Page 17 of A French Adventure
‘Thank goodness we’ve moved on from that outmoded attitude,’ Olivia said.
‘We haven’t totally. It’s still out there alive and kicking.’ Maxine shrugged when Olivia glanced at her in the rear-view mirror and Vivienne turned to look at her questioningly. ‘It might be a different world where we have more rights and freedom, but not all men have changed. Equality still has a way to go in some cultures.’ And Maxine turned her head to look out at the moon shining down on a darkened sea.
The journey along the coast road was relatively free of traffic and within ten minutes they were on the outskirts of Antibes.
‘No need to drive me to my door, the corner of the street will be fine,’ Maxine said as Olivia drove towards Maxine’s cottage. ‘Merci for this evening and see you both on Saturday.’
‘We’ll wait until you are indoors,’ Olivia said.
Vivienne and Olivia watched as Maxine walked to her door and waved as she disappeared inside, before Olivia drove away.
Once indoors, Maxine checked her phone to find a message from Thierry. She gave a happy sigh as she read.
Arriving Friday evening. Okay to stay with you?
Ever since Thierry had accepted the invitation, she’d worried that he wouldn’t make it, that something would crop up, preventing him from leaving Singapore. The fact that he would definitely be here for the garden party filled her with delight. He was the one person she needed to be there; this first party without Pierre would be easier with Thierry by her side.
Maxine quickly typed her reply.
Where else would you dare stay! See you then.
12
Saturday morning and Maxine was pottering around the garden having fed the fish, waiting for Thierry to return from the boulangerie with baguettes and breakfast croissants. As promised, he’d arrived late last evening and the two of them had sat companionably at the table on the terrace under the light of the moon, drinking a glass of the very good red wine that Thierry had brought and making final plans for the party.
As they’d talked, Maxine had told him how she’d very nearly decided not to bother with the party this year. ‘I’m so pleased you decided to come for it. It will be different and hard without Pierre, but having you here will make it so much easier.’
‘Everyone adores your parties,’ Thierry had said. ‘Peut-êtreyou worry too much. Everybody who comes will be an old friend who is happy to see you getting back on the horse, so to speak.’
Maxine had laughed. ‘I have a new friend coming too, Vivienne, she is a writer, and is staying in Olivia’s top apartment to write her next book.’ She’d taken a sip of wine and changed the subject then. ‘Enough about me for now – what is happening in your life?’
There was a pause before Thierry had said quietly, ‘I am back in France for good.’
‘What, forever?’ She had tried hard to keep the surprise out of her voice but knew she’d failed.
‘Definitely for the immediate future.’
‘What’s happened?’ Maxine had asked.
Thierry had shrugged. ‘Too soon to talk about it, but I will tell you – only not this evening.’ And he’d deftly changed the subject back to asking how she truly was. She’d smiled, shrugged and made light of her feelings, telling him keeping busy was helping. He clearly had some problems in his own life. He didn’t need to know about the nightmares his stepmother still suffered on a regular basis. Thierry was her stepson, not her counsellor. Maxine had been relieved to hear the town hall clock striking midnight which had been the signal to send them indoors and to bed. She would, she decided, control her feelings and make a determined effort not to burden Thierry with her sad thoughts this weekend – or ever, in fact. Instead, she would try to get him to open up to her about his own problem and see if she could help him.
‘J’arrive,’ Thierry called and Maxine began to walk back up through the garden.
Five minutes later, they were both sitting at the terrace table, coffee and croissants in front of them.
Maxine glanced at him. ‘I have a question. If you are in no hurry to return to Paris, will you stay with me longer?’
‘If I may,’ Thierry said.
‘Now you make me cross,’ Maxine said. ‘You are my family and family is welcome any time. There is no need to ask.’
‘Merci,’ Thierry said, pushing his chair back and standing up. ‘Désolé. I forget. I have some post for you from the Paris apartment. I’ll go and fetch it.’
Maxine sipped her coffee thoughtfully, wondering what had happened to bring Thierry back to France from his high-powered investment job in Singapore. Pierre had been worried about him in the months before he died, telling her that he suspected Thierry was not happy in his chosen career, and had tried to get him to talk about it, unsuccessfully. He’d even suggested that he did something different, but Thierry had insisted all was well.
Thierry returned at that moment with the post and Maxine flicked through it after he’d handed her three envelopes. Two white and small, the third one white and A5 size. She’d stopped the redirection of mail at La Poste after six months, figuring that she’d informed all the authorities and all the contacts in her diary and that Thierry would let her have any stray missives like these. The two small letters, she could see, were end-of-year subscription renewals to magazines she’d decided to cancel, but the third official-looking white one gave her an unexpected shiver.
Thierry looked at her. ‘You okay?’
