Page 25 of A Riviera Retreat
Amy was still in the kitchen when Pierre came in with a basket of vegetables and fruit from the garden.
‘Chelsea mentioned wanting some salad for dinner tonight,’ he said, placing the basket on the sink draining board.
‘Thanks. How’s Olivia?’ Amy asked, turning the tap on and preparing to wash the lettuce, tomatoes and rocket.
‘Ça va. No change,’ Pierre said. ‘The doctor says it will take time. It’s a nasty virus she has.’
‘Is she up to having a visitor, do you think?’
Pierre shook his head. ‘Best not – for your sake and the others. Peut-être in a day or two. Hervé is taking good care of her.’
At the mention of Hervé, Amy smiled. Olivia’s bear of a husband would protect her to the end. The way she’d always thought Kevin would be her protector.
‘Chelsea – she is a good cook?’ Pierre asked.
Amy nodded. ‘Very. But perhaps it’s best not to mention that to Olivia at the moment?’
Pierre smiled and pulled his phone out of his pocket as it pinged with an incoming text. ‘Bien. I collect the women from Cannes in an hour. Just time for me to do a little weeding in the top garden.’
After he’d left, Amy carried on cleaning the salad, feeling sad for Pierre. He was such a good man, but life hadn’t dealt him the best hand, leaving him a widower in his thirties when his wife died in a tragic accident. Tasha and Olivia had hoped for years he’d meet someone new, but Pierre had always insisted he wasn’t interested and had got used to living alone. Just like she herself had settled into life alone here in France. Pierre did at least have his daughter and her husband whereas she would never now have the consolation of a child, however much she might wish it was possible.
Amy took a deep breath and scolded herself for being maudlin because of the one thing in her life plan that had gone wrong, making her aware of her ticking, soon to be silent, biological clock. She loved living in France and running the retreat. She might not have the family she dreamed of having and was living a different life to the one she’d hoped to live, but it was a good life and she was in a happy place.
Seeing Kevin in Monaco the other day had been a shock, but at least it had jolted her into making an appointment with the notaire. She was finally doing something about ending their marriage and getting closure on her life with Kevin.
Placing the washed vegetables in the salad drawer of the fridge, she felt a sudden shiver overtake her body and she closed the fridge door quickly and turned away – only to come face to face with the man currently occupying her thoughts, nonchalantly leaning against the kitchen doorway.
Amy blinked rapidly. Had she somehow made him materialise in front of her by thinking about him? She hadn’t heard a car arriving. But then he spoke and she knew the nightmare was all too real.
‘Hello, Amy.’
Stunned, Amy looked at him. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
‘I was having lunch in Cannes and thought it would be nice to pop in and surprise you. Offer you my condolences for the loss of your aunt. Talk about old times. How good we were together.’ Kevin looked at Amy, an expectant tone to his voice, a complacent smile on his face.
Amy stared at him in disbelief. ‘Old times? Good together? For over five years, you pretended to love me, but all the time you were lying to me.’
Kevin shrugged and sighed. As he opened his mouth to speak, Amy held her hand up.
‘I don’t want to hear any more lies. I just want you to go. How did you get in anyway? I didn’t hear a car.’
‘I parked on the road. The front gate was open. You should really take more care of things, Amy. Burglaries are on the increase down here,’ Kevin said. ‘Anyone could have walked in.’
‘Well, you can just walk straight back out before I call for Pierre to throw you out.’
‘We have things to discuss.’
Amy shook her head. ‘No, we don’t. Since seeing you and your lady friend in Monaco, I’ve spoken to a solicitor. So go and talk to yours. They can do the discussing for us.’
‘I’d forgotten how “nice” this place was,’ Kevin said, ignoring her words and waving his fingers in the air to indicate quotation marks around the word ‘nice’. ‘Very nice indeed. Tasha left it to you, did she?’’
‘You hated the place the one time I brought you here,’ Amy said, ignoring the mention of Tasha.
‘True,’ Kevin nodded thoughtfully. ‘But then I didn’t know you would inherit it. Must be worth a fair bit these days.’
‘Whether it is or not, it’s mine and you can forget any idea of having a claim on it.’
‘Not so fast, Amy, we’re not divorced yet,’ Kevin said, wagging a finger at her. ‘So I think I have a legitimate claim. What’s yours is mine et cetera,’ and he gave her a smug look that made her want to punch him.
