Page 16 of Secrets Beneath a Riviera Sky
Two mornings later there had been no sign of Theo as she arrived at the Cannes Hôtel de Ville. True to his word, he’d gone. It was in that instant that Agnes knew if he’d been there and held out his hand, she would have taken it and run away with him whatever the consequences of her action. She knew her life without him was going to be a sad one.
Even as she walked into the room on her father’s arm, clutching her bouquet to her body like a shield, and allowing him to leave her at a smiling Oscar’s side, she was still inwardly questioning herself about what on earth was she doing. She shouldn’t be doing this. She loved Theo, not Oscar. Her mouth opened but no words came. It wasn’t until the mayor finished his introductory speech to the legal ceremony that she finally acknowledged to herself she’d left it way too late to do anything to stop her inevitable marriage to Oscar. She wasn’t brave enough to say no in the middle of the ceremony, not with her parents standing at her side in the wooden panelled room with its decorative ceiling, where the brief ceremony was held. It would humiliate them as well as Oscar. She couldn’t do it to them. And who knew how Oscar would react? What revenge he would exact?
She’d zoned out of the rest of the legal formalities, knowing when she left the room she would be a different person. Mrs Agnes Agistini. Whoever that would turn out to be.
Sadly, the old cliché ‘life’s a bitch’ had turned out to be only too true for Agnes Agistini née Bernard…
Agnes swallowed hard. In the words of another popular song of that time, ‘Like a Puppet on a String’, she’d allowed herself to be used by both her parents and Oscar. He’d wanted a wife he could control to show his respectability as a married man to the world. And her parents, her father in particular, had wanted her married before she came of age and whilst he still had the last word on what she did. What a naive wimp she’d been to go along with what was virtually an arranged marriage. Her relationship with her parents had never recovered from what Agnes regarded as their betrayal. If only she’d been brave enough to run away with Theo her whole life would have been so different.
‘Maman, are you okay?’ Francine asked, gently touching Agnes’s arm.
The touch pulled Agnes back into the present moment and she nodded. ‘Shall we have the coffee we promised ourselves?’ she said turning away from the Hôtel de Ville.
‘There’s a lovely cafe just along here,’ Zazz said pointing across the road.
‘Your friend Mr Google showed you that, I presume?’ Francine said.
Zazz shook her head impatiently. ‘No. Oscar gave me the grand tour when I came.’
She turned to her mother. ‘I’m sorry that came out the way it did, but honestly I can’t keep pretending that I’ve never been here before.’
‘Being honest didn’t bother you before,’ Francine snapped.
‘Please stop,’ Agnes said, looking from one to the other. ‘There is very little point in us falling out over something that can’t be changed. You shouldn’t have sneaked down here the way you did.’ She gave Zazz a hard look. ‘But you and I, Francine, have to accept it and move on.’ Agnes took a deep breath. ‘It is hard to believe he is gone and has no place in our lives any more but Oscar is dead. Let’s go to the cafe and have an apricot croissant with our coffee.’
The cafe felt strangely familiar to Francine. Once they were settled at a table inside, as the tables on the pavement were all occupied, she looked around. Three decades ago the decor had been left over from the seventies with a grumpy owner behind the counter who had little time for his teenage customers. Today it was ultra-modern and bright with modern art on the walls and comfortable rattan chairs. The barista busy working the large coffee machine seemed vaguely familiar to Francine – a grown-up version of someone she’d known in the past when he caught her glance but he didn’t so much as look at her again, he was so busy.
Sipping her coffee, Francine started to wonder if any of her old friends were still around and a rueful smile crossed her face. Thirty-six years since she’d left so it was highly unlikely that they would recognise her – or she them for that matter – even if there was anyone from her past still living in Cannes. But she couldn’t help giving the middle-aged barista a second glance and wondering.
Agnes confessed to feeling a little tired as they drank their coffee and ate the delicious coffee eclairs they’d decided on instead of apricot croissants. ‘I think I’ve done enough sightseeing for our first day.’
‘Are you okay?’ Francine gave her an anxious glance.
‘I’m fine but a rest before this afternoon’s meeting would be good.’
Walking back to the cottage they met up with Theo and Cerise who instantly made a beeline for Zazz. Laughing, she took the lead from Theo and walked her the rest of the way. Whilst Agnes went for a rest the others turned the purchases from the market into lunch.
‘I hope Maman is well,’ Francine said, grating the cheese for the omelettes. ‘I hope this trip is not too much for her.’
Theo looked at her. ‘I think the memories it is stirring up are very hard for her. We must make sure she does not get melancholic.’
18
The notaire’s office located in a street off the Croisette had an old-fashioned serious air about it. Shown into a meeting room, the four of them shook hands with Monsieur Caumont, the notaire, who was waiting for them before taking their places around the long highly polished oak table and sitting on matching chairs with green leather padded seats. The notaire sat on the large carver chair at the head of the table, a thick folder of papers in front of him.
He looked at Agnes. ‘As his wife you?—’
‘Ex wife,’ Francine interrupted. ‘They were divorced years ago.’
‘Non. I do not think so,’ the notaire answered. ‘I have been the deceased’s notaire now for many years, I would know about the divorce. And Monsieur Agistini refers to her as his wife in his most recent will, dated six months ago. I have a copy of the will here for you,’ and he passed a large envelope down the table to Agnes.
Wide-eyed, Francine looked at her mother. ‘We were still married,’ Agnes said quietly. Francine closed her eyes and shook her head in disbelief.
‘To continue,’ the notaire said. ‘Agnes, as his wife, inherits the right to live in the house until her death, or if she agrees to move out, a quarter of the value of the whole estate. You, Francine, as his only child, inherit the rest. There is also a small gift of five thousand euros for Jasmine Mansell. Straightforward French inheritance rules apply. But.’ He paused. ‘The reason I ask you to come is not because the will itself is complicated as it stands. The complication I need to talk to you about is that someone has come forward claiming to be Oscar’s son and as such has a claim on his estate. Should it prove to be a true claim, it changes how the will would need to be applied.’
‘As a male will he have a greater claim on the estate than anyone else? Like Maman?’ Francine asked.
‘Not a greater claim but a shared one. All children, legitimate or illegitimate, have an equal claim. In this case it means the two of you would share the residue of the estate, after Madame Agistini’s quarter share.’
