Page 11 of Summer on the French Riviera
‘They need some cushions now,’ Gabby said, ‘I think I need a visit to the Carrefour hypermarket outside Nice. I’ll ask Philippe if he can take me one afternoon.’
Elodie and Harriet became used to Philippe’s presence in the villa. He and Gabby spent most days together, they often walked Lulu in the nearby woods in the afternoons and he was almost their resident ‘little man’ who could change light bulbs, hang pictures, put up shelves, and they were already very fond of him.
Saturday morning and the three of them were sitting out on the terrace drinking a mid-morning cup of coffee when they heard the sound of a van briefly stopping before driving away.
‘La Poste,’ Elodie said, jumping up to go and fetch it. Opening the postbox fixed to the electric gate pillar and taking out a large white A4 envelope addressed in her own handwriting, she smiled. The bundle of forwarded mail from Dartmouth. She took it out to the terrace. ‘Look we have our first forwarded post from the UK.’ She opened the envelope and half a dozen or so smaller envelopes fell out onto the terrace table. She quickly sorted them out. Five ‘good luck in your new home’ cards for Gabby, three similar cards for herself and a large square shaped white envelope for Harriet.
Harriet sighed. She knew exactly what it was almost before she withdrew the stiff card embossed with gold lettering out of its envelope. Secretly she’d been hoping that Lizzie would forget.
‘That’s looks interesting,’ Gabby said.
‘It’s an invitation to Lizzie’s daughter’s wedding,’ Harriet said. ‘She said she’d send me one. Not that I’m going of course.’
‘Why not?’ Gabby said. ‘You’d be sure to meet up with lots of old friends. Nice to Bristol is a short flight.’
Harriet shrugged. Meeting up with old friends was the problem. ‘I’ve been away too long. I’m not likely to have anything in common with any of them now. We’ll all have changed.’
Gabby gave her a thoughtful look but didn’t say anything as Harriet stood up, collecting the coffee cups together, intent on escaping the conversation.
* * *
Later that morning, Harriet sat at the table on the terrace to write a quick RSVP to the wedding invitation. She hesitated after she’d written the date. Was it rude not to put her address at the top? Manners surely dictated she should? It was something she was reluctant to put in case Lizzie gave it to other people, so-called old friends. In the end, she wrote Antibes Juan-les-Pins, France in the top right-hand corner. In a town of sixty-four thousand people, even if Lizzie were to leap on a plane to seek her out, it was unlikely she’d find her without a lot of effort.
Harriet thanked Lizzie for the invite and apologised for being unable to accept as she had moved away and was now living in France. She wrote a line or two wishing Kelly and Nathan every happiness in the future before signing the letter and popping it into an envelope and addressing it. She’d post it on her way into town to meet up with Jessica.
She dressed carefully before setting off with Lulu. The plan today was for Jessica to finally introduce her to Hugo and his art gallery and she wanted to make the right impression. She didn’t want him thinking she was some pathetic middle-aged woman with a grandiose opinion of her talent. But she didn’t want to go too far the other way either and present herself as a humble artist grateful for the attention. Not that she could call herself an artist these days. It was literally years since she’d put brush to canvas.
In the end, she settled for her most comfortable jeans, teamed with a short-sleeved Breton top and her new Converse trainers. Her hair, crying out for a cut, she simply screwed into a bun secured with a clip. Oversized Mulberry square-framed sunglasses completed the look and she was ready.
Lulu trotted happily alongside her as she walked through town. Tomorrow would see the start of the long Easter weekend which was late this year, nearly at the end of April, and shop windows were full of chocolates, Easter bunnies and fluffy yellow chicks. The chocolatier’s window was especially tempting. On her way home after meeting Hugo, perhaps she’d stop and do something she hadn’t done for so long: buy Easter eggs for her mother and daughter.
Jessica was waiting for her outside the art gallery and after fussing and patting Lulu and declaring her to be a really beautiful dog, she led the way inside.
Hugo was a surprise. Harriet had been expecting him to be either a bohemian type or a successful suit-clad businessman. He was sort of in between, she decided, as he walked towards them. Tall, with a shaved head and wearing tailored navy shorts, a white shirt and bare feet, he looked more like a member of the crew from one of the expensive yachts moored in the marina. No, not crew. Skipper. This man had an air about him that commanded not just attention but respect.
Hugo shook her hand firmly. ‘At last, Jessica has kept her promise to introduce us,’ he said, giving Harriet a smile that lightened his face and years ago would have made her heart race. ‘She insists that I need to sign you up to the gallery before I miss out on the opportunity of the decade.’
‘As you are friends, you must know how she exaggerates,’ Harriet said, shaking her head at Jessica. ‘I haven’t painted properly in years. I have nothing to show you yet.’
‘Yet?’ Hugo repeated the word with hope. ‘To me that signifies you will have soon.’
‘Maybe, but you already have several seriously good artists here,’ Harriet gestured around. ‘I love this one,’ and she moved across to stand in front of a still life oil painting. It was labelled ‘Communication. Freya Jackman’.
‘Freya’s married to my best friend, Marcus. I’ll introduce you. You’ll like her. It always helps to have a friend on the same wavelength to talk shop with.’
‘Thank you.’ Harriet hadn’t talked shop about painting with anyone for so long, she wasn’t sure she’d remember how or be able to.
‘I’d love to take you both out for lunch,’ Hugo said. ‘But sadly I have no staff today. Nobody seems to want to work these days. I don’t suppose you have any more friends who would like a permanent part-time job?’ he asked, looking at Jessica, who shook her head.
‘Sorry, no.’
‘I don’t want a part-time job, but I could be your emergency staff member,’ Harriet said quietly, surprising even herself with her words. ‘If that would help. My French is not brilliant, but using it can only improve it. We’re more or less straight now in Villa de l’Espoir,’ she shrugged. ‘Even if I get back into a painting routine – okay, when I do,’ she added quickly, seeing the look on Jessica and Hugo’s faces, ‘half an hour’s notice and I can be here. I might have to bring the dog, but she’s no problem.’
‘If you’re serious, give me your number and I’ll definitely give you a call the next time I have a staff emergency. Thanks,’ and Hugo tapped her number into his phone. ‘I’ll be in touch soon.’
‘You’re expecting an emergency?’ Harriet said.
Hugo smiled. ‘I’m sure there will be an emergency fairly soon, but before that happens I want to take you out for dinner.’
