof! Something else has gone!”

  Lys was shocked.

  The count waved his hand in a resigned gesture.

  “Take no heed, mademoiselle. It has become a way of life. Henri has gone through it all. Drugs, alcohol abuse, gambling, illegal syndicates … who knows what else? Wild parties? Reckless driving? Lavish entertainments? You name it, he has done it!”

  “And he had his eye on the diamond collar?”

  “Yes. Foolishly … or should I say, ‘Fortunately’ … he wasn’t content with the underworld price he had been offered and he contacted a well-known jeweller who happens to be a particular friend of mine. Jacques phoned to query his statement that I was the true vendor and that he, Henri, was simply my agent.”

  “Why didn’t you just leave it in your bank or in a hidden safe, somewhere where he couldn’t find it?”

  “He would lie, forge my signature … anything to get what he wants. He knows I won’t shame our name by disclosing his thefts … though, this time, he has gone too far! Besides, he knew the necklace was at home. My wife had worn it to a Celebration Dinner at the Embassy. When Xavier called on his way here, I was desperate to keep it out of Henri’s hands. What I didn’t know was that Xavier was also calling to see Henri. During their conversation, he mentioned he had taken his leave of me earlier that day … and when Henri later realised that I no longer had the collar he put two and two together … and sent his henchmen to take it by force.”

  “Except I had carelessly lost it!” Xavier put in ruefully. “And didn’t even know it!”

  “And I couldn’t think of any good reason why you should have such an expensive piece of jewellery in your possession!” Lys admitted, relaxing her guard with him for the first time since his return. “I wondered if it might have belonged to Jocelyn … but even that didn’t make real sense.”

  “How has Jocelyn been involved?” the count asked.

  “Lys and her grandfather needed an urgent independent survey made on their windmill, so I asked Jocelyn to break into her holiday … which she did. Hasn’t she mentioned it?”

  “Maybe to your mother ... but not to me. I hope you didn’t take advantage of your sister’s position, Xavier.”

  “Sister?” Lys echoed, visibly bristling. How much more deceit had had he employed against her?

  Xavier grinned at her. “Didn’t I say?”

  “No, you did not!”

  “Sorry!”

  The count coughed discreetly, drawing their attention away from each other.

  “Perhaps if Mademoiselle Dupont would tell us where she put the diamond collar for safe-keeping?” he suggested mildly. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and drew out his passport.

  “This is proof of my identity, mademoiselle.” He smiled. “I would not want you to hand over our family heirloom to anyone, not even myself, without checking that I am who I say I am.”

  Lys glanced at it, though she knew she had no need. His sincerity was evident.

  “That’s fine. I believe you.”

  Her eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced sideways at his son, still smarting at his deception. ‘Unlike your son!’ her expression clearly said. With an independent toss of her head, she returned her attention to the count.

  “The necklace is here, monsieur. It is safe.”

  “Here? Yet Henri’s men missed it?”

  Lys nodded. “I knew I couldn’t just leave something so valuable lying around. I suppose I knew there was a possibility of them coming here.”

  She grinned mischievously.

  “If I gave you a whole day in here, I don’t think you would find it!”

  Xavier looked around at the simple interior of the cottage, shaking his head as he remembered the chaos the burglars left behind.

  “Did you bury it outside?”

  Lys laughed outright, her annoyance temporarily forgotten.

  “No! It’s in here!”

  She directed her glance to the bare stonewall above the door lintel.

  Xavier and his father followed her glance. They could see nothing … only the stonework. Xavier rose from his seat and stood under the lintel. He reached up and touched the wood … but it seemed solid.

  Lys laughed. “A little higher!”

  He touched the stones, frowning.

  “I don’t see …”

  “Here!”

  Lys handed him a heavy kitchen knife.

  “Prise that stone from the wall!”

  With a puzzled look, Xavier jabbed in the point of the knife where Lys pointed and twisted it, loosening a layer of stone. As he pulled it completely away and turned it in his hands, a look of understanding came into his eyes. It was too light in weight! It wasn’t stone!

  “I remembered how you prepared your canvasses and how hard they became,” Lys explained. “So, I wrapped the necklace in layers of tin-foil, then covered it in pottery clay. When it had hardened, I covered it with layers of duck and painted on layers of gesso to harden it, so that it looked like a piece of stone. Then, I rolled it in the dust and stuck it on the wall, on view to all – seen but unseen!”

  Xavier and his father looked at her in admiration.

  “It couldn’t have been in better hands!” the count smiled.

  Having decided not to risk damaging the precious collar by hacking its protective covering apart without due care, it lay on the table in front of them whilst the count asked questions about the windmill museum project but, eventually, he stood to take his leave.

  “My grateful thanks once again, mademoiselle,” the count smiled, bowing over Lys’s hand once more, “but I must take my leave of you. We have guests at home and I must return to them.”

  Lys’s heart felt bleak. So this was it, then. Xavier would leave with his father. He already looked the part of a city dweller. Maybe he would stay there to support his father in his dealings with the elder brother?

  Xavier held open the cottage door and then followed them out into the sunshine. Silently, they headed over towards the parked helicopter. At about twenty metres away, Xavier touched her arm.

  “This is near enough,” he warned. “Stay here.”

  As he moved forward, Lys felt as though her heart was breaking. He wasn’t even going to say good-bye! Just a curt, ‘Stay here.’! She felt a lump in her throat and only her pride stopped her from turning away and running back to the protective dim interior of the cottage.

  She saw the two men shake hands and briefly embrace … but it was only when the count climbed into the pilot’s seat and Xavier raised his hand in salute and then walked back towards her that she realised with a stab of joy that Xavier wasn’t accompanying him!

  “You’re not going?”

  Xavier took hold of her hands.

  “Of course not! We have a bit of celebrating to do! Why do you
think I wore my suit? Didn’t I say I would take to the Hotel Paris when I returned?”

  He looked at her tenderly, amazed at the effect she had on him. No strings, he’d said … but now, when he thought of what might have happened to her had she been in the cottage when Henri’s men arrived, he wanted to bind her to him for life! If only she’d have him! What had he been afraid of? She wouldn’t stop him painting. She’d give it life!

  He took hold of her hands. Regardless of his father’s presence, he drew her hands to his lips and kissed her fingertips.

  “Forgive me?” he asked softly. “I simply meant to have an uncomplicated summer amongst other artists … I didn’t know I was going to meet someone who would rock the foundations of my life.”

  Lys looked at him with surprise.

  “Did I?”

  He smiled tenderly.

  “Like a storm!”

  “Oh!”

  Her parted lips seemed like an invitation to kiss them and Xavier softly covered them with his own, savouring her sweetness for an inestimable time. Neither was aware of the sound of the helicopter’s engine bursting into life, nor its departure. When eventually their lips eased apart, they lingered forehead-to-forehead, reluctant to lose contact with each other.

  “So, is it a date?”

  “You’ll spoil your image if any of your artistic friends see you!”

  “I’ll risk it! Tonight we’ll dine like royalty … and tomorrow I’ll resume my rustic image. We both have a busy summer ahead of us. You with your windmill … and I with my painting. And then, we will have the rest of our lives to live together. What do you say, eh?”

  “Mmm!” Lys sighed dreamily.

  She could already ‘feel’ the windmill’s sails turning in the wind … and she sensed her future with Xavier would be more than a dream. Still, she didn’t have to make it too easy for him, did she? After all, he had deceived her a little!

  “I’ll think about it,” she breathed softly, raising her lips once more to his … and, to make sure his lips lingered longer than previously, she twined her fingers into his hair and held him close … and all rational thoughts sailed away.