Page 26 of A Riviera Retreat
‘Not for much longer. Another few weeks and I’ll be free of you. Please leave now.’
Kevin shook his head. ‘In a moment. I’d like to take a look around first. See exactly what we’ve inherited.’
‘Kevin, if you don’t leave now, I’ll…’ Amy faltered, knowing she wasn’t physically able to throw him out. ‘I’ll call the gendarmes,’ and she snatched up her phone from the kitchen table.
Kevin laughed in her face. ‘They won’t come out for a little domestic spat. I’ll go when I’m ready.’ And he went to make his way into the villa – only to find his way barred by Pierre.
‘You’re leaving or I’ll call the gendarmes and have them out here in a matter of minutes. Local man is a relative and he owes me a favour,’ Pierre said, glaring at Kevin. ‘Out.’
Kevin raised a clenched fist and took a threatening step towards Pierre as Amy held her breath and waited for the inevitable punch, but it didn’t come. Kevin abruptly lowered his arm, gave Pierre a look of pure spite, then looked at Amy and muttered, ‘You’ve not heard the last of this.’
Pierre followed him out of the kitchen and Amy sank down on a chair. She was still shaking when Pierre returned.
‘He’s gone and I’ve closed the electric gates. Be a good idea to keep them shut for a bit. Ça va? You okay?’
Amy nodded wearily. ‘I’m fine. Just a bit shocked.’ She looked at Pierre. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue.’
Pierre shrugged. ‘I knew when I saw him parking outside that he intended to creep in and surprise you.’
‘I’m glad he changed his mind about hitting you,’ Amy said.
‘I wish he had hit me – I’d have enjoyed hitting him back,’ Pierre said with uncharacteristic force. ‘Your aunt never liked him, you know. Didn’t trust him.’
‘I should have listened to her, shouldn’t I? And Mum.’ Amy was quiet for a few seconds, remembering how the two of them had repeatedly asked her if she was sure about marrying Kevin. She’d been so convinced he truly loved her that she’d brushed their concerns aside.
‘Will you be okay now while I go to Cannes and collect Chelsea and Matilda? Vicky is up in the summer house if you want company.’
‘I’ll be fine. They’ll be wondering where you are if you don’t go now,’ Amy said. ‘Just make sure you close the gates again as you leave, please.’ The thought of Kevin reappearing in the villa without Pierre here didn’t bear thinking about.
* * *
Getting her thoughts down on paper was proving to be way more difficult than Vicky had hoped. It was all too easy to simply sit in the doorway of the summer house admiring the view, soaking up the peaceful atmosphere and letting her thoughts wander. Pierre had nodded and given her a smile as he’d pushed a wheelbarrow along a lower path, an alert Lola sitting in it, head up, sniffing the air, looking like she was the bowsprit of a boat, with her paws over the front edge of the barrow. Pierre was now busy working in one of the flower beds on the terrace in front of her. Vicky watched him for some time as he loosened the soil around a small rose bush before starting to weed the rest of the bed.
Vicky forced herself to concentrate and write down the things she needed to say to Anthony, starting with how she hated living in the public eye. She didn’t like the way she was expected to be ‘the little woman’ standing behind her man, urging him on to ‘great things’. She didn’t like the way their lives were dominated these days by political correctness. She no longer felt like a free agent – more like a puppet having her strings pulled, which was ridiculous really.
Before she’d come to France, Anthony had been going on about a forthcoming crisis vote to do with the NHS. His constituents had been telling him about how hard they’d be hit if the vote went through and they lost their local hospital, which was already threatened with closure and being merged with another in the Greater London area. He didn’t see how he could vote with the government on this one and he was worried the whips would be out to make him toe the line again. She knew toeing the party line was becoming increasingly difficult for Anthony, but when she’d asked if he could abstain, he’d shaken his head. Showing a ‘united front’ was the government’s catchphrase of the moment, according to Anthony.
Well, she was more worried about their personal ‘united front’ at the moment than the one the government was insisting on portraying. She wasn’t the MP in the family and she definitely didn’t agree with most of the policies that were being pursued. If she’d realised six years ago when Anthony had first won his seat, how much she’d be expected to contribute behind the scenes – well, she wouldn’t have been quite so enthusiastic in telling him to go for it.
Smothering a sigh, Vicky glanced up from her list and saw that Pierre had abandoned his gardening and was running down to the villa, Lola chasing after him. Vicky half rose from her chair. Was there some sort of emergency? Or had Pierre simply forgotten something? She sank back down, undecided as to what she should do. Surely if it was an emergency, he’d have called out to her for help before running down the garden. She’d give it a couple of minutes and see if anything untoward happened.
Sitting there watching for Pierre to reappear and letting her thoughts drift, she realised the list of things she’d written down and wanted to say to Anthony seemed selfish in the extreme. But… but as much as she loved Anthony, and she did still, she had to talk to him about making changes in her own life. It would help, of course, if she had more of an idea of the kind of life changes she wanted, rather than sounding off like a spoilt child.
Raised voices from the driveway caught her attention and she stiffened as she saw Pierre closely following a man down the drive. Kevin. No wonder Pierre had been running to the villa. Poor Amy. Vicky watched as Pierre closed the electric gates the moment Kevin was off the property before turning and walking back up to the villa. Would Amy appreciate her going down? Or would she prefer her to ignore the incident? She’d leave it until Pierre returned to his weeding before she wandered down to check on Amy. See if she wanted to talk to about Kevin, woman to woman.
Five minutes later, Pierre came out and got into the car parked in front of the villa. Vicky watched as the drive gates opened and then closed again as Pierre drove away. Right, time to go and see Amy. Vicky hesitated as her laptop pinged with an incoming message. Anthony. She was about to leave it to read later, but the subject line caught her eye as she went to close the laptop down and she caught her breath at the words it contained. Words that drove all thoughts of going to check on Amy out of her head.
I’vecockedup.
14
On the way back to Belle Vue Villa from Cannes, an angry Pierre told Matilda and Chelsea about Kevin’s visit. Both promised him they would keep an eye on Amy and make sure she was okay.
As they got out of the car, Chelsea thanked Matilda for lunch, before saying, ‘I’ll take the shopping into the kitchen and see if I can find Amy. See you down by the pool in about twenty minutes?’
Once in her room, Matilda opened the terrace doors in the hope the gentle onshore breeze coming off the Mediterranean would cool the room. She took the houses for sale magazine out of her bag and lay down on the bed under the whirring ceiling fan, thinking about the last few hours. Chelsea wanting her to stay in touch had moved her deeply. Pierre’s news about Kevin, on the other hand, had upset her and spoilt what had otherwise been a lovely day. She couldn’t help but worry about how Amy had reacted. Thank goodness Pierre had been here. Anything could have happened if Amy had been alone.
Absently, Matilda thumbed through the magazine in an effort to distract her thoughts. Some of the houses were beautiful and luxurious and most definitely beyond her means, so she flicked through page after page, concentrating on the agents who dealt with the less expensive properties. It clearly wouldn’t be easy to find a suitable house. Matilda sighed. She and William had often talked about the kind of house or cottage they would buy when he retired and they moved to France. Detached with a reasonably sized garden, possibly a pool, train and bus links nearby so they wouldn’t need a car – William hated driving and she avoided it as much as possible – and within walking distance of a boulangerie and a restaurant. A reasonable view was one requirement they both had. And one that had led to one of the few arguments they’d ever had.
