Page 18 of A French Adventure
Maxine forced herself to give him a bright smile. ‘Oui. Fine. I’ll open them all later when I have more time to read them. We’ve got a busy day getting the garden ready for the party.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll just take these upstairs and then we make a start,d’accord?’
‘Ready when you are.’ Thierry gave her an anxious look as she went into the house, before he started to clear the breakfast things away.
Up in her bedroom, Maxine threw the two smaller envelopes on the dressing table and stood looking at the third one. What was it about this envelope that had caused her to shiver uneasily? A typed address label, no handwriting to give her a clue, the date on the postmarked English stamp was smudged – how long had the letter taken to reach its Parisian destination,and how long had it sat there? It felt quite padded as she fingered it thoughtfully. More than a single letter inside. Maxine turned the envelope over and her heart skipped a beat as she recognised the name of the legal firm she’d had dealings with over thirty years ago stamped on the back.
She took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and resolutely placed the letter with the other two on her dressing table. Today was on track to be a fun day, if a difficult one, and she didn’t want any more trauma hovering around her to spoil things. Opening the letter would be like opening a can of worms. She knew that Thierry, like his father Pierre had been, was intuitive and, if she wasn’t careful, would pick up on the fact that something had happened. She’d open the letter after the party – maybe this evening when she came to bed, or tomorrow morning.
Vivienne was in the kitchen Saturday morning, drinking her second cup of coffee and planning her day. Despite losing writing time over the past week by having lunch and clothes shopping in Valbonne with Maxine, as well as going to Cannes for cinema on the beach, she’d managed to snatch a few hours in the evenings and up her word count. This morning, she’d decided to walk into Antibes for a mooch around, treat herself to a new lipstick and possibly a new tube of foundation from the beauty shop she’d seen in one of the main streets. Tonight, she planned on having a leisurely bath before getting ready for the party, so buying a bottle of her favourite bubble bath was also on the list. She’d have lunch up on the terrace and then an afternoon of writing before getting ready for the party.
Sipping her coffee, Vivienne thought about the party. It would be the first time in years that she had gone out socialising by herself on a Saturday night and the nerves were already starting to kick in. Was it too late to cancel? Or just fail to turn up? Always more of an introvert than an extrovert, she never felt at her best meeting new people. The female guests tonight were sure to be like Maxine, trés chic in a typical French way, they’d all know each other and she’d be the object of curiosity. Maxine, though, was lovely, so hopefully her friends would be too – although Olivia’s mother did sound difficult.
An unexpected knock on the apartment door brought her out of her reverie. Expecting to see Olivia when she opened it, Vivienne stared in surprise at a young woman standing there.
‘Bonjour,’ Vivienne said.
‘Bonjour. Je suis Sarah, la femme de menage.’
‘Oh.’ Vivienne had completely forgotten about Maxine telling her the cleaner would arrive on Saturday mornings. Because she’d arrived midweek, she’d said it wasn’t worth the cleaner coming when she’d only been there for two and a half days. Today was the first time. ‘Entrez.’
While Sarah set about the sitting room, Vivienne went into the bedroom to make sure drawers were closed and clothes were hanging in the wardrobe rather than simply thrown onto the chair. Picking up her bag and phone, she returned to the sitting room to tell Sarah she was leaving her to it.
‘Au revoir,’ she said, smiling her goodbye as she let herself out of the apartment.
Strolling along the coast road and onto the ramparts as she made her way towards Antibes old town, Vivienne thought about the past ten days. So different to the way she’d been expecting to spend her time – much nicer in fact. Although, having said that, Jeremy’s unexpected bombshell at the airport had left her reeling, her happy preconceptions of the weeks tocome shattered, engulfing her in gloom and despondency. Now, standing looking down over the rocks towards the curve of Plage de la Gravette to the left, Vivienne realised how good the past week had been. And that was down to Maxine in particular but also Olivia. The two of them had offered her unconditional friendship despite her initial behaviour towards them.
Vivienne watched as sun worshippers down on the beach spread out their towels and set up windbreaks for privacy rather than to keep the gentle breeze coming off the Mediterranean at bay. With the day already heating up, the on-shore breeze would be more than welcome by mid-morning. Vivienne followed the progress of a two-masted yacht for a few moments as it sailed slowly across the bay in the direction of Nice or perhaps Monaco, while further out at sea a giant cruise ship was moving in a westerly direction. Closer inland, there were smaller boats – dinghies and canoes – enjoying the calm sea conditions.
A tour group of Japanese tourists, led by a tall man holding a large sunshine-yellow umbrella high above his head, began to jostle their way past Vivienne en route to the Grimaldi museum. Conscious she was in the way, Vivienne turned and began to walk down the incline towards the bottom of the market.
The market was crowded and she quickly made for a small street that she hoped would lead her in the general direction of the beauty shop she wanted. Passing a women’s hairdresser, Vivienne paused and read the notice in the window. ‘Rendez-vous are not always necessary’. She peered through the window. There were a couple of clients in chairs with hair being blow-dried or cut. Other chairs were empty. Staff not working with clients were busy at the reception desk checking through some paperwork. The whole place looked very professional.
Almost before she realised what she was doing, she’d walked inside, and after a brief conversation with Samantha the receptionist in fractured Franglais which made them both laugh,Vivienne found herself enveloped in a swish black cape and sitting before a sink having the best hair wash and head massage ever. A short consultation with Samantha over a picture book of styles and five minutes later head stylist Gaspard was wielding a pair of scissors over her hair. Vivienne closed her eyes and gave herself up to a strange, liberating feeling as she sensed chunks of her hair falling past her to litter the area around the chair.
Sometime later, when the scissors stopped flashing around her head and Gaspard said, ‘J’ai fini. You like?’ Vivienne opened her eyes and silently stared at the woman’s reflection in the mirror. A woman she didn’t fully recognise for several seconds, but when finally she did, she turned to Gaspard with a huge smile on her face.
‘Merci, bien, merci,’ she said before turning to look at herself again. A pixie cut that back home she would have refused to even contemplate had replaced her normal longish bob and wisps of hair now framed her face, highlighting her eyes and cheekbones.
After thanking both Samantha and Gaspard and paying the bill with a generous tip for both of them, Vivienne almost skipped out of the shop with a happy smile on her face.
A street away she found the make-up shop and bought lipstick, foundation and a wickedly expensive bottle of bath bubbles. On the way home, passing a snack bar in one of the streets in the old town selling delicious-lookingpan bagnatsstuffed full of salade Niçoise, she stopped and bought one.
Sarah had left by the time Vivienne let herself back into the apartment and she quickly put her things away. Pouring a glass of rosé and picking up thepan bagnat,she climbed the stairs up to the terrace to eat her lunch.
Half an hour later, she was busy tapping away on her laptop.
After Vivienne put the finishing touches to her make-up and put on the green dress, she stood in front of the wardrobe mirror gazing doubtfully at this strange new version of herself. The new hairstyle had been a drastic change in itself, but coupled with the green dress, was it a transformation too far? The flared skirt of the dress swished, skimming her calves as she turned from side to side looking at herself from every angle. Could she live up to this new image of herself that she was presenting to the world? Tonight she was about to find out.
As Vivienne turned to pick up her bag, there was a knock on the apartment door. A glamorous Olivia was standing there when she opened it.
‘Wow,’ Olivia said, stepping back and taking in Vivienne’s changed appearance. ‘You look fabulous. Love the hair and that dress is beautiful. Did Maxine take you to Giselle’s by any chance?’
‘Thank you. And yes, this is a Giselle dress.’
‘Maxine was worried you wouldn’t turn up to the party on your own so she suggested I collected you and we walk there together.’
‘You don’t know how close that came to being the truth earlier,’ Vivienne said, laughing.
13
