Page 3 of Secrets Beneath a Riviera Sky
Both Edwin and Francine stared at her.
‘Are you saying that I have probably inherited the old family home in Le Suquet, Cannes? The house where we lived before coming here?’ Her voice faded away as Agnes smiled and gave her a nod that answered her questions.
‘Yes, the house and possibly everything else, except for perhaps a couple of bequests that Oscar may have made to a few individuals. Like Theo said, French wills can be very complicated. But I suspect he’s right. We may well have to go to France.’
‘Do you think he will have left you some money? I mean, I know he barely paid you a penny in maintenance all the years I was growing up. I know too how hard you had to work to feed us both, keep a roof over our heads. You’re entitled to something now surely, out of his estate? How do you feel about me inheriting whatever it happens to be. Money? The house?’
Agnes gave a strangled laugh. ‘I feel nothing. It’s a house I lived in at a difficult time in my life and the good memories have been drowned out by the bad. As for accepting money from him,’ she shook her head. ‘I never wanted anything from him, especially after I’d left. The only thing I ever wanted from that life was you.’
‘As his ex wife I still think you are entitled to something from his estate,’ Francine said stubbornly. ‘And if I can, I shall do my best to make sure you get something.’
‘I truly don’t need or want anything. I’m only sorry I didn’t think to warn you about how strict the French are about following their inheritance laws.’
‘To say it has come as a bit of a shock, is to put it mildly,’ Francine said, rubbing her forehead. Her phone rang at that moment. Zazz.
‘Hi darling, how are you?’
‘Fine. Dad said when he rang to tell me about Oscar that Theo was dealing with the arrangements for the funeral. Do you know when it is yet?’
‘Theo has arranged a Direct Cremation,’ Francine said quietly. ‘That way nobody has to worry about travelling to France in a hurry.’
‘What do you mean? Aren’t you and Granny going to go?’ Zazz interrupted. ‘I mean, I know there was no love lost between the three of you but he’s dead.’ Her voice rose on a hysterical note. ‘How about paying your respects for god’s sake?’
‘How dare you.’ Francine took a deep breath. ‘Just when did you get so righteous and sanctimonious? And to be clear – I didn’t have any respect for him when he was alive, so I have no intention of being a hypocrite and attending a funeral to pretend a respect I never felt for him. And I’m sure I’m speaking for Granny in this instance too.’
Silence. Francine took the phone away from her ear and looked at it.
‘Zazz has hung up on me.’ She turned to look at Edwin, a frown on her face. ‘What the hell has got into our daughter? Oscar has never been in her life and now she wants to pay her respects as if he’s been the perfect grandfather to her?’
* * *
Later that evening as she lay in bed trying to read and unable to concentrate, Agnes found herself thinking about Jasmine and her reaction to her unknown grandfather’s death. Francine had spoken nothing but the truth, telling her that it would be hypocritical for the two of them to go and pay their false respects. Personally, she couldn’t now remember a time when she had even liked Oscar, let alone respected him. As for love – if that was what her feelings for Oscar had ever been, they’d disappeared quicker than snowflakes in sunshine. She couldn’t recall either that he had ever uttered the words ‘I love you’ to her. Agnes’s mind drifted back to the beginning of her relationship with Oscar all those years ago…
She remembered being flattered by his attention. Ten years older than her, he had introduced her to a life she’d known existed on the Riviera but had never been a part of before. Oscar took her to the casinos in Juan-les-Pins, Nice and Monaco. He took her to balls in Monte Carlo and dances at the Hôtel de Provençal on several occasions, where she was awestruck by the famous people she saw there: Josephine Baker, an elderly Maurice Chevalier, Brigitte Bardot, Ella Fitzgerald, so many celebrities. She’d never forgotten the night he took her to the premiere ofThe Umbrellas of Cherbourgat the Palais des Festivals in Cannes. She’d been a huge Catherine Deneuve fan ever since.
But she knew that whilst she enjoyed the social life he’d introduced her to, she couldn’t see their relationship lasting. He was too old-fashioned in many ways; believed that women should defer to men. Once when she’d said how much she’d have liked to have gone to university, to have gained a degree, he’d smiled and said, ‘A woman’s place is in the home.’ The flash of anger that crossed his face when she’d retorted, ‘It’s the 1960s not the dark ages,’ had scared her, as well as his refusal to discuss his attitude towards the ‘Women’s Lib’ movement that was sweeping through Europe.
Her parents though, had liked Oscar, said he was ‘such a gentleman’, and encouraged their relationship, saying that they knew she was safe when she was out with him. They dismissed her fears about his old-fashioned views of women saying he’d brought stability into her life and would look after her when they were gone. More importantly, her parents were determined that she was not going to follow in her elder sister, Denice’s footsteps and bring shame on the family by running away to Paris to become an actress. After that conversation Agnes decided that the very next time she went out with Oscar she was going to tell him it was the last time. She didn’t want to ‘do a Denice’ as her father had put it and run away to become an actress but neither did she want to spend the rest of her life with Oscar. Ironically that was the very night he chose to propose.
He’d booked a table at the Hôtel de Provençal in Juan-les-Pins for one of their regular dinner dances and had been extra solicitous about her welfare all evening. ‘Was the meal to her liking? Would she like to dance? Did she want some more wine?’ It was between courses after she’d declined to dance saying that she needed to talk to him that, at her words, Oscar unexpectedly dropped on to one knee and took hold of her hand. The chatter in the restaurant quietened as the band switched to a slow romantic beat.
Agnes froze. Please no. He couldn’t be about to do what she thought he was? Had he sensed what she was going to say to him? Had he deliberately chosen such a public place, knowing that she was unlikely to cause a scene by refusing him? She trembled as Oscar pushed the three stone diamond ring that had belonged to his mother onto her finger before she could snatch her hand back. She must have breathed the word ‘No’, because his face darkened with anger and he squeezed her hand in a vice-like grip. ‘Marry me?’
Tears that everyone took for tears of happiness were running down her face as she mutely nodded and Oscar stood up. Champagne arrived at their table, couples began congratulating them, her parents appeared. The presence of her parents told Agnes everything. They’d known this was going to happen and had given Oscar their blessing.
As soon as they were alone, she’d take off the ring and give it back. Tell him in no uncertain way that she couldn’t marry him. Only of course, saying no to Oscar proved to be an impossible task and the most he would agree to was a six-month engagement. Agnes consoled herself with the thought that in that time she would be able to break it off…
She smothered a sigh. Clearly the news of his death had stirred up memories from deep in her brain. The next few weeks were going to be difficult and likely to bring even more memories she wished she didn’t have to the surface. She fingered the Celtic necklace around her neck that these days she rarely took off. She had to trust that it would all come right in the end.
4
Zazz stomped her way around her local park, furious with herself. She shouldn’t have pushed her mother so hard about the funeral. And she definitely shouldn’t have hung up on her. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know Francine, like Agnes, had zero patience regarding Oscar. Never mentioning his name if they could avoid doing so, never talking to her about him even though he was – had been – her only living grandfather.
As for this non-funeral business. It wasn’t that she was sanctimonious as her mother had called her, or even religious, she simply found it sad and upsetting that no-one cared enough to attend the final disposition of another human being.
The fact that both her mum and gran had assumed she wouldn’t find the news upsetting because she had never met Oscar was wrong. She did find the news upsetting. She knew he was an old man who had made more enemies than friends during his life but he’d still been her grandfather even if they had never been allowed to meet. Both her parents and grandmother had always stressed the four of them were a family and as a family they would always care for each other – but Oscar was certainly not considered a part of their small family.Persona non gratawas the phrase that summed him up in their family.
Down through the years this lack of communication with the French side of her family had built up a mountain of resentment in Zazz. She was half French for goodness’ sake, she was entitled to know about her heritage, even if it turned out not to be one to be proud of. Her grandfather surely couldn’t be that horrible. There had been times growing up when she’d longed to meet him. Her parents had taken her to France on several occasions during her childhood. Camping holidays on islands off the Atlantic coast, a Provençal gite with its lavender fields, the Loire Valley with its châteaux and once they’d spent almost a week in Paris. All happy memories of French family holidays but not one of them had been spent in the South of France. Zazz had never dared to rock the boat by asking why they couldn’t go to the Riviera, knowing it would upset both her mother and grandmother.
