Page 39 of A Riviera Retreat
‘Madame Martin pour un rendezvous avec Monsieur Lefevre.’
The door lock buzzed. Amy composed herself before pushing it open and walking into a carpeted hallway. Finally, after years of indecision, she was doing something about her sham of a marriage. As she was ushered into the notaire’s office, she sent up a silent prayer that she would be able to keep Kevin’s hands off Belle Vue. That was the most important thing. He’d seemed extremely confident when he’d threatened her with the fact that he had a legitimate claim to her inheritance and he intended to get it. If he did have a claim, she was resolved to fight him all the way, knowing how much Tasha would hate her beloved villa falling into Kevin’s ownership.
Half an hour later, Amy, deep in thought, left the notaire’s and walked slowly back to where she’d parked the car. Mathias Lefevre had been charming, taken her folder of papers and given them a quick glance, before gently reproving her for not coming back to see him sooner. To her question ‘Will Belle Vue have to form part of any divorce settlement?’ he’d pursed his lips.
‘Inheritance here in France is not the same as in Angleterre. We handle it differently. I will study the papers and the dates to find your answer in this case. Next visit, I will have an answer for you.’ And with that she had to be content.
The house phone was ringing when she got home and she picked it up before the answerphone could switch in.
‘Is that Amy Martin?’ a man’s voice asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Are you alone? Matilda Richardson is not with you?’
‘Who are you and why are you calling? And why are you asking about Matilda?’ Amy said sharply. ‘Is there a problem?’ She heard an intake of breath over the phone.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m Josh, her son. And there is no problem, although I’m hoping you can help me with something. But, first, you didn’t say if you were alone? I don’t want Mum overhearing this conversation.’
‘I’m alone,’ Amy said, relaxing now she knew who was on the end of the phone. ‘Matilda has gone out for the day.’
‘Good. Has she told you it’s her birthday on the fifteenth?’
‘No, she hasn’t.’
‘I was wondering…’ Josh hesitated. ‘Would it be possible for you to organise a secret birthday meal for her. With a cake and things? I’ll pay for the extras, of course.’
Amy laughed. ‘That won’t be necessary. I’m more than happy to throw Matilda a surprise party and have a cake made.’
‘Really? Thank you. There is another complication though – I’m planning on turning up and surprising her.’
‘I know she’ll be thrilled to see you,’ Amy said. ‘Do you need somewhere to stay? If you do, you’re more than welcome to a room here.’
‘That’s really kind of you. That would be great. Thank you. I’ll see you on the morning of the fifteenth then. And remember, not a word to Mum.’
‘My lips are sealed.’ Amy laughed as she hung up.
Vicky coming into the kitchen at that moment looked at Amy, her gaze curious.
‘That was Josh, Matilda’s son,’ Amy said, crossing over to the wine rack and selecting the last bottle of pink champagne to place in the fridge and making a mental note to buy some more. ‘We have a secret birthday party to organise for your last evening,’ she said, smiling at Vicky. No need to tell her or Chelsea the other part of the secret. Less chance of the news unintentionally slipping out when they were all chatting together.
‘It’s Matilda’s birthday? It will be fun surprising her.’
‘Yes, I’m hoping Chelsea can quietly make a cake without her noticing. I can always go to the patisserie if not. I think a barbecue would be fun and easy to organise without drawing attention to it being a party.’
‘I’m sure Chelsea will insist on making a cake for Matilda. The two of them seem to be growing close,’ Vicky said.
Amy glanced at her watch. ‘It’s a little early, but shall we have lunch together down by the pool?’
‘Good idea,’ Vicky replied, looking at the basket of salad things Pierre had left on the work surface by the sink. ‘I never eat salad at home – here, it’s my go-to for lunch. That and the wonderful baguettes,’ she added.
Ten minutes later, sitting down by the pool under the shade of a large parasol, Vicky sighed with contentment. ‘Listen to those cicadas. Back home next week, if I sit in the garden, all I’ll hear will be traffic.’
‘Would you like to move and live in the countryside?’ Amy said.
‘Now the children are living more or less independent lives we could downsize and cut costs, maybe even go mortgage-free – although that wouldn’t happen in London. I fancy somewhere in the West Country, Bath or Bristol appeal, but London is where Anthony needs to be at the moment.’
‘Any more news on what’s happening? Or when you can expect him?’
