‘I don’t feel guilty,’ Rosie exclaimed. ‘Why should I? And I definitely don’t need a sister.’
‘Well, you maybe could have made more effort to keep in touch with him, although I think you were protecting my feelings – not wanting to hurt me?’ Olivia took a sip of champagne.
‘Partly that,’ Rosie said. She hesitated before adding, ‘I did have a row with him and said I’d never speak to him again.’ She took a sip of her champagne before saying slowly, ‘It was when I was seventeen and you found that lump.’
Olivia gave her a quick look but stayed silent and waited.
‘I was so scared you were going to die. I found a contact number in among your papers and rang him and asked him to come back. He refused to even discuss it. Said he had problems of his own that made it impossible. Told me we’d cope. I couldn’t believe he was being so cruel. He didn’t even say sorry.’
Olivia sighed. ‘Oh, Rosie. He and I were long finished by then. He had no reason to come back because I had a health scare.’
‘He should have come back for me,’ Rosie said fiercely. ‘I really needed him then. When he said he wouldn’t I lost my temper and told him I never wanted to see or hear from him again for the rest of my life. And I hung up on him.’
‘Maybe you are as much to blame for the years of silence as he is then?’ Olivia said gently.
‘No, I’m definitely not to blame,’ Rosie protested ‘It was totally his attitude at the time!’
Olivia raised an eyebrow. ‘Sounds to me like you’re still hanging on to some teenage angst. If you’re worried about upsetting me – don’t be. I’m past being upset by him.’ She stood up. ‘Maybe you should take this opportunity to speak to him, then he and Saskia can both go back to LA or wherever and disappear out of your life. I’m going to find Zander. And I think you should really join everyone – it is supposed to be your birthday party.’
Before Rosie could tell her that Terry was staying around, Olivia began to make her way back up the beach. ‘Come on, Rosie. Let’s party. Look, Seb and Isabella have arrived.’
Rosie sighed. She was still no nearer to deciding about whether to meet up with Terry after all these years or not. Talking to Olivia had failed to help. It was clear, though, that Olivia herself had pushed her long-ago relationship with Terry into touch. Having Zander seemed to have helped her to finally shut the door on that part of her life.
As she began to follow Olivia back up to the restaurant, Isabella ran up to her clutching a glittery balloon. ‘Happy Birthday, Rosie. This is for you.’ Beaming, she held it out. ‘Daddy’s made you a cake and I helped to decorate it.’
‘Thank you,’ Rosie said, bending down and hugging the little girl. ‘Let’s go and cut you a slice, shall we?’
‘Ooh, please, but we have to light the candle first and sing “Happy Birthday”.’ Isabella slipped her hand into Rosie’s to walk along the beach. An action Rosie found unexpectedly emotional.
Seb was talking to Zander when they got back to the restaurant but immediately came over and kissed Rosie. ‘Bon Anniversaire.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Tiki says Happy Birthday as well,’ Seb added.
‘He’s not planning on coming over is he? Because if he is…’ Rosie’s voice trailed away.
‘Relax. He’s taken Saskia to Jimmy’s in Cannes for the evening.’
‘Hope she enjoys it,’ Rosie muttered.
‘Look at the cake, Rosie. That’s the bit I iced,’ Isabella said, pointing to some wobbly stars and rosettes. ‘If you turn the candle, like this, it plays “Happy Birthday” to you.’ She looked up at Rosie as the tinny notes played. ‘Daddy said you wouldn’t want lots of candles.’
‘Daddy was quite right,’ Rosie said, picking up a knife. ‘This looks too good to cut but here goes.’ And she plunged the knife into the cake as everyone sang “Happy Birthday”.
It was a perfect evening for a birthday party on the beach and Rosie relaxed and began to thoroughly enjoy being spoilt. Olivia and Zander gave her an iPad – something she’d secretly coveted for a long time but hadn’t been able to justify the expense of. Even Charlie turning up didn’t spoil things and she graciously thanked him for the flowers before introducing him to GeeGee and Erica.
She even managed to have an extra quiet five minutes with Olivia before she and Zander left at the end of the evening, when she finally told her about Terry’s house-hunting plans.
Olivia just shrugged and said, ‘Makes no difference to me where he lives these days. Or with whom.’
Rosie wished she could feel the same nonchalance about the thought of living on the same stretch of coast as Terry and Saskia, but she couldn’t. All she knew was the inevitable meeting was closing in on her.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Seven o’clock Tuesday evening and Rosie and Tansy were doing the final end of day clearing up before leaving when the phone rang. Rosie had her arms full of bottles of wine for the fridge, so Tansy answered it.
‘It’s Seb. Wants to know if you can help him out this evening and babysit?’
‘What time?’
‘A.s.a.p.’
Rosie nodded. ‘OK. Tell him I’ll be there in ten minutes,’ Rosie said.
Seb had employed a part-time child minder to look after Isabella during the day and a couple of evenings while he was busy in the hotel but Rosie knew that the evenings were difficult. Now she was only opening on Friday and Saturday evenings she’d offered to babysit if he got stuck. She liked Isabella so it was no hardship.
Not wanting to take Lucky through the hotel kitchens, which would be getting busy with prepping the evening meals, Rosie clipped the dog’s lead on and made her way to the hotel’s main entrance, praying that Terry wouldn’t be around.
The floor-indicator light over the lift at the far side of the foyer showed it was on its way down so Rosie waited. It would be quicker than the stairs and easier on her legs, which were tired after a busy day. What she really needed and wanted to do was spend a relaxing hour in a hot, sweet-smelling bath with a good book and a glass of wine.
The lift doors opened and Saskia stepped out.
‘Hi… sis.’ The drawling emphasis Saskia placed on the last word made Rosie squirm.
‘Hi,’ she muttered, stepping past her into the lift and raising her hand ready to press the button for the top floor when the lift doors closed. But Saskia had turned and placed her foot against the door.
‘I’ve always wanted a sister and now I’ve got one. Shame you’re such a selfish cow.’
Rosie opened her mouth to respond but Saskia didn’t give her a chance.
‘I can’t understand why Dad feels the need to talk to you but he does. If you weren’t such a self-centred bitch you’d meet him and listen to what he has to say. I guess, though, you’re all me me me and stuff what other people need.’ Saskia glared at Rosie.
‘I certainly don’t care what you think,’ Rosie said, aware that people were giving the two of them curious glances. ‘You should remember, though, there are always two ways to look at things. Maybe, just maybe, Terry has a guilty conscience. And for what it’s worth I’m not that thrilled to learn about you either. Personally I’ve never wanted a sister and now I’ve met you that hasn’t changed. Now please take your foot away from the door. I’m in a hurry.’
Rosie was shaking as she pressed the lift button and sighed with relief as the door closed and the lift began its upward journey. How dare Saskia call her a bitch for not talking to Terry. She wasn’t a bitch. A bitch was someone like Zoe.
Seb opened the apartment door to her dressed in his kitchen whites. ‘Rosie, thanks so much… hey, are you OK?’
Rosie nodded. ‘Think so. Just had words with Saskia in the lift. Where’s Isabella?’
‘Waiting out on the terrace for you,’ Seb said, giving her a concerned look. ‘I’ve got to go, two short in the kitchen tonight – we’ll talk when I get back. Shouldn’t be too late
. Help yourself to whatever you want – oh, and Isabella needs a bath and to be in bed by nine.’ A swift kiss on the cheek and he was gone.
Out on the terrace Isabella was riding her scooter and weaving around a complicated course she’d set up with boxes and a couple of chairs.
‘That looks fun,’ Rosie said, sinking down onto a sun lounger to watch her.
‘I’m going faster and faster,’ Isabella said. ‘Daddy timed me earlier and I did it in less than a minute.’
Watching Isabella navigate around the obstacles, Rosie remembered another course. A course that had involved Terry, her and a horse. It was the last summer Terry had been around at home, so she must have been about eight.
Horse mad at that age, she’d begged and begged her parents for riding lessons and that year they’d given in and taken her to the local riding stables every Saturday. She’d loved every minute there and spent hours grooming Twinkle, the grey pony who was her special favourite. Her only ambition that summer was to be good enough to be selected for the Pony Club gymkhana team.
Terry for some reason took it upon himself to train her and one afternoon set up a couple of obstacles and small jumps for her and Twinkle to practise on. Rosie had trotted and cantered Twinkle around this makeshift course so often that they both knew it off by heart and Rosie had high hopes of being included in the team.
It was that summer, though, when everything in her life had fallen apart for the first time. She failed to make the team and after consoling her and telling her ‘there’s always next year, Rosie’, Terry had gone away, leaving her bereft.
She could still remember the hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach when Olivia told her, ‘Daddy’s gone away and he’s probably not coming back.’ Somehow, too, her interest in all things horsey had died that year.
Glancing at Isabella now, Rosie wondered if she’d felt the same hollow feeling when Zoe had left. However hard the remaining parent tried – and Olivia had given her all to Rosie like Seb was now endeavouring to do with Isabella – the hurt you’d been left with didn’t go away for years. But Zoe was at least coming back in a few months’ time.
After Isabella got bored with scootering they curled up together and watched a couple of cartoons before Rosie said, ‘I think it’s time we got you ready for bed.’
Once Isabella was bathed and tucked up in bed Rosie read to her until she fell asleep and then tidied the bathroom. Not strictly necessary as Seb clearly had the hotel chambermaids come up to clean and tidy everything every day. The numerous towels were pristine and the bathroom cabinet well stocked. There was even a scented candle placed on the shelf at the end of the bath.
Looking at the large, fluffy bath sheets, the shampoos, the soaps, the body lotions, Rosie wondered who used the feminine ones. In the few months she’d known him, she’d never seen Seb with a woman other than Zoe and she doubted that Zoe had ever seen the inside of this bathroom.
Wistfully she stroked the large, white bath sheet. She imagined pouring some of the expensive bubble bath into the tub full of hot water and sinking down into its relaxing depths. Wrapping yourself in such a soft-feeling towel afterwards would be wonderful.
She glanced at her watch. Was there time before Seb returned? Could she? Would Seb mind?
Rosie shook herself. She had a perfectly adequate bath back in her own apartment. OK, it wasn’t as luxurious as this one but she had a few drops left of an expensive bath essence Olivia had given her last Christmas. Her towels were as large, too. Not as soft because conditioner had been struck off her shopping list for a few months now for not being a strictly essential item. Besides, towels dried you better and quicker without conditioner.
Regretfully Rosie closed the bathroom door and made her way out onto the terrace where Lucky-dog had curled up on one of the sunlounger cushions. Helping herself to a glass of water from the small kitchen out there, Rosie wandered over to the railings and surveyed the scene before her.
The sun, setting over the Esterels, was throwing eye-blinding streaks of fiery red and orange lights over the sky for miles around. A game of volleyball down on the beach had attracted a few spectators and a cheer rang out as someone scored. As two of the players high-fived each other, Rosie realised one of them was Saskia.
Her sister. Who thought she was a bitch. Correction. Her half-sister. So did that make her only half a bitch?
Rosie watched as Saskia leapt across the court to hit a ball high in the air. Cut-off ragged denim shorts emphasised her long legs and slim body as she ran barefoot along the sand. Judging from the shouts of encouragement from the other players, the teams were a mixture of teenage American girls and French boys.
Watching them, Rosie realised Saskia was younger than she’d initially thought. She could only be about sixteen or seventeen. Which meant she must have been born around the time Rosie’s own life at that age had been massively disrupted and was threatening to take off in an unexpected and unwanted direction.
As the light faded, the game finished and the players began to make their way towards the Beach Hotel car park. A tall, dark-haired boy had his arm around Saskia’s shoulders and was saying something that made her laugh as they walked.
Rosie jumped as Seb touched her on the shoulder. ‘Oh, I didn’t hear you coming. I was miles away.’
Seb glanced down at the beach. ‘Watching Saskia?’
Rosie nodded. ‘She called me a self-centred bitch earlier. D’you think I am?’
Seb shook his head. ‘No. You’re not a bitch.’ He hesitated. ‘You might be a little self-centred but…’ He shrugged. ‘We all react in our own way to events we regard as hostile or threatening. Any decision we make is always based on our own needs in the end.’
At least Seb didn’t think she was a bitch – that was something. The self-centred jibe stung, though. The fact she didn’t want or need Terry in her life after all this time didn’t make her self-centred, did it? As for embracing Saskia as a sister – she just didn’t need it. Ah, there was that word again. Need. Need. Need. Well, on a need-to-know basis, neither Terry nor Saskia figured very highly on her list.
‘Isabella get off to bed OK?’ Seb asked.
‘No trouble.’
‘I’ve bought some canapés up. A glass of wine to wash them down?’
‘Thanks. Then I’d better go home.’
While Seb organised their impromptu supper, Rosie moved back from the railings and sat down on one of the wooden transat loungers. A small side table next to it held a pile of leaflets and some glossy house brochures she’d not noticed before. Idly she picked one up and began to flick through.
The caption underneath the picture on the first brochure contained the word POA. Of course it would. Nobody who could afford a house like that would want the neighbours knowing how much they’d paid. Not that there appeared to be any neighbours within two hundred yards at least of these particular houses.
‘Are you thinking of buying something?’ Rosie asked as Seb returned with food, plates and wine.
Seb shook his head. ‘Not me. These are all houses Tiki’s looked at recently. GeeGee asked me to put them in reception in case any of my other guests are looking to buy.’
Rosie ignored the mention of Terry and picked up another brochure.
‘Wow, this one is so amazing,’ she said, holding out the page for Seb to see. ‘Imagine living there.’
Situated on a headland, the pictures showed the villa with its grounds running down to the rocks that bordered the Mediterranean. There was even a small, private landing stage and a flight of steps leading up to the house.
The house, with its huge glass windows glittering in the evening sunlight in the photo, had, the text informed her, been built to capture the views and light from all directions.
‘Back in the 1920s when it was built it was one of THE places along the coast,’ Seb said, handing her a plate of canapés. ‘I’ve heard there were some wild parties held there. Money no object.’<
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‘I can believe it,’ Rosie said. ‘As a party venue it must be unbeatable. It’s all art deco fixtures and fittings inside according to these photos.’
Seb nodded. ‘Mostly – the bathrooms are still mainly marble with Aphrodite statues and free-standing baths. The kitchen’s been updated and the indoor swimming pool has been renovated. Those pictures don’t do it justice.’
Rosie glanced across at him. ‘You’ve been inside? You lucky thing.’
‘Tiki asked me to accompany him when he viewed it.’ Seb hesitated before adding, ‘It’s going to be his new home in a few weeks. You can see inside it any time you like. You could even stay there if you wanted to.’
Shocked, Rosie turned away from Seb and stared out unseeingly at the horizon. So this was the villa that GeeGee had been celebrating selling that day on the beach. With POA again printed underneath the details of this house, no wonder she’d been so happy. Terry had to be seriously wealthy if he intended to make that particular villa his home.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
With the Café Fleur being busy during the daytime and several evenings a week being spent looking after Isabella, there wasn’t any time for Rosie to brood over things. And definitely no time for a meeting with Terry. That didn’t stop her subconscious going into overdrive at night, though, as she tossed and turned in the heat under the inadequate ceiling fan over her bed.
The glossy pictures in the brochure were still flashing into Rosie’s mind at odd times. The sheer opulence of the villa Terry had bought, so overwhelming when contrasted with the home she had grown up in with Olivia.
Before her father had dumped Olivia and her and run away to America, he’d always belittled money and materialistic things. ‘Those things won’t make you happy,’ he’d say earnestly. ‘Happiness comes from within.’ What a hypocrite he’d turned into. She definitely didn’t need – or want – a father like him back in her life.
Although, of course, he wasn’t Terry Hewitt, Rosie’s father, now – he was this different person, Tiki Gilvear. A stranger in more ways than one. Someone she wished had never made himself known to her, forcing her to make a decision about him. Re-evaluate things.
Rosie's Little Café on the Riviera Page 18
