Page 17 of A Riviera Retreat
She turned away. No point in even thinking about changing from one apartment to another, even if the new one was in a different country with year-round sunshine and a communal pool, when what she really wanted was a proper house with a garden.
She meandered on. Through a marble tiled mall with a diverse range of shops, including a tabac, where she bought a couple of postcards. She needed to send Sheila one at least.
For several moments, she stood in front of one window display, wondering whether to answer the siren call of the soft leather jacket draped over the shoulders of a mannequin. She’d spent a lifetime longing for a leather jacket like it. The azure blue colour was beautiful. It would be a perfect addition to her wardrobe.
In the shop, the chic saleswoman helped her on with the jacket and then stood back, probably sensing that the garment had already sold itself to the elegant Englishwoman. Matilda looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. It fitted and she looked good in it. But a little voice was niggling in her ear:Leather at your age?Matilda batted that thought away. This jacket was classy and ageless. The next thought though, refused to be ignored. It was the kind of jacket that aided and abetted a glamorous lifestyle, which her life back in Bristol was anything but. She enjoyed the occasional dinner at a smart restaurant, a concert or a show at the Hippodrome with Josh, but the lack of a proper social life meant in reality that the jacket would spend more time in her wardrobe than on her back. It was a jacket that needed to be seen and admired. Reluctantly, she slipped it off and handed it to the sales assistant.
‘Merci. Mais non.’
The sales assistant didn’t answer, simply took the jacket back with a shrug.
Near the exit of the mall, a trio of men were busking. Matilda stopped to listen to them playing a medley of jazz for several moments before foraging in her purse for some euros and putting them in the saxophone case placed in front of them. She acknowledged the smiles of thanks from the men with a wave of her hand.
A quick look at her watch and she saw that she’d spent more time in the boutique than she realised. There was only about ten minutes left before she was due to meet Pierre back at the coffee shop. There was no way she could hurry, her ankle was twinging and without her stick it was impossible for her to walk fast. She just hoped she wouldn't keep Pierre waiting too long.
Pierre was sitting at a pavement table outside the café, thumbing a magazine, and stood up when she arrived and brushed her apology aside.
‘Désolé. We do not have the time for coffee. I ’ave to get you back to Belle Vue and go to Olivia’s. She’s not well.’
Pierre took her arm as they hurried across the road to where the car was parked, explaining Amy had phoned him saying Olivia was ill.
Driving back up to the villa, Pierre concentrated on the road and Matilda sat at his side silently, hoping nothing was seriously wrong with his sister.
‘Drop me off at the gate and I’ll walk up the drive,’ she said. ‘Save you a moment or two. I can take the shopping up to the villa for you.’
‘Merci.’ And Pierre took off again for the village.
When Matilda walked into the kitchen with the basket of shopping, Amy and Chelsea were there setting out the lunch things and Chelsea was talking.
‘Amy, I really don’t mind doing it. In fact, I’d enjoy it. Please let me.’
‘It is supposed to be a holiday for you,’ Amy said, slicing through a baguette. ‘We can go down to the village tonight. I can get an agency cook in for a couple of nights or we can eat out.’
‘Giving the three of us a free holiday is generous enough – taking us out to dinner every night or employing a cook for the rest of the holiday is way too much. Please try and convince her to let me cook dinner until Olivia is better,’ Chelsea said, turning to Matilda. ‘I love cooking – it’s never a chore to me. And I’d love to cook in this kitchen.’
‘Olivia will probably be better again by the weekend. It just doesn’t seem right for you to be cooking,’ Amy said.
‘Chelsea’s right about the extra expense. I’m happy to help her in the kitchen if she needs a sous chef. And I’m sure Vicky will too,’ Matilda said. ‘It will be fun and add another element to our holiday.’
‘Okay, I give in,’ Amy said, holding both her hands up. ‘Thank you, both. I’ll fetch you a copy of the menus Olivia and I planned for the next few days, but, Chelsea, do feel free to do your own thing if you’d rather.’
* * *
Early evening and Vicky sighed contentedly as she treated herself to a pre-dinner bath. Bliss, she slipped further under the bubbles into the hot water. She loved this bathroom. She was definitely going to make the case for changing one of the showers back home to a full-size bath.
Not that their bathroom could ever be as luxurious as this one. It would never have gold taps or a claw-footed, free-standing bath but she’d happily settle for a simple IKEA bath with normal chrome-plated taps and perhaps a couple of rows of marble tiles as a splash-back surround creating enough space for candles. There was nothing quite like a long, rejuvenating soak to get the creative juices flowing. Not that she was currently thinking about her novel. She was thinking about Tom and Suzie.
Anthony hadn’t mentioned the children in his email and she had forgotten to ask about them. What kind of mother did that make her? Definitely guilty of… what exactly? The truth was, the two of them were busy living their own lives and had virtually moved out of the family home, so she wasn’t constantly worrying or wondering what they were up to. They’d both wished her a happy holiday when she’d told them about Belle Vue before dashing off in different directions. So she didn’t have to give guilty feelings room in her conscience. Both Tom and Suzie would be in touch soon enough with either her or Anthony if they needed help.
Deep in thought, Vicky stretched out a foot and nudged the hot water tap open. Lying there, the thought occurred to her that once you were a so called grown-up, life became a series of milestones – first job, first car, first flat, first lover et cetera, et cetera, and then when you added children into the equation, it all gathered an unstoppable momentum. The first smile, tooth, step, birthday, first day at school, first— oh, the list was endless. The children grew and you got older with their passing birthdays without truly noticing your own. You were so busy watching and encouraging them and enjoying their achievements that you didn’t realise, until it was too late, what had truly happened, or even what hadn't happened, in your own life.
All those milestones had flashed by as though on the busiest motorway in the world. Suddenly you were a mere step away from being middle aged. And there was no doubt about it, she and Anthony were at another milestone in their lives together with the children leaving home. Back to being that idealistic couple they were over twenty years ago. But that was the problem. All those family and life milestones had changed them as people. They both had a different mindset these days. Anthony’s time seemed to be taken up 24/7 with being a backbencher and his constituency, leaving very little time for her.
Whereas, back home, she currently had nothing to occupy her days with other than her mundane normal housekeeping routine and a few hours every week helping out in the charity shop. She knew she and Anthony had grown apart in recent years as Tom and Suzie became more independent. The closeness of their early years together had been swallowed up and become a distant memory. Would they even survive as a couple as they approached their later years? So many middle aged couples divorced these days.
Vicky pushed the tap off with her toe. She was getting maudlin. She needed to snap out of it and think about something else.
Towelling herself dry with one of the super-sized white towels from the heated towel rail, Vicky tried to think about her story but found herself thinking of Amy again. Wondering what had gone wrong with her marriage. The evening they’d all arrived and introduced themselves over aperitifs and dinner, she and Matilda had spoken of their children, but Amy hadn’t mentioned any. Maybe that had been the problem – she and Kevin didn’t have – or couldn’t have – a family together?
