Page 51 of A Riviera Retreat
Anthony finished his beer. ‘What you said when you won your holiday, about it being a chance to rediscover the old you that had disappeared under the responsibility of family life, resonated with me. I’d like to find the real me again.’ He looked at her. ‘Has the holiday worked? Have you found the old Vicky?’
‘Let’s say it’s a work in progress,’ Vicky answered. ‘It’s something else we need to talk about. Let’s enjoy the next day or two down here, talk a bit about the future, perhaps throw a few ideas around, but maybe save the serious discussions for when we get home.’
‘Sounds like a plan to me,’ Anthony said. ‘I have to say, I feel like a weight has been lifted now that I’ve talked to you.’
Vicky finished her rosé while Anthony settled the bill and then, by mutual consent, they began to make their way down towards to the open space of Allées de la Liberté. As they walked past the statue of the Englishman, Lord Brougham, credited with discovering Cannes when it was just a small fishing village, Vicky smiled.
‘Look there’s a brocante fair. Come on, let’s have a wander round – we might find a souvenir or two to take home with us.’
Stalls of every description had been set up: paintings, bric-a-brac, artisan handmade wooden toys, silk scarves, jewellery, cards, cartoon portraits, summer hats, a stand with restored shabby-chic furniture. The crowds milling around and spending their money testified to the fair’s popularity. Vicky stopped to browse a book stall selling new and old books in both French and English. A book displayed in the English second-hand section marked ‘Collectable first edition 1922’ caught her attention.
‘Look’, she said to Anthony. ‘I think I might have found the perfect present for Amy.’ The hardback book, with the publisher’s original board slipcase placed alongside, had a coloured frontispiece as well as six coloured plates and was in a remarkably good condition. ‘I wonder how much it is?’ and she glanced across at the stallholder. ‘Le prix, s’il vous plait?’
‘Seventy-five euros. You want?’
Vicky nodded. ‘Please. Merci beaucoup.’ She turned to Anthony. ‘Fancy finding a hardback copy ofThe Enchanted April.’
‘D’you want me to haggle the price down for you?’
‘No, thank you. I think it’s a fair price and split three ways, it’s not a lot. I’m supposed to check with the others before buying anything, but I know they’ll agree with this. It’s just the perfect present for Amy.’
‘A lucky find indeed,’ Anthony said. ‘Shall we make our way to the car and go back to the villa? I quite fancy a swim and a lazy couple of hours in the sun.’
As they walked past the boats on their return journey to the car, Anthony stopped by a wooden ketch sporting a For Sale notice before turning to Vicky.
‘Here’s an idea. How about buying a boat and sailing away for a year and a day like the owl and the pussycat?’
Vicky laughed. ‘You’re not serious?’
‘Sort of. You know I’ve always loved the idea of having a boat. Obviously, I couldn’t take a whole year out, but I do like the thought of a long holiday away from everything when I’m finally free. What d’you think?’
‘I think it’s one of those ideas we talk about when we get home,’ Vicky said.
Anthony was still acting as though he was the only one needing to make plans. The fact that she still hadn’t told him about her needs and ideas for the future was her own fault. She’d brushed away his one question about finding her old self. But at least they’d agreed to have a serious discussion about what would happen next when they’d returned home and before he handed his resignation in. What his reaction would be to her vision of the future, though, was anyone’s guess. And could she really wait until they were back home before she told him about her own dreams for the future?
22
After Simon had brought his overnight bag in from the car, Amy showed him to the Ernest Hemingway room, leaving the smaller Henri Matisse room for Josh when he arrived tomorrow.
‘I hope you’ll be comfortable in here,’ she said, feeling strangely apprehensive in case he didn’t like the room, which was silly. Aunt Tasha had set up Belle Vue with the best of everything, and while it wasn’t ultra luxurious like a five star grand hotel, everything was of a high standard. All her guests so far had adored the rooms, there was no reason to think Simon would be the exception.
‘It looks extremely comfortable,’ Simon said. ‘I love the fact you’ve given the rooms names rather than numbers.’
‘When I inherited it from my Aunt Tasha, the villa was already a well-established auberge and I knew I was taking a slight risk changing from that business plan to start a retreat. As I was hoping to attract writers, artists and other creative people, I thought naming the rooms after well-known south of France characters and putting a book either written by them or about them in each room would be fun.’
Simon glanced towards the book on the bedside table. ‘Please tell me the one for this room isn’tFor Whom the Bell Tolls?’
‘No, it’sA Moveable Feast,’ Amy said, laughing. ‘I’ll leave you to settle in. I need to find Matilda and see if she has any plans for today as everyone seems to be doing their own thing. I’d hate for her to feel left out.’
‘Invite her to lunch with us, if she’s at a loose end,’ Simon said.
‘Thanks. I’ll see what she says.’
Amy found Matilda sitting on the terrace outside her room, tapping away on her iPad. ‘You look busy. I was wondering whether you had any plans for today?’ Amy said, sitting on the spare chair alongside her. ‘Vicky and Anthony have gone into Cannes, Simon has invited me to join him and Chelsea for lunch and you’re more than welcome to join us too.’
Matilda looked at her puzzled. ‘Who’s Simon?’
‘Sorry, I forgot you don’t know about him – he’s Chelsea’s dad. Came in that big car this morning. I’ve offered him a room here, which he’s accepted, so he’ll be here for your last two evenings. He’s a nice man – easy to get along with.’
