Page 48 of A Riviera Retreat
After leaving Vicky in the summer house, Matilda wandered down through the garden. Yesterday’s euphoria over buying the villa had dulled somewhat and Matilda was back to worrying about the consequences of her impulsive decision.
There was no doubt that she loved everything about the villa and could see herself living there, but the thought of organising everything and moving on her own was daunting. And Josh – what was he going to say about her moving? Would he be around to help her with things when the time came? She needed to tell him what she was planning. If she’d thought about it yesterday, she could have taken some pictures on her phone, but she’d been so excited at the thought of actually buying the villa that taking photographs had completely slipped her mind. Perhaps she’d take a walk over there this afternoon. The villa had seemed quite close when Pierre drove her there, just the other side of the village. No more than a ten minute walk. Her ankle was so much stronger; she hadn’t felt any painful twinges when she stood and walked on it for days now. She could at least take a few pictures of the outside and the garden and then she’d text Josh, telling him her big news and attach a picture or two.
Walking past a rose tree covered with beautiful white blooms, Matilda stopped to smell the perfume. Standing there, eyes closed, holding one of the large creamy white flowers close to her nose, she inhaled the sweet smell. William had always adored white roses and this one was a particularly beautiful specimen. She’d definitely take Pierre up on his earlier offer and ask him for a cutting of this rose for her new garden. It would take time to establish, but a tree by the terrace at the back of the villa would allow the perfume to drift into the house when the doors and windows were open.
‘Bonjour, Matilda. That is my favourite English rose,’ Pierre said. ‘It does well down here.’
Matilda opened her eyes, startled. She hadn’t heard him approaching.
‘It’s beautiful,’ Matilda said. ‘I was going to ask you about a cutting for my new garden?’
Pierre shook his head. ‘No need. There is one already in your garden. I planted it for my cousin.’
Matilda smiled at him. ‘Another sign I’m doing the right thing.’
Pierre looked at her, puzzled.
‘The rainbow yesterday and now white roses in the garden. They were William’s favourite flower,’ she said. ‘He called them the flower of light.’ Matilda hesitated. ‘My bouquet when we married had a dozen white roses to symbolise everlasting love.’
‘How long have you been a widow?’ Pierre asked gently.
‘Two years this November,’ Matilda said. ‘As impossible as that is for me to believe.’
‘I remember time stood still for me for months when my wife died. I turned around one day and nine months had disappeared. I have no true recollection of that time,’ Pierre said quietly.
‘I understand completely. You were existing on autopilot.’
‘Exactement. Ma fille – she was twelve at the time. It was when I forgot her next birthday that I realised I had to pull myself together for her sake. Looking back, it was harder for her than me, I think,’ Pierre acknowledged. ‘No mother and a father who was only half alive for a long time.’
‘It must have been hard for both of you, your wife dying so young,’ Matilda said. ‘How long were you married?’
‘Thirteen years. Vous?’
‘Last year would have been our thirtieth wedding anniversary.’ Matilda hesitated. ‘I knew William though, for a few years before we married. He rescued me from… from the biggest mistake of my life.’ Matilda was quiet for several seconds. ‘I owe him so much.’
‘I think you and your husband ’ave a good and ’appy marriage?’
Matilda nodded. ‘Yes. We did. That’s what makes it so hard to live without him.’
‘But you have your son and I have my daughter who give us both the reasons to live. And my daughter, she make me a grandpapa soon.’
‘How wonderful,’ Matilda said. ‘I’m hoping Josh will meet someone too, and have a family in the future.’
‘Have you told him about the villa?’
Matilda shook her head. ‘Not yet. I was thinking about walking down there and taking some photos so he can at least see the outside and the garden.’
‘I take you when I finish work this afternoon. Afterwards, maybe you join me for aperitifs before I bring you back in time for dinner?’
‘Thank you. I’d really like that.’
‘A tout la heure,’ and Pierre strolled away down the path towards his gardening shed. Watching him go, Matilda found herself smiling for no particular reason other than she felt happier than she had in a long time.
21
Vicky put the chairs back in the summer house after Chelsea and Matilda left, before picking up her laptop and taking a last lingering look around and closing the door. After Anthony arrived, she doubted that she’d get the opportunity to escape up here again to write. Maybe she’d get up early and sneak away for an hour or so tomorrow morning before Anthony woke.
Back in her room, she ran a deep bath – oh, the luxury – and sank into it with a sigh. She didn’t think she’d ever forget the delight of discovering such a luxurious bathroom that first day. This had been such a great holiday, sad to think it was almost over. That she’d be back in the same old routine this time next week unless she managed to convince Anthony otherwise.
