Paradise Found

by Dorothy Vernon

  ‘Cheer up, Tony. I’m sure you didn’t get drunk deliberately.’

  ‘I didn’t even know I was getting drunk. You know how it is. Everyone wanted to buy me a celebration drink, and it would have seemed churlish to refuse.’

  ‘And you certainly didn’t fall down the steps at the Ace of Clubs on purpose,’ Zoe said laconically.

  It was odd to see Tony’s self-assurance slip as he stammered, ‘No . . . I . er . . . no, I didn’t.’

  He was behaving like a small abashed boy. Which was reasonable, she supposed. He undoubtedly felt like an absolute fool for spoiling everything by such a stupid act, and her own fingers, still within his, strengthened their clasp. The look that came to his eyes was a cross between gratitude and wonder.

  ‘I must say, you’ve been fantastic about this. Most women would have ranted and raved and never let up. And you haven’t said one word of condemnation.’

  ‘What would be the point? Anyway, I think you’ve paid dearly enough in physical discomfort.’ She knew that he was in a lot of pain still. She would have known by the look on his face, even if his constant moanings hadn’t reminded her of the fact. Men were poor invalids.

  ‘I’ve really been through the mill,’ he grumbled. ‘But it’s right what they say, no matter how bad a thing seems to be, some good invariably comes out of it. It’s made me realize what a treasure I have in you. Not that I didn’t appreciate you before, but this has made me see how truly wonderful you are. I’m a lucky man, Zoe.’

  The smile she gave him was warm. Away from Matt, beyond the reach of his magnetism, she found she was rediscovering why she had first been attracted to Tony and why she had said she would marry him. His personality wasn’t necessarily weaker than Matt’s—although, come to think of it, everybody’s personality was weaker than Matt’s—Tony had come out of a softer mold. After a surfeit of Matt’s granite strength there was something very appealing about Tony’s human vulnerability.

  She was more than a little perturbed, though, at the way Tony was ordering freely from the drinks trolley. She hated to sound as if she were nagging, but she wondered if he was being quite wise.

  ‘Don’t forget you’re on medication, Tony. The painkillers and what-have-you that the hospital prescribed might not mix with spirits. And anyway, I read somewhere that alcohol is more potent when you’re airborne.’

  ‘Great little reader, aren’t you? If you were in as much pain as I am, you’d want something to dull the edge.’

  She sighed. Who could argue with that? ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  * * *

  Just as Matt had promised, a chauffeur-driven car was waiting at the airport to take them to Les Pins, where his mother lived. Zoe was tired after their flight, but her exhaustion dropped away on the fascinating drive. Her eager eyes darted everywhere, much to Tony’s amusement. As she pointed out, he had been there many times before, but it was all new to her. She had never even been to France, much less the South of France, which had always had a special charisma.

  Although the fashionable resorts of Nice and Cannes were near to hand, Les Pins was not one of the luxury Riviera resorts. It didn’t have a casino or a nightclub; there wasn’t one millionaire’s yacht anchored in the bay. It was a charming old town set against a backdrop of vineyards and fragrant pine woods, with a promenade flanked by acacia, eucalyptus, palms, mimosa, and sidewalk cafés. Zoe fell in love with it at first sight and knew why Matt’s mother had chosen to forfeit the country of her birth and settle here.

  The houses rose in tiers. The one the driver stopped in front of was, as Matt had said, a split-level and had a quaint charm all of its own, with steps at odd angles and an outside staircase curving to the upper level. But the ground story had no steps; it was completely flat all the way back to the small sheltered garden, which Zoe spied through an arch.

  The house was called Les Charmettes. As a tall, keen-eyed, very straight-backed lady came forward to greet them, Zoe knew that she was going to be as truly charmed by the owner as she was by the house.

  If they had met in the street, she felt that she would have known this lady to be Matt’s mother, even though they didn’t share the same coloring. Her hair was white, but a silvery white that suggested she had been fair, and despite living in a sunny climate, she had retained her girlish English rose complexion. The similarity had something to do with the forthright way she looked at Zoe. It wasn’t until the assessment was complete that her chin gave a complacent nod and a smile curved her mouth. ‘Yes, you’ll do. And just as beautiful as Matt said you were when he phoned to make the arrangements.’

  Zoe didn’t know whether the wild blush stinging her cheeks was because of the close scrutiny she had been subjected to or because Matt had said she was beautiful.

  ‘It was kind of you to say you’d have me, Mrs. Hunter.’

  Her hand was taken in a very English handshake, yet she was kissed on both cheeks in the French way.

  ‘It will be my pleasure. I don’t get out as much as I used to, and I will appreciate some feminine company and chatter. We must start out as we mean to go on. Mrs. Hunter sounds much too formal. Tony always calls me Nan. I have a rather attractive first name, at least I’ve always thought so. It’s Hannah. I suggest that’s what you call me. Hannah means “full of grace and prayer.” After four boys, my mother could have used some grace in a girl, and after four boys I was the answer to a prayer.’

  ‘I think it’s a charming name, and you have a charming reason for wanting to be called by it. I’d love to call you Hannah, if you’re sure it’s all right?’

  ‘Zoe, when you come to know me better, you’ll find out that I never say anything I don’t mean.’

  The chauffeur had meanwhile helped Tony out of the car and was equipping him with his crutches. He wasn’t used to them yet, and his hobble as he came forward to greet his grandmother was clownish and inept.

  “Now who’s been a silly boy?’ Hannah asked, reaching up to kiss him on both cheeks in the manner she had kissed Zoe.

  ‘Hello, Nan. Looking as young and as beautiful as ever, I see.’

  ‘And I see that you’re as full of soft soap as ever. Leave the luggage.’ This to Zoe, whose hand had gone down to pick up one of the suitcases. ‘That will be dealt with. Come into the house. I thought you’d like a cup of tea first before I showed you where I’ve put you. Yes, I may live in France and adapted well to the French customs, but I’m an Englishwoman at heart. I drink coffee along with the French, but I still like my cup of tea. I have it specially imported. Matt sees to that for me. Of course, it never tastes quite the same as it does at home. It’s the different water, you know. By the way, as you may have discovered already, I talk a lot,’ she finished with a small, impish laugh.

  ‘I suppose you find it nice to talk to someone in English,’ Zoe commented.

  ‘I just find it nice to talk. I don’t miss my native tongue as much as you might think. There’s a rather tight English community hereabouts, although I do naturally have French friends, also. Do you speak French, Zoe?’

  ‘Sorry, no.’

  ‘Perhaps you’ll pick it up while you’re here. Tony never has, but he’s lazy. Matt speaks it like a native. Have you ever been to this part of France before?’

  ‘I’ve never been to any part of France before.’

  ‘Really? There’s something especially lovely in seeing a country for the first time. If I didn’t love living here so much, I could almost envy you the experience. Pity that Matt isn’t here. He could have taken you around,’ Hannah said, slotting her arm companionably through Zoe’s as she guided her inside, leaving Tony to clomp behind them. ‘Long John Silver here isn’t going to be much use. And I’m afraid I’ve tended to make friends of my own age group, so, their visitors excepted, it’s no good looking in that direction. And I’m not up to it myself.’ This conversation was picked up again over the teacups. The tea trolley, looking very homey with its dainty settings of cakes and scones, was brought
in by a very attractive French girl with dark doe eyes who admitted to being able to speak ‘a leetle English.’

  ‘Still, you never know, he might pop up unexpectedly, as he usually does,’ Hannah said, seemingly out of the blue.

  Zoe hadn’t followed the drift of Hannah’s mind and had to ask, ‘Who might?’

  ‘Matt. He rarely rings or writes in advance, just blows in on the wind. Sometimes when the will takes him, other times on a job. Anything that will bring him anywhere within remote shooting distance, he tackles himself, which is nice for me. He’s always been a very thoughtful son and a perfect joy to me, once I got over the shock of being a mother again after a gap of fifteen years. Tony’s mother, Nerissa, was the obligatory child everyone seems to have at the beginning of their marriage, to prove that they can, I suppose. Matt was my love child. Not that he wasn’t fathered by my husband, you understand, but he was conceived in love. It would be nice for you if Matt did suddenly show up to take you places. No matter what your taste is—sailing, sun worshipping, nightclubbing—this coast caters to it. You don’t have too far to travel to find a wealth of medieval buildings. And it would be a pity not to cross the frontier and have a mild flutter at the tables in Monte Carlo. Mostly it’s not a question of where to go, it’s what to leave out. So I’m going to keep my fingers crossed for you and hope that Matt does decide to pay one of his impromptu visits. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll alert Yvette that we need more hot water.’

  ‘If you point me in the right direction, I’ll go,’ Zoe volunteered.

  ‘Will you, dear? That’s very kind of you. In case Monique isn’t about, you’d better take the hot water jug. Yvette is a charming girl, but she does sometimes get carried away, and her “leetle English” may not be up to it. I should explain that Monique is my treasure of a cook and housekeeper.’

  ‘Treasure!’ Tony snorted contemptuously. ‘She and Pierre ought to have been pensioned off long ago.’

  ‘Lower your voice, Tony,’ Hannah reproved sharply. ‘You’ll get old yourself one day, if you live long enough.’ Her tone softened as she turned to speak to Zoe. ‘Pierre is Monique’s husband. He keeps the garden tidy and does odd jobs about the place. It’s true that they’re both past the age of retiring. And yes, perhaps they’re not as quick as they used to be, but they are fiercely loyal to me. They’ve been with me for a long time. This is their home. I ask myself, where else would they go?’

  Zoe felt that his grandmother had been right in rebuking Tony. As she went for the hot water, she wondered if Matt would decide to turn up. She would have offered to run the errand in any case to save Hannah’s legs, but in truth she was glad of the excuse to escape for a few moments to cool her thoughts. Part of her hoped that Matt would come; the saner side of her viewed the possibility with dread.

  After second cups of tea, or a third cup, in Hannah’s case, Hannah showed them their rooms. Tony’s was at the end of the ground floor, next to where Hannah herself slept.

  As they left Tony there Hannah quipped, ‘You’re on my team now, Tony.’ Then she explained for Zoe’s benefit. ‘I’m fantastic for my age, so I’m not complaining. I reckon that I’ll see a few of the young ones off yet, but the old gray mare ain’t what she used to be. I’m all right on the flat, but my knees creak on stairs.’

  Despite her humor, it was no joke, and Zoe felt guilty at dragging her up the stairs to be shown her quarters. She told Hannah that it wasn’t necessary and that she would be happy to let Yvette take her up. But Hannah was insistent that she not shirk her job as a hostess. Despite her easy friendship and casual manner in things like forms of address, she took her hostessing duties seriously. But Zoe didn’t realize just how seriously until she saw the thought that had gone into the preparation of her en suite accommodation. The towels in the bathroom were soft apricot and pink, the soap and toiletries delicately perfumed for feminine use. In the bedroom there was a wide selection of reading matter that included both books and magazines in English. The most thoughtful touch of all was the tea and coffee making facilities, a tin of assorted biscuits, and a tiny refrigerator containing iced drinks and also the requirements for making a light snack.

  ‘You’re welcome to make free use of the kitchen at any time of day or night, but I’ve found out from experience that guests don’t always like to. While I’m about it, I don’t want you to feel like a guest. You’re almost family, and would have been if that idiot of a grandson of mine hadn’t come a cropper. Did you blow your top?’

  ‘There wasn’t much point.’

  ‘Really? With your color hair I wouldn’t have thought you’d be able to help it, unless . . .’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, nothing. Sometimes these old eyes of mine are a bit too shrewd for my own liking. Anyway, I’m glad that you’re here. This is one misfortune, Miss Fortune, that has been in my favor. Sorry about the pun, I couldn’t resist it.’

  Zoe laughed along with her. ‘Not many people can. I’ve got used to it. The favorite one is about my face being my fortune. For obvious reasons, the one I dislike is fortune hunter.’

  Hannah nodded. ‘You can’t be called much of a fortune hunter in nailing Tony. Now if it were Matt! Even the combination of your names—Fortune and Hunter—points to it. I wonder what would have happened if Matt had seen you first,’ she speculated.

  He did and nothing happened, Zoe thought as she felt the color rising under her skin. She would have been open with Hannah, because Hannah was the sort of person who invited the truth, but for the fact that she still hadn’t got round to telling Tony that she had once been friendly with his uncle. If only she’d told him at the beginning. It was the kind of confession that, the longer you put it off, the more difficult it got.

  ‘Zoe,’ Hannah was saying. ‘Now that’s a pretty name. It’s the equivalent of Eve, which is the Greek word for life. You’ll certainly add a bit of life to Les Charmettes.’

  Zoe didn’t miss the wry intonation. Hannah was quick. She knew she would have to be careful not to arouse the woman’s suspicions, that is, if they weren’t already aroused. ‘Thank you, Hannah.’

  ‘I wasn’t being gracious. I meant it. As you see, Pierre has brought up your baggage. Do you want any help in unpacking? I could send Monique up, or better still, Yvette, who is nearer your age.’

  ‘Thanks, but no. I prefer to do it myself. I feel quite spoiled enough as it is with all this.’ She waved her arms expansively.

  ‘I’m glad you like it.’

  ‘I couldn’t help but like it.’

  ‘That’s nice. I’ll leave you to it, then. Come down when you’re ready.’

  With that Hannah went. What a delightful person Matt’s mother was. The thought brought a gentle sigh to Zoe’s lips. It was relevant, and more than a little disturbing, that she thought of Hannah as Matt’s mother and not her fiancé’s grandmother.

  There was an easy atmosphere at Les Charmettes, and Zoe fitted in as if she had always belonged. Hannah’s select circle of friends made Zoe feel very welcome, and they liked her as much for herself as because she provided the diversion of a fresh face. Especially one so ‘young and pretty’, to quote André Dupont, a widower who seemed to be one of Hannah’s most frequent visitors and who was the grandfather of the Camille whom Nerissa had mentioned. André Dupont asked Zoe if she had met Camille and looked slightly surprised when she said no. ‘With any luck, Camille will pay me a visit while you are still here. If not, you must get Tony to introduce you two when you return to England.’

  ‘I will most certainly do that, monsieur,’ Zoe had promised.

  André Dupont was perhaps a couple of years older than Hannah. Had they been slightly younger, would a romance have blossomed between them? Zoe wondered.

  When she mentioned as much to Tony, he looked dubious, but he didn’t dismiss the notion out of hand. ‘They’ve always been friends, even when grandfather and Monsieur Dupont’s wife were alive. I would have thought they were too devoted to the memory of their re
spective partners to consider remarrying, but you never know.’

  ‘What’s Camille like?’ Zoe inquired.

  Tony sent her a sharp look. ‘What do you know about Camille?’

  ‘Only that she’s Monsieur Dupont’s granddaughter. He was telling me that she lived in England, and he thought you might have introduced us.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘So tell me what she’s like.’

  ‘Charming enough, I suppose,’ he said, shrugging to convey indifference.

  ‘Attractive?’ Zoe inquired.

  ‘M’mm. You could say she’s attractive. Not jealous; are you, darling?’

  ‘Have I cause to be?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then why that look?’

  ‘What look?’

  ‘I don’t quite know. Sheepish, I think.’

  ‘You’re being too fanciful,’ he declared loftily. ‘Matt’s the one Camille has her eye on.’

  Zoe wished she hadn’t pursued that one quite so relentlessly.

  * * *

  The days passed, perfect days of blue skies and golden sunshine, and Zoe was no more resolved about her feelings than she had been the day she came to Les Charmettes. The deep affection she felt for Tony must surely be love? He didn’t make her pulse pound as Matt had, but that wasn’t love, that was animal passion. Someone ought to have thrown a bucket of water over them.

  She thought back to her own parents. The affection they had shared seemed on a parallel with her feelings for Tony. On the surface they had seemed slightly indifferent to one another. Zoe couldn’t remember ever seeing them hold hands or kiss impulsively. They had kissed almost as a duty every morning when her father left for work, and again when he came home each evening. Zoe had gone through a phase when she had thought they were only keeping a home going for her sake. At the time her best friend had been a girl called Sandra, whose parents had split up and were getting a divorce. Wide-eyed, Sandra had confided that her mother had gone to live with her lover. Zoe had thought her own parents were being selfless in staying together. She had romanticized it in her mind, finding it beautiful but tragic. Her mother had found her in tears once, and Zoe had explained, in her childish, halting way, that she didn’t want to be the one to stand in the way of their happiness.