Page 5 of Summer on the French Riviera
Standing there, staring unseeingly into the shop window, Harriet swallowed hard. Todd was dead. She was back in Europe living with her mother and daughter, how she lived now, whether she painted again or not, was up to her. The few quick sketches she’d been inspired to attempt at Christmas had ignited a small flame of latent creativity in her that she was determined to fan, to see if her passion for art was still as strong as ever it had been, despite its neglect over the last twenty years. Yes, she’d definitely be back to buy some art supplies from this gallery, but now she needed to find a DIY store.
The hardware store she found a few moments later a street away had a sign displayed over the top of the door proclaiming it had opened back in the 1950s. A bell tinkled overhead as Harriet opened the door and stepped inside. The shop, with its original dark wood fittings still in place and a counter behind which two men stood poised to serve customers, could have been a film set from the mid-twentieth century, it was all so old-fashioned.
Harriet looked around her, wondering where the paint was hidden, when she realised it was definitely customer service all the way. No stumbling around finding things for yourself in this store. Standing patiently waiting to be served, she saw a cork board with a miscellaneous collection of business cards and other notices pinned to it. Various tradesmen offering their services – decorators, electricians, plumbers. Other cards offered IT help, cleaners for holiday rentals, kittens looking for homes and in the top right-hand corner a picture of a dog with ‘Très Urgent’ written across it. Helpfully, the writing below was in both French and English. ‘Lulu, a Tibetan terrier, two years old seeks a new home.’ Quickly Harriet took a photograph of the details with its telephone number.
‘Bonjour, madame.’ One of the men behind the counter was looking at her expectantly.
‘Bonjour,’ Harriet said. Realising she was going to struggle with her French, she decided to go the simplest route with the minimum amount of words she could. ‘Peinture blanche s'il vous plait.’
Ten minutes later, Harriet left clutching two tins of white paint, two brushes and a bottle of white spirit. The appearance of the brushes and the white spirit, both placed alongside the paint tin with a questioning smile, had been a relief as Harriet knew she needed them but was struggling to remember the French words. Walking home, Harriet resolved to make an effort and do something about improving her French. Gabby, she knew, would willingly help her with that.
6
Gabby was emptying a box of books and placing them on the shelves in the sitting room when the gate buzzer sounded and Philippe’s voice came over the intercom.
‘Gabriella, are you there?’
Her heart lifted and she hurried to press the door panel by the side of the front door in the hallway to open the electric side gate. ‘Philippe. Come on in.’
She opened the front door and stood on the top of the steps to greet him.
‘I wasn’t expecting you so early – it’s so lovely to see you.’ That feeling of tenderness mixed with happiness that had flooded through her yesterday as he’d hugged her to him at the airport swept through her again. She was so lucky to have this wonderful man in her life.
‘And me you,ma cherie,’ Philippe said, placing gentle greeting kisses on her cheeks, before holding out the bunch of flowers – a mix of daisies, poppies and white rose buds – he was carrying, towards her. ‘I hope you have a vase?’
‘These are so beautiful. Thank you,’
‘I am so happy you are here, the months have gone so slowly since you left. I wish my time away wishing you were here. I forbid you to leave again,’ Philippe said. ‘Unless you take me with you.’
Gabby smiled and shook her head at him. ‘I’m not going anywhere now I’m finally back. I think there should be a vase in the kitchen somewhere. Would you like a coffee?’
‘Please, and then you put me to work. I help you sort things? Where are the others?’
‘Elodie has gone to the brocante to see if they have some kitchen furniture we need to buy and also to take some photographs for a feature she’s written. Harriet has gone to buy paint for the kitchen.’
‘How are things with you all?’ Philippe asked, concern in his voice.
Gabby had told Philippe when they met how she had brought Elodie up when Harriet took off to Australia all those years ago, and how she hoped things would work out for them all, living once again ‘en famille.’
‘The air is a little tense, shall we say? It’s going to take some time for us all to adjust to living together, but I’m sure we will adjust,’ Gabby said with determination in her voice. ‘Let’s take our coffees out to the terrace.’
Sitting there, listening to the rasping noise of the cigales in the oak and pine trees that edged the garden on three sides, Gabby sighed as she gazed at the green water in the pool.
‘Not very inviting looking, is it? I must find a pool man to come and sort it out. Elodie is longing to swim.’
‘I give you the name of a good man,’ Philippe said. ‘Joel. He is a gardener also if you need help.’
‘Thank you. I love gardening and I’m really looking forward to getting this one back in shape. I remember the roses my maman had everywhere, the blue of the plumbago bushes and the cherry tree that stood over there,’ Gabby said, pointing to the right of the pool. ‘Sadly, the cherry tree seems to have disappeared totally, but the olive tree in the front is thriving.’
Philippe took her hand as he gently asked, ‘How are you feeling living back in a villa that has bad memories for you? It is difficult,non?’
Gabby shook her head. ‘Surprisingly, it’s fine. The memories are all around, yes, but time seems to have diluted them somewhat. They no longer hold me in their thrall. I seem to be able to regard them stoically and accept they are part of what shaped me and my life. The three of us being here is a new start for all of us.’ She gave Philippe a pensive look. How could she possibly explain that her thoughts these days were such a jumble of complex memories from a long ago life – childhood, her maman, Colette, her best friend, her first job, her papa’s anger with her. These were all now mixed in with the events of the last six months that had changed everything and brought her back to France.
‘You are happy to be back then?’ Philipps said.
‘Oh yes,’ Gabby answered with a happy smile. ‘It feels right for the three of us to be here together.’ She hugged the thought to herself,And one of the best things about being here is I have you in my life.
‘Good.’ Philippe stood up. ‘Come on. I’m here to help. What would you like me to do?’
