Page 13 of A Riviera Retreat
Tentatively, Vicky lifted the door latch and smiled as the unlocked door opened. Inside, the walls had been painted the same yellow as outside, white muslin curtains were tied back at the windows and a large creamy tapestry rug lay in the middle of the terracotta tiled floor. In front of one of the windows, a wooden table with a multicoloured glass art nouveau lamp stood, its droplets twinkling as the sunlight caught them.
Three wicker chairs were scattered around and, something Vicky had always coveted, a chaise longue had been placed at the back. Gently lowering herself on to it, Vicky discovered it had been expertly positioned to take full advantage of the view out through the double doors into the garden and down Belle Vue’s drive. Sitting there, Vicky breathed a happy sigh. As a writing retreat, the summer house would be just perfect. She promised herself the next time she walked up here she’d bring her laptop. It was such a beautiful place, she felt sure her writing would be inspired.
Carefully closing the door behind her, Vicky carried on along the path as it curved around the back of the summer house and meandered through some shrubs and a terraced rock garden before gently sloping down towards the pool.
‘Hi,’ Chelsea called, throwing her phone onto the recliner as she saw her. ‘You can keep Matilda company for five minutes. I’m going for another swim. I need to cool off,’ and Chelsea dived into the pool and started a fast and furious crawl down the length of it.
‘Is she all right?’ Vicky asked, watching her.
‘I think someone sent her a text that has upset her,’ Matilda explained. ‘I do hope it was nothing to do with the relationship that went wrong. She was telling me earlier that she’s come to terms with the fact that whatever happened was her own fault but can’t forgive herself yet for being stupid. Chalking it up to experience and moving on is always hard to do, especially when you’re young. Lemonade?’ Matilda picked up a can and held it out to Vicky. ‘Still cold and quite refreshing.’
‘Thanks,’ Vicky said, sitting on one of the teak loungers. ‘Have you seen that wonderful summer house right at the top of the garden? I think I’m going to use it as my writing hut. If that’s all right with everyone, of course.’
‘I’m sure it will be,’ Matilda said. ‘It’s so generous of Amy to share Belle Vue with us. I’ve never won anything in my life before and I have to keep pinching myself that I’m having a free holiday. It’s so beautiful here.’
‘It is,’ Vicky agreed. ‘And feels a million miles away from real life.’
Thoughtfully, she sipped her lemonade. Matilda was right. Moving on emotionally or physically was always a hard transition, whatever age you were. Making changes to her life when she returned home would take a lot of determination. Determination she hoped she possessed.
‘I think I’ll put my feet in the pool for ten minutes,’ Vicky said. ‘Then I’m going to grab my laptop and retreat to the summer house and do some plotting.’
Day Three Of The Holiday – June 8
8
As agreed at dinner the previous evening, everyone congregated in the kitchen for breakfast the next morning, ready for Pierre to run them down to the station at nine to catch the train to Monaco. Matilda, although still unsure about her ankle, had decided to join them and had her stick firmly to hand as they boarded the train for the ride along the coast.
‘So many tunnels,’ Chelsea said as the train whooshed through another one.
‘The long one as we leave Cap d’Ail will take us into the heart of Monaco,’ Amy said. ‘We’ll grab a taxi and go straight up to the Palace. We should just about be in time for the changing of the guard at midday.’
‘It’s no Buckingham Palace, is it?’ Vicky whispered to Matilda an hour or so later as they joined the crowd already in Palace Square in front of the main entrance to the Palace. ‘It’s so tiny in comparison. I know it’s a silly allusion, but it makes me think of a decoration for the top of a wedding cake!’ she laughed. ‘I love it.’
Watching the guards in their full dress white summer uniforms marching past, Vicky snapped a picture on her phone and sent it to Anthony.
?? Guess where I am today? Hoping for a glimpse of Princess Charlene with the twins.
The short ceremony was over quickly, not much longer than five minutes Vicky estimated, before the crowd started to disperse. Amy led them over to where cannons were placed overlooking the harbour at Fontvieille and the huge arches of the entrance to the Stade Louis II football stadium in the distance.
Turning her back on the view and looking at the Palace and the other buildings, Vicky sensed there was definitely something special about this place perched on The Rock high above the Mediterranean. There was just something in the air that was glamorous and exciting, not to mention the sense of history underlying everything. Not even the large number of tourists milling around managed to disperse that feeling for her.
‘Right, lunchtime,’ Amy said. ‘Follow me.’
She led them down one of the narrow ancient streets and ushered them through a narrow doorway into a restaurant already filling up with customers. A waiter showed them to a table set in the corner of an unexpected, small courtyard filled with tubs of lavender and lemon trees, handed them menus and promised to return in ‘cinq minutes’ for their orders.
Over lunch, Amy outlined the plans for the afternoon. A stroll around the streets, a visit to the cathedral and then a walk down to the harbour before making their way to the Café de Paris for a spot of people watching around the Monte Carlo Casino before catching a train home.
She glanced anxiously at Matilda. ‘How’s the ankle? You can take a taxi from here if you prefer and we’ll meet up with you at the Café de Paris.’
‘I’ll walk down with you,’ Matilda said. ‘But I think taking a taxi to the top of town is a good idea.’
It was gone two o’clock before the four of them left the restaurant to start exploring the shops lining the narrow lanes on their way to the cathedral. Once in the cathedral, Matilda was the first of them to light a candle, Amy and Vicky followed, only Chelsea hung back.
‘This is a catholic cathedral, isn’t it? I’m not catholic,’ she said sotto voce to Amy.
‘Your religion is irrelevant. Think of it simply as a candle to remember someone you’ve lost and whom you miss,’ Amy said quietly. ‘Mine is in memory of my Aunt Tasha.’
‘My mum. I miss her a lot,’ Chelsea said. ‘I’ll light one for her.’
