Page 15 of Secrets Beneath a Riviera Sky
On the first-floor landing, Francine moved on past the bathroom before stopping in front of the door of the bedroom her parents had shared, her hand on the white porcelain doorknob.
The memories she had of this room were almost sepia-coloured in her mind, belonging as they did to her early childhood, before Agnes had run away with her to England. Happy memories in the main, involving her and Agnes reading or sipping hot chocolate, snuggled up together in the big bed when Oscar was out. Events that Francine knew had to be kept secret from her father. He would have considered Agnes to be spoiling her. Very few of her memories of this time featured Oscar. He’d been a bystander in her early childhood, never an active participant, despite Agnes urging him to relax and simply play childish games with her.
When she’d visited as a teenager she’d instinctively realised this particular room would always be strictly off limits to her, although Oscar had never indicated that in so many words. The one time she’d peeped inside the room, all the feminine accessories, like thetoile de jouycurtains and matching bedspread her mother had decorated the space with, had disappeared. Instead, it had been turned into a stark masculine room, with grey walls and dark bed linen.
Francine tightened her grip on the doorknob and slowly turned it, pushing the door open, unsure as to what she’d find.
The big bed was unmade, a crystal chandelier hanging over it cloudy with grime, the dressing table dusty. An air of abandonment and neglect hung over everything. Francine pulled the door closed again and turned away. Where had Oscar slept in recent years? There was only one room left.
Curious, Francine opened the door of her childhood bedroom, the one she’d suggested Zazz slept in. To her surprise, this room with its no-nonsense furnishings, pale blue walls and cream scatter rugs on the terracotta tiles appeared to have been Oscar’s bedroom. The bedclothes were roughly pushed back as if Oscar had just got up, pyjamas left in a heap on top of the duvet, a towel untidily placed on the rail, a discarded shirt flung over the back of the cane bedroom chair. An old-fashioned four-drawer bureau stood in front of the window, a French vanity mirror placed on its top. Francine remembered helping Agnes to clean the dressing-table mirror and polish its fancy wooden frame with its two shallow drawers when it had been in the old bedroom. On the bureau top was also a comb and a pair of nail clippers. One of its drawers was open, filled with neatly folded socks. Francine turned away.
Back down in the kitchen Francine put the kettle on, found a teapot and tea bags and stared out of the window, her thoughts, like the water in the kettle about to boil, bubbling away, untamed. The house needed to be cleared. What were they going to do with everything? How would Agnes react to being back in the house? How long had Zazz stayed with Oscar for? Had Theo started the process of contacting people to tell them about Oscar? What to do with the ashes once he’d collected them? How long would they have to stay in Le Suquet? And why did the prospect of a long stay fill her with anxiety? Oscar was dead. He was incapable of hurting them any more.
17
Theo had left to collect Oscar’s ashes and Agnes was washing the breakfast cups and plates when Francine and Zazz arrived at the cottage.
‘Has Theo taken Cerise?’ Zazz asked, disappointed there was no sign of the little dog.
‘Yes. She adores the car. Do we have a plan for this morning?’ Agnes asked.
‘Just have a wander I thought,’ Francine said. ‘See how much has changed. Shall we start with Marché Forville? That should still be much the same. Maybe we can pick up a few things for lunch or supper tonight.’
The large covered market was bustling just as Agnes and Francine remembered it although they both admitted they’d forgotten how many stalls there were: vegetables, cheese, cooked and fresh meat, olive oil, herbs, socca, soaps, lavender, cream, eggs, soft fruits and flowers. After a quick conference Francine bought some cheese, fresh cream, eggs and some green salad leaves. ‘That’s lunch sorted. Cheese omelette andsalade.’
Leaving the market by the lower entrance they wandered down towards the harbour. Francine and Agnes marvelling with each other at how busy the place had become but changed so little. Passing the Hôtel du Ville Agnes stopped and stared around. Something she tried not to ever do if she were honest, was to think about her marriage. But standing there in front of the imposing nineteenth-century four-storey building, it was inevitable. Watching the French national flag over the porch-like entrance to the building fluttering in the on-shore breeze off the Mediterranean, the memory of the time that her life had changed irrevocably for the worse fell unwanted into her consciousness…
The foggy daze that had enveloped her whole being as Oscar had pushed the diamond ring onto her finger had rarely lifted in the few weeks leading to the wedding day. Through her parents discussing wedding arrangements, through choosing a dress to be married in, through cake tasting and through ensuring her passport was up to date, through it all, she sleepwalked. It might be the 1960s as she’d once told Oscar but the changes of the decade were conspicuous by their absence in her own life. Plans to escape drifted in and out of her consciousness: where to go; how to survive; would she get a job easily; would her parents miss her – be angry? Disown her? Theo would help her to run away but could she actually do it?
At one point she even thought of trying to find her sister, Denice, and asking for her advice. But that was something else she didn’t know how to go about. Nobody had heard from Denice for a couple of years; she could be anywhere in the world. She could have changed her name, anxious to put the past behind her.
Even after her papa had told him it was impossible to stop the wedding and told him to leave her alone, Theo continued to beg her to stand up to both her parents and Oscar and say NO. Ever since that morning when he’d turned up with a black eye he’d been pleading with her to run away with him. Telling her how much he loved her and would take care of her.
Four nights before the wedding, Oscar had gone to Monaco with some friends for ‘my last weekend of freedom’, as he’d joked to Agnes, who’d known he didn’t mean a word of it. She knew he was a ladies’ man, as Theo had politely put it and knew that was unlikely to change once they were married. Theo had been given a ‘come if you want to but I don’t care if you don’t’ invitation by Oscar for the Monaco weekend but refused point-blank to go. Instead, he’d persuaded Agnes to spend time with him that Saturday afternoon in Antibes where they could have a final dinner together. If truth were told, Agnes hadn’t taken much persuading. Her feelings for Theo ruled her heart in those last days before the wedding. If she was marrying Theo she would have been the happiest girl alive.
Antibes, the afternoon they spent there, was wonderful. Hand in hand the two of them walked the ramparts, enjoyed aglacéand strolled through the narrow streets of the old town. In one of the hidden away streets Theo took her into a jewellers’ where he bought her a silver Celtic Knot pendant which he placed lovingly around her neck. And finally they wandered around the harbour where the private yachts were moored. Both conscious all the time that they were making memories that had to last them a lifetime. Theo had told her earlier as they strolled through the old town that he was leaving on the morning of the wedding. The band had been contracted for a tour of Europe. He would be away for months.
Just as Agnes was beginning to feel hungry and wonder where they were to have dinner, Theo stopped by a shiny well maintained motor yacht with a large notice tied to its guardrails reading ‘Available for Hire’ and called out a greeting. Instantly a man appeared on the aft deck.
‘Monsieur Bois. Everything is ready for you and your wife. The caterers have delivered your meal. Champagne is in the fridge. Any problems, I’m on the third yacht in that direction,’ and he pointed to his right. ‘Your Cinderella hour is ten o’clock. Enjoy your evening.’ And he leapt off the boat onto the quay.
‘You’ve hired the yacht for the evening?’ Agnes said, deciding not to question the way the man had thought her to be Theo’s wife. She’d pretend and cherish the impossible idea of it being true for the evening.
‘For the next three hours anyway. I thought we’d have more privacy than eating in a restaurant. We both know Oscar has his spies everywhere.’
‘Was that the reason for the ridiculous Boisnom de plume?’ Agnes said laughing. Theo nodded.
Agnes started exploring. A galley, a salon with white leather furniture and scarlet velvet cushions, a bathroom with a large shower, and marble and gold decorations everywhere. Agnes gasped at the sight of it. She’d never seen such an over-the-top bathroom. A narrow gangway with two small cabins on either side, lead to the master cabin at the front of the yacht. Theo was fiddling with the stereo system as she wandered back through to the salon where an open bottle of champagne and two glasses now stood on the table. Slotting a tape into the machine, Theo pressed a button and as music began to play Agnes whispered, ‘I wish you weren’t leaving.’
‘Change your mind and come with me? Please.’ Theo begged, turning to her.
‘I can’t.’ She couldn’t tell him how much she longed to run away with him and turned away, biting her lip.
Gently he pulled her towards him and took her in his arms before bending his head and kissing her. Responding to his kiss, Agnes leant into his body and knew that she was powerless to stop whatever followed. And didn’t want to.
Sometime later, laying there in Theo’s arms fingering the necklace and listening to the emotional words of ‘The Windmills of Your Mind’ drifting in the air, Agnes wiped a tear away. A tear of happiness. A tear for what might have been. A tear for what would never be.
And never again would she hear ‘The Windmills of Your Mind’ without crying and remembering the most wonderful evening of her life.
