Page 36 of A Riviera Retreat
‘I’ll come,’ Chelsea said. ‘I love looking at property and daydreaming about the kind of house I might buy one day. Besides, I can make sure anything you buy has a spare room for when I visit.’
‘I’d normally jump at the chance,’ Vicky said. ‘But with Anthony coming, I know my time to write will disappear, so as much as I’d like to, I don’t think I’d better.’
‘Any other day I’d have loved to have joined you,’ Amy said. ‘I have an appointment in the morning but could join you in the afternoon? I can certainly ask Pierre to drive you down to the estate agents.’
‘Thank you. I have to be at the agents in Cannes at 10.30,’ Matilda said.
‘Are any of the houses near here?’ Vicky asked.
‘One is in Cagnes-sur-mer. Two are in Antibes, I think. The one I really like the sound of is in the village,’ Matilda said. ‘And there is an apartment in a new block in a nearby marina – I’m not sure of the exact location.’ She was silent for a few seconds before turning to Amy. ‘I know the film that inspired your generosity to offer us all a free holiday was set in an Italian castle and not a villa in France, but Belle Vue is just perfect. If I can find somewhere even half as wonderful, I’ll be very lucky.’
‘I bet the castle was just a film set somewhere,’ Chelsea said. ‘Probably wasn’t even in Italy. I haven’t seen the film, so I can’t compare it with here.’ She took a swig of her wine before realising the other three women were all staring at her. ‘What?’
‘You’ve not seenEnchanted April?’ Amy said. ‘How did you answer the questions?’
‘Umm, I googled them,’ Chelsea said, before biting her bottom lip and looking at them anxiously.
‘Googled it!’ The other three spoke as one, looking at her in shock.
‘I was just killing time one afternoon. I couldn’t believe it when I won. Please don’t hate me.’
‘Of course we don’t hate you, but there is a forfeit to pay,’ Amy said mock seriously, trying not to laugh at the expression on Chelsea’s face at her words. ‘You will be made to watch the film and possibly answer questions on it before you are allowed to leave Belle Vue.’
Day Eight Of The Holiday – June 13
17
The next morning, Chelsea was up so early to swim the daily thirty lengths she’d promised herself she’d do that she witnessed the sun rising. Wrapping herself in a towel afterwards, she sat on one of the poolside loungers for a few moments, watching the rosy pink hues fade away, leaving a cloudless pale blue sky that would slowly darken into the azure blue heralding a beautiful South of France summer day.
Today, she knew from experience, was going to be a long day, filled with remorse and guilt that overshadowed happy memories of her mum. It seemed impossible that it was five years ago that her world had imploded. Thankfully, the sheer horror of the accident had faded in her mind and she’d learnt to cope and live with its awful consequence, but the guilt of knowing it was her fault they were in the wrong place at the wrong time had never faded. She alone was responsible for the permanent mum shaped hole that now featured in her life.
Thinking about what the others had said about talking to her dad, Chelsea brushed a hand against her cheeks, wet from the tears that had started to fall without her realising. Were they right, saying it was never too late to talk? What good would it do? It wouldn’t alter the facts, but learning the truth could turn him against her, and she couldn’t risk that. She needed him in her life. He was all that was left of her family. He was her rock.
She sighed. No. She couldn’t share her guilty secret with him.
Chelsea clutched the towel around her tighter and stood up. She’d shower, have some breakfast and then phone her dad before joining Matilda for their day of house hunting. And then, this evening, she’d cook one of her mum’s favourite meals for dinner. Keeping herself busy would help pass the day.
Her mobile rang while she was eating a pain au chocolat. ‘Dad. I was going to ring you in a minute. How you doing?’
‘Okay. You?’
‘Feels weird not being there to go with you to the cemetery, if I’m honest,’ Chelsea admitted. ‘Have you got our usual flower arrangement?’
‘Sunflowers, daisies and poppies,’ her father said. ‘All the favourites.’
Chelsea remembered the argument they’d had on the first anniversary. They couldn’t decide which flower her mum had favoured most out of the three, so they’d ordered a large arrangement containing all three. It had become a tradition.
‘Will you take a photo for me, please,’ Chelsea said.
‘Sure thing, Sunshine. Talking of photographs, thank you for the two you sent. Love the new haircut.’
‘Thanks. You doing anything after you’ve been to the cemetery?’
‘Heading into work, nothing special. What are you up to?’
‘I’m going house hunting with Matilda. She’s the older woman in the photo and is thinking of moving over here permanently. She and her husband had this dream, but he died.’ Chelsea’s voice faded away before she took a deep breath. ‘Do you have a leftover dream, Dad? A dream that you and Mum planned to do together?’
There was a short silence at the other end of the phone before her father answered. ‘No. We pretty much did everything that we’d planned to do – except, of course, growing old together.’
