Page 30 of A French Adventure
‘You want to drive Daisy back to Antibes?’ Olivia shrugged. ‘Why not. But promise you’ll be gentle with her, she’s a bit of an old lady. Doesn’t do the autoroute.’
‘Thanks,’ Thierry said, sliding into the driver’s seat. ‘I’d forgotten London taxies were right-hand drive. This should be fun.’ He adjusted the rear-view mirror and grinned at her.
‘I’m sorry about my mother,’ Olivia said as Thierry edged Daisy into the traffic on the main road.
‘No worries, Tuppence. Remember I’ve known your mother a long time – longer than I’ve known you, in fact. And I do know how irritating she can be. Papa always said we had to remember her heart was in the right place.’
‘It might be, but I wish she’d stop interfering in my life,’ Olivia muttered. ‘Do you really have to get back or was that you being diplomatic?’
‘Me being diplomatic,’ Thierry confessed with a grin.
‘Thought so, but thank you for getting us off the lunch hook. Anyway, let’s change the subject. Did you have a good chat with my papa? I saw the two of you huddled together yesterday evening.’
‘He has given me a few ideas and a couple of interesting and possible leads for me to check out. One sounds really good, but unfortunately it’s in the UK and I really want to stay in France. I think I’ll check out the others first and keep that one as a last resort.’
‘Yes, no point in coming back to live and then leaving again almost straight away,’ Olivia said.
‘I’m planning on checking out one of Trent’s suggestions later this week. Want to come with me? Your opinion would be good to hear. Near Tourrettes-sur-Loup. We could make a day of it. Have lunch in the village. If you’re not busy with Daisy, of course.’
‘Love Tourrettes,’ Olivia said. ‘Haven’t been there for so long. I’d love to come. How are you getting there?’
‘Maxine has said I can borrow her car any time she’s not using it. Otherwise I’ll hire one.’
‘We can take mine. The Mini, not Daisy though. I’ll even let you drive if you’re good. But there is a condition attached to me coming with you.’
Thierry glanced across at her. ‘I think I can guess what that is.’
‘You do not mention our day out together to my maman,’ Olivia said. ‘If she hears we’re spending time together, she’ll really make our lives a misery. Okay?’
‘My lips are sealed,’ Thierry said. ‘You will be my secret friend.’
Vivienne treated herself to a lie-in on Monday morning, deciding to give herself some time off to recover from the excitement of the weekend. She’d spend the day quietly in the apartment, pop out to thesupermarchéfor a few bits and pieces, have lunch on the terrace, read one of the books Maxine had lent her, maybe go for a walk, phone Natalie, write Felicity and Trent a thank you note and, importantly, try to organise her thoughts about the future. The last one would be the hardest, but she couldn’t put it off forever.
She was eating her lunch when her laptop pinged with an incoming email. She sighed as she took a quick glance at the sender’s name. Jeremy had passed the buck to the estate agents.
The email was businesslike, pointing out it was imperative she signed before they could proceed to market the house. They would like to point out, too, that there had already been keen interest in viewing the house and they envisaged a quick sale. Although Mr Wilson had assured them that the house was definitely for sale, her signature was a legal requirement. They politely asked her to electronically sign and return the for-sale authorisation form which they’d attached, ASAP.
She knew trying to delay the sale until she returned home was pointless. Much better to get on with it. It was everything else that was going to be set in motion that she needed to get her head around. Being down here away from Jeremy and all the aggro, it was all too easy to shut out what was happening back in England. Even to optimistically hope it would go away before she returned. Which was a stupid thing to do. Jeremy had effectively killed their marriage, leaving no hope of reviving it, even if she wanted to. Which she realised, with a jolt, she didn’t. She might be on her own, except for the children, for the rest of her life, but the future as a single woman would be hers to live as she pleased. The more she thought about it, the more she began to look forward selfishly to a future with only herself to please.
The phrase ‘I have a cunning plan’, taken from the popular TV programmeBlackadder, popped into Vivienne’s head and made her smile. ‘I have a cunning plan’, would become her mantra. Not that she had a cunning, or even, a plan yet, but she was now determined she would have a plan in place before she returned to the house she could no longer call home in a month’s time.
Pulling her laptop towards her, she opened the estate agent’s attachment, followed the instructions, signed the formelectronically and returned it. But Jeremy shouldn’t think that he was the only one who would be dictating or controlling things in the future. Selling the marital home was a big step that would take months to finalise, months in which she promised herself she would quietly work towards making sure she and the children received everything that they needed for their new lives.
Picking up her lunchtime glass with a mouthful of rosé left in it, Vivienne raised it up and toasted, ‘To my future.’
22
Wednesday morning and Vivienne was up at her usual time preparing for the day ahead. She and Olivia were meeting Maxine for a coffee in town before they drove out into the countryside. She could feel the butterflies starting in her tummy already. Which was silly really. This was only the first foray into discovering something about her paternal family and it was highly unlikely that she was going to learn anything today, let alone meet the man himself or anyone connected to him.
After her shower, Vivienne pulled on her jeans and a short-sleeved Breton top. She’d take her lightweight denim jacket in case it was cooler inland, which it generally was. Everything else she needed she placed in her canvas tote bag, including her laptop, with the scanned items. She thought briefly about taking the actual envelope and photograph but decided against it. She wasn’t expecting to meet up with Pascal Rocher today, that would have been too easy, too convenient, but she wanted to have, if not proof exactly, at least something to show she was who she said she was and the file on the laptop would do that. Even if she did discover his existence today, how she dealt with it would depend on the circumstances – how approachable heappeared to be, what kind of health he was in, whether he had a wife hovering anxiously at his side.
Vivienne caught her breath. That was something she hadn’t considered before. Another person to be thought about in all this. No point in worrying until she had uncovered some definite evidence of a connection.
There was a knock on the door. ‘Hi, I’m just about ready,’ Vivienne said, smiling at Olivia.
Olivia shook her head. ‘I just wanted to say sorry I can’t come today after all and to wish you the best of luck. I’ve messaged Maxine to apologise. Full report when you get back?’
‘Thank you. Such a shame you can’t come, but yes, definitely tell you everything later.’
