Page 21 of Summer on the French Riviera
Downstairs, the villa door banged. Elodie opened her bedroom door.
‘Gabby?’
‘Yes, we’re back.’
Elodie, running downstairs hoping the ‘we’ meant Philippe and not Harriet, breathed a sigh of relief when she saw him. ‘I’ve been offered a weekly lifestyle column contract by a national paper for their Sunday magazine – can you believe it? They want to entitle it, “English Girl Abroad”.’
‘Brilliant news,’ Gabby said. ‘Well done. And my news is, I’ve bought a stove which is brilliant too. Being delivered next week. The kitchen will finally be fully functional.’
‘I’m going to run down to the beach and tell Gazz,’ Elodie said. Taking her denim jacket off the hook in the hall, she turned to Gabby. ‘I should probably warn you, I upset Harriet with a couple of questions and she went off in a strop. It might be an idea to stay out of her way when she gets back if I were you. See you later.’
Gabby sighed as the villa door closed behind Elodie. ‘Not sure what I’m going to do with those two. Bang their heads together?’
‘You have to wait and to have the faith,’ Philippe said. ‘Time will sort things.’
Gabby was relieved when Harriet did arrive home that she’d got over her strop, as Elodie had described it. In fact, she seemed positively happy, even if she did disappear up to her room almost straight away.
Gabby and Philippe were both in the pool when Harriet reappeared clutching her old easel which had spent the last twenty years in the loft of the Dartmouth house and which Gabby had insisted that ‘Yes, of course it’s coming to France’ when they moved and had been in the corner of Harriet’s bedroom gathering dust ever since they’d arrived.
‘All right with you if I set my easel up in the corner of the veranda? The light is good there and it’s under cover to give me a bit of shade,’ Harriet called out to Gabby. ‘I’m going to buy some supplies tomorrow at the gallery.’
‘Place the easel wherever you like,’ Gabby answered. She turned to Philippe and added sotto voce, ‘Finally. I was so afraid that she would never paint again. It would have been such a waste.’
* * *
Later that same evening, after Philippe had left and Elodie was still out somewhere with Gazz, Harriet poured herself and Gabby a nightcap of a glass of rosé and they sat out on the terrace companionably watching the rising moon. Harriet sniffed appreciatively, deeply inhaling the perfume of the night scented jasmine growing in the side hedge.
Gabby glanced across at Harriet and paused before speaking. ‘I’m sorry Elodie upset you with her questions today. Want to talk about it?’
Harriet hesitated. Did she want to talk to Gabby about it? Maybe ask her advice? Or would talking about it only serve to increase her worries? On the other hand, maybe talking with Gabby would help clear her thoughts.
‘She’s fixated on her right to know about her father,’ Harriet said slowly. ‘And today she accused me of not knowing who he was. Which I found unexpectedly hurtful.’ Harriet closed her eyes and sighed. ‘I’ve promised I will talk to her soon and she insists she’s not going to start searching for him, but what if she changes her mind once she knows his name? And if she succeeds in finding him, what happens then? Is he going to want to play happy families?’
‘He might not want to meet her at all after all these years. Did…’ Gabby hesitated. ‘Did you ever tell him about Elodie?’
‘No,’ Harriet shook her head. ‘I decided he was better off not knowing. I’ve never told anyone else who Elodie’s father is either. I know you were upset that I didn’t tell you, but I got it into my head that not telling anyone was the best way to cope. If no-one knew no-one could put any pressure on me or inadvertently on him by letting details slip,’ Harriet shrugged. ‘And it’s worked for twenty-four years.’
Harriet picked up her glass and took a drink before replacing the glass on the table and glancing at her mother.
‘There’s something else worrying me too. You remember the letter and photograph that you thought was from Lizzie? Well, it wasn’t from her.’ Harriet took a deep breath. ‘It was from an old friend who was at the wedding and they would like to get back in touch with me.’
Gabby gave a thoughtful nod. ‘Is it someone you knew well?’
Harriet gave a half shrug. She wasn’t ready yet to say Jack’s name out loud to anyone.
‘It’s good to have old friends in one’s life as well as new ones,’ Gabby said.
‘Yes. But that doesn’t mean I want to rekindle this particular friendship. Or that I want them back in my life. Living in France is a completely new beginning for me. I’d hoped the past would stay that way – in the past. Oh, why does life have to be so complicated.’
Gabby sipped her drink, sensing that Harriet was not telling her everything and wondering how to answer. She knew now was not the time to quote the old saying, ‘What a tangled web we weave, when first we practise to deceive.’ Instead, she opted for the more tactful, ‘Try not to worry too much, it will all come out in the wash, as my mother used to say. Life has a way of sorting things out.’
Whether or not it would be sorted the way Harriet wanted, only time would tell.
19
Hugo gave Harriet a curious glance as she arrived for work at the gallery the next day.
‘Are you all right? There’s something different about you today,’ he said, giving her his now customary cheek kisses in greeting.
