Page 45 of A Riviera Retreat
‘Definitely,’ said Chelsea. ‘Like Lottie, Rose, Lady Caroline and Mrs Fisher, we’re no longer strangers but friends who look out for each other.’
* * *
When Chelsea got back to her room that evening, she threw herself down on the bed and lay there staring up at the ceiling. The fifth anniversary of her mum’s death was nearly over and she’d managed not to spend the whole day in tears and feeling guilty. There had been a couple of times she’d nearly lost it, but thankfully no one had noticed. Or, if they had, they’d kindly given her time to compose herself. Amy had been kindness itself when she’d snapped at her earlier. So understanding.
The film this evening had been a good diversion too. Expecting it to be old-fashioned, even boring, she’d been surprised at how much she’d enjoyed the story of four very different women looking to briefly escape the monotony of their early twentieth century humdrum lives. The world they’d inhabited was so different to the one she lived in almost a hundred years later. She was lucky to have been born towards the end of their century. To have the freedom of the twenty-first century rather than the restrictions of the early twentieth.
Chelsea glanced at her watch. Strange, Dad hadn’t phoned. She’d had her phone with her all evening, expecting him to ring after what was always a difficult day for them both. Usually, after the cemetery visit, they spent the day together, mooching around favourite places and reminiscing. Since he’d moved to his new penthouse apartment down in the harbourside development in the centre of Bristol, the evening had been spent there, looking at photos and talking about her mum, keeping her memory alive. Afterwards, they’d order in a takeaway and eat it watching the dockside activity: the quay lights coming on, bars opening for pre-theatre drinks, friends greeting each other before claiming a waterside table for dinner. A taxi would be ordered and arrive at ten o’clock to take her home to her own flat. Chelsea not being there today would have broken her father’s routine. If he didn’t ring before she went to bed, she’d ring him. Check he was all right.
Chelsea stood up and fetched her laptop from the table. The piece of paper the waiter in Antibes had slipped into her hand lay alongside. He’d written his name next to the number, Yannick. Chelsea smiled, remembering how embarrassed she’d felt at the time. If she’d been staying in France longer, she might well have rung him for one of those French lessons he’d offered to give her. He was very handsome. Probably for the best that she was going home soon. The last thing she needed in her life right now was a man. One, who in all probability, flirted with all his English customers and already had a French girlfriend, or even a wife, tucked away somewhere. There was no way she was going down the married man route ever again. Which reminded her. Kit.
Chelsea clicked on his ‘sorry’ email and read the short message with increasing incredulity:
Can we meet and talk about us putting the past behind us and getting back together? Despite everything that has happened, I still love you.
A string of xxx’s followed.
A wave of nausea swept through her body as she read, bile at the back of her throat making her feel physically sick. No apology for the lies he’d told. No mention of his marriage; the way he’d cheated on his wife; No shame over his behaviour. Was his ego so big that he really thought she’d forgive him, fly back into his arms and they’d live happily ever after? That definitely wasn’t going to happen, but should she reply to him? Call him all the ugly names she could think of before she kicked him out of her life forever?
Chelsea sighed. She knew she was over him, responding to his pathetic message with insults was pointless. She marked the message ‘junk’ and blocked the sender’s address before deleting it and closing the laptop. Kit-gate was in the past, where she intended it staying.
Time to ring her dad and then go to bed. She listened to the ringing tone for what seemed like forever before it clicked into answer mode.
‘Hi Dad, just ringing to check how your day went. I’ll catch you tomorrow.’
She waited a couple of seconds. Simon usually picked up as soon as he heard her voice, even if it wasn’t a convenient time. Not tonight. Thoughtfully, Chelsea pressed the end call button. Today of all days she’d expected him to be there in his apartment. If he wasn’t there – then where the hell was he?
Day Nine Of The Holiday – June 14
20
The next morning, Vicky was up early as usual and made her way to the summer house carrying her laptop and a cup of coffee. Instead of opening the laptop immediately, she sat in her favourite chair, looking out over the garden and sipping her drink. The holiday had gone so quickly. She was going to miss starting her day here, in what had become her own personal space, when she was back in London. The absolute quiet at this hour of the day, before the intrusion of the noises from life waking up down on the coast arrived on the breeze, had been wonderful. Inspiring. The garden at home was never free from the hum of London traffic, even in the middle of the night.
Vicky finished her drink and opened the laptop. She’d promised herself she’d have written at least fifteen thousand words of her story before the holiday was over and she currently needed another three thousand. With Anthony arriving later today, this would probably be the last morning she’d be up here on her own so early. She really needed to make the most of it.
Thinking of Anthony, Vicky sighed. So much to sort out in both their lives. He was sure to be stressed and uptight when he arrived. And cross with himself for causing the situation he found himself in. She knew she too was full of conflicting emotions. Wanting to stand by him, but at the same time needing to distance herself from the political world and find her own. Selfishly, she found herself wishing his acceptance of Amy’s generous offer hadn’t curtailed her own time alone for the last two days of the holiday. It would be good though, to spend some time together on neutral ground and hopefully Belle Vue would cast it’s magic and they would be able to talk, not argue, about where and what they would do in the future.
One of the things Vicky was determined about was not to be sidetracked away from trying to live her life the way she wanted to. It had to change. Anthony needed to understand how important this was for her at this stage of her life. Maybe she’d get a part-time job to give her a tiny bit of financial independence. One thing she’d definitely do when she got home would be to set out a schedule of time on her own when she could write without interruption. And there was no time like the present for getting stuck in.
Two hours later, she’d added fifteen hundred words to the novel and was feeling stiff. Switching off the laptop, Vicky stood up and stretched. Time to go back to her room for a shower and breakfast, but before she could put the chair back in the summer house, Chelsea and Matilda arrived with coffee and a basket of croissants.
‘Hi,’ Chelsea said. ‘Sorry if we’re interrupting, but we thought we’d have breakfast up here with you. We need to talk to you about something.’
‘I’ve just finished, so no problem,’ Vicky said, accepting the coffee and taking a croissant. ‘Talk away.’
‘We were wondering about buying Amy a thank you present,’ Matilda said. ‘Giving the three of us this holiday was so kind.’
‘Brilliant idea,’ Vicky agreed. ‘Any thoughts as to what we can get her?’
‘Something that lasts longer than simple flowers or chocolate,’ Chelsea said.
‘A plant for the garden? Pierre may be able to suggest something?’ Vicky suggested thoughtfully.
Matilda nodded. ‘I’ll ask him.’
‘A coffee-table book with glossy pictures about the Riviera?’ Chelsea said. ‘We could all sign it then.’
‘Problem is, we don’t have a lot of time to find something, do we?’ Vicky said. ‘There’s only today and tomorrow. When Anthony arrives later, I plan on giving him a quick tour of the village and then taking him to Cannes. I do need to buy a couple of presents for Tom and Suzie, so I could have a look and see if anything inspires for Amy. I’ll get your agreement before I buy anything.’ She glanced at Chelsea and Matilda. ‘Do we need to set a budget?’
