Page 51 of Rendez-Vous in Cannes
The caterers had the barbecue, a few hundred yards along the beach, well under control as everybody arrived and people were soon tucking into the tuna steaks, lamb seasoned with herbs de Provence and pork chops that were on offer.
Across on the mainland, lights were beginning to shine as twilight drew in.
‘Time to go and find the cottage, while everyone is busy eating,’ Leo said. ‘Don’t want to be stumbling around in the dark. Do you remember where it is or do we need to ask Bernard the way?’
‘We need to find the lane that goes around the island and it’s one of the few houses along there that has a boathouse,’ Anna answered. The location of the cottage had been embedded in her mind ever since that magical evening she’d spent there with Philippe.
The gate to the cottage, when they found it ten minutes later, opened easily and together they walked down the path towards the front door. Leo waited as Anna pushed the key into the lock and turned it before he put his hand on her arm and stopped her.
‘I think I’ll go and take a look in the boathouse. Have a look at your boat, if that’s all right with you? Give you five minutes on your own with your memories. Love you,’ and Leo kissed her cheek gently, before leaving her to push the door open and enter the cottage.
Inside, Anna pressed a light switch and ceiling spotlights threw a seductive golden ambience over the hall and the sitting room it opened onto. The room, with its Provençal colour scheme and traditional furniture, felt warm and inviting. Original paintings lined the wall. Silver-framed photographs stood on the piano in the corner. An Oscar stood on the mantelpiece.
Anna could almost sense Philippe’s physical presence in this room: standing in front of the French doors, watching the yachts out in the bay; playing the piano for his friends; pulling a log from the basket standing at the side of the granite fireplace and throwing it on the fire; turning to smile at her before pouring a glass of wine from the table in the corner; sitting on the comfy sofa reading to a child.
Stairs from the hallway led both up and down. Trying to rid herself of images of Philippe in the sitting room, Anna went upstairs. Three bedrooms, a modern bathroom. A small box room, its walls decorated with faded nursery characters, empty, save for the old-fashioned wooden cradle in the corner.
Stifling a sob, Anna turned and closed the door, before running back downstairs to the hallway and on down again to the kitchen that occupied the entire ground floor of the cottage.
Taking a glass from the dresser, Anna filled it with tap water and sipped it slowly, trying to regain her composure. The house was beautiful, Philippe had done a brilliant job in restoring it, but could she ever live in it – even for brief holidays – with Leo? Wouldn’t the memory of Philippe and what might have been, infiltrate everything they did together?
Footsteps sounded upstairs in the hallway. Would Leo like the cottage?
‘I’m down in the kitchen. Just coming up,’ she called in response to the muffled ‘Coo-ee’ from upstairs.
Anna rinsed the glass and replaced it on the dresser.
‘Did you like the boat?’ Anna asked as she climbed the stairs to the hallway. ‘What sort of boat is it? Oh!’
For a moment she thought she was hallucinating as she looked at the man standing in front of her. A stranger, yet achingly familiar in so many ways.
‘I’m sorry to intrude, but I saw the lights were on and I couldn’t resist asking if I might have a look around?’
Speechless, Anna gestured towards the sitting room and the man smiled his thanks as he held his hand out.
‘I guess I should introduce myself, I’m—’
‘You’re Teddy Wickham,’ Anna said. ‘I recognise you from… from the TV coverage of the festival,’ she added wildly. ‘Why do you want to look around?’
‘It’s just that… that I was a great fan of Philippe Cambone’s work and wanted to pay my respects. Are you his caretaker?’
‘Sort of,’ Anna said, realising that he was being as economical with the truth as she was.
Suddenly Leo’s advice that getting the truth out into the open was the only way to go came into her mind. Lying at this first meeting with Teddy Wickham was the wrong thing to do. Before she could say anything, Teddy spoke again.
‘It’s a lovely place. Sensational views. It would make a wonderful family home,’ he said, strolling towards the window. ‘Do you know what will happen to it now that Philippe is dead?’
Anna shook her head. ‘The details still have to be sorted out.’ That at least wasn’t a lie. ‘Would you like to see upstairs?’
‘Please.’
Her heart thudding in her chest, Anna led the way upstairs.
‘This is the largest of the bedrooms, so I suppose you’d call it the master bedroom,’ she said. ‘The last time I saw it, it definitely didn’t look like this. There was only…’ she stopped, realising she had been about to say that the only furniture the room contained years ago had been a double bed. Too much information too soon. Ignoring Teddy’s puzzled look, she opened the door of the box room. ‘This appears to be the only room Philippe hasn’t redecorated,’ she said. ‘Maybe it was next on the list.’
‘Hey, I love these old nursery characters,’ Teddy answered, peering at the faded pictures on the wall. ‘Looks like a Winnie-the-Pooh theme. As for this cot, it’s beautiful.’ He fell silent as he carefully pushed the curved rail and it began to gently rock on its runners.
Anna, watching him, felt the huge lump in her throat and swallowed hard. She knew she was standing within three feet of the man who, as a baby, should have occupied that cradle, of that there was no doubt in her mind. If ever there was a time to speak out it had to be now, surely?
