Page 4 of A French Adventure
3
It was half past seven that evening when Olivia drove down into Monaco and parked her Mini Countryman in the underground garage of the block of apartments where her parents lived. The car, a twenty-fifth birthday present from her parents, spent most of its life in the big double garage back at the villa. Antibes was such a compact town, Olivia found it easier to walk around than to struggle with driving in the narrow streets, but the Mini was great fun to drive fast on the autoroute.
Making her way out of the garage, Olivia didn’t immediately head for the main apartment entrance and the lift. Instead she wandered along by the main harbour, where despite it still being several weeks before the famous Monaco Grand Prix took place, barriers and other safety features were already being slotted into place. Olivia loved the buzz of Grand Prix time and always joined her parents to watch the race.
She strolled along enjoying, as she always did, the early-evening atmosphere of Monaco, the town where she’d been born after her parents had relocated to the Principality for tax reasons. At this time of day, the majority of tourists were back on the giant cruise ships or in the comfort of their French hotels,and the thousands of office workers, shop assistants, domestic staff and others who travelled into town for work had departed. Monaco, whilst pulsating with the glamour that it was renowned for, still somehow retained that small-town vibe of an evening.
Whenever she came home to see her parents, Olivia always made a point of walking along the old harbour, Port Hercules, as far as she could, but tonight she reluctantly turned back before she reached the modern extension that in recent years had brought more yachts and people into the Principality. Felicity, her mother, was very keen on punctuality and if she lingered too long looking at the yachts, she would be late and then there would be a fuss.
As Olivia stepped out of the lift into the hallway of her parents’ penthouse, her heart sank as she heard voices. Once again, Felicity had failed to tell her there would be guests tonight at dinner. Olivia could only hope it was not another attempt on her mother’s part to marry her off.
Her father, Trent, engulfed her in one of his usual body-crushing bearlike hugs. ‘Good to see you, Tuppence,’ he said, calling her by the family pet name that her mother hated. Felicity had declared that Olivia had outgrown the childish nickname on her sixteenth birthday and had forbidden the use of it. Neither her husband nor her mother-in-law had taken any notice of the order. Since Granny Mavis had died, Trent was one of two people left who were likely to use it these days and then only when her mother was unlikely to hear. But as Olivia’s life had moved on from the other person who said it so warmly and had made her smile, she was unlikely to hear it again from him.
Olivia moved her head in the direction of the large sitting room. ‘Who’s here?’ she whispered.
‘Some new friends of your mother’s, who I actually like for a change,’ her father said. ‘But, be warned, they have a bachelor son.’ He grinned at her. ‘How’s James?’
‘I’m seeing him tomorrow night. His boss is on board this week, so…’ Olivia shrugged. ‘Is the son here?’
Her father nodded. ‘And this time it’s me that’s not so keen, despite your mother saying he’d be perfect for you. Too serious for you, I think!’
‘It’s going to be a long evening by the sounds of it. I drove over, so I can’t even have a drink.’
‘You know you can always stay the night. Your old room is always ready,’ her father said.
Olivia gave a reluctant nod. ‘I might just do that if the need for a drink overtakes me.’
‘Come on let’s take you in and introduce you.’
Harry, the son, was an economic advisor with an investment company, and Olivia instantly saw why her mother liked the thought of her daughter dating him. She also knew instantly that that would never happen. Harry was simply not her type. Her father was right – far too serious and full of self-importance for her. It was going to be a long evening.
Taking the bottle of rosé out of the gift box, Vivienne placed it in the freezer compartment of the fridge to cool it while she moved slowly around inspecting the apartment. Decorated and furnished in the Provençal style with terracotta tiles in the kitchen and hallway, the walls and furniture a mixture of pale greens and lavender, with the yellow silk cushions on the twocream settees in the sitting room providing a dash of sunshine, it looked exactly as portrayed on the website.
Any other time, Vivienne would have been thrilled with the thought of living and working in such a lovely environment for the summer, but right now she was emotionally drained and incapable of rational thought. Her brain was stuck with the final bombshell of Jeremy’s affair going round and round like a squealing hamster on a wheel, unable to jump off. The repercussions behind that nugget of news when it became public knowledge, which it surely would, would be huge and wide. Nothing in their lives would ever be the same again.
And when the children heard how their family was about to be torn apart? What would happen then? It was unlikely that either Natalie or Tim would react with unadulterated happiness at the news of their father’s affair. As for his mother Elizabeth, Vivienne could guess how she would react to the news. She and Elizabeth had tolerated the other’s place in Jeremy’s life as wife and grandmother to the children but had never been close. Vivienne had tried her best with the snobbish woman who had let her know from the moment they were engaged that she, Vivienne, was not what she’d wanted as a daughter-in-law, but there had been no softening in attitude towards her down the years. The news of Jeremy’s affair was likely to increase, not decrease, that animosity towards her.
Grasping the handrail of the spiral staircase, Vivienne hauled herself up to the roof terrace and collapsed onto one of the sun loungers she found up there. This time yesterday her worries had been nothing compared to the ones she now found herself facing. For weeks she’d been increasingly uneasy about coming away on this working holiday, even if she had called it a retreat, and leaving Jeremy on his own, but the deadline on this new book was tight and she really needed the time alone to concentrate. Frustration and worry about the way she andJeremy seemed to be drifting apart had worried her for months, but she’d never dreamt that her marriage could be in real danger of collapsing. That Jeremy would betray her like he had, especially with the woman he’d chosen.
In her naivety, she’d thought it was just a case of sitting down together and talking things through, getting back into the habit of doing couple things together and taking steps to reconnect with each other. Revitalise their relationship for the next stage of their married life. Vivienne grimaced. If only it could have been that simple. She should have realised when Jeremy refused outright to join her down here for a short holiday that something was seriously wrong.
And now she was a thousand miles away with no way of knowing what was happening, no way of influencing things, a mere spectator at the demise of her own marriage as she waited for events to unravel.
Sighing, Vivienne stood up. Unable to face food and drink, she’d refused both on the plane, but now her tummy was rumbling and she was in desperate need of a drink. She’d spotted some Brie and crackers in the welcome basket and hopefully the rosé would be cold enough soon to be refreshing. She paused before leaving the terrace – really the view along the coast was quite spectacular. She’d come up here tomorrow and work under the shade of the parasol she’d seen in the corner.
Ten minutes later, Vivienne was sitting at the small breakfast bar in the kitchen, Brie, crackers and grapes in front of her, a glass of rosé poured. Her phone, now switched back on after the flight, was in her hand and she scrolled through the two messages that flashed up. Jeremy’s ‘I’m truly sorry’, she deleted. Being truly sorry didn’t cut it in her opinion. The other message was from Natalie, checking that she had arrived. Vivienne quickly typed a reply, saying all was well, that the apartment waseverything she’d hoped for and that she’d ring her tomorrow. She simply couldn’t face talking to her tonight.
That done, Vivienne had a sip of wine before opening her laptop. Nothing from her editor or her agent, thank goodness, just a couple of spam messages, which she deleted before she closed the laptop down again with a feeling of relief. Idly, she picked up the card the agent had given her and tapped it on the granite work surface. Maxine Zonszains. Vivienne recalled her heart sinking as she’d caught her first sight of Maxine across the foyer at the airport – so casually French and all together in a way that felt slightly intimidating and one she couldn’t cope with right then, so she’d brushed her aside with uncharacteristic rudeness.
Sipping her wine Vivienne felt a twinge of guilt. She owed Maxine an apology. And the girl downstairs, Olivia. She’d been less than friendly towards her too.
Vivienne topped up her rosé and stood up as a wave of tiredness swept through her body. An early night was called for. She’d take her wine through to the bedroom, close the shutters and try to sleep. As a more famous author than her had once written, ‘Tomorrow is another day.’
4
Maxine spent a few hours the next morning working on her desktop computer making sure her diary was up to date with new bookings for the various apartments she took care of, noting who needed a car from the airport, and making sure cleaners were available before she turned to the accounts.
The town hall clock struck twelve as she printed out the last page of accounts to be added to the file of papers the accountant was waiting for. She ate lunch – a few slices of smoked salmon and a salad – sitting at the teak table under the shade of the vine growing over the loggia attached to the back wall of the house.
