‘As for Saskia, I’ve been an only child all my life. I don’t need a sister now.’ Particularly not a sister who had clearly had the sort of home life with a loving father she’d been denied.
‘Maybe she needs you,’ Seb said quietly. He was silent for a few seconds before continuing. ‘Not having some sort of reconciliation with Tiki, though, might just be one of those things you regret afterwards for the rest of your life.’
‘I’m sure I’ll learn to live with it if that happens.’
‘You’re only thinking about how you feel. I think Tiki is hurting badly inside and wants to tell you he’s sorry in person. It’s your decision but I think other people might take the view you’re selfish in denying an ill man the opportunity to clear his conscience.’
‘Other people can think what they like,’ Rosie said. ‘He might be my father but I owe him nothing. The fact he may – ‘may’ – have a guilty conscience over the way he treated Olivia and me is tough luck. Personally, I doubt it – as Mum says, there was usually an ulterior motive behind everything he did.’
‘I wish you could feel generous enough to forget his past mistakes and talk to him,’ Seb said quietly.
Rosie tried again to skim stone after stone across the water – all sank with predictable failure a yard from the rocks. If only her anger and bitterness would sink with them.
‘And I wish you’d butt out and mind your own business.’
Seb held up his hands. ‘Sorry. Only trying to help.’
A long silence sprang up between them before Rosie glanced at Seb. ‘You truly think I should see him, don’t you?’
Seb nodded but didn’t speak.
Rosie sighed. What the hell was she supposed to say, to do? Talk about being emotionally blackmailed into seeing Terry.
Why was he so intent on talking to her at this late stage anyway? Seb didn’t know the history behind their estrangement, but deep down Rosie had to acknowledge that he was probably right. She should meet him.
Rosie wished Olivia was around to give her a hug. That was another thing – she’d have to talk to her soon to tell her about Terry being ill and staying permanently on the Riviera.
Rosie’s last stone skimmed across the water twice, as if encouraging her to do what she acknowledged deep down was the right thing to do. To be generous, as Seb had put it, and go and see her father. But not yet. No way could she could face it at the moment.
She needed time to adjust, to think about what to say to him. How to make it plain that after all these years, even if she did agree to talk to him, there was no place for him in her life afterwards.
‘Come on, Lucky, time to go home.’ Rosie bent down and clipped on the dog’s lead.
Seb walked alongside her back to the café where Rosie turned to him. ‘Don’t bother to offer to see me home. I need some space to think – without any pressure from you.’
Silently Seb took a step back and watched Rosie walk away, before following her at a discreet distance and watching her reach home safely.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sunday morning and Erica, with an excited Cammie alongside her, was sitting on Le Petit Train as it made its way out of Nice. Views of the outlying industrial zones soon changed to views of riverbeds and the steep-sided mountain valleys of the Var as the train made its way up into the hills.
Stations, tiny and seemingly from a bygone age, were either stopped at or slowly chugged through, giving tantalising glimpses of the villages they served. Cammie was entranced with everything she saw. The last time they’d done this journey by train she’d been a tiny baby. Pascal had always preferred to drive the sixty kilometres to his parents place. Driving hadn’t been an option today and Erica was enjoying seeing views previously denied her from the passenger seat of the car.
As the train pulled out of Puget-Theniers, Erica began to gather their things and handed Cammie her pink rucksack to slip over her shoulders.
‘A few more minutes and we’ll be in Entrevaux,’ she said. ‘Look, there’s the citadel on top of its mountain.’
‘Can we climb up to it?’ Cammie said.
‘Probably not this visit,’ Erica said. ‘There won’t be time today and we have to go home on the first train tomorrow morning. But next time, I promise.’
Jean-Pierre, waiting for them on the platform as they stepped off the train, picked up Cammie and swung her around. ‘Bonjour, ma petite,’ he said, giving her a hug as he set her back down giggling, before turning to greet Erica with cheek kisses and a bear-like hug.
‘I’m so pleased you’ve come today,’ he said. ‘Amelia is quite made up. She’s back at the house,’ he added as Erica looked around for her. ‘She’s a bit stressed over tonight’s party. Says she has one or two things she’s forgotten to do.’ He sighed. ‘Danielle and co have arrived so that should help calm her.’
A five-minute walk along a quiet track and they were at the house on the hill overlooking the ancient town where Amelia and Jean-Pierre had lived all their married lives. Where Pascal and Danielle had grown up. Where memories of Pascal were everywhere. Photos on the piano in the sitting room; exam certificates framed and hung on the staircase; his skis hanging in the boot room along with his mountain bike propped against the wall.
Amelia gave them both a hug and a kiss. ‘I’m so pleased you’ve come. It means so much to me and Jean-Pierre to have you both here, even though…’ Her voice trailed away.
Tears were clearly not far away and Erica opened her weekend bag quickly.
‘Cammie and I have brought you both something,’ she said. ‘This needs to go in the fridge.’ She placed a bottle of pink champagne on the kitchen table. ‘Cammie has made you a special card,’ she added placing it alongside the champagne.
‘And we hope you both like this,’ she said as she handed Amelia a box wrapped in red and silver paper. ‘Happy Ruby Anniversary.’
Amelia gasped as she saw the vintage red Cranberry Glass decanter and two glasses nestling in the box.
‘They’re beautiful,’ she said, holding the decanter up to the light. ‘Thank you. We’ll treasure them.’
‘Right,’ Jean-Pierre said. ‘I’ve booked a table for a family lunch at our favourite restaurant in the old town. We have half an hour to get there.’
‘Come on, Cammie, let’s get you out of your jeans and into your pretty frock,’ Erica said, hoping that her own outfit in her weekend bag wasn’t too creased and in need of an iron. ‘Usual rooms?’ she said, picking up her rucksack.
Amelia nodded. ‘All ready and waiting. I’ll come up with you.’
Erica smothered a sigh.This was going to be hard, sleeping alone for the first time in the room she and Pascal had always shared when they visited. The room that had been his growing up and still contained lots of his things because Amelia had always resisted clearing them out and turning it into a bona fide guest room, insisting it would always be Pascal’s room.
‘I hope you’ll be comfortable in here, Erica,’ Amelia said, opening the bedroom door. ‘I’ve given it a bit of a makeover.’
Erica stood and gazed around. The room had been completely transformed. Freshly painted white walls, new curtains and carpet, and a new, shabby-chic chest of drawers standing in the corner. Erica bit her lip as she looked at the only reminder that this had once been Pascal’s room: a silver-framed photograph of him holding Cammie as a baby and smiling broadly at the camera had been placed on the bedside table.
‘I thought my new guest room deserved a happy picture from the past,’ Amelia said quietly, looking across at the photo.
Wordlessly Erica turned and hugged Amelia, knowing how much courage it had taken for her to change things and move forward in a life where her son would never need the room again.
***
Erica had always thought walking across the drawbridge and through the gatehouse of the old portcullis guarding the entrance to the medieval town akin to taking a step back in time. Today was no exce
ption. The tall, ancient houses, the narrow streets, the air heavy with history, all threatened to push Erica’s imagination into overdrive and back to the fifteenth century.
Pascal had often teased her about her vivid imagination, but even he had admitted once to finding the atmosphere in the old, fortified town to be somehow crackling with the memory of ghostly, sinister, ancient events.
‘Not a place you’d want to be alone in on All Saints Night,’ he’d told her.
Following Jean-Pierre as he led the way to the restaurant, Erica held Cammie’s hand and kept her mind firmly in the twenty-first century.
The atmosphere in today’s Entrevaux, with the sun shining, trees in full leaf, hanging baskets filling the air with a delicate perfume and the laughter of happy people, was truly centuries away from its brutal past.
Seated next to Danielle for the meal she tried to relax. It was the first real family ‘do’ since Pascal died and it was strange not to have him at her side in the midst of his family. Listening to their rapid French as they reminisced about the last forty years, Erica tried not to feel like an interloper.
She’d been part of this family for nearly ten years now and had been made to feel welcome from day one, but today, as Danielle reminisced with her parents about her childhood with Pascal, Erica tried hard not to feel left out. She’d heard some of the stories before, of course, but one or two new ones surfaced during the course of lunch.
Erica knew that, with only ten months between them, Danielle and Pascal had been inseparable while growing up. A closeness that had endured into adulthood. Being close, though, hadn’t stopped them from squabbling or getting each other into trouble from time to time.
‘I was the one who invariably got blamed for most things,’ Danielle said as the desserts arrived. ‘Pascal said it was my right as his big sister to take the blame although, as teenagers, I have to admit, it wasn’t unknown for him to cover for me.’ She shrugged and looked at Erica. ‘I guess you could say we always had each other’s backs. I miss him.’
‘Me, too,’ Erica said, glancing across the table to where Cammie was sitting with her cousins, hoping she wasn’t being upset by all the talk of Pascal. Seeing her giggling at something Carla was saying, Erica relaxed. Cammie was clearly having her own fun. So good to see her laughing with her cousins.
Amelia followed her glance. ‘Perhaps Cammie could come and stay in the school holidays. Spend time with us on her own.’ She smiled hopefully at Erica. ‘We’d love to have her and promise we’d take great care of her. I’m sure she’d love it.’
Erica returned the smile. ‘Maybe,’ she said, fighting the immediate negative reaction that sprang into her mind. Cammie might love it but could she let go of the one constant in her life? Even for a few days?
After lunch everyone returned to the house and, while Cammie joined the cousins to watch a DVD in the sitting room, a thoughtful Erica went to the kitchen to help Amelia and Danielle organise the final details for the evening’s party.
‘It’s such a shame you have to go back so early tomorrow,’ Amelia said, slicing a quiche into bite-sized pieces. ‘I wish you could both stay longer.’
‘GeeGee kindly offered to open up and man the shop for me for a couple of hours in the morning, but she has her own commitments,’ Erica said, smothering a sigh.
It was going to be a long evening if Amelia kept harping back to the ‘wish we saw more of you’ conversation.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Sitting out under the stars on the roof terrace while Erica was away, GeeGee thought about the future. It was all very well vowing to herself that this time she wouldn’t let Jay’s actions scupper her life because she had options, but what exactly were her options?
Along with a bottle of rosé, her notebook was on the table beside her, ready for the ideas that would kickstart her future. So far she’d drunk half the bottle of wine, and not a single idea had popped into her head. Instead she’d gone round and round in circles.
Give up selling houses? A job she really enjoyed and one she’d struggled to qualify for since she’d lived in France? Increase her airport runs? They’d certainly made a difference to her finances. Bruno had said he was overloaded, that he might welcome her doing more. Get a part-time job – even ask Erica if she needed any more part-time help in The Cupboard Under the Stairs.
No, she couldn’t ask that. Erica would feel under pressure to say yes and she was already indebted to her for a roof over her head. But she could tell Rosie, if she ever needed a temporary pair of hands in the Café Fleur for a couple of hours, to give her a call.
GeeGee topped up her glass again. It was all a bit, well, bitty. Maybe she should concentrate on one job, the one with the best chance of bringing her in the most money. Which had to be selling property. Her desk at the agency was safe for a few weeks, by which time she’d need to have organised something else for her public profile. So she needed to come up with an idea and implement it before then.
Did she need a bricks and mortar shop window? Could she work from home – wherever home was by the end of summer? How many clients had actually walked into the office? Any who did were invariably snaffled by Hugo, and Jay was sure to do the same. Most of her clients came by word-of-mouth recommendations – both the buyers and the sellers. People were happily telling their friends about her. Could she build on that quickly enough?
She put her glass down and opened her laptop. Idly she clicked on and started to browse her website. Looking at the pages containing the letters of grateful thanks from clients she’d helped find their dream home or holiday apartment, an idea floated into her brain. Could she offer home management services?
GeeGee smacked her forehead as the thought streaked through her brain. How stupid was she? Why had she never thought of this before? Sell houses, manage the properties she sold that were often rented out, and do airport runs to help the inevitable cash-flow problems. Three businesses linked by a common theme.
All she really needed office-wise was her laptop and a printer. An online business didn’t need a bricks and mortar address. Her website was up and running. She was already registered in the French system as self-employed so that wouldn’t be a problem. The money she saved from not having to pay for an agency desk could be spent on advertising her services and updating the website.
Okay, it seemed a simple enough plan that might work, although there were sure to be unseen problems cropping up. Financially things would be tight but a couple of her current clients were on the verge of completing on holiday apartments. She’d make sure to tell them about her new management services.
Her fingers flew over the keys as she made a note of things to do, arranged in order of importance. She finally had a life plan instead of stumbling from crisis to crisis. Now all she had to do was make sure it worked.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Late afternoon and Rosie was playing with Lucky on the café terrace before going home when she saw Seb and Isabella coming towards her. Damn. She’d been avoiding Seb since Fête de la Musique night, despite knowing she’d been in the wrong, stalking off like she had.
Since then she’d done a lot of thinking about both Seb and Terry. And while she was still not ready to do the grown-up thing and meet up with Terry, she’d acknowledged to herself that everything Seb had said was right. And that she owed him an apology.
‘Hi, Isabella,’ Rosie said, bending down to receive the little girl’s hello kiss on the cheek. ‘It’s nice to see you again.’
‘Can I throw the ball for your dog?’
‘Sure – Lucky-dog would like that.’
As Isabella started to throw the ball for Lucky, Rosie looked at Seb.
‘Once again I owe you an apology,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m sorry – for telling you to butt out and also for storming off. Forgive me?’
Seb shrugged. ‘You were upset – and I’d probably react in the same way if you started telling me how to deal with Zoe.’
/> Rosie smiled. ‘I wouldn’t dare!’
‘I’m taking Isabella back to Monaco later. D’you fancy coming with us? There’s a new bistro on the beach in Juan-les-Pins – we could have supper there on the way back?’ Seb looked at her hopefully.
‘For me to check out the competition?’ Rosie teased. ‘Sounds good – but I’d rather not meet up with Zoe at the apartment.’
Seb shrugged. ‘No problem. I’ll drop you off by the Café de Paris and you can have a coffee while I take Isabella home.’
‘OK. What time?’
‘Sevenish?’ His mobile bleeped with an incoming text message. ‘Excuse me.’
Rosie watched Isabella playing down by the water with an excited Lucky while Seb scrolled through to the message.
‘Merde! Bloody woman!’
‘It has to be a message from Zoe?’ Rosie said, turning to look at him.
Seb sighed. ‘The woman’s a bloody nightmare. Rosie…’ He paused. ‘Change of plan. Is it possible you can do me a huge favour and look after Isabella for me for a couple of hours? I have to go and talk to Zoe – and I’d rather Isabella wasn’t in the next room because I think I might just kill her mother.’
‘Sure, you can drop both of us on the quay at Monaco and we’ll have a wander around until it’s safe for you to take her home. No?’ she said, as Seb shook his head at her.
‘No. I’ve been told to keep Isabella here with me because Zoe has decided to take off for six months!’
‘What! When?’
‘Leaving tomorrow!’
‘Does Isabella know?’
‘That’s another thing – I have to tell her that her mother has run out on her. Thank God the summer school vacance is coming up – getting her to school in Monaco every morning would have been a nightmare.’
He looked across to Isabella who was now sitting on the beach, her feet in the water and her arm around Lucky-dog, watching the waves. ‘I’ve got a hotel to run – how the hell is looking after a six-year-old going to fit in with that?’
Rosie's Little Café on the Riviera Page 16
