Page 12 of Summer on the French Riviera
A surprised ‘Oh’ passed Harriet’s lips as she looked at him, but before she could say anything, Hugo gave her another smile.
‘Bientôt.’ And he turned to greet a patiently waiting client, leaving a bemused Harriet to look at Jessica, who was grinning at her.
‘I think Hugo likes you. Come on, let’s go for that coffee.’
Harriet followed Jessica out of the door, turning to take a last look at Hugo, who, seeing her turn, smiled and raised a hand in farewell.
Joining Jessica outside, Harriet acknowledged that her heart rate had indeed increased and she felt a little flustered at the thought of being treated to dinner by Hugo.
* * *
Elodie was considering whether to go for a swim early that evening when her mobile buzzed with a text from Gazz.
If you can get here in the next ten minutes we can have that paraglide I promised you!
Elodie tapped,
On my way
And ran downstairs, barely stopping to tell Gabby where she was going.
Gazz and Mickäel were ready and waiting for her when she reached the jetty. ‘Papa is going to pilot the boat for us so that I can join you,’ Gazz explained as he gave her a quick welcome kiss.
Mickaël greeted her with a hug. ‘How are you settling in at Villa de l’Espoir? Philippe, he says everyone is happy to be here.’
‘Philippe is right,’ Elodie answered, laughing. ‘I know I am.’
Gazz handed Elodie a life jacket before putting one on himself. Once they were fastened and checked, they stepped onto the boat and moved to the stern platform. Here they were secured into the double harness, which then had the towing cable attached to the front of it, with the other end of the cable running forward to the winch that would allow them to rise up and eventually be returned to the boat.
Mickaël fired up the engine, untied the mooring rope from the jetty and pushed off before he moved the throttle to ‘ahead’ and the boat began to motor through the water, heading for the open sea. He pushed the throttle lever further forward and they began to gain speed, the parachute behind them filling with air, but not yet pulling hard enough to raise them from the deck. Faster and they began to rise from the platform. Higher and higher they climbed above the sea, the boat pulling away from them as the cable was let out.
‘Wow,’ was all Elodie could say as they were pulled up and through the air. ‘It’s amazing.’ Within minutes, she was gazing at the coastline and Gazz was holding her hand as he pointed out landmarks of interest.
‘The Provençal is easy to see. If you look right from there and follow along, you’ll see the lighthouse on the Cap.’
Mickäel turned the boat so the view below them changed to the island of St Marguerite with its fortress, before slowly altering course and showing them once again the Riviera coastline. Five minutes later, Mickaël slowed the boat and they began to lose height, dropping lower and ever lower until their feet dipped into the sea and soon the water was just below their knees.
‘Papa,’ Gazz said. ‘Enough.’
Mickaël laughed before increasing speed again and winching them back until finally they were once more on the stern platform of the boat.
‘That was amazing,’ Elodie said. ‘I bet your paragliding trips are going to be the hit of the summer. Thank you for taking me up. Can we do it again sometime? I feel the need to do more exciting things in this new wonderful life of mine.’
12
Good Friday morning and Gabby made her way to the brocante, after simply telling Elodie and Harriet she was spending an hour or two with Colette. She’d tell them where they’d been afterwards.
Colette was ready and waiting for her when Gabby arrived and the two of them walked to the nearby florist to collect two bouquets of lilies Gabby had ordered especially for today, before joining the queue for the bus to take them to the cemetery at the top of Antibes.
Gabby knew that Philippe would willingly have driven her on her mission this morning, but this first visit she wanted to go with Colette for one simple but shameful reason. She couldn’t remember the layout of the cemetery or the exact location of the Jacques family grave.
The two of them were silent as they walked slowly through the graveyard. It was Colette who broke the silence as she indicated they needed to take another path.
‘Since I’ve been home, every first of November, Toussaint, I’ve placed pots of cyclamen on both mine and your family grave,’ she told Gabby.
‘That’s so kind of you,’ Gabby said, feeling herself welling up and choking back on a sob.
She remembered Toussaint as being a particularly sad time during those first years in England when she’d missed home so much. Toussaint was always an important family day in the French calendar, when garden centres and florists all over France overflowed with pots of cyclamen or chrysanthemums, and families travelled home from near and far to pay their respects and remember their loved ones.
