‘That was so beautiful,’ Mattie whispered as they finally turned to leave. ‘Thank you. You were right. That was something not to be missed. Hearing the monks sing will stay with me forever.’
Making their way out into the sunshine again, they strolled back along the garden path, out through the iron gates into the island’s open grounds.
‘We will go this way and I will endeavour to tell you a little of the history of this place,’ Henri said. ‘The original fortified monastery that literally has les pieds dans la mer – feet in the sea – is on this side of the island.’
Leaving the abbey behind them, they set off along the footpath that wound its way around the island. As they approached the recently renovated fortress, Mattie said, ‘My dog, Bert, would love this place. He’d be right at home with the shingle beach and as for the sea, he’d be in his element.’ She watched the gently lapping water.
Looking at the steep steps leading up to the fortified monastery entrance, Mattie decided the view from the top might be wonderful but she’d settle for the view from ground level.
‘You go ahead,’ she said. ‘I’m not good with heights.’
‘Sure? The view is well worth the climb.’
‘I’m sure it is but I’ll settle for staying on terra firma. The view’s not so bad from here anyway.’
‘I’ll give you a wave from the top, then. Don’t wander too far while I’m gone.’
Mattie perched on the small wall above a collection of rocks on the shoreline and drank in the silence, thinking about and waiting for Henri. In seventy-two hours they would be going their separate ways. Back to different lives. He’d been an ideal holiday companion. She would miss him when they said their goodbyes in Nice and she flew home to England.
The whole of her holiday had turned out – with Henri’s help – to be rather wonderful. And after that soul-stirring experience in the abbey she was more than ready to face the real world again next week.
When Henri rejoined her, they began to walk with the ease of old friends, companionably around the island. As they strolled, Henri pointed out various landmarks and told Mattie a couple of anecdotes about his childhood.
She frowned as Henri stopped to point out a World War II gun emplacement.
‘That is wrong on so many counts,’ she said, staring at it and declining to examine it close up. ‘What on earth is something like that doing on a religious island?’
‘The islands, like the rest of this coast, were occupied by the Germans and the Italians during the war. It was hard down here during those years.’
‘Yes, but surely it should have been dismantled by now,’ Mattie protested. ‘It’s no longer needed and it is so at odds with what the island represents.’
‘For me it is a symbol of my childhood and reminds me of my grandfather who was in the resistance,’ he said quietly. ‘I wouldn’t like to see it removed. To me it would be a betrayal of those hard times we endured.’ Henri was silent for a moment.
‘The tender will be arriving soon to take us back to the ship,’ Mattie said, breaking the silence. ‘I think we’d better make our way to the quay.’
They were both quiet as they made their way past the vineyards where several monks could be seen tending the vines that would produce the abbey’s world-famous wines and liqueurs later in the year.
Mattie, uncomfortable with the silence that stretched between them, sighed and tried to explain. ‘Henri, I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I’ve enjoyed today and thank you for all the local knowledge. It’s just that….’ She hesitated before shaking her head and adding: ‘No. Sorry. I refuse to spoil the day by talking about the war.’
Katie stayed on at the shop the next evening, planning to get to grips with a final sort-out of the attic room, arranging her new stuff and making up her material from the auction into cushions and curtains, ready to move in when Mattie returned next week.
Leo may have been against her moving in but she was looking forward to having her own space again. It had been fun staying with Mattie but it wasn’t her home like this would be. She knew Mattie wouldn’t object to her having friends to stay but somehow she couldn’t see Patrick in the cottage. Once she’d moved in she’d arrange the flat-warming party she’d promised Lara – and invite Patrick to stay for the weekend.
She was downstairs in the clubroom threading the sewing machine with cotton ready to sew the curtains she’d cut out of the Toile de Jouy material she’d been delighted to discover in the parcel of material, when her mobile rang.
‘Hi. Fancy a trip up-river?’ Leo asked.
‘Sounds a nice idea but I’m busy,’ Katie said. ‘I’m making curtains with that material I bought.’
‘Be raining tomorrow evening,’ Leo said. ‘You can make curtains then.’
‘You trying to delay my move?’
‘I think it’s unnecessary but it’s your decision. Whatever you planned to do tonight, you can do tomorrow evening – when it’s raining.’
‘You still keep a putt-putt in the Boat Float, then?’
‘Putt-putt indeed,’ Leo said. ‘I’ll have you know I’ve graduated to a fourteen-foot clinker built with an inboard engine. Come on, Katie, it’s a lovely evening to be out on the river. It’s what life down here is all about.’
Katie looked around. The flat was almost ready and it was a lovely evening. Leo was right. Why live somewhere so beautiful and not take advantage of all it offered? Working to get A Good Yarn up and running, she hadn’t been out on the river at all yet.
‘OK, you’re on.’
‘See you at the Boat Float in five. We’ll potter up to Old Mill Creek.
‘Can I bring Bert?’
‘Of course. See you later.’
Leo was waiting for her by the Boat Float ramp, his small day-boat moored up alongside. ‘Thought it would be easier for Bert to jump in from here,’ he said, helping Katie to step in.
As Leo started the inboard engine and motored out under the low bridge that spanned the embankment, Katie looked back towards the Royal Castle Hotel fronting the quay. ‘The town is so much busier these days,’ she said.
‘Tourist season all year round now,’ Leo said, concentrating on steering between some moorings as he made for the centre of the river to go upstream.
Chugging upriver past Sand Quay and the naval college, Katie looked around her at what used to be so familiar but now had a certain unknown quality to it. It did feel good to be out on the river with Leo, though. Just like the old days.
Ten minutes later, Leo turned into Old Mill Creek and was helping her to step ashore.
‘It’s years since I’ve been up here,’ Katie said. ‘We used to come a lot, didn’t we?’
‘Yep. Anything to get away from the parents and while away a few hours.’
Katie smiled. ‘Finding a few hours to while away these days is difficult with the shop.’ She glanced at a wicker basket and blanket in the stern of the boat. ‘What’s that?’
‘I brought a picnic,’ Leo said.
‘You feeding me is becoming a bit of a habit,’ Katie said.
‘Can you take Bert and the blanket? I’ll bring the food. I just need to secure the boat first,’ Leo said. ‘We’ve got an hour or so before the tide turns and we have to make a move.’
Bert bounded out of the boat and was soon happily sniffing his way around the undergrowth that bordered the shore. While Leo secured the boat, Katie wandered along the shore and found the perfect picnic spot.
As she spread the blanket on the ground Leo joined her and unpacked the wicker basket. A couple of pasties – heated through and wrapped in foil to keep them warm – and two individual containers that Katie guessed contained raspberries and cream. There was also a bottle of red wine and two glasses.
‘No dessert until you’ve eaten your pasty,’ Leo said. ‘So, seen anything of Ron or the other Blackawton relatives?’
Katie shook her head. ‘No, thankfully. Probably realized they were wasting their time. I’m s
ure Mattie can do what she likes with A Good Yarn.’
‘Hope so,’ Leo said thoughtfully. ‘You can never be sure, though, with the Blackawton relatives. They’re a devious bunch.’
‘Never been able to work out the connection to you and Mattie,’ Katie said.
‘We’re all related somehow through a rogue Victorian uncle,’ Leo shrugged. ‘Not really sure how, myself. It’s so complicated. You ready for dessert?’ he added, handing her a container and spoon.
‘You’re spoiling me. Thank you.’ Katie glanced around. ‘We’ve had a few picnics here, haven’t we?’ There had been quite a gang of them in pre-college days and lots of summer evenings had been spent out on the river. Lara, having access to dinghies from her family’s boatyard, would motor downriver and pick everybody up. Old Mill Creek had a been a favourite destination and they’d all jump out with their various bits of bounty – wine, cheese, cold sausages along with anything else unsuspecting family fridges had yielded. One of the boys had once brought a packet of roll-your-own tobacco. Katie had taken one puff and it had put her off smoking for life.
‘Remember how we used to search for the folly that was supposedly built down here by a lovelorn lord of the manor?’
‘Such a romantic idea – an eighteenth-century meeting place for star-crossed lovers.’ Katie laughed. ‘We were convinced it contained lost treasure of some description too. We never did find it though, did we?’ she added, as Leo poured the last of the wine into their glasses.
‘No. I suspect the lost-treasure ploy was a local myth dreamt up by various grown-ups to keep us occupied and out of the way,’ Leo said. ‘Access must have been by boat or a mile down the steep lane by horseback. Both methods would have been difficult then – almost impossible for a woman on her own.’
‘Why are you always so practical?’ Katie sighed. ‘Can’t you just imagine a lovers’ tryst happening down here?’
‘Oh, I can imagine it. But even these days, it would take a special kind of woman to make it a reality,’ he said, staring at her silently for several seconds before turning away. ‘Right, time to head back. Tide is on the turn.’ He began to throw the remains of their picnic into the basket.
It was peaceful on the river as they made their way back down to town. Katie, happy to sit and watch the lights coming on all over town, wished she’d thought to bring a pullover. It was cold out on the water now that the sun had gone down.
‘Put the blanket around you,’ Leo said, noticing her shiver and pushing the picnic hamper towards her. As she pulled it over her shoulders the strains of Old MacDonald had a Farm began to fill the air. Embarrassed, Katie began to search her bag.
‘What on earth?’ Leo said.
‘It’s my phone. After what you said about me not hearing it, I decided to go for a totally different ringtone that would … oh, one that would catch my attention,’ Katie said, lifting her phone from the depths of her bag and pressing the button.
‘Well, that’s certainly different,’ Leo laughed.
‘Patrick. Hi, how lovely to hear from you,’ Katie said. ‘I’m fine. You?’
Leo leant forward and pressed something on the inboard motor and the boat slowed its movement through the water as the regular thump, thump of the engine grew quieter. Pointedly Leo turned his gaze away from Katie and concentrated on steering between the lines of moored boats.
‘Thanks for the invite,’ Katie said, before falling silent and listening to Patrick. Minutes passed before she managed to interrupt him. ‘Patrick, please listen to me. I doubt that there is any way I can make it on that date so please find someone else to take. I honestly don’t mind. No, I don’t need time to think about it. OK – you too.’ She closed her phone down.
‘What does he want now?’
‘Not that it’s any of your business,’ Katie said. ‘He wants me to attend a black-tie do with him in June. Doesn’t seem to understand I live a different life now and can’t just drop everything and swan off to posh hotels.’
‘Would you go if you could? I’m sure Trisha and Mattie between them could manage the shop for a couple of days.’
‘No.’ Katie shook her head emphatically. ‘I loved my job but I never did like all those glitzy, “aren’t we clever” pat-on-the-back industry dos that the media seems to go in for.’
‘So he hasn’t dumped you completely, then?’
‘No.’ Katie pointedly turned her back on him. She had no intention of discussing her relationship with Patrick with Leo.
Leo shrugged and, leaning forward, moved the throttle on the engine. Responding to the increased power, the boat began to move quickly through the water and within minutes they were approaching the Boat Float and heading under the bridge.
Leo pulled up alongside the ramp and helped Katie out before handing her Bert’s lead and waiting for the dog to jump out.
‘Want a hand tying up?’ Katie asked.
Leo shook his head. ‘No need.’
‘Would you like a coffee back at the cottage?’
‘Have to get back to the farm.’
‘Well I’ll be off, then,’ Katie said. ‘Thanks for the picnic and everything.’
‘You’re welcome. I’ll see you in the week. Ciao,’ and expertly Leo manoeuvred the boat away from the ramp towards his usual mooring place.
‘Ciao.’ Katie shortened Bert’s lead and began to walk towards home. If Leo was going to sulk because she’d taken a phone call from Patrick, that was his problem but Patrick’s phone call had spoilt what had been a lovely evening.
THIRTEEN
‘Oh, I’m going to buy one of these,’ Mattie said, laughing and pointing to a stand of umbrellas outside a souvenir shop in one of the ancient streets near Monaco Palace. ‘I’ve been promising myself a new one for ages.’
‘Which one would you like?’ Henri said.
‘The scarlet one that says, “It never rains in Monte Carlo,”’ Mattie said.
Despite Mattie’s protest Henri insisted on buying the umbrella for her. ‘A souvenir of your first cruise and your first visit to France,’ he said. ‘I hope it doesn’t get too much use in Devon. And don’t forget – it’s unlucky to open it indoors.’
‘Thank you, Henri,’ Mattie said. ‘Now you’re making me feel guilty. I haven’t thought of buying you a souvenir. I know! I’ll treat you to lunch.’
‘We’ve got time to visit the cathedral first,’ Henri said.
The two of them were on their last sightseeing trip of the cruise. Tomorrow the ship would dock in Nice and they would say their farewells. Sitting at a table for two, tucked away in a discreet corner of a small restaurant, Mattie watched Henri study the menu and thought how comfortable she was with him.
She couldn’t remember a time when she’d been so relaxed with a man, apart from Michael, of course, and he didn’t count. Growing up after the war and already too old to appreciate the swinging sixties when they arrived, she’d had few boyfriends. Mother had seen to that, keeping her busy and tied to the shop. When, at twenty-four, she’d met Bernard – a lecturer at the college – Mother had swiftly interfered and shown him the door. ‘Not our type,’ she’d informed Mattie and that had been that.
By her thirtieth birthday, she’d given up all hope of meeting anyone else and buried deep her dream of having children. She was so lucky to have been asked to be Katie’s godmother. For years now she’d regarded Katie as her surrogate daughter and so much more than just a goddaughter.
Mattie picked up the glass of ice-cold rosé an attentive waiter had poured for her and said, ‘Santé.’
As they clicked their glasses she said, ‘Henri, I need to thank you for making this holiday so special for me, and to say a proper thank-you for the other day on St Honorat. I shall always remember visiting the island with you. It’s a truly special place.’
She paused as Henri looked at her intently. ‘I’m sorry about my reaction to the gun emplacement. The wounds of that time still run deep in me – and I suspect in you too. The part of
Devon I live in was commandeered during the war and occupied, mainly by the American forces. I was only a child at the time but my life changed for ever because of their presence.’
As Henri put his glass down on the table, he closed his eyes as though trying to suppress his emotions. ‘Did you starve during those years?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘With the Americans around with their black-market goodies, I doubt it. Could you still move around freely? Permission to travel five miles up the road was needed here – and rarely given. Did you see your friend hollow-eyed and afraid when their father disappeared overnight – never to be seen again? Did you?’ Henri demanded.
Mattie, startled at the ferocity in his voice, flinched. ‘No,’ she whispered. ‘My sister died as a result of the American occupancy.’
‘For that, I am truly sorry,’ Henri said. ‘But for me and thousands of others, the Americans and the British saved my life. I can never think of that without humble gratitude.’
Henri stared at Mattie without speaking for several seconds. ‘Mattie, my dear, I don’t know what happened to you or your sister during the war, but don’t you think it’s time you looked at the bigger picture? Accept what happened in the past and simply thank God you’re alive and living in a free society?’
Mattie, stunned into silence by the vehemence behind Henri’s words, bit her lip. Henri’s hand reached across the table to gently take hold of hers.
‘The legacy of war lingers on in all of us,’ he continued, ‘but you have to try and overcome all these negative memories. It is hurting and spoiling your life. I’m sure your sister would urge you to let go and remember the happy times.’
Mattie sighed. ‘I know you’re right but it is difficult. I’m not sure I can. Maybe I’ve left it too late.’ She choked back the tears that were threatening to fall.
‘It’s never too late. Take small steps,’ Henri said. ‘Maybe talk to the American film company when you return?’
Mattie nodded. ‘I could do that, I suppose.’
‘One step at a time. They don’t have to be enormous, just big enough to help move you forward into accepting the past and enjoying the rest of your life.’
Shadows of Conflict Page 8
