Henri turned to Philippe. ‘See what I mean.’ But I could see that his blue eyes were laughing.
‘Henri, I have been longing to meet both you and Rosa ever since Philippe told us your story.’ I crossed the room to greet him.
‘It gets more exaggerated every time he tells it.’ Henri shook his head.
‘But you can sing, can’t you?’ I asked. ‘Philippe said that when you started to sing the world stopped to listen. I’d like to have the chance to listen to you sing.’ I smiled at them. ‘In fact I have a present for you and Rosa.’ I hesitated but it was too late to backtrack so I rushed on. ‘I adored the story so much that I drew it. I hope you don’t mind, it’s in the car, I’ll go and fetch it.’ And without waiting for an answer I ran out.
‘Here.’ I held out a large package to Rosa and Henri. ‘This is your story, I really hope you like it.’ I was suddenly very nervous and wished I had opted for a less public showing. What if they hated it? I was behaving in a most peculiar fashion today.
Rosa gently opened the paper and withdrew the painting. She and Henri stared at it. My heart was hammering. Oh my God, suppose they really did hate it?
They were silent for what seemed like ages. Finally Rosa looked up, tears were falling unchecked down her cheeks and I felt my eyes prickle too.
‘Sky, it is beautiful, it is hauntingly beautiful.’ She held out her arms to me and I went to embrace her.
Henri was still staring at the painting. ‘It is magical,’ he said finally. ‘You have given us a gift from the heart and we will treasure it for ever.’
The others seemed stunned by the painting, even Nick who was so familiar with my work looked impressed.
I had painted a montage of all the elements of the story Philippe had told us. There was a young Henri playing his guitar, straw hat pushed back on his head and blue eyes twinkling at a teenage Rosa as she sat entranced at his feet. Her long dark hair flowed down her back and she was surrounded by all the creatures of the forest. In one corner an angry gypsy family rained down curses whilst a sullen young prince glowered in the background, and in another a weeping mother was holding a ginger cat, knowing that she would never see her daughter again. It was all there in one fairy-tale illustration.
‘Sky, it’s breathtaking.’ Nick sounded very proud and I smiled modestly but, in truth, I was delighted with the picture. The images had been playing in my mind since first hearing the story. Back in London and unable to sleep, I’d started it at midnight and had not stopped until it was complete ten hours later. I’d then gone back to bed and slept solidly.
‘You have a huge talent, Sky,’ Stephanie said and I blushed.
‘She is a very clever young lady.’ Beatrice put her arms around my shoulders. ‘And a very brave one,’ she added in a quiet aside. I knew exactly to what she was referring and glowed. Praise from Beatrice was hard earned.
‘It’s very good, Sky,’ Philippe stated. Then he smiled. ‘Sorry, that was inadequate. I meant…’ But before he could finish Luc leapt in.
‘It’s much more than very good, it’s marvellous.’ Luc’s smile was wide and I couldn’t help but respond. ‘Genius and beauty, it’s a lethal combination.’ He looked at me and I could sense his admiration but I was also aware of Philippe frowning and I had no idea why.
There was the sound of a car in the driveway.
‘That will be Claude and Celine,’ Stephanie said.
Rosa gathered the picture to her. ‘Let’s go and sit for lunch.’
Everyone started to move to the dining room. The arrival of Claude and Celine seemed to have put paid to the party atmosphere, and I also noted that Emmie remained firmly by Philippe’s side, making no effort to go and greet her parents.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
The following morning I stretched luxuriously in the large bed and looked around me. It was a lovely room, the pale blue wallpaper was slightly faded but all the nicer for it and two huge windows overlooked the back courtyard. I’d been too tired to wrestle with the shutters the night before and the sunlight was streaming in.
A massive oak wardrobe stood in one corner, it matched the bed with the same intricate carved rose in the woodwork. I was no expert but would hazard a guess at the nineteen thirties. Along one wall hung a series of pen and ink sketches of a dog. They were rather good and I clambered out of the bed to take a further look. The dog was similar to Belle, they must have been related.
Pulling on my old kimono which travelled everywhere with me I flung open the window, causing several pigeons to take flight. The cool morning air was fresh and invigorating.
The river sparkled in the distance and the dew hung over the vines like a silver cobweb. I drank it all in. I was itching to get my paints out but I wanted to explore first and discover all the hidden corners of the chateau. I’d ask Emmie to show me around, the little girl clearly knew every inch of the house and gardens.
I wondered, what the story was there? Emmie hadn’t wanted to go home the night before. I’d seen the pleading look she’d given her uncle but her parents had seemed insistent. I blushed when I recalled my mistake about Celine. The knowledge that Philippe was single was disturbing, I felt disquieted and once again the earth tilted ever so slightly on its axis.
‘She seems light-hearted, almost carefree.’ Nick was on the phone to Miles. ‘I was going to say like the Sky of old but actually I’m not sure I’ve ever really seen her like this.’
Miles was surprised, he would have thought that Nick of all people had seen Sky in pretty much every mood. A thought occurred to him. ‘She’s not taking anything, is she?’
‘You mean happy pills?’ Nick thought about it for a second. ‘I guess that would explain the good mood but no, I don’t really think so, it seems natural, she doesn’t have the look of someone on medication.’
‘Well maybe, just maybe, she is simply coming to terms with the situation.’
‘She’s certainly creating quite a stir here.’ Nick smiled. ‘She unveiled an amazing painting, it took my breath away, well it took everyone’s breath away, Philippe’s nephew Luc seemed particularly impressed.’ He chuckled. ‘He couldn’t take his eyes off her for the rest of the day.’
‘Did she respond?’ Miles was curious and slightly jealous. He knew he had no right to be but felt the pang nonetheless.
‘I think she was flattered, there was a degree of coquettishness about her.’
‘That doesn’t really sound like Sky.’
‘I don’t think the master of the house was too impressed either.’ Nick chuckled as he recalled Philippe’s darkening brow and his frequent references to Luc’s age. He had exchanged a few covert looks with Beatrice and knew they were on the same wavelength.
‘You sound very upbeat, Nick,’ Miles said quietly and Nick was instantly contrite but before he could say anything Miles continued. ‘I’m desperate for you to make things work but it’s not bloody easy being the one left behind. I’m listening to tales of you all drinking wine under a blue sky in the grounds of a chateau whilst I sit alone in a dismal hotel room barely daring to venture out for Nando’s chicken and wondering just what the fuck I’ve done with my life. I miss you and I miss Sky.’ He paused. ‘Sorry, I sound like a sullen schoolboy. I just feel raw and inadequate.’
‘I’ll make it work, Miles, I promise,’ Nick said.
‘Good,’ said Miles. ‘In the meantime send photos so that I can start thinking about a website for this chateau and the wine. I could do with a distraction.’
‘I love you.’
‘And back.’
Philippe was thrashing up and down the pool trying to clear his head. He had slept badly but had no real idea why he was feeling so out of sorts. It had been lovely to see Nick again and Sky had been a revelation. But he had felt out of control of things, he hadn’t been able to relax and was scared that he had come across as stuffy and formal, two things he really wasn’t.
In contrast to Luc’s exuberance and vitality he had felt old, and
if he were totally honest a little jealous. He had watched with increasing bad humour the banter between Luc and Sky. He had felt pushed aside and unable to join in.
Clambering out of the pool he shook himself mentally and physically. He adored his nephew, loved him as if he were his own. How on earth could he feel jealous of him? He was in danger of turning into some sour middle-aged man. He mustn’t ever let that happen.
Maybe he should drink less? Maybe he should drink more? Maybe he should leave them on their own? That left an unpleasant taste in his mouth but nonetheless he determined to behave in an adult fashion.
Beatrice could have told Philippe what was the matter. She had lain awake most of the night thinking about him and had come to the conclusion that he had to work things out for himself. She loved him dearly but she had meddled enough, it was time for her to take a back seat. Not something that came naturally to her but she needed to try.
She shook her hair loose from the tight braid she slept in and brushed it until it fell in gleaming waves onto her shoulders. Then throwing a cashmere jumper over soft cotton trousers she made her way downstairs, where she knew that Rosa would have her favourite coffee brewing.
She was not the only one to have lain awake all night. Back in his house, Claude had barely got a wink of sleep. In the early hours he finally gave up the attempt altogether and made his way to the kitchen. Without Celine to object he grabbed a stale croissant, sliced it in half and piling it high with cheese and ham placed it under the grill. Bad for his waistline but necessary for his sanity.
He felt certain that Celine was having an affair, but with whom and for how long? He couldn’t shake off the feeling that the box of matches from Hotel de Paris was significant. First he had found them in her car, the very same evening he had seen Michel using them and then yesterday Luc had produced a box. When Claude had questioned him Luc had shrugged and said casually that he must have picked them up from Michel.
It couldn’t be a coincidence, could it? But surely it wasn’t Michel? Celine couldn’t be having an affair with Michel? She was old enough to be his mother.
The thoughts were tumbling about his head, producing a headache of epic proportions. He knocked back some painkillers along with his mug of hot chocolate.
He was tempted to cancel his golf today but knew that Celine would be furious. She adored having lunch at the prestigious club. There were usually five or six couples dining, all fairly wealthy, the husbands sporting the same designer labels and all the wives manicured and made up in the same salon with the same sleek haircuts and the same style of clothes. In fact Claude often had trouble telling them apart. Celine was without doubt the most attractive of them all, a fact that she was well aware of. The other women were envious of her and the men were envious of him. If only they knew, he thought, if only they realised how hard it was to keep her happy. And no matter how hard he tried it was never enough.
I met Beatrice on the stone stairs.
‘Can you smell the coffee too?’ Beatrice laughed.
‘I certainly can.’ I sniffed. ‘It smells absolutely gorgeous.’
‘You have me to thank for that.’ Beatrice grinned. ‘Rosa knows it’s my favourite but for some reason I only ever have it here. It just doesn’t seem to taste the same anywhere else.’
‘Coffee is just one of many things I have you to thank for, Beatrice.’ I looked her up and down. ‘How come you always manage to look so glamorous? Share the secret.’
Her hair was gleaming, she had a soft cashmere jumper over Capri pants and wedged espadrilles. My hair lay in long, dishevelled coils and my kimono was very faded and very old and I was wearing flip-flops.
She laughed. ‘I don’t know what mirror you look in, Sky, you seem to have no idea how stunning you are.’
‘You’re right, Beatrice, this is amazing coffee.’ I took another sip and closed my eyes, savouring the sensation. ‘Where do you buy it, Rosa?’
‘I buy a mixture of beans in the market and grind them here.’ Rosa smiled.
‘It is a market ritual.’ Beatrice laughed. ‘Gilou has coffee and a florentine waiting for her. They spend thirty minutes putting the world to rights, Gilou knows everything and everyone, he can talk about the latest scandal to rock the States in as much lurid detail as he can tell you about the sex lives of our local politicians.’ She winked at Rosa. ‘It is Rosa’s weekly fix.’
‘What is Rosa’s weekly fix?’ Philippe came in through the door. His wet hair was dripping, his shirt was half undone and I caught a glimpse of a tanned, muscular chest. ‘Are we talking about Gilou or has she developed a drug habit?’ He grabbed a mug and helped himself from the huge cafetière. ‘I warn you Sky, this is powerful stuff, more addictive than heroin.’
‘That I can believe.’ I held out my cup for a refill. ‘Tomorrow I will follow your example and have an early morning swim, if that’s OK?’
‘Be my guest.’ He smiled. ‘It isn’t heated though.’
‘I’m used to sub-zero Scottish lochs, Philippe, in comparison to those your pool will feel positively tropical.’
‘I’ll second that.’ Nick entered the kitchen. ‘There is nothing quite as cold as a Scottish loch, my voice is several octaves higher for days after.’
‘Then why do you do it?’ Beatrice laughed.
‘A question I ask myself every time I leap in.’ Nick shook his head. ‘It beguiles you, sparkling blue water surrounded by stunning scenery, you ask yourself what could be better? You take the plunge and the answer hits you immediately. Better would have been to have stayed on dry land.’
‘But think of the self-satisfaction you would miss.’ Luc entered the kitchen hot and sweaty after a morning run. It was beginning to feel like Piccadilly Circus. ‘Think of how good you feel after.’
‘Are you feeling good right now?’ Nick laughed.
‘I feel virtuous and ready for breakfast.’ Luc grinned. ‘But I prefer running in company. My uncle usually runs with me but right now he is confined to the pool until his knee heals.’
‘You make me sound like some decrepit old man,’ Philippe scowled. ‘You wait, it won’t be long before you’re running to catch up with me.’
Luc shook his head before turning to me. ‘What about you, Sky? Do you run?’
‘Not if I can help it.’ I loathed running. The only exercise I really enjoyed was swimming. My father would occasionally march us all up the hills and had once rashly suggested attempting Ben Nevis. After seeing our faces he admitted defeat and even the excruciating hill climbs became a thing of the past.
‘Nick?’ Luc was obviously keen to find someone.
‘It doesn’t suit me, pal,’ Nick replied. ‘My hair gets more ginger and my face turns into a tomato. Doesn’t fade for hours… no it’s absolutely true,’ he said as Luc started to laugh. ‘People think I’m having some kind of seizure, but I’m more than happy to oblige with a brisk walk.’ He turned to Philippe. ‘And talking of brisk walks, can you point me in the direction of the market you were talking about?’
‘You can borrow the car,’ Philippe told him. ‘You are bound to buy things, you could never walk back with them all.’
‘Luc, go and shower, the rest of you come to the table,’ Rosa commanded.
Philippe obediently led the way to the kitchen. ‘We don’t stand on ceremony for breakfast here, sit down and grab what you want, first come first served.’
‘This smells divine.’ I breathed in the scent of newly baked baguettes and fresh croissants. ‘Who has been to fetch all these?’
‘We have an accommodating boulanger.’ Philippe smiled. ‘He drives past our gate every morning. We exchange eggs and Rosa’s homemade confiture for baguettes and croissants.’ He grinned. ‘He also secretly fancies my sister, which helps, he stands no chance but we tell her to keep encouraging him.’
‘Stop spreading vicious rumours about me.’ Stephanie walked into the kitchen. ‘You should treat me with a little more respect.’ She glared with good humour at
her brother. ‘What a beautiful kimono, Sky.’
‘Thank you.’ I paused. ‘It belonged to my mother, it’s a firm favourite.’
‘She never leaves home without it,’ Nick added softly.
‘Quite right too.’ Stephanie smiled. ‘What are your plans today?’
‘I thought I might explore a little, if that’s OK?’ I turned to Philippe. ‘I wondered if Emmie might like to show me around? Could I ask Celine and Claude if that would be alright?’
‘She’ll be here any minute.’ Philippe looked at his watch. ‘Claude plays golf on a Sunday and Celine joins him for lunch. Emmie hates the golf club, it’s too boring for her so she comes here.’
I wondered why they always went to the golf club if Emmie hated it so much but it wasn’t my place to enquire. I’d already made a fool of myself about Celine.
As if reading my thoughts, Beatrice shrugged. ‘Their loss is our gain,’ she said, completely ignoring Philippe’s frown. ‘In fact that is probably her.’
I heard the crunch of car wheels on the gravel and the slamming of a car door.
I heard Luc shout a greeting followed by the sound of her laughter. Minutes later Emmie ran into the kitchen. Claude and Luc brought up the rear.
‘Time for a coffee, Claude?’ Rosa asked. ‘Or some breakfast?’
‘No, it’s an early tee-off today, here’s her school bag.’ He ruffled Emmie’s hair. ‘Bye, cheri, be good.’
‘Where’s Elf?’ Emmie demanded as soon as her papa had left.
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