Книга - The Vineyard

The Vineyard
Karen Aldous


Will Lizzie find love amongst the fields of France?It’s been five years, and Lizzie Lambert has decided it’s time to try to make things right with her estranged mother. She’s made a success of things in Cannes, she’s bringing up a lovely little boy on her own, and she’s ready to put the past behind her.But it seems Lizzie’s mother has moved on as well. She’s moved her toyboy – a muscle-bound vintner named Cal – into the family home, and given him the run of the land that was meant to be Lizzie’s inheritance!Cal’s wine business frequently takes him to France, and suddenly wherever Lizzie goes, he’s already there – meddling, giving unsolicited advice, saving her little boy’s life and stealing her heart. But none of this changes the fact that he’s her mother’s lover…Praise for Karen Aldous'…you must read this wonderful debut from Karen, absolutely great.' - Cometbabesbooks'Not since Peter Mayle has anyone captured the essence of Provence and Karen Aldous does it vividly. Settle back with a glass of wine and experience the Vineyard for yourself.' - Elder Park Book Reviews'A delightful romantic comedy that tales place amidst the beauty of France, with plenty of wine and laughter.' - cayocosta72










It’s been five years, and Lizzie Lambert has decided it’s time to try to make things right with her estranged mother. She’s made a success of things in Cannes, she’s bringing up a lovely little boy on her own, and she’s ready to put the past behind her.

But it seems Lizzie’s mother has moved on as well. She’s moved her toy boy – a muscle-bound vintner named Cal – into the family home, and given him the run of the land that was meant to be Lizzie’s inheritance!

Cal’s wine business frequently takes him to France, and suddenly wherever Lizzie goes, he’s already there – meddling, giving unsolicited advice, saving her little boy’s life and stealing her heart. But none of this changes the fact that he’s her mother’s lover…


The Vineyard

Karen Aldous







Copyright (#ulink_656905bb-38d1-5563-ad8d-048bf4b67224)

HQ

An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2014

Copyright © Karen Aldous 2014

Karen Aldous asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

E-book Edition © May 2014 ISBN: 9781472096265

Version date: 2018-09-19


KAREN ALDOUS

Inspired by novelists such as Jilly Cooper and Barbara Taylor-Bradford, many moons ago, Karen never lost her passion for writing. It always got put on the back burner though with stories and articles fuelling the Aga rather than popped in the mail box. Gaining life experience and confidence has been crucial though so, she feels raising her three children along with being in the property and travel industries have not only brought material for her writing but have allowed her to indulge in her favourite pastimes.

Karen currently lives on the edge of the North Downs in Kent and owns a website design business so is able to use her skills and creativity but she craves nothing other than earning a living from writing romance. Her dream! Her friends call it Karen’s world and, why not? Her teachers always said she had an overactive imagination so it makes sense to put it to good use!

She still gets a kick from travelling and seeking that property bargain but her husband and family, particularly, her three grandchildren continue to steal her affections – along with ‘Bertie’ her golden lab. There’s barely enough time to go round, she admits, but their love and support never wavers and without them and, that from fellow writers at ‘The Write Place’ and the RNA, her aspirations may never have flourished!


To the MacMillan Cancer Support and all those involved in helping support and fight the disease. And to my Editor Lucy Gilmour and her team at HQ Digital, including Carly Byrne, who all believed in my writing.


To Glyn, Byron, Greg and Gemma... for believing and putting up with me over the years and, to my Mum (Connie) and, Colin…still in all our hearts


Contents

Cover (#u504b3fa6-5a12-5b73-81b2-083d712588a9)

Blurb (#u65bb6f05-5b99-504c-af21-872ae71a7264)

Title Page (#u9e9cfc42-7ef1-5705-8c8c-009aa2b7684e)

Copyright (#uc5e16d74-a97e-5c62-945d-87bd700ad88e)

Author Bio (#uc9b15b76-75eb-5e04-903c-768a88fccc6e)

Acknowledgements (#u43f91c6c-820b-55d5-9d05-ad7add39efd9)

Dedication (#u77cdc3fe-d87a-5341-888f-278f0419d7f2)

Chapter 1 (#u3e008843-4adc-5e5b-871d-a8d85a72c1d3)

Chapter 2 (#u56b7a4ce-cf22-53fc-9f5a-b0348b72ea6c)

Chapter 3 (#ua51c895d-79eb-54df-a4c4-8289993d0537)

Chapter 4 (#uc20ca77e-56fe-5231-bf47-d640878903c1)

Chapter 5 (#u5a82418a-8996-54fe-a0a5-90d48fadfc1a)

Chapter 6 (#u3df1ad48-2913-55e9-ada8-5c05d6554187)

Chapter 7 (#u0ec63437-1d57-51f4-ad7d-ca6826f3a815)

Chapter 8 (#uad45078f-efe6-5ab6-8536-d0d877bf27ad)

Chapter 9 (#u41bdea3e-1430-5632-ad1b-8b32ecf4b663)

Chapter 10 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 34 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 35 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 36 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 37 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 38 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 39 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 40 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 41 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 42 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 43 (#litres_trial_promo)

Endpages (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher


Chapter 1 (#ulink_baa5c475-fc70-5183-b8a9-4dd989c308f0)

‘Stop the car!’ Lizzie’s heart beat rapidly as heat and perspiration prickled her fair skin sending a trembling through her limbs. A murky sky above gathered dark, heavy clouds.

‘What? I was gonna drive in the gate Miss.’ A rotund figure twisted his neck.

‘No don’t go in yet. Give me a minute out here. Please.’ Her command was clear if croaky. Impatient eyes rolled as the driver steered his taxi close to the holly hedge.

‘We’re blocking the lane Miss’.

Ignoring him, she inhaled deeply and chanted. ‘Be strong.’

‘Miss, I’ve got another fare. I can’t hang around!’

Lizzie continued her chant, ‘Be strong,’ and thumped her knuckles into her chest like it was iron. The driver scowled curiously, his sagging eyes following her from his mirror.

‘Miss, how long you gonna be? It’s gonna cost you more.’

‘Jesus, what is your problem?’ she thundered. ‘There’s a name for people like you. She grabbed her purse. How much do I owe you?’

‘Four quid Miss.’

Only having notes she paid him five pounds.

‘It’s not a tip. Give it to a charity.’ She pelted out of the door and swiped her bulky weekend bag from the seat.

She strode indignantly out of the taxi’s path. ‘Fuckwit,’ she mouthed and, catching sight of the familiar gate almost before her, came to a halt. Reality returned, quivering through her. The oak five-bar gate still hung from the sturdy stone wall, swept back open into the shingle neatly edged along the drive. The fullness of the evergreen Cedar dominated the lawn as she remembered, whilst a thicket of foliage, recently blossomed in the cool May temperature, obscured the main window. This is where she grew up, her home. Finally she was back. A cold gust of wind blew into her from the bruised sky and, pulling her jacket closer to her chest, her heart thundered as she prepared to face her mother after so long. She was determined, for once, to stay in control. Taking a deep breath she chanted ‘strong, strong, strong,’ as she approached the familiar black front door.

‘No going back now,’ she muttered reaching for the bell and subconsciously squeezing the tension through her hands. Moments later she came face to face with her nemesis, a tall, slender and, she noted, greying woman. Her mother. They gazed suspiciously at each other and Lizzie’s throat locked, her lips inert. Not a good start. Silence screamed between them until her mother’s darting, muddy eyes suddenly gave a flash of recognition and her arms thrust out.

‘Lizzie. Oh Lizzie! What a surprise’ Caroline Lambert hurtled over the threshold and clutched the graceful figure tightly. ‘My goodness, thank God you’re alive.’

‘Hello Mum.’ Lizzie’s eyebrows shot up, shocked to have caused such delight in this woman. ‘I hope you don’t mind me turning…?’ Lizzie’s voice was muffled, ensnared in her mother’s shoulder,

‘Well. Wow! What a surprise. I can hardly believe it - turning up out of the blue. I mean after, what, five years or more. Why didn’t you let me know you were coming?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said finding a gap to breathe, ‘I didn’t think you would want to…’

‘What…? Why on earth wouldn’t I want to see my own daughter?’ Caroline sniffed, wiping her eyes and easing Lizzie gently in over the step. ‘Although you gave me every reason not to I suppose - deserting not only us but your studies and your future. What were you thinking dear girl!’

Lizzie instantly felt the clutch of guilt her mother always managed to instil, flow into every nerve. Be strong, be strong. She fought but somehow it still lurked. Be strongyou are a grown woman yourself now. After years of being independent and tough, it was hard to imagine fear still caged her. Caroline Lambert was still gripping her daughter like she was scared to let go and Lizzie could feel her chest tighten.

‘You have no idea what you put me through?’ said her mother loosening her grip, ‘Years of not knowing what happened to you. I…I did wonder if you… you were dead.’

‘I know. I’m sorry. I…I sent you a letter explaining.’

Caroline stepped back with a searching look and affectionately tousled her daughter’s hair whilst her gaze roved from tip to toe and back again.

‘That was a long time ago. Anything could have happened since. I really thought you had been murdered and buried or chopped up in a heap in the furthest depths of an isolated forest. What else could I think?’ Caroline sighed with wide questioning eyes and then Lizzie saw her face was alight; a big smile, an excited smile swept over her face. ‘But it’s lovely to see you, not a child anymore either, a woman. You’ve blossomed beautifully. Come on in,’ she commanded, guiding her inside.

Lizzie hauled her bag up from the doorway not quite believing her ears. The chill within her from the hostile stormy air warmed a little. This woman was different. Why on earth was her mother being so nice? She was confused, desperately trying to understand her behaviour because she didn’t recognise this woman. She followed her into the hall, observing a compactness and darkness of a space she swore was once larger.

‘I hope you are planning to stay darling?’

‘If that’s ok?’ Lizzie’s teeth clenched at the imposition.

‘Of course. That’ll be wonderful. So, where are you living now?’ Her mother paused to open the inner lobby door. A welcoming brightness escaped from the kitchen.

‘In Cannes,’ Lizzie told her. Catching sight of her own weary reflection on an inner door, she pinched the smooth skin of her cheeks, adding a healthy blush, and brushed a hand through the crown of her long chestnut hair, adding a little height.

‘I’m afraid your room is still as it was,’ Caroline continued, ‘I thought you’d be back before now of course and I couldn’t bear to touch it. But I’ll put some fresh sheets on the bed. The room will smell stale I’m sure. Here pop your bags down here for now and we’ll get a drink.’ Without acknowledging Lizzie’s answer, she gestured her to follow.

She still doesn’t listen, Lizzie reflected. She scanned the old wooden floorboards for somewhere to place her weekend bag.

‘Thank you,’ she murmured sliding the bag into a recess and gaining a little more comfort and strength. ‘You look really well Mum,’ the words slipped out easily but she never recalled giving such compliments to her before. It was true though, she’d detected an inner light shining from her mother’s autumnal brown eyes, which radiated out giving a luminescence to her slightly tanned skin. Framed by dark, almost straight eyebrows, her face took on a well-defined less rounded shape than Lizzie recalled, with higher, protruding cheek bones. She guessed her mother had either lost weight or had work done. Only fine lines around her eyes, lips and jaw hinted at her age, whilst her taller leanness added a fetching youthfulness Lizzie admired.

‘I feel great actually. I’ve just returned from a long weekend in Barcelona and the weather was glorious, as I am sure you would know. You meant Cannes, in the south of France I take it?’ No her mother hadn’t changed, Lizzie thought, sensing her sarcastic tone. Caroline continued delighting in the opportunity to speak of her favourite subject. Herself!

‘I joined a gym last year too. Instead of one class a week in the village hall, the new health club has a pool as well as lots of different classes. I enjoy yoga and Pilates and I have my own personal trainer!’ Lizzie, knowing her mother was now in self-mode, listened dispassionately and wondered if her mother was more nervous than she was herself, the way she was gabbling. Truth be told, she wished her mother would simply apologise for being such a selfish, domineering harridan of a mother. She followed her through the lobby and into the kitchen.

‘Coffee, darling?’ Her mother asked.

‘Yes that would be lovely,’ she said, entering the familiar kitchen. It had barely changed. She glanced at the very oak farmhouse table she’d sat at daily as a teenager, after school. She doing her laborious homework whilst her mother, pretending to prepare evening meals, secretly guarding her. Running her fingers over the wood, she slipped out a smile as an image of an uncut seedy bloomer from Brown’s bakery brought a flurry of fond memories of the brighter aspects of her childhood. The days when her father and gran were alive, when they were all there for her, including her grandfather. The time when her mother was so pre-occupied in London.

‘Where’s grandad?’ her voice croaked, but with the kettle rattling, her mother didn’t hear.

Lizzie smiled, recalling the sunny Sunday morning strolls to the newsagents with her father to buy newspapers, sweets and always a treat for Cider, her adorable golden retriever. She treasured those times with both and even now couldn’t believe her daddy had been taken from her when she was just thirteen, thirteen whole years ago. She had even overheard her grandfather say it killed her grandmother too. She’d died a year later. Luckily though, she grinned fondly, she still had her grandfather who she remembered as extremely loving and just like her father, although with big spiky whiskers. She so looked forward to seeing him again. They were both her saviours, her escape from the reins of her absent and later controlling mother.

Ironic really, although she despised her mother for her overbearing ways, being here in the kitchen with her, caused an unexpected wave of tenderness to roll over her, which was somewhat soothing. That was a far better welcome than she’d imagined. Lizzie regarded her mother quizzically as she busied herself making the coffee. Just as she was going to ask her mother about her grandfather again, her attention was diverted as the back door opened.

Kicking off his boots in the back lobby a tall, rugged-looking stranger appeared. He looked, she guessed, early- to mid-thirties. He wandered in like it was his home while she slipped into a seat at the table unacknowledged.

‘Caroline, you don’t have a pair of tweezers I could use do you? I have a splinter,’ he said, speaking to her mother and rubbing the top of his index finger with his other thumb. A glittering wedge of fringe swept over his high forehead as he examined the sore.

‘Yes, in the drawer there,’ her mother pointed to the oak cabinet, ‘the one at the top.’

‘Thanks,’ he nodded casually, moving to the corner and opening the drawer. His hand shuffled around inside and then he lifted the tweezers to his splinter.

‘The light isn’t great or my eyesight’s fucked.’ He dug at his finger for a few seconds and then glanced up, arresting Lizzie’s eyes. She felt a heat rise from her feet as his eyes pierced hers. She swallowed hard in an attempt to get her heart back down into its rightful pace.

‘Oh I’m so sorry. Hi. Sorry didn’t mean to intrude.’ Their eyes remained locked for so long it became uncomfortable and Lizzie felt a blush rise to her cheeks. She prayed he hadn’t noticed.

‘Oh Cal, this is my daughter Lizzie,’ her mother broke in. ‘Rather a surprise visit,’ she added, acknowledging the fact, really only to herself.

‘Pleased to meet you Lizzie’ he said, offering his hand to her.

She struggled to find breath to reply as her hand automatically lifted to his in response.

‘Hello.’

‘Lizzie, this is Cal. He has a project here for a while.’

Lizzie prized her eyes away from him, seeing her mother’s eyes avert swiftly and her mouth twitch. Peering back she forced a fleeting smile as Cal made a polite nod to depart and she watched as his head butted the door whilst his sultry steel grey eyes failed to steal themselves away. She almost laughed but the room was deathly quiet and she daren’t even breathe in the silence for fear her heart would pound its way out of her chest. Tension crowded the room as he peered back at her mother and she quickly concluded they had something to hide. Lovers possibly?

‘I can’t stop now. See you again soon I hope.’ Cal said, cutting the strained atmosphere as he forced his feet back into his boots before trundling off back through the lobby. Lizzie then breathed out, releasing the blood back to her heart. Here, in the home that she grew up, just a few feet away from her was the most gorgeous man she had ever clapped eyes on. His smile, ripe plum lips revealing just enough of the beautiful set of teeth beneath, was tantalising. Who was he, she wondered. Just her luck if this man was her mother’s boyfriend, lover or husband maybe? Definitely a ‘toy boy’ though. He can’t be any more than thirty five! The thought of her puritanical mother breaking one of her own sacred rules, tut, tut! She sniggered to herself.

Caroline ran to the door and called out to Cal before he’d walked very far. He turned back as ordered. She spoke softly and Lizzie couldn’t quite hear; she thought she heard ‘maybe by Friday’. She now felt like an intruder. Caroline’s body language wasn’t subtle as she flicked her head backwards to point to her. Lizzie found herself fidgeting with a coaster on the table trying to appear unconcerned. Was she invading their love nest? As she dared to snatch a peek up at the window, so did the couple outside, both peering at her like she was a new species of animal in a zoo.

A few moments later she heard Caroline ‘Ok, see you later.’

Lizzie searched for a distraction and swung her small handbag, still on her shoulder, round to her front, trying to appear uninterested as her mother marched back through the lobby and back into the kitchen. Caroline rubbed her hands before clasping them in a hold close to her breasts.

‘Sorry, just reminding Cal of something. So, what brings you home?’ she breezed her attention back to her daughter. Lizzie paused, her mind scouring for clarity. Suddenly there was more to feed her imagination than she could handle. Recovering quickly, she blew out a sigh and rubbed her brow to wipe the moisture still beading there from her previous breathlessness. She then finally managed to focus. Those well-rehearsed words gradually began to fall into position much like soldiers reassembling to their ranks. She drew a deep breath.

‘Well, I thought it was time to make amends.’ Her eyes rolled up then down as her mind processed the well-rehearsed lines. It had seemed so easy a few weeks ago when she decided she was at a stage in her life where she was settled and independent enough to consider returning to attempt this.

‘I think, or I like to think, I have grown up a bit now so I have come to let you know how sorry I was.., or am, for disappearing from university just like that, upsetting you and grandad and, possibly more importantly, for not keeping in contact.’

It had taken her years to face up to this moment and there, finally it was. Done! Now what..?

‘So what kept you so busy that you could not contact us?’

Lizzie was now unprepared! She didn’t expect to have to explain herself so quickly. What could she say? She tried to read those searching eyes. Could her mother know? No, surely not. She hadn’t told anyone except Sophie and she would never tell or even know how to contact her mother. She rubbed her palms.

‘Much of my time is spent running my business. I have my own beauty salon,’ she announced proudly, then stopped abruptly. To avoid saying too much ‘Where’s Grandad?’ she asked again.

Caroline poured the fresh, hot coffee into small mugs; the aroma teased the senses. She didn’t answer immediately but continued with the coffee, bringing it over to where Lizzie sat, her eyes focusing on the hot beverage. Lizzie was just about to repeat the question when her mother spoke.

‘Darling, I have some awfully sad news about your grandfather.’ Caroline declared, seating herself opposite and facing her daughter.

‘Oh.’ Immediately Lizzie suspected and felt a lump in her throat; terrified of what she was about to hear, she raised her hand to her mouth in anticipation.

‘Your grandfather, bless him, died last January.’

Unable to speak, Lizzie blew out a winded sigh and tears pricked her eyes. Her mother pulled both her hands into hers and rubbed her thumbs gently. A rare gesture, Lizzie thought, but irrelevant just now. She stared stunned into the moist eyes gazing back.

‘He had a massive heart attack suddenly; January the twelfth to be exact. He didn’t suffer; it happened too quickly. He died before the ambulance arrived but…,’ she squeezed her daughter’s hands, ‘he did manage to say that when I saw you, and he believed I would, to tell you that he loved and missed you dearly.’

Her mother paused. After a pocket of silence, five years of emotion burst out and her mother’s arms swiftly drew her into her shoulder.

Lizzie’s head spun. Why had she neglected her lovely grandfather? He’d done nothing wrong. Her mother had a lot to answer for. She’d never see him now. Several minutes passed as she mopped up her pain, taking tissue after tissue from her mother. She balked inwardly at her own selfishness, her own self-indulgence. It was, after all, she who had made no contact, she who did not care enough to phone, write or just leave an address. It was she who took her family for granted and could really only blame herself. She may have even been partially responsible for his death in creating stress or worry he might otherwise not have had. A vortex of guilt swirled inside her at the thought. She could never forgive herself for this. She would never see her dear, dear grandfather ever again.

Caroline, once again, pulled at the box of tissues placed on the oak table and handed the cluster over to Lizzie. ‘I suppose you’re blaming yourself now for not getting in touch?’

Wiping her face, Lizzie seethed as her mother read her like a book. Her pain now sought blame. Why should she take all the blame? If Caroline had been a real mother to her in the first place, loving like other mothers and her gran, she would never have run away. No, her mother spent most of her time in London shirking her responsibility. Enjoying the highlife with her so-called friends. Never mind that she had a child pining for her at home. And then to have gone home to her mother and admitted to her that Hugo had humiliated , as her mother predicted, dumped her at university would have been unbearable. Caroline would have wallowed in telling her daughter ‘I told you so.’

Her mind switched to the earlier presence of the stranger and she grew suspicious. Was he also under the spell of her mother’s unfaltering and selfish manipulation? Revulsion blazed from her green eyes as she prised herself away from her mother, who she now couldn’t bear the proximity of.

‘Who is that Cal guy who came into the kitchen earlier? Does he live here?’

Her mother’s eyes dimmed as she observed her daughter for a while, saying nothing, Lizzie then saw her chin dimpling while her now creasing lips quivered. Was she going to cry, Lizzie wondered? She searched the moistening eyes as her mother regained her composure ready to speak, eyes averted, fingers sweeping the silvery bob and wrapping a strand behind her ear.

‘Cal is leasing Cote Acres for a few years to establish a vineyard. He approached us, grandad and I, to lease some land rather than buy, so it made sense.’

‘Really. Good for him!’ Lizzie smarted. ‘So how do you know him?’ she urged, blatantly concluding the foolish woman had let her heart rule her head, allowing this tall stranger to take over her grandfather’s land; actually her land, her inheritance!

Caroline shrugged uncomfortably.

‘A friend introduced us at the wine club in the village. I thought the extra income would be useful. He’s experimenting with different grapes to produce good quality English wines, in particular sparkling wines like Champagne so it seemed like a perfect solution. Your grandfather was very proud that the vines from his land produced such a lovely wine.’

‘But that land isn’t yours to lease out,’ Lizzie voice rose, ‘Cote Acres is the land Grandad promised me for my equestrian centre.’

Lizzie saw her mother’s lips tighten as Caroline sat back.

‘Your grandfather agreed with me it would be a good idea for the farm and for a bit of extra money. It woke us up to the potential of the southerly slopes that’s for sure.’ Caroline’s voice was becoming harsh. And Lizzie was not surprised when her mother struck the table with her hand as her indignant temper briskly lashed out like a snake’s tongue. ‘You, Elizabeth Lambert, have never been aware of what has gone on here. It was you who chose to run away from us. You who didn’t care or haven’t given a damn about anyone other than yourself. I don’t suppose you ever thought about anyone here whilst gallivanting around Europe, and since your father’s death it hasn’t exactly been a luxurious ride. We’ve just about been comfortable so, even though your father made some provision, and with my work dwindling, supplementing our income was a practical solution.’

As Lizzie sat hunched, observing her mother’s fury, Caroline’s fiery features fired closer.

‘And, it made a difference to your grandfather too. He managed to afford a couple of trips he would not otherwise have had. I’ve had the opportunity to do more and, darling, no-one is taking any inheritance from you.’

‘Grandad said…’ Lizzie began.

‘That was years ago, girl. Since when did you care about him? You’ll get your inheritance when I go. Aren’t I entitled to have some pleasure or benefit from it? Anyway, it’s only a short-term agreement with Cal.’

‘Oh, how short is short term?’ Lizzie demanded, now feeling her mother was selling her a sob story.

‘Just ten years, then…’

‘What! Ten years, short term? Poor Grandad, manipulated by his daughter-in-law and her lover,’ Lizzie hurled as she watched her mother’s mouth hang open with surprise. ‘He was probably frail, vulnerable and at your mercy. How could you? You knew he wouldn’t live that long.’

‘Look Lizzie. We, your grandfather and I, agreed just ten years with a review after that,’ her mother defended herself and then, lowering her voice, continued, ‘I see that as reasonable and so should you. You can’t pretend to be interested in what is happening here when you couldn’t even be bothered to contact us for five years. You can’t then just turn up thinking you have a right to claim anything which you so obviously haven’t missed.’

Again, the truth in her mother’s argument, as always, struck her to the core making it bleed and blister, but as she saw it too, she was the victim here. She was the one betrayed. Struggling to rein in her emotions she repeated strong, and at least resisted the urge to run, to escape as she always did in fight or flight mode. She willed her legs not to dash for the door, although it was obvious there was no love to be had here.

Strong. The word flashed in her head. Fight. Finally, for the first time in her life, Lizzie released the trigger as pent up emotion shot out like ammunition. Coercing her grandfather was unforgivable.

‘I don’t care what you say, I know Grandad would have wanted me to have that land,’ she insisted, her voice trembling. ‘He would never give it to a complete stranger over me.’

‘He did, it’s true but, it was you who opted to run, hide and desert your family. I think I have the right to make decisions when it concerns my home, my future, my income.’

‘And, your lover?’ Lizzie snapped bitterly. ‘A bit young for you. How could you?’

‘Cal’s not…’ her mother started.

‘Huh! You can’t lie your way out of this one now,’ Lizzie broke in, unprepared for a showdown but determined for once to stand her ground, ‘I know when I’m not welcome, an intruder in my own home. I can’t stop you giving your inheritance away to any chancer or opportunist who feels he can wrap you around his little finger. And, I won’t disturb your seedy little love nest.’ Before she could stop herself, Lizzie’s feet backed towards the door. ‘And neither will I support you when you humiliate yourself and he has stripped you of everything you own.’

Lizzie felt the chill from her mother’s icy stare.

‘It is none of your business who my lover is or what age he is come to that. I’ll lead my life as I see fit. That’s right, run. There’s no money here if that’s all you came back for. If you cared, you would have been here or at least contacted your grandfather.’ Her mother’s barb hit as intended, cruelly.

Lizzie had heard enough. Fight Fight – you have nothing to lose now. She swallowed hard as if to steady her gun and braced her lips to fire out every bullet which had been loaded inside her over the last twenty five years.

‘Ok, did you ever stop to think why I ran? ‘Did I ever have any reason to come home? Did I ever do anything for you to make you proud? Did I ever achieve what you wanted? Did I ever dress or look how you wanted? Did I ever have the friends or relationships you approved of? Tell me, was I ever good enough? Oh, that’s right, you weren’t here for most of my childhood so you didn’t really know me. What is there to come back to?’

Now, she had to go. There was no point in awaiting an answer. She knew them all too well. She scrambled to the hall shaking her head. She grabbed her bag, her mother hovering speechless behind.

‘I really don’t know why you had me in the first place,’ Lizzie surged on. ‘Go, tend to your toy boy.’

Her body shook. How swiftly her emotions had ruptured, spilling out, baring themselves. Followed by burning tears blurring her vision as she flew towards the door. Squinting to focus, she hauled her bag over one shoulder, fumbled for the door and made her exit, striding off across the shingle.


Chapter 2 (#ulink_e819d6a0-c156-51ea-b373-88bbabb4ebc3)

‘I should be with you about nine Sophie. Is that ok?’ Lizzie placed her mobile in front of her on the table. The carriage was thankfully quiet as the train made its way to Paris at high speed. Her voice was very controlled, but her tears still persisted. It had never occurred to her that anything would ever happen to her grandfather. It was like reliving the nightmare of her father’s death. The shock that someone so big and strong and loving could perish just like that. The mind didn’t comprehend such tragedy and she certainly hadn’t anticipated it. So, family: none as far as she was concerned. With her grandfather now gone and, being betrayed by her own mother, that chapter was now finished. Lizzie closed her eyes, her mind brimming full of the brief but bitter day’s events.

Arriving on the third floor at her friend’s apartment, Lizzie threw herself sobbing into Sophie’s arms as soon as she opened her door.

‘You look awful Lizzie – what is it?’ Sophie picked up the luggage, set it down again and then took a hesitant step forward. Lizzie could tell by her friend’s actions and flushed complexion that she was at a loss for what to do next.

‘Leave the bags on the floor Lizzie and I’ll deal with those in a minute. You need to sit down before you fall down – come with me.’ Sophie led Lizzie to the sofa in the sitting room. The French doors, open overlooking the street, let in the traffic noise which became suddenly stressful. Sophie sat her distressed friend down and pulled the doors in to dull the intruding city.

‘I’ll just take your bags from the corridor and put them in the hall. Don’t move.’ she instructed. ‘Right,’ she said on her return, ‘you need a drink and a good listener I think!’ Sophie poured two glasses of French red wine and placed one on a small table near to her distraught friend and one-time colleague.

‘I am so selfish Soph,’ Lizzie said, throwing her head into her hands. ‘I suppose I thought I was being smart.’

‘Tell me please, what’s happened?’

Lizzie took a gulp of the wine and swallowed with aggrieved satisfaction. ‘I finally made that trip to see my mother and grandfather. I told you I was going back to England to see them – to tell them about…’

‘Yes. And?’

Lizzie swirled her wine steadily around the glass for several seconds before she managed another gulp and swirled some more.

‘Well…’ she sniffed. ‘I saw my mother this morning and at first everything was going fine, she was actually really pleased to see me but then…,’ she added shakily, ‘she told me my grandfather died last year and…, my mother has some toy boy or…or new husband, I don’t know. Anyway, she has moved a stranger, a man, her lover into the house, no doubt to keep her entertained. God knows how he manages to listen to her garble on about herself all the time and, not only has he moved into my home, my father’s and my grandfather’s home, but she has leased him my land. The land my grandfather left me for my equestrian centre is now a vineyard. A vineyard would you believe it? All mum could say was’ “It’s produced lovely sparkling wine – just like French Champagne”’ Lizzie’s high-pitched mimicry of her mother suddenly trailed off into tears. She then gulped another large mouthful from her glass, finishing it.

‘Whoa! There’s a lot going on here.’ Sophie grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and swiftly nestled into Lizzie on the sofa. ‘Come here,’ she said, embracing her gently. ‘Come on. Sophie’s here,’ she said, stroking her friend’s thick, softly curled hair, soothing Lizzie’s emotions. ‘I’m so sorry about your grandfather. I wish there…’

‘I’m really not seeking sympathy – not after the way I behaved, I just needed to talk to you. I’m so sorry imposing on you like this but I was just so shocked…and trying to get my head round it all. I swear she put my grandfather up to agreeing to lease the land to her boyfriend for her own interest. She’ll only pursue what makes her happy. Her toy boy will have to have a heart of concrete, a fucked up mind and hopefully a strong fist to put her in her place!’

Lizzie leaned back, folding her tissue and dabbing her face. Her mind skipped to her mother’s lover, trying to recall his name, but images of his masterful, strong hands and broad shoulders momentarily intercepted and she caught her breath.

‘That’s a bit strong Lizzie. Calm down. Fancy, your mother has a toy boy? I can’t imagine my mother…no,’ interjected her friend, jolting her out of her reverie. Sophie was facing her and shifting hair away from Lizzie’s damp jaw.

‘Cal.’ she recalled his name. ‘Oh Sophie, you should see him, he is gorgeous, far too good for her.’ She tried to blur the image of him as it became vivid, his neglected ash-brown hair that was spattered with glistening gold tips draped across his mesmerizing dark eyes and his lips, oh those lips, so perfectly plump and ripe for kissing. Flutters surged through her core.

‘Lizzie, really. You’re angry as well as upset! You’ve obviously had a very nasty shock or, should I say, a few nasty shocks today, plus all that travelling you’ve done. Let me run you a nice warm bath. I’ll make you something to eat while you relax.’

Lizzie did as she was told and soaked a while in the bath, doing everything she could to thrust Cal from her mind. What was she thinking? Attractive as Cal was, he was in a relationship with her mother. He loves her. It was outrageous to even think about him. Get a grip girl.

***

‘I think it was a mistake to go back home,’ Lizzie admitted, tying the bath gown around her waist and following a welcoming spicy aroma to where Sophie stood in the kitchen stir-frying vegetables in a pan. Guilty now that she had severely lost her appetite, she wondered if Sophie’s efforts would all be in vain. Her friend gave her a sisterly smile.

‘Actually no, I don’t think so, on the contrary. It hurts now but you had to do it sometime and today was as good a time as any. Did you tell your mother about Thierry?’

‘Luckily, no, thank God. I feel so much for Thierry. What was I thinking, bringing a child into this world with no proper family?’

How was she to explain all this to Thierry when the time came? ‘He’s a happy, healthy child Lizzie.’

‘But he will only know me and an au-pair, Marie-Claire! Oh, yes,’ she gave Sophie’s elbow a quick squeeze, ‘he also has his lovely aunty Sophie too, of course.’

‘Absolutely’ Sophie nodded as she gathered some cutlery for the table. ‘Aunty Sophie is definitely not going anywhere.’

‘It’s really sad and I really wish Thierry had had the opportunity to meet my grandad. He would have loved him. I have so many fond memories. I must have really let grandad down when I didn’t return home.’

Her throat tightened as his kind old face flashed across her mind. She was, after all, all he had left after her father died. He’d suddenly lost a son, his only son, and she couldn’t imagine anything worse than losing a child. She had lost her father but to witness her grandfather and grandmother cry really hurt. Whilst her mother appeared so indifferent, so unemotional, arranging the funeral and nagging her to do her homework when all she wanted to do was hide away in her room and cry and think of him. Lizzie swept her wet hair back and clipped it.

‘I’m just so relieved I didn’t take Thierry along, how bloody awful that would have been.’

‘Take it one step at a time. You’ll be fine.’ Sophie scattered place mats on the table. ‘I know you will Lizzie. You’re a survivor and I’m sure you will sort things out once you’ve had a chance to think about them rationally. Your emotions are all over the place at the moment and, who knows, you may meet that someone special who will bring you happiness. Have you heard anything from Anton since?’ Sophie enquired.

‘No, nothing, which is strange after his angry outburst when he found out about Thierry. I wonder if he’s changed his mind. I’m just so glad I stayed away from that relationship. Can you imagine? That man must be totally deluded if he thinks he could become domesticated.’

Lizzie squirmed remembering the scene several weeks ago. He’d caught her completely by surprise, demanding to know if her child was his. Not only was she shocked but also unprepared. She openly admitted Thierry was his. Anton was furious, demanding to know why she hadn’t told him. Why would she? He wouldn’t have been interested. He wasn’t that interested in his son now. No, she imagined Anton’s only interest was himself and the control it could give him.

‘Well considering he was threatening to get custody when you saw him.’

‘Bizarre yes. I should have just denied Thierry was his. I’m so stupid.

‘Well, like he said, he could have a DNA test.’

‘That’s it. It’s so easy nowadays. So bloody annoying and when he told me that his sister Colette was sure the child was his, it unnerved me because why would she come to the salon when they have their own spa at the hotel. Do you think they’ve suspected for a while?’

‘No, Anton would have questioned you before. Perhaps they don’t want to be that intimate with their own staff.’

‘Maybe their staff refuse to treat them more like. I don’t have contact with her if I can help it.’

‘Or it could simply be she likes the best.’ Sophie nudged her friend.

‘C’est vrai! Or, maybe she is Anton’s spy’. Lizzie raised her hand pretending to hold a magnifying glass.

‘Ha! Planning a grandchild snatch!’ Sophie mocked.

‘Well, they can think again. He’s my son. I’ve been controlled enough by my mother – I’d have been mad to have been sucked in to his lifestyle of drugs and paranoia. Hardly child-friendly.

‘Absolutely, you did the right thing.’

‘Yes, just me and Thierry. No Anton. No mother. We’ve managed this long. Well, I don’t know what I’d have done without you, of course. But I’m not going to give my witch of a mother any more of my precious time and I’m certainly not giving her the opportunity to start controlling Thierry’s life. Like I said, my only regret really is that Grandad didn’t meet Thierry and vice versa. They would have so loved one another.’ Lizzie made a sad face. ‘They were my main reason for going home. I’m sure anyone in their right mind wouldn’t have bothered returning to see a mother like mine. Thankfully, I have you.’ Lizzie blew a kiss as she looked lovingly at her friend. ‘It’s a shame we don’t live closer.’

‘Actually, I have some news on that score.’ Sophie’s voice brightened as she brought the dinner plates and placed them on the table, then looked up with a wide grin. ‘I have been accepted to lecture at the Nice University two days a week and can finally move south.’

‘Oh Sophie, that’s wonderful. All your hard work is paying off. All those years. I’m really, really pleased for you.’ Lizzie threw out her arms in an excited lunge towards her friend and squeezed her tight. ‘I’m so sorry it’s all been about me. We should be celebrating your good news. So, does that mean…?’

‘Yes. I can be your plastic surgeon and chief filler if you’ll still have me join Beaute Dedans?’

‘Oh my God, yes. I’ll go and get a bottle of bubbly’.

‘No need.’ Sophie opened the fridge and produced one. ‘I went out and bought one as soon as you said you were on your way. I didn’t know what you had just been through then though’.

‘All I can say is, thank God I have you. You are my family. We need to celebrate.’

The Champagne cork popped and sprang to the ceiling to both their delight and giggles.

‘I am so excited.’ Sophie squealed, pouring the sparkling nectar into two Champagne flutes.

‘Oh you know how to cheer up your best friend. That’ll be so amazing. We’ll be able to see much more of each other. Congratulations! Sante!’ They both lifted their glasses as joy replaced the tears. ‘Here’s to you, Dr Sophie Pitou, soon to be lecturer and, leading plastic surgeon in Cannes!’

‘Oh Lizzie it’s amazing. All those plans we had when we were in Meursault at the Campsite. Well, we are certainly getting closer to our dream and the university environment will help so I can keep up with research and development, trials and new ideas.’

‘I have every faith in you Dr Pitou.’

‘Thank you Ms Lambert I’m sure your make-up and beauty treatments will complement my procedures perfectly.’

‘Absolutely.’

The next morning, the alarm sounded at six and both girls woke with groggy heads. Sophie rushed to the shower whilst Lizzie made fresh coffee in the kitchen. ‘Oh I hope I haven’t made you late for work.’

‘No don’t be silly. I have plenty of time, I just need something to soothe the head.’

‘I have some paracetemol in my bag,’ Lizzie said, digging into her handbag and pulling out the packet.

‘Thanks. I’ll have just one please.’ Sophie popped the pill and sat quickly at the table.

‘I think I’ll take one too, otherwise I’ll have this all day.’

I’ve been thinking,’ Sophie started as she began sipping her cooling coffee. What if we spend some time together soon, the three of us, you me and Thierry? We can take a short break up in the hills, in Provence or something, later this month?’

‘Ahh! May is too busy for me, the salon will be bursting! We have the Film Festival, the music festivals, plus the Monaco Grand Prix. June would be better.’

‘Yes, of course. Well let me know when you can, before it gets too warm and before I move down. I have some leave to use up. We can take Thierry on some walks, get him used to some hiking, maybe even some camping,’ Sophie said excitedly.

‘Walking yes, camping no. Not until next year when he’s nearer four. I might as well enjoy a bit more luxury while I can. I’m sure he’ll love the camping though, like his mum and Aunty Sophie.’ Lizzie said recalling the vibration of excitement kids had at the campsite.

‘What child doesn’t like camping?’ Sophie said.

‘Well too much like hard work just now. I will book a hotel I know. You will love it, I know you will.’

‘Brilliant. I will be busy anyway handing over patients’ files and letting the apartment.’

‘Oh yes. I take it you’ve handed your notice in then?’

‘I finish officially in mid-July.’ Sophie stood up, beaming proudly.

‘Great. What about Guillaume?’

‘Well I haven’t officially served notice on him yet.’ She sat back down cradling her head. ‘I’m not looking forward to that.’

***

Thierry was cosily tucked up in bed when Lizzie arrived back at her Cannes apartment. She couldn’t resist spending a few hours with Sophie in Paris and, of course, doing a little shopping. Sophie managing a long lunch break. Thank God for Thierry’s nanny, or au pair really, Marie-Claire. She was such a gem and Lizzie counted herself lucky to have found her as she couldn’t have afforded to pay for full-time childcare. Not when she started out in Cannes. She entered Thierry’s room to watch her beautiful child lie sleeping so peacefully and so deliciously unaware of the previous few days’ events. She visualised her grandfather playing on the floor with her little boy just like he did with her. He would always get down to her level, physically and mentally. Although she was sure his agility would have waned. He just loved to have fun though, whether playing tea parties or being plastered in mother’s make-up, he didn’t complain.

He taught her lots too. He would read to her when she was small and, whilst her father was still working, he always made sure she understood her words and they would make a game of who would find a word in the dictionary first. His love of numbers was reflected in his fun ways to make her maths homework enjoyable too. He had a knack for explaining concepts. He always said if he hadn’t inherited the house and land and, like his father, gone into farming, he would have loved to have taught maths.

His other passion of course was animals. They would go together to check on the cows and sheep and if any of them showed any signs of ill health or disease, Thomas, the vet was called in, which was always an adventure - until Cider had to be put down of course; her lovely old golden retriever her grandfather had bought her when she was just two years old.

Her mother would always complain about the mess animals made and was dead against another dog. Not that she was ever there anyway to clear up the mess, preferring her job and social life. Thank God she had her grandfather. Lizzie’s eyes filled again as she thought about her grandfather and the memories and regrets that overflowed in her head.

It was a long time before Lizzie finally relaxed into a much-needed sleep and very early when she awoke. Thierry was jumping all over her. She gave him a big kiss and explained to him that she and Aunty Sophie would be taking him on a holiday in the mountains. She then drew her child into her arms, brushed his dark hair with her hands, then held him closer to her and gave him a huge hug.

‘Mummy loves you so, so much. We will be just fine. You and me.’

‘Bonjour, Lizzie. Ca va?’ Marie-Claire stood at her bedroom door and Lizzie greeted her with a beaming smile.

‘Bonjour, Marie-Claire. Thank you, yes I’m ok. The trip was a little shorter than anticipated but I’m pleased to be home. The salon aren’t expecting me today so I’ll spend the day with Thierry – that is, if there’s nothing you have planned with him?’

‘Non. Nothing that cannot wait,’ replied Marie-Claire and she turned to make her way to the kitchen. ‘I’ll make the breakfast.’ She left mother and son in their loving embrace.

‘Come on Thierry, we can be getting washed and dressed. Let’s have a day out.’

***

Lizzie drove to Aix-en-Provence and parked her car.

‘Come on little man, we will have a walk round the market and look for some goodies and then I’ll take you to have a special lunch.’

The market was brimming with stalls containing appetising, fresh local produce such as vegetables, cheeses, nuts, breads, fine patisseries, cold meats, sweets, as well as beautiful fabrics. Thierry immediately spotted the sweet stall and both he and Lizzie had fun choosing from the delicious selection. Happy with his little mix of sweets, bagged by Lizzie as a small pacifier, they walked on to a cheese stall. Lizzie selected some Gruyere, Emmental and Reblochon, her favourite mountain cheeses, and they walked on through a narrow street to the wider Avenue of Aix town.

Thierry toddled along, joyfully clutching his mother’s hand as they reached the vintage clothes market stalls on the Cours Mirabeau: Lizzie’s heaven when she needed some escapism. She loved the wide selection of classic or haute couture from which to browse and choose, children’s as well as adults’. She found a beautifully tailored wool-mix suit, perfect to wear separately as well as chicly together with a plain top. For Thierry, she spotted some brightly coloured trousers and married it with a funky t-shirt. Her son gave an approving nod then immediately tucked his little hand back into his bag to select his next sweet.

‘Make that your last one sweetheart, we’ll stop for lunch soon and you won’t want to ruin your pizza, it’s your favourite,’ Lizzie said as they crossed the Cours Mirabeau.

‘Pizza?’ Thierry repeated. But before she could answer, Lizzie was stunned by a figure walking in their direction.

‘Errr… yes we can go to Chez Jo….’ She trailed off, tightening her grip on Thierry’s tiny hand. It was too late. The figure was approaching them. Her heart both pounded and whirled at once. Her throat dried, her head told her to flee, she could only hope he didn’t recognise her but he was in front of her now and there was no escape.

‘Hi, Lizzie isn’t it?’ Cal quizzed as she stared at him in disbelief. Not only had he recognised her but had remembered her name. Lizzie wanted to pinch herself, if only to calm her nerves. Without her brain’s consent she became instantly mesmerised by seductive eyes melting her like chocolate. His alluring scent threw her senses sideways. It was hard not to be weakened by his tall, strong body with its screaming presence. A confidence emanated from him as he spoke while hers, along with her mouth, went dry as she replied cautiously.

‘Yes. Hi.’

What on earth was he doing here and why? Her feelings were mixed. On the one hand she didn’t want anything to do with her mother’s toy boy. But she couldn’t ignore her attraction to him. Perhaps he was hoping to muscle in on her life as well as her mother’s. But surely he didn’t know she was here in Aix. Or did he? Surely her mother hasn’t sent him to follow her around. No. Her mother was many things, but surely not that desperate to have her followed. For goodness, sake she told herself, she was becoming paranoid now. But how strange!

‘Wow, I can’t believe my luck bumping into you like this. I’m in Aix on business but I was intending to head down to Cannes to look for you in the beauty salons. Your mother said you have a salon in Cannes so I thought I would take the opportunity to find you.

‘Why? Is my mother with you?’ Lizzie’s suspicions surfaced immediately.

‘Sorry no! But listen, I do have an appointment to keep now. Can I meet you tonight or tomorrow maybe? I would like to talk to you.’

Lizzie’s defences sprung up like a coil of wire had been released.

‘No, and to be honest, we have nothing to talk about. My mother and I have nothing to say to one another. In fact the further away I am from her the better. She has all she wants! No doubt she has sent you here.’ It wasn’t a question, rather a statement of fact. She spoke with such fierce animosity that Cal stood momentarily speechless. His eyes captured hers, weakening her. She squeezed Thierry’s hand tightly.

‘I have to go,’ she said.

‘But I thought you’d returned home to make amends.’

‘I don’t wish to talk about it.’

‘Lizzie, I want to help. Your mother was pretty upset when you left.’ He shifted his weight from one leg to the other in a gesture to stop her moving forward.

‘I doubt that. Anyway, we have nothing to say so, thank you for your concern. Goodbye.’

Lizzie moved forward to leave and could only drop her eyes down in shame with her outburst. She wasn’t usually so rude. Nor aggressive, her anger surprised her – she was angry with him just for helping her mother.

‘Lizzie, please, a moment of your time?’ One hand brushed her forearm very softly but the magnitude of the effect jarred her. Her body radiated an intense heat, an instant chemical reaction. She looked up at him, embarrassed, and searched his eyes. She wondered if he felt that fire too. He reached inside his jacket and was just about to speak again when she broke in.

‘I…don’t want…’ she stuttered, trying to get past.

‘It’s just my number in case…’

‘I don’t see any point. You’ll waste your time.’

‘Ok. Ok. That’s fine’. He said as he drew out a small card and pushed it deep into her handbag. ‘Give me a call if you change your mind. I’ll be here until Sunday afternoon’. Lizzie grabbed her bag to retrieve the card but Cal turned and left.

‘Come along sweetheart.’ She squeezed Thierry’s hand and strode off as quickly as she could, with Thierry almost running, in the direction of Le Rue Espariat. Briefly she halted to watch Cal as he crossed the Cours Mirabeau.

All through lunch at Chez Jo, Lizzie was on edge. She couldn’t believe how much Cal affected her. She cursed herself for being attracted to him. Why had she allowed him to get to her like this? What did he intend to do anyway? Did he really think she would forgive her mother? Did he know the full story, she wondered. After all he would only be aware of her mother’s version of events. Surely, their cosy little set up didn’t need her in their way anyway?

When they returned home, Marie-Claire was still out so Lizzie made some gingerbread men with her son before bathing him and dressing him for bed. After reading him a story, she was tired too and took herself off to bed. It was impossible to sleep though with so much playing on her mind.

‘Shit!’ she shrieked as the realisation dawned. Cal would have seen Thierry. He never questioned her about him. She never introduced them. What would he assume? He would go back to her mother and reveal she had a grandchild. That was the last thing she wanted to happen! It was important for her to break this news personally, if at all. ‘What a mess.’ She would have to ring him but it was too late tonight.

From six thirty the following morning she paced her apartment having given up trying to sleep. At nine she punched in his mobile number.


Chapter 3 (#ulink_919f8502-b992-5fa1-853e-a7dc3f0395d0)

‘Hello, hello, Cal?’ Lizzie tried hard to keep the urgency out of her voice.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s Lizzie here. I’ve been thinking and I will meet you. Meet me at the Pause Café, it’s in Rue Hoche, Cannes. Can you make twelve thirty?’

‘Ok. Pause Café. Yes I think I know where that is. Sure. I’ll see you then,’ he confirmed.

As usual, Lizzie left Thierry’s routine to her au pair, Marie-Claire, who took Thierry to his usual local playgroup for the morning. This allowed Lizzie to take a leisurely, luxuriant bath and give her hair a conditioning treatment. Aimee from the salon came to the apartment to blow dry her hair and curl it with tongs. After the addition of some light make-up, Lizzie slipped on a fresh white silk blouse which hung elegantly over her blue jeans. She checked in the mirror that they looked ok. A tan leather belt, bag and matching low-heel shoes completed the outfit. She checked her watch, it was twelve fifteen. Time to go.

Again, she looked at her reflection. Her stomach churned like she was going on a first date rather than a quick, casual bargaining exercise. She slipped on a delicate silver diamond necklace which matched her earrings and a pretty but handmade, blue square-beaded bracelet that Thierry had made her with Marie-Claire. The main beads were cubes and spelt MUMMY.

As Lizzie arrived at the Pause Café, she could feel her body tremor. Although dressed quite casually, she wondered if she looked too stiff and too polished for the occasion. She asked herself why she had made so much effort for such a small and informal chat …

The Café was busy but not crowded. She spotted Cal straight away. He gave her a brief smile and made his way over to greet her and, Lizzie noted, eyed her up and down as he did so.

His presence needed no introduction; it was strikingly apparent and Lizzie gasped for her breath as he approached her. In traditional French style he kissed both her cheeks, giving her a pleasant jolt. The touch of his face on her skin created a feverish blush. Stabilising herself, she grabbed the chair opposite his and sat before she fell. She could feel her heart pounding wildly out of control and whilst wishing she was on a first date with him, she swiftly forced herself to wise up and reminded herself of her mission.

‘Hi, thanks for coming.’ she asserted as her body shook involuntarily. He sat down and the waiter stood by for her order.

‘It’s my pleasure, really,’ he replied. His smile was so captivating that Lizzie forced her attention to the waiter to regain control.

‘What would you like to drink?’ Cal immediately took command.

‘Just a small beer please,’ Lizzie said, suddenly feeling a huge thirst.

Cal ordered in French. The waiter slid off back to the bar. She took a deep breath and was about to compliment Cal on his language ability but then thought better of it. She decided to stick to her plan and looked directly at him to take control.

‘As I said before, I have no intention of revisiting my mother whether she sent you on this quest or not, I really have nothing to say to her.’ She kept her tone as even as she could. ‘We have absolutely nothing in common, and she has no one’s interest in her heart but her own’. Lizzie took another deep breath and was about to speak again when Cal broke in.

‘I want you to know that I don’t wish to come between the two of you and I’m not here to make you do anything or to get involved. You are both adults. I am genuinely here on business and as I am, coincidently, in the area I thought I would try to help you both out. It was just chance that you and I were both in Aix. Caroline or,’ he corrected, ‘your mother, doesn’t know I found you ‘It seems to me then, like you are getting involved, Lizzie said. ‘So tell me, are you just protecting yourself or genuinely wanting to help?’ She felt a fury rise inside her as she hadn’t intended to create conflict. As the waiter put the beer down on the table in front of them, she gulped down a large mouthful from the ice-cooled glass. She had to be careful not to piss him off. After all, she didn’t want him to tell her mother about Thierry.

‘Well I’ll tell you what I have in mind shall I?’ he said with an authority that Lizzie couldn’t quite handle. Her mind was confused. On the one hand she was curious but on the other, she wanted to blank her mother. ‘I don’t think there is any point in trying anything. Like I just said, I now have no desire to see her ever again. I’ve managed without her for the last five years or so – even before then, we never did get on. I’ve never depended on her and certainly don’t intend to now.’

Cal’s eyes lowered down to her wrist and acknowledged the small bead bracelet.

‘And the child?’ he questioned. Lizzie looked up and followed his eyes. Could she trust those hematite gems that melted her so fast? She wondered if he was confirming he knew or if he was asking if the child was hers. ‘He’s a handsome chappy. Is he yours?’ he inquired casually.

Lizzie now felt overwhelmingly protective. ‘Ok! That’s the only reason I’ve come here to see you. I don’t want my mother to know about him. If she is ever to find out that she has a grandchild, then it comes from me.’ Lizzie had to gamble in the hope that she could trust him not to tell her mother. Why? She had no idea – but it was worth trying rather than lying and complicating the matter by telling him Thierry was a friend’s child.

Cal looked surprised. ‘Why ever not?’ he asked. ‘Why would you want to deprive either of them of a possible wonderful relationship?’

‘Well that was what I thought a few days ago. But that’s changed since I saw her as I’ve explained. Call me stubborn if you like, I don’t care. I have no time for that woman and don’t feel she deserves to know my son. That’s the reality. I’m not going into the history.’ Lizzie finished her drink and stood up. ‘I hope you will respect my wishes’.

With her heart pounding, she could only pray she could trust him with the knowledge. She headed for the door.

‘Wait’ he commanded, raising his palm and standing up, then, ushering her to sit again. Lizzie automatically obeyed and found herself perched back in her seat.

‘Sorry I don’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable…’ he said, but then, a deep voice with a French accent shot between them.

‘Bonjour Lizzie. Are you going to introduce me?’ Immediately she recognized the voice with its jealous tone and she twitched as his petulant icy stare stung her eyes. His familiar expensive cologne hit the air around them as he approached them.

‘Anton, hello, this is Cal, my mother’s err… friend,’ she fumbled for the correct term not knowing whether to introduce him as a boyfriend, fiancé, husband or business associate. Anyway, she didn’t like Anton’s tone and wondered if he was out to make trouble. This was the last thing she wanted right now. She glanced at Cal and waved her hand in Anton’s direction.

‘This is Anton, my ex.’ She cut short any further information. The two men shook hands in that suspicious manner that only men can’t hide. ‘Cal lives in England and is here on business. He’s in the wine trade.’

‘I’m pleased you make the effort to socialize with Lizzie when you obviously have more pressing matters to attend to,’ said Anton.

‘I think you should mind your own business,’ Lizzie retorted.

‘Isn’t your business now my business? Is my son well?’

‘Yes, he is and always has been.’

‘Oh, I think he will be better cared for once he has the chance to know his father,’ Anton said, reaching for his wallet and taking out his card. ‘Ring me later. We need to talk,’ he said, placing the card in front of her.

Lizzie was livid but bit her tongue and waited as he returned to the bar. ‘I’m sorry. He’s my son’s father and has…well, ignore him.’ Lizzie told Cal. This was such an unwelcome intrusion. How did she manage to find these men? She certainly had a knack of falling for the ‘bad’ boys. Anton was obviously still feeling raw from his discovery but why and how did he find her today? How often was she out in a bar with a man? Not even a man who is available. Cal might as well be married and to think Anton would quickly add one and one and come up with four. Was he now going to be back governing her life like he tried before?

‘Oh, but I think it’s obvious he still likes you,’ observed Cal.

‘No. He only likes himself.’ She lowered her voice, ‘He’s a control freak. I don’t know, insecure, jealous, he’ll never grow up. He certainly hasn’t got what it takes to be a parent.’ Lizzie omitted Anton’s history of drugs. Cal didn’t need to know and certainly neither did her mother.

‘He didn’t strike me as the fatherly type.’

‘God no, still a child himself.’

‘So,’ Cal asserted. ‘Getting back to you and the situation with your mother. I think…’ he paused, sat forward and moderated his tone. His closeness began to take a hold on her. She swore he could hear her heart reverberate round the cafe. ‘The solution is to keep my number so that you can ring me at any time should and, I repeat, should, you change your mind. And,’ he turned his head thoughtfully, ‘I wondered too if I could keep your number in return just so that you are contactable. My reasoning is, to keep some line of communication going.’

‘But,’ Lizzie interjected. ‘I’ve already said…’

‘Yes, I understand believe me,’ he said patiently. ‘I want you to trust me. Yes, I believe that both of you need a cooling off period but…perhaps more importantly, it’s not unreasonable to propose that at some future date, I may need to contact you, you being the next of kin and vice-versa. What if something happened to you? Who would be contacted with regard to your son?’ Lizzie was about to argue that her close friend Sophie would cope with all that but he was right. It was more a question of practicality. If anything happened, either to her or her mother, Cal’s suggestion was, she figured, unnervingly sensible. She couldn’t believe she was giving in to this man so readily.

‘Right, this has to be conditional,’ she demanded, ‘If you keep my number, you have to promise me two things. I don’t want my son’s existence disclosed to my mother, or anyone in England, I would hate for her to find out from someone else and, secondly, my number must be kept hidden from her. I don’t want her ringing me.’

Cal nodded. ‘Like I said, you can trust me. I will let her know you are ok and that will be all. Knowing how upset she was it will just put her mind at rest.’

‘But don’t tell her you spoke to me. She will just keep on at you to tell her more. That’s what she’s like.’ Desperation sounded in Lizzie’s plea.

‘Look I’ll just tell her I ran into you in Aix-en-Provence. I won’t reveal a thing, I promise.’ With that he put his hand on hers, which nearly made Lizzie collapse. Again it sent her heart bouncing off the walls but she fought hard to stay in the moment. To read his eyes and know whether she should trust him. She had absolutely no reason to.

‘Your secret is safe! Ok? What will I gain from telling her now?’ he asked. ‘It would be far better coming from you when you two decide to speak to one another.’

Lizzie searched his face for a final reassurance then glanced over at the ogling eyes of Anton at the bar. Fuck she thought. Who do you trust? It’s all too late now anyway.

‘Don’t worry,’ he continued, standing close, ‘Just call me if you have a change of heart.’ As she stood, his arm rested around her shoulder and squeezed it, offering that final nudge of reassurance and comfort so needed.

Weirdly enough as she walked back to her apartment, she began to feel she could trust this stranger. Why? She didn’t know. She hardly knew him. She also had every reason to imagine that he had been sent by her mother or perhaps he even had motives relating to the vineyard. Her mind then flipped, had she done the right thing? Panic and doubt were now creeping in. Had she taken the right action? What she did know, and couldn’t explain, was the extraordinary attraction she had towards him. Not that she invited it. It was just there. Perhaps that was why she trusted him. Perhaps he had the same effect on her mother. Maybe his art was persuasion. His flawless looks and charisma would charm Marilyn Munroe out of her grave! Could it be he set every woman tingling in his presence? And, Anton, how on earth was she going to get rid of him?


Chapter 4 (#ulink_f14e3497-ca8e-5bfc-9219-ccc849384bbc)

For most of the journey Cal hadn’t been able to get Lizzie out of his mind and now sitting in a car in Jez’s vineyard on this glorious spring day was almost equally distracting.

‘Lucky man is Jez,’ Cal remarked to his friend Charles as he enviously observed the scene before him. Charles skillfully maneuvered the four-wheel drive around winding hairpins up into rolling Provencal hills clothed in rows of lush vines sucking up the sun’s energy from a Mediterranean blue sky – it was truly a ready-made canvas. Very much, he thought, like Lizzie. Only she was a beauty and a beast all rolled into one. A dichotomy which he considered challenging and, at the same time, endearing. Much like raising vines, she was a vision to behold and admire but so delicate and vulnerable that he believed she would be worth every effort because the rewards could be exponential. The fact that he so adored her beauty but also abhorred her brutality towards her mother gave him a new raison d’être – to discover her complexities and the scars within. Was he smitten he asked himself?

Charles Pitt-Barker turned the Range Rover onto a wide sweeping entrance adorned with a sign “Domain de Shires” in black with ruby-gold letters.

‘Bloody Brits. Have to turn to tack,’ he said, observing Jez’s choice of name and navigating the stones to what was now a long, snaking dirt track. His passenger however was preoccupied gazing out with awe and drew breath at the sight. The sun shimmered on the trellised vines stretching across the landscape. Almost-pink soil radiated heat to warm and sweeten the masses of leaves and abundance of fruit whilst thick hedges offered shelter from the winds and tall cypress trees graced the rolling hills beyond.

‘Wow, the leaves on the vines have thickened since I was here a few weeks back. Jez is gonna want some help pruning that lot.’

‘Hence the invite then?’ Charles mocked, his head nodding from side to side.

‘Oh you know Jez! Any excuse for a piss up.’

‘Oh, it’s fine for a day,’ Charles scratched his head, ‘rather be on the sea though, me.’

‘Yeah, I know Charlie-boy but – hey – you can’t beat good wine and good company in exchange for a few hours’ work– beats being in the office! And look at this view.’

‘Bloody right,’ Charles, who spent his long days practicing French family law grinned. ‘Is Jez still seeing that designer girl, Anna what’s her name?’

‘Annatia Wu, yes. Bright, talented and quite a sweet girl actually.’ With those words, Cal’s mind immediately slipped back to his meeting with Lizzie just a short hour ago. She was sweet he was sure, under the bitter coating.

‘Well she’s done well focusing her designs on Jez,’ shot Charlie, laughing at his own schoolboy joke.

‘I wouldn’t tell her that, Charlie-boy. I should warn you she needs a bit of a humour transplant – you know, she’s bit intense. Good to see Jez happy though.’

‘Why do we do this to ourselves?’

‘What’s that?’

‘Women! They take away our humour and spontaneity.’

‘Mmm, they have a habit of getting under our skin I suppose.’ Cal got an image of Lizzie naked getting under his, and swiftly moved the conversation on. ‘Jez could do a lot worse.’

‘God yeah, that Tina he was with for years didn’t deserve him. Cheating little bitch! Glad he got rid of her.’

Cal nodded in agreement but was still distractedly captivated by all the surroundings. The track was winding to an end and Cal’s mouth was figuratively dribbling.

‘Jez has really turned this place around. This is fucking amazing,’ he cried. The Range Rover was now facing the villa and the whole scene would have knocked Cal off his feet – had he been standing. In just a few weeks, much work had been done. ‘He must be the luckiest bastard alive I reckon, inheriting this little gem.’

‘That depends?’ Charlie slowed the vehicle to drive over a ramp. ‘I mean, I can’t imagine what I would have done with it? Sold it probably.’

‘Well, it’s not something that floats your boat is it? If your grandparents left you a pontoon in Cannes, your own wide-berth mooring oh, and a flotilla of yachts, I think we might be on par!’

‘Too right – Yeah…if only!’

‘And a beautiful woman of course?’ then Cal recoiled at his faux pas. ‘Sorry mate.’

‘Cal, I’m done with woman, beautiful or not. Like I said, they knock the life out of you anyway. Well, Kate did. Anyway, don’t worry, I’m better now, though I can’t believe it was nearly two years ago that she died.

‘God bless her, it is, yes, nearly two years. It was after I came out of the navy and set up the first vines. God, how time flies. Kate was one of the best Charley-boy.’

‘Yeah…And no one I’ve met or am likely to will come up to her standard. No one can or will replace Kate. Bloody unfair! Bloody bike ride to work!’

‘Yeah. So sudden.’

‘We’d probably have had kids by now. Kate had wanted to start a family, last year.’

‘That’s sad mate,’ Cal’s voice was sympathetic, ‘you’d make a great dad. I reckon Alana did me a favour. I’d have been gutted to have started a family only for her to decide she was too busy with her career and to never see her child.’

‘Yes, I agree. Alana never struck me as the maternal type. Must have been good seeing Jack at Easter though?’

‘Yes, only a few days but he was good. Sixteen next year.’ Cal couldn’t believe how quickly time had gone. ‘It was pretty devastating not being involved with Jack but once he’s finished high school, he wants to come and stay longer.’

Cal felt a pang of emotion from a past era and a longing for his child. It had been hard for him to swallow all those years ago, soon after he’d joined the navy, when his girlfriend, who was just eighteen and pregnant with his child, had flown off to New York with a guy twice her age. She even tried to claim the child belonged to Reuben, her new and super rich husband. Cal flew out once she had Jack and persuaded her to tell Reuben the truth, before he did. Fortunately for Kelly, Reuben forgave her and Cal made sure Jack knew who his father was.

‘I’m looking forward to that. Hopefully, we’ll see more of each other instead of just twice a year. He’ll be over for Christmas this year.’

‘Brilliant, you both deserve some time together,’ Charles said, smiling.

‘So, Charley-boy, no romance on the horizon then?’

‘Met up with one or two other lawyers, female ones obviously but, I don’t know, it could be me. I don’t really have the energy to play their games or jump to their demands.’

‘Maybe it’s too soon? They’re never easy at the best of times,’ Cal consoled his friend.

‘Exactly. So bloody complicated, women.’ Charles gently slowed the Range Rover as they approached the villa and drove over the final ramp. Jez appeared from a freshly painted Provencal blue door which matched the shutters.

‘There’s our man,’ cheered Charles.

‘Indeed.’ Cal forced the grin. ‘And his good lady.’ Annatia appeared beside Jez, waving just as they pulled up on the shingle. Cal opened his door beside them and the couple welcomed him.

‘Hey, Jez, looks like we need to get started on the pruning tout-de-suite.’ He shook his old school friend’s hand and then greeted Annatia with a kisses to both cheeks.

‘Ha, brilliant idea mate be my guest. Annatia has very kindly made us some lunch but feel free if you can’t wait.’

‘Maybe I need some energy first,’ Cal conceded.

Charles walked round the car and shook his friend’s hand too, then gave Annatia a gentle hug and kissed her on both cheeks just as Cal had done. They all followed her into the villa. Cal at once noted the change in the décor. Rather than Mediterranean lemon, the walls were now brilliant white and the floors retiled. The traditional red terracotta tiling had been replaced with high-end Italian marble, streaked with taupe and shades of grey. Creamy-white sofas gleamed in the light. The windows were draped effortlessly in cream linen curtains hung from black wrought-iron rails whilst white voile blew gently in the breeze.

‘Expertly planned but simply applied,’ Cal said. ‘I’m impressed.’

‘Thank you, yes. We are rather proud it has worked out,’ Annatia replied.

Charles followed without much observation, unlike Cal and Jez; he paid no attention to such domesticity.

‘Hmm.’ Charles twisted his head round to take in the scene. Jez broke in. ‘I’m sure I told you Annatia has an interior design business. She only came out in March and by the end of April had gathered a team to do the work. They were here for about ten days?’

Annatia nodded. ‘Yes, not too long.’

‘Good job,’ said Charles, wiping his neck. This small talk was out of his comfort zone.

‘Ok. Drinks?’ Jez led them all out to the terrace. ‘I’ll open a bottle of my finest shall I?’ The mid-day sun was diffused by a fully extended cream canopy over the terrace. Marble flooring and dark grey iron furniture matched the interior with wrought-iron balustrades furnishing the balcony. Beyond that, vines stretched as far as the eye could see with even a glimpse of the Med in the distance. Cal could only dream of owning such splendour.

‘Stunning, absolutely stunning.’

‘Yes beautiful isn’t it. As the sun goes down it becomes even more so,’ Jez said, proudly.

‘When I came a few weeks back, the visibility was poor and it didn’t stop raining so you couldn’t see far at all. I’m just overwhelmed. The house too, it was…’

‘Awful.’ Annatia cut in.

‘Err…traditional I’d say,’ Cal said diplomatically. Jez squeezed Annatia’s hand as they both laughed.

‘It’s coming together, gradually,’ admitted Jez, passing Charles a glass of wine.

Charles made a polite nod and nonchalantly slumped his body into the nearest chair. ‘What about turnover Jez? Is it paying for itself yet?’ he asked.

‘Are you serious Charlie-boy?’ Cal jeered. ‘No rent and over half the vines at least good to go – Jez is doing something drastically wrong not to be in profit already.’

Charles leaned forward in his chair as the others joined him with full glasses in the cushioned outdoor loungers. Annatia retreated to the kitchen.

‘Exciting Jez.’ Cal couldn’t work out whether he was really happy for his friend or just plain green with envy. Jez was living his dream!

‘Gramps didn’t do much with it as a growing business. This was his hobby, his retirement toy. He didn’t want to do too much so we’re financing a new website and upping the stakes for awards and appellation – generally putting ourselves on the map.

‘Well this won’t do your reputation any harm,’ Cal said, holding up his wine glass. ‘This is excellent.’

‘Cheers mate. A little “beaut “don’t you think?’

‘You won’t hear me complain.’

Charles sipped his too just to find out what all the fuss was about. ‘Umm, yes, fine young filly. I think. Aren’t French wines passé now?’

‘French wines have had to up their game these last few years with all the competition, especially from countries like Italy and the new world wines. It’s tough!’ said Jez.

‘I think our English wines will be giving you a run for your money too.’ Cal winked across at Jez.

‘How is Domain de Caroline?’ Jez asked as Annatia filled a table under the canopy with brightly coloured food.

‘She too is coming along nicely. Just given her a spray actually.’ Cal sucked in his cheeks at Jez’s reference to his own vineyard. His pride and joy and, woe anyone who mocked it!

‘Have you started building your winery yet?’

‘We finished the foundations and the panels are just going up. I’ve got the electricians coming in next week to do the first fix.’

‘Great stuff. So what square footage is it gonna give you?’

‘It will be about three thousand square feet. Not huge but enough for an office, two loos, cave, tank room, press, bottling and public areas. Caroline has been great helping with the planning. Although that is not going down well with the daughter.’

‘Oh! Not heard about this one at all.’ Jez raised his wide brows as he spoke.

‘To be honest, I don’t know much but I think she is the benefactor of the estate but she and Caroline don’t see eye to eye. It could potentially be a problem.’

‘Why?’ Jez enquired.

‘Told you,’ piped Charles. ‘Bloody women. Put a spoke in your works!’

‘You could be right Charlie-boy, you could be right. I don’t know the story exactly but she came home for the first time in years and they had a big row. Caroline isn’t saying too much but I get the feeling it’s about the land. The daughter, it turns out, lives here in France, in Cannes, so I thought I would try and find her as I was close.

‘Well that’s about as useful as a stone in a shovel of shingle!’ Charles at least was following the conversation.

‘I figured there probably aren’t that many beauty salons in Cannes but oh…how wrong was I? Anyway as luck would have it, I bumped into her yesterday in Aix.’

‘Excellent, so?’ Jez asked.

‘Humm…Ok, I’m keen to get them talking. I have to. I’ve invested a lot of money and time so it’s in my interest as well as Caroline’s. Although, Caroline worried me a bit when she said, “My daughter needs to do some growing up.” They’ve obviously come to blows and I’m not sure if either are that bothered to be honest.’

‘Leave it be then Cal. Caroline wouldn’t appreciate you meddling,’ Charles said with his lawyer hat on.

‘Help yourself to food, guys.’ Annatia called, peeling off the last of the coverings.

Cal resisted saying any more. He was acutely aware of two things, his vulnerability if anything were to happen to Caroline; what would happen to him and the vines? Would the contract still stand? Lizzie was never part of the equation. Also since setting his eyes on Lizzie his head had not been in the right place and his heart, well, it had been reeled in to the point that it needed to get nourished or starve. He needed to find out whether she felt the same. After her fluster yesterday and her effort this morning, he suspected she may. But even though she’s not in a relationship with the father of her child, she may have a partner, be married even. He was becoming quite keen to find out more about her, this beautiful, graceful but intriguing Lizzie Lambert. How he was going to do this, he didn’t yet know.


Chapter 5 (#ulink_7e720551-28d0-5aa8-8550-aa6fb895fdf9)

‘Anton. Please don’t call the salon! I’ll give you a number,’ Lizzie told him as she met him at his hotel reception. It was a vast hall of polished brown marble running from the front to the back of the huge Victorian building. A long contrasting light marble reception desk faced them with several staff busily greeting hotel guests clutching cases wheeled behind or stashed by marble columns. She’d only agreed to meet him in the reception area, public enough hopefully to keep Anton’s behaviour in check but Lizzie refused to sit down as she watched him pace.

‘Well you should have rung me. You have my number. I ring the salon and you are not there anyway.’ Anton marched back and forth by a long glass-topped coffee table.

‘That’s because I am at home with my little boy.’ Here’s my home number,’ she sat and pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper from her handbag and scribbled down her number. ‘Thierry’s nanny can get hold of me at any time. If I’m not there, leave a message with Marie-Claire and I will call you back. Anyway, what…?’

‘You know what it’s about. I want to meet my son. You bring Thierry to me. I want to get to know him.’ Anton’s dark brows knitted as he pleaded. ‘You had no right to hide him from me. You should have let me know. Why didn’t you?’

‘Anton, seriously? You would not have been interested, you weren’t… in the right place, I’m not sure if you are now. And, to be honest, since you’ve known for about eight or nine weeks, you’ve only come to see me once! Why is it suddenly more important?’

‘He is my son and I want to be part of his life. And,’ his face twitched, ‘I don’t want him brought up by another man. I want custody?’

‘What? You weren’t going to bother with your son until you thought I was with somebody else?!’ Lizzie’s frowned, ‘which I’m not anyway.’

Anton stood silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. ‘No, I wanted him anyway. I would have wanted him years ago.’

‘I can’t believe that. Our relationship was over and I was going away. You would have made me terminate the pregnancy.’

‘I am his father. I have a right to decide in the matter.’ His glare swiped her face.

‘Ok, tell me what you would have said three years ago if I had come and told you?’

‘We could have been married.’

‘Are you mad? Anton we couldn’t last six weeks so we would never survive six decades. And anyway, surely you can guess why I chose not to tell you? She paused, waiting for his answer. ‘I’m talking about your drug habit. Anton.’

‘I…I didn’t...wasn’t…’ Anton stammered but Lizzie cut in.

‘Don’t lie to me. You clearly were and you had serious paranoia. You were controlling. If you didn’t deny it was your child, you would have forced me to get rid of it. There is no way you would have wanted a child. So it surprises me that you are suddenly so interested in being a father, even now.’

He stopped pacing and faced her, creasing his forehead. Her knees were close to buckling as his anger pulsated from his eyes. Passers-by began to stare.

‘You don’t know what I would have said but I liked you very much Lizzie and I could have made it work but I did not get to choose,’ he hurled in her face, his hands on his hips.

‘You? Wasn’t that the problem Anton? Shouldn’t that have been we?’ Stepping back she glanced past him and out at the bright sky, unable to stop her body trembling and eyes welling up. She really couldn’t deal with this. Shifting her head slightly to avoid his eye, she settled her eyes beyond the hotel, and on the world outside. Avoiding him, she kept her focus on the carefree visitors delighting themselves as they promenaded on the Mediterranean shore, relishing the view, the warm sunshine and its persistent light reflecting on the sea. It was after all, she realised pensively, a major reason why she fell in love with Cannes. Now she was in another place; faced with an uncompromising Anton, the once loveable charmer, still in his expensive designer attire and ultra-polished grooming, giving her his bullshit. He hadn’t changed.

He had no right to control her life. Now nor then. How could she answer? Why should she even listen? She tilted her head to be met with his now softer, velvety brown eyes; the eyes that once intrigued and seduced her. He appeared to now be calm. She cleared her throat and swallowed, taking control.

‘If you’re serious about having contact with Thierry, we need to get a custody agreement drawn up I presume. I’ll look into it. There will be a proper procedure, I’m sure, and I need to be able to trust you. We have built a life together, Thierry and I, and the transition will need to be handled correctly. You can’t have all the control and be possessive like you were when we were together.’

‘But that is only because I really liked you,’ Anton declared. ‘I cared and you should have told me about my baby.’

He never cared. She recalled the time she chatted to his friend Pascal, on the quayside, a group of them were at a party. She laughed at Pascal’s joke and Pascal touched her arm as he made another quip. An innocent brush with his hand, but Anton, just a few feet away, must have seen it and completely overreacted, nearly pushing her into the Med. Accusing her of flirting. Luckily Pascal caught her. Anton marched off. That wasn’t caring. That was paranoid. He’d also humiliated her, mocking her for living in a caravan and when they’d argued once he’d slapped her round the head. On a few occasions he’d even made her go home and change because he disliked her outfits. He’d been a complete control freak. She didn’t stay around to hope he’d get better.

‘That’s not how you treat someone you like. We weren’t even together that long and you were taking over my life. I couldn’t deal with it. It was like living in a cage.’

‘But it’s ok for my son to be exposed to your lovers?’

‘I don’t have time for lovers, Anton.’

‘You are lying to me now. I saw you remember?’

‘You saw my mother’s lov… partner.’ She hadn’t got to grips with the term.

‘Holding your hand?’

‘As a friend, Anton,’ her voice quivered slightly, ‘I’d been upset. Not that it’s any of your business. You can’t argue this point Anton, you date women.’

‘Well I wouldn’t be out all the time. No, I’m determined,’ he said. ‘I shall be a good father.’

Lizzie’s confidence collapsed. Exhausted by him, she shook her head in despair. ‘I have to go. I need to have a serious think about what’s involved in this Anton and find out what we need to do.’

‘I will get my son. That I promise.’

‘Au revoir, Anton.’ She walked briskly but as gracefully as she could to the entrance of just one of his family’s opulent collection of hotels and out into the brilliant sunshine. She headed for the promenade in the hope the walk may give her some escape.

Usually, she loved the unrivalled light Cannes showered on her but her mood was too dark to absorb any. Anton had certainly seen to that. It was hard to comprehend now that it was him, as well as the brilliance of the sky, which drew her to this magical place. She’d been bewitched by his elegance, his charm, his come-to-bed eyes and, of course, his wealth. She was so naïve then. It was a million eons away from her life in England or the utilitarian style of the French campsites she worked on before this town seduced her. Poolside cafes were nothing compared with the glitzy, stylish bistro bars and fine restaurants she frequented with Anton and his friends. Her world transformed from the moment she stepped onto his private yacht. It was an opportunity to help someone out and fill a gap before a season in Verbier. That’s all, just an eight-week job.

How fast and dramatically her plans had changed. From day one, she had felt like she belonged in Cannes even though, Sophie, her greatest friend, wasn’t with her. And, when faced with her predicament it was natural to settle here. It was easy not to mix in his circles. And, even if Anton ever saw her with a child, he would never guess. What a fool she was. It was unfortunate that his sister had spotted the likeness at the salon that day, a couple of months ago, but today, he’d freaked her out; talked about marriage. What Why? Where did that come from? And, why does he want Thierry so urgently now?


Chapter 6 (#ulink_08328ad0-8e3d-5542-bfbe-dbd5b8a59b7d)

Marching into the still-bustling Marche Gambetta, Lizzie headed for the salon. Her long walk along the promenade hadn’t cleared her head. She was still furious with Anton. Forget it. She told herself. He’s the biggest twat to walk this planet. As well as Thierry, her business was her passion. She didn’t need a man. Her life was moving along quite nicely and she had worked hard since taking over Beaute Dedans, the beauty salon. Opening the heavy glass door she was greeted by Lucie, the receptionist, and her manager Josephine.

‘Well speak of the devil,’ Josephine said, catching Lizzie by surprise.

‘Oh. Surely you have something more interesting to talk about?’ Lizzie responded, scooping thick chestnut hair back from her forehead.

‘I was just telling Lucie how you began just a few years ago, right here at this post when Madame Renauld owned the business.’

It was an opportunity Lizzie grabbed when expecting her child. With a natural interest in beauty and products and lots of knowledge from her mother’s experience in the beauty industry, she impressed Madame Renault almost immediately. Within just a few months of working full time at the salon, her former boss told her that her attitude and the increase in product sales was just what the business needed and that she had the vision for its future. And that she really wanted to retire. The business was available if they could agree a sum.

‘Yes, it’s been hard work but it fitted in with my plans perfectly,’ she confessed.

‘You have done amazingly. When my mother used to come here, it was quite old fashioned,’ Lucie commented. ‘You must be proud!’

Lizzie had never stopped to consider what she had achieved, being so preoccupied with the how. All she knew was she had been hungry to provide for her child and so with determination she set about what was necessary. Eventually, after some further negotiation on price and dragging her feet to bide time, she found the resources. With her own savings and a loan from Sophie, she and Madame Renauld concluded a deal. Lizzie had made regular business plans to increase profits so she could expand. She introduced more treatments, created more space, even if it meant knocking out cupboards. With her, Josephine created a good, reliable team and with it blossomed a reputation of the place to go. They had now become pretty well established.

‘Yes, I’m proud but it’s all down to the team we have,’ Lizzie said, picking up her post. ‘If you didn’t work so well together, we wouldn’t have gained the reputation we have.’

Lizzie appreciated she could not have done it without the dedication of Josephine, a forty two year old mother of a teenager, who had worked at the salon for ten years before Lizzie took over the business, just over three years ago, so she had all the qualities and experience. She could also depend on Josephine to gear up for the busy season: extra staff or good freelancers would be contracted in for the high-profile festivals of Cannes, and the Monaco Grand Prix. It was Cannes’ most intense season. Lizzie knew she’d met the high standards when celebrity agents as well as high-profile film and entertainment industry VIPs, men and women, called her salon.

She threw herself into her work on the preparations. The salon was, conveniently, just a short walk from her apartment, just off the Marche Gambet, on a street where cars and delivery vans slid periodically in and out of tight parking bays. The terrace of shops was typical of the commercial buildings built in the early 1900s. Beaute Dedans was distinguished by the luxuriant large tinted double-glazed frontage which suffused the salon in sunshine and diffused any traffic noise. Inside, air conditioning maintained an ambient air temperature.

Lucie handed her the daily rota which Josephine produced every morning. ‘Madame D’Aramitz said yesterday again, how impressed she was.’

‘Thank you. Oh, that’s very generous of her.’ Lizzie eased herself onto one of the two leather sofas occupying the space to one side of the main door and facing the glass-fronted counter. Josephine had already gone over the diary and rota so that all the treatments tied in with the rooms and their corresponding therapists. She checked down the rota and glanced up at as Betty, the cleaner, hurried in.

‘Yes, all done and in use,’ Betty confirmed, straightening her handbag. ‘See you tomorrow. I’m in an hour earlier so just leave a note if you need anything in particular done.’

‘Thank you Betty. Will do,’ Lizzie replied, watching the older lady step nimbly out the door.

Betty was a treasure. She not only cleaned the four treatment rooms, but also the hair washing room, which really needed more work as it was a kitchen speedily transformed but Betty kept it looking sprightly. Plus linen and product supplies were replenished after she dusted. This helped Lizzie enormously as Betty kept stock and recorded it meticulously, so figures for sales and what needed re-ordering from the suppliers were available when they called in.

The fresh, welcoming appearance of the reception was also a credit to Betty who tenaciously polished the silver-flecked, black granite floor and matching surfaces encasing reception. It was her pride and joy. Betty was often heard singing with gusto as she made sure no cobwebs or dust got missed. A few hours every morning may supplement her pension but she admitted she got huge enjoyment from cleaning and being among the warm friendly, staff.

Lizzie handed some paperwork over to Josephine. ‘When you’re free, could you come up to the office?’ she asked her.

Lizzie dropped into her chair in the office and had to admit to herself she was struggling. The last few days had really drained her and she couldn’t now think straight with all the issues she had fighting for attention in her head. Right now however, she had to forget Cal, her mother and Anton and think about finding some workable space. Coordinating treatment times was becoming difficult because of the time clients needed to recover, dress and re-apply make-up.

Josephine came up to the office prepared with her notepad and pen at the ready. ‘Lucie’s bringing up the coffee,’ she said, watching Lizzie gaze thoughtfully at the wall.

‘Oh, well done, just what I need right now.’ Lizzie licked her lips, ‘I know this will be a bit tight but we need to add some cubicles somewhere or at least some space for, let’s call it recovery.

‘Do you think clients would be happy to wander around in a robe, stripped of their make-up?’

‘No, but that’s why I need to set up a meeting with Jean-Luc – see if he can come up with some ideas tout de suite.’

‘He’s never going to get all that worked out and done in two weeks.’

‘Well if I don’t ask, I won’t know. I’ll ring him but meanwhile, see what you can come up with; however outrageous? I’ve been a bit distracted lately, I should have dealt with this sooner,’ Lizzie admitted.

‘You can never predict customer behaviour. But bookings for the festival season have increased.’ Josephine ran her pen over the forecast schedule.

Lizzie scratched her neck. ‘Yes, particularly in the salon. That’s a little odd. Maybe clients find it more relaxing in the treatment rooms than in their hotels or apartments.’

‘I would,’ Josephine confessed.

‘Anyway, let me know your thoughts as soon as you can and I’ll call Jean-Luc now.’

***

Obligingly, Jean-Luc was at the salon later that afternoon making notes and drawings with Lizzie. So it was agreed, and a three-day work schedule was put in place for the following week and Lizzie briefed the staff all about the changes.

After the hectic few weeks of festival madness, she made a point of inviting the staff out as a tribute to their hard work and dedication. She booked out the first floor of the local pizza restaurant Xavier La Pizzaiola to begin the evening. Everyone loved this venue for its novelty spectacle where the chef freshly prepared his pastry and toppings then cooked the pizzas in the large pizza oven at the front of the restaurant. He was fascinating to watch and the food was scrummy. After too much food and wine, they walked down to La Chunga for more drinks. It was on her return that Lizzie noticed a sign along the Rue Antibes. She took out her mobile phone straightaway and dialled her friend.

‘Sophie, sorry it’s so late but you must have a look at this.’

‘Lizzie, do you know it’s gone midnight and I am in bed?’

‘I know but I was so excited.’ Lizzie was high on adrenalin. ‘It’s a double-fronted shop on the Rue Antibes. I’ve looked it up online and sent you the link. Please will you have a look as soon as you get up in the morning?’

‘Yes, if it’s that good.’

‘Sorry again to wake you but I wanted to catch you before you went to work. Ring me once you have a chance to look?’


Chapter 7 (#ulink_0cc9bfce-2acb-5737-b777-055ba21a6d8e)

Two weeks later Sophie arrived in Cannes a day earlier than planned. Although she was due at Lizzie’s flat in readiness for the trip to the Luberon, it was a good opportunity to first view the commercial premises her friend was so obviously mad about.

‘I am a bit worried about the price Liz, I mean, a prime position like Rue Antibes is going to command a premium isn’t it?’

‘Well yes, but think about it? That is where it’s at. Our clients will expect it. We’ll have our regulars because it’s only a short distance from the existing salon, and of course the external bookings such as the yachts, apartments and hotels will stay the same but we will get far more tourist traffic and vicinity traffic. There are clients from local towns that will come to Rue Antibes to shop but wouldn’t necessarily go near the current salon because it’s off the beaten track.’

‘Right, so it would also drive more traffic for the aesthetic beauty side too. I mean it’s not too commercial a site is it?’

‘It’s perfect, location, size, looks spacious. You wait ‘til you see it. I’m sure you’ll agree,’ Lizzie said, with a higher level of enthusiasm, if that was at all possible. ‘Plus the cellar I believe isn’t used currently so that could be utilized. Anyway, we’ll decide once we go along and see it.’

‘What time is the appointment?’

‘It was for tomorrow morning but I’ve asked the agent if we can go this afternoon.’ Lizzie scrunched up her nose in her little sister way she did with Sophie. ‘I’m waiting for a call. Do you want coffee?’

‘Love one. Where’s Thierry?’

‘Marie-Claire takes him to a toddler group today from two to four. Sit on the terrace and I’ll bring you a drink. We have some catching up to do.’

Minutes later, Lizzie arrived with coffee. Sophie had made herself comfortable under the canopy and out of the pulsating sunshine.

‘I have never been so excited in my life. And you will be down here with us and working with me.’ Lizzie pulled her chair in closer to Sophie.

‘I know. It’s my dream come true too. Though, naturally, I’m apprehensive.’

‘I’m pretty sure once you get going it’ll be fine. You’ll have income too, from the university, won’t you?’

‘Oh yes, and I have more savings to put into the business but I’m hoping that the university work will cover day-to-day living. I’ll just find a small apartment for now. I’m letting my Paris apartment and I have one week officially left at the hospital when I return.’

‘That’s come round quick. Why didn’t you tell me, we could have gone next week to the Luberon?’

‘No. I need to tie up all the loose ends, I won’t move down for a few more weeks. Mid July or thereabouts.’

‘Well stay here and take your time looking for an apartment. We’ll sort something out. There’s no point in rushing into something. I’ll help you and you can spend some time getting to know the salon and the business.’

‘Thanks. That sounds like a good plan.’

‘I’ve been doing some thinking, since I returned from visiting my mother, I mean, and since you announced your plans. I think I was overdramatic about the land, my inheritance.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, put it this way, am I honestly going to return to England?’

‘Tricky one as you now seem so settled here.’

‘Exactly. I’ve moved on from my girlish dreams.’

‘I think it was the circumstances too. It was natural to feel betrayed, especially as you had just learned of your Grandfather’s death. I think I would have reacted the same. And, to be honest, if you were there, I’m sure your mother would have consulted you.’

‘Oh I’m not saying I would trust my mum a jot. I’m not so sure she would have wanted my input but I know this. I began this business as a necessity. I was probably just fortunate in that it was an area I was familiar with. I was always trying out new make-up and creams. Mum always had products sent to her as a magazine beauty editor.’ Lizzie suddenly faltered with an unexpected surge of emotion as she recollected childhood dreams and her grandfather. She wiped the corners of her eyes. ‘Sorry. My point is, that from messing about I’ve built mine and Thierry’s future, so being realistic, I’m never going to go home and make a life there as a riding school instructor, mucking out other people’s horses. Not when I’m happy here.’

‘Well that is how I would read it too. You ok?’

‘Fine. It happens now and again. I just choke up.’ Lizzie sniffed. ‘I, with you, want to grow this business. I feel rather stupid. Mum was right. I’ve not taken any interest in it. I don’t think I can remember how to ride a horse anymore let alone run an equestrian centre.’

At that moment, the telephone rang and Lizzie grabbed the phone and then headed towards the open terrace doors. ‘Ok. We can go down and meet the agent at three o’clock,’ she told Sophie. ‘This is so exciting!’

‘Please don’t get your hopes up too much. It’s still down to finances and work, remember. And, what if the cosmetic surgery side doesn’t take off?’

‘Oh and birds don’t have feathers?’ said Lizzie locking up the terrace doors. ‘Of course it will. Who else has all this under one roof? We have the best beauticians, currently working to capacity, and I’ve got more wanting to come in. Good people too.’

‘Really? I do need to get to know this business more.’

‘It will come Sophie, the knowledge will come.’

‘I hope so.’

‘Here, could you note down any repairs you think we need to do?’ Lizzie asked with a wry smile. ‘Hopefully we can make some assessment of expenditure.’

Outside the premises they met Monsieur Tasse, the commercial agent, waiting in a casual pair of khaki trousers smartened with a navy cloth jacket. In his arms was a file topped with a form. He greeted them both and then presented the folder to Lizzie.

‘I just need you to sign here before we go in,’ he told her.

‘Brilliant. Did you bring a legal pack with you?’

‘Yes, some basics and I will explain things as we go round.’

As they shuffled around behind Monsieur Tasse, Lizzie took photos and made notes on what changes she could visualise in the space and Sophie, as Lizzie instructed, noted the areas needing work.

Armed with their photos and lists, they set off back to Lizzie’s apartment, expressing to Monsieur Tasse their interest and that they would let him know, as soon as possible. There was no doubt of its potential. The ground and first floors would add more than adequate work space but the basement was disappointing in that it needed so much work.

In eager chatter they returned to a light tea with Thierry, who happily relayed news of the contents of his packed suitcase. Lizzie packed some final items for their trip to the Luberon and set them aside ready to put in the car for the morning.

‘We might as well have some time out,’ Lizzie said, throwing the last bag down in the hall. ‘Let’s celebrate our new venture. Go over our plans.’

‘Sounds good to me, although I thought you’d want an early night as we are off early tomorrow,’ challenged Sophie.

‘I’m too excited to sleep.’

‘Me too.’ Sophie threw back her shoulders and punched her fists in the air. ‘Whoa, I’m so happy.’

‘Oh, it’s fabulous. A lot of money but… and, I should really get some sleep, but hey ho, I’m in holiday mode now. I really need this break although, I have to say, my girls have worked very hard too. Do you know, most of the Cannes salon staff have worked from seven in the morning ’til nine and ten at night during the events?’

‘I can believe it. This place is a ‘glamour magnet’ attracting so many people. Well I’ll be here for it all next year. I can’t wait! I’ll get to hang out here during next year’s film festival and the Monaco Grand Prix. That’s a huge mix of people and hopefully they’ll all be spending money!’

‘Well Monaco is bloody expensive and is just a few stops on the train so Cannes probably accommodates more people than Monaco that week.’

‘Well I know where I’d rather stay.’

‘Nothing to do with your budget then darling?’ asked Lizzie, wryly.

‘Jest you may, but no. I don’t really get Monaco.’

‘Maybe you will when we’ve built this business big enough!’ Lizzie jibed, ‘But yes it can seem a bit sterile most of the year. I hear there are so many lovely places along this coastline and, of course in the hills. I still haven’t got out much to explore the area and I’ve been living here nearly four years!’

‘Liven up,’ Sophie squeezed her friend’s arm, ‘Can’t you find time to get out whilst you’re bringing up a baby and building an empire? Slacking or what?’

Lizzie giggled. ‘Well, at least I, or we, are addressing it, are we not? Sooo…exciting eh?’ She grabbed Sophie’s arm and they ran out of the apartment and marched along the narrow street. ‘Bonnieux tomorrow. I feel like an excited child all over again.’

‘I’m really looking forward to just spending time with you and Thierry. He is such a sweetie. You have done a great job with him Lizzie. And, he is so cute. I’ve never seen a boy so beautiful.’

‘Well, I’m biased I know but yes, he is beautiful. I also think Marie-Claire is extremely good with him. I was lucky to have found her. I think I told you, she’s Betty’s niece. She learned fast and is firm but fair with him where behaviour is concerned. She also has an uncanny knack for being able to get down on his level. She plays with him like a responsible big sister.’

‘I agree you’ve been fortunate, particularly as I’ve heard it’s rare to keep a good au pair, but you have to take credit too.’

‘I’ve never really thought about it. Any of it. I just moved to France, got pregnant, had a child and built up a beauty business. All I know is that when we came down to Cannes, I was hooked. This place just felt right. I knew when I discovered I was pregnant, I was going to settle here and provide for us both.’

‘You’ll be telling me next you planned the baby!’ Sophie teased as they now weaved back along the Rue Antibes.

‘Ha. Ha. I don’t think I could have planned such a perfect outcome as this. Well, I don’t know now what’s going to happen with Anton. I really couldn’t imagine him having access to Thierry. It just doesn’t seem natural.’

‘Well from what you told me on the phone, if he insists, he will probably be entitled to access.’

I think I know that but I’m in denial. I want him to go off the idea. Anyway, I don’t think he wants a son necessarily. I think he’s scared. He doesn’t want anyone else to have his son. It’s probably more to do with the way he is. He just has to be in charge making sure everyone is doing what he wants.’

Do you think it would have worked if you were in a relationship – not with him, any other? A marriage or lived with a partner?’

‘Phuuhhh,’ Lizzie burst into laughter.’ Anyone but him!! Uumm. I’ve not stopped to think about that either. I don’t know the answer to that. I don’t do a lot of thinking do I?’

‘Maybe it’s best that way.’ Sophie caught her infectious laughter.

‘Well put it this way, I haven’t missed having a man around. The downside I suppose, I pay for any work I need doing. The few friends I hang out with are pleasant, male and female, we have a laugh. Occasionally, and I mean very occasionally, I get a bit of action. Nothing serious, but since I had Thierry, I think it’s suited me.’

‘Oh, I think it sounds ideal and simple. Keep it simple. That’s what I need to do.’ They turned the corner and the darkness of the night sky over the sea told them they were close to the bar. Sophie continued, ‘I always end up getting involved don’t I? I need to keep my love life casual too.’

‘Are you still seeing Guillaume?’

‘Yes. I must be needier than you.’

‘Oh Sophie, I wouldn’t say that. I think it’s more a case I don’t want just anyone to be Thierry’s father. I don’t want Thierry to get attached to one guy only to get hurt if it doesn’t work out. And likewise, men aren’t keen on women with children already are they?’

‘I never know what men want to be honest.’

‘Ahh here we are.’ Lizzie veered them onto the packed pavement of the Café Gourmand. Waiters buzzed back and forth with delicious Mediterranean salads. As she opened the door, lively chatter filled the air. Lizzie stroked the length of her arm as she felt the air conditioning penetrate her skin. Small groups of people gathered around the front bar.

‘Let’s go further in. Hopefully we’ll get a table.’ Sophie followed and was led to a table close to a bar at the back of the long room. There was a crowd at the bar but a waitress appeared with a pad to take their order.

They settled down with their beers, engrossed in talk of their plans about the new salon and their ideas. The meals were promptly placed in front of them by a petite polish girl so Sophie was savouring her chicken salad when Lizzie followed her eyes and saw her friend’s attention diverted to a door just beside the back bar.

Lizzie followed her sight line. A rather attractive, dark-haired man emerged from the men’s toilet. The tips of his hair had been lightened and dried by the sun. His skin darkened by the same. He was well dressed but had a casual, unfussy, dishevelled look about him.

‘Hmm, I didn’t see that on the menu,’ Sophie declared as he swept past them.

Lizzie watched him trek nearer the bar, towards another man who was hidden by the shadows. As he stopped, her heart skipped a beat. ‘Shit!’

‘What’s wrong? Do you know him?’ Sophie queried.

Sensing attention on him, Charles Pitt-Barker peered at them with curiosity. Sophie’s face, Lizzie noticed, blushed as his eyes stayed on her. Sophie couldn’t wrench her eyes away.

‘Lizzie tell me?’ Sophie said trying not to move her lips. Lizzie dared to peek back and instantly Cal waved his hand up. She smiled back briefly, then with heart pounding looked back at Sophie.

‘The other man is my mum’s toy boy Sophie. That’s the one I was telling you about. He is the one who is leasing my inheritance.’ Lizzie felt more heat rise in her seeing them sidling towards them. ‘Oh. They’re coming over.’

‘Hi Lizzie. Good to see you.’ Cal reached for his friend’s shoulder as Charles was seconds behind. ‘This is my friend Charles. Charles Pitt-Barker. Do you mind if we join you?’ Searching Sophie’s longing face, there was really only one answer Lizzie could give.

‘Er, this…this is Sophie. My best friend,’ she paused. ‘She’s a doctor in Paris.’

Cal gave them both a welcome kiss on both cheeks and Lizzie fought hard to keep her body from reacting to his magnetism. It’s not real, not real.

‘Oh. So what brings you to Cannes? Are you on holiday?’ Cal asked Sophie.

‘Sort of. We’re off to Provence in the morning for a break,’ Sophie gave a cheery response

‘Interesting,’ said Cal. ‘Where are you staying?’ Sophie looked at Lizzie.

‘Bastide de Capelongue.’ Lizzie said.

‘Really, I’m…’ Cal began but Sophie cut in.

‘And, I’ll be moving down here soon,’ she said, wearing a gratified smile.

‘Oh, so quite a cosy community emerging here Charlie-boy.’ Cal squeezed his friend’s shoulder. ‘You’ll be neighbours with my good friend here. Although…if he needs that emergency cup of sugar, you will have to make it a watertight jar.’ Both girls looked at them curiously. ‘Charles is more often sailing than at his apartment. And of course you would need to swim it over to his yacht.’

Charles scratched the back of his ear as the girls inspected him for oddness. Then he put out his hand.

‘Hi.’ He shook Lizzie’s then looked Sophie in the eye. ‘Hi,’ he repeated to Sophie who, Lizzie noted, could hardly contain her enthusiasm, but was trying for a peculiar air of mystery and nonchalance. Lizzie tried not to laugh.

‘Sorry. Sophie, the conversation drifted. This is Cal. I met him when I went home to Mum’s.’

‘Oh, yes ok. Hello. Lizzie told me all about her…’ Sophie fumbled for the right word, ‘visit.’ Lizzie looked relieved.

Cal returned her a smile before he said,

‘Let me get you both a drink?’

‘No. Let me get the drinks,’ interrupted Charles, looking like he needed to escape as beads of sweat sprung from his forehead.

‘Oh, Charlie-boy, even better,’ Cal jested. What do you girls want?’ Lizzie was actually beginning to become annoyed at Cal as he popped himself into the seat next to her. She made a larger space between them in case he got too close. He wasn’t really behaving like she would expect. Maybe her mother controlled him so tightly when they were at home that he let himself relax a bit more without her reins. She looked over to Sophie.

‘A couple of beers would be lovely,’ she said and observed her friend. She had never once seen Sophie look as puppy-eyed as she did right now, clinging to Charles’ every word. She cleared her throat before she spoke to Cal. ‘So, what brings you here? Business or pleasure?’

‘Both. I had a business meeting today. Convinced Charles to come out for an hour’s pleasure rather than settle in a chair with his case notes and then I have another meeting tomorrow morning.’

‘You have a lot of business here it seems?’ Lizzie’s voice stung with sarcasm.

‘Yes, I’m afraid I have this passion for wine and it just so happens this region and its experts have a lot to teach me.’

She couldn’t help but detect a note in his voice too and wondered why. Or was it his flirty expression? She didn’t know whether she imagined it but he seemed to have almost a secret smile. When his eyes caught hers, his pupils enlarged and his cheek dimpled as his smile unfolded. There was definitely some high voltage between them, she couldn’t deny, but she shuffled back a little more to keep her distance.

This was going to be an interesting evening she decided. She wanted to ask him why her mother didn’t accompany him on his trips. Surely she would love the south of France – but it was none of her business. They sat in silence for a while watching Sophie ogle Charles. She really wanted to catch up and chat to Sophie about the new salon but there was very little chance of that now as a waiter arrived with a bottle of Champagne encased in a bucket of ice and four Champagne flutes.

‘Thought this might be easier!’ announced Charles. ‘Couldn’t bloody remember what it was you asked for anyway.’

‘See what I mean, he doesn’t get out much,’ Cal said. Lizzie chuckled whilst noticing Sophie was still looking quite fascinated with Charles as he fumbled with handing out the slim flutes and then, with a shaking hand, poured the bubbly. Sophie passed the filled flutes around.

‘Thank you Charles. Cheers,’ Said Lizzie.

‘Good health,’ Charles said.

‘Sante,’ Cal said raising his.

‘And congratulations to our new business.’ Sophie clinked first Lizzie’s glass and then the guys.

‘Yes. Of course. To Beaute Dedant,’ Lizzie clinked her flute with Sophie’s.

‘To Beauty Within!’ Charles translated.

‘So what do you guys do?’ Sophie asked.

Cal and Charles glanced at each other with mischievous eyes. Then Charles spoke. ‘As little as possible! No. I’m in law here in France, family law mainly and my good friend here, I’m sure Lizzie knows, is into his wine, although he has quite a CV, with his naval captaincy and his .com business and, of course, I forgot to add fatherhood too. Cal has a son Jack, it’s a pretty eclectic mix.’

‘Wow, you are both busy boys. What’s the .com business?’ Sophie’s Champagne was slipping down a treat and Lizzie was pleased to see her friend relax, although she was surprised to hear Cal had a son, Jack. She wondered if her mother knew and, for her own sake, she needed to determine whether her mother was married to Cal. He was not wearing a wedding ring.

‘It was something my father and I set up some years ago. Land searches, online conveyancing,’ Cal expanded. ‘Speeding things up for solicitors you might say.’

‘Oh Lizzie, someone else with some business acumen,’ Sophie squeezed Lizzie.

Cal kept his eyes on Lizzie as she nodded approvingly. He winked and Lizzie felt her legs tremble. Was she supposed to feel flattered or furious?

‘Quite far removed from the navy Cal,’ Sophie probed. ‘How come?’

‘My dad was the main driver, I helped to build it with him but it just took off. Right time, I suppose.’

Lizzie, still not sure what to think of Cal, wanted to ask him about his son and was waiting for an opportune moment but the chatter continued about their new venture as Sophie revealed more about their plans for the new premises in Rue Antibes, and just as Lizzie began to relax a little with the bubbly lightening her head, Cal announced it was time to go. He had an early start. Charles then agreed as he did too and, being sensible, Lizzie conceded, she and Sophie didn’t want to be setting off late to Provence.

They finished their Champagne. Sophie gave her friend a sad face. Cal pecked Sophie goodbye and, turning to Lizzie, slid leisurely towards her pursing his lips gently on both sides of her face. His touch sent a charge through her cheeks which rippled through her entire body. Shuddering with shock, Lizzie turned pink, thinking maybe her imagination was in overdrive. She certainly felt his magnetism but he wouldn’t. Not flirt with his lover’s daughter. That was how it seemed. Not only did it raise her hackles but she was exasperated that she didn’t get a chance to ask him some questions. She wondered if her mother knew of his son. Not that it was really any of her business of course.


Chapter 8 (#ulink_401e5afb-7f6c-58a9-a907-c361a9c48c14)

On the journey to Bonnieux, Thierry was soon napping in his car seat in the back of the car whilst Sophie, as well as navigating, relayed to Lizzie her attraction to Cal’s friend, admitting she was endeared immediately to the gentle blush of Charles Pitt-Barker. Lizzie was amused because she had never, since knowing Sophie, seen her this animated about a man. Sophie told Lizzie that she’d lain awake all night thinking about him and how he was the typical public schoolboy she usually ran a mile from.

‘Oh Lizzie. What was it that made him so appealing? Was it his casual but quiet confidence do you think?’

‘You were only saying yesterday, you should keep things simple,’ Lizzie reminded her.

‘I was wasn’t I? Well, it wasn’t his yacht, nor was he sweeping me off his feet with sweet nothings or smart chat up lines. I liked his looks and maybe it was his disinterest that struck me?

Aware that she was wasting her breath, Lizzie stayed in the zone with her friend. ‘He didn’t make a play for you Sophie, maybe that’s what gives you a buzz; you like the chase? From what I could see, boy you were intent on getting on his radar.’

‘Oh dear, was it that obvious? Note to self – must be more cool.’ They both laughed.

As the car neared the descent from the hills, Sophie became increasingly distracted and as Lizzie turned the wheel on Sophie’s instruction, they came to a junction.

‘This is beautiful,’ Sophie said, admiring ancient buildings and narrow streets as they approached the village of Bonnieux. ‘It really is as pretty as the brochures.’

‘Yes, I thought you’d like it.’ Lizzie jiggled smugly in her seat. She swung the car into a narrow opening and into a shady spot in the car park. ‘Nous arrive.’

The hotel in Bonnieux was quite possibly where Thierry was conceived. It was one of those romantic hideaways you could never forget. A luxury room in an exquisite setting, overlooking the Provencal landscape. A haven to enjoy stunning sunsets as droplets of light danced and dowsed its guests in a light shower of seduction. When Lizzie stayed there with Anton she fell in love with – the hotel. It was an amazing place to savour a romantic ambience. Rather too romantic for a family holiday but she so wanted to relax and show its beauty to Sophie. They managed to check in early. Unpacking was simple as Lizzie had kept clothes to a minimum. She waited in anticipation as Sophie pulled back the heavy drapes to allow in more light. As she did so, she saw her gasp at the captivating vista.

‘Oh Lizzie, this is divine.’ The late morning sun shone blissfully over lavender fields to one side in the distance, with sweetening leaves on the vines down the other. ‘I can’t wait to explore the area.’

‘And I can’t wait to show it off.’ Lizzie tied her hair back and donned a light straw hat before gathering a bag and a hat for her little one. ‘Let’s go.’

For the first two days they took advantage of the early cooler hillside temperature and the freedom of just rambling along at a child’s pace through the vineyards, the hilly paths and the forest of cedars, taking it in turns to carry Thierry when his little legs tired. After lunch and his afternoon nap, they swam in the hotel pool and relaxed in the late sun.

Lizzie was just beginning to forget her troubles with Anton when, on their second evening as they were sitting on their sunbeds playing with Thierry, her mobile rang. Marie-Claire, Lizzie’s nanny, sounded harassed.

‘Lizzie, I should warn you. Anton is in hysterics. He rang the apartment to speak to you. I told him you and Thierry are on holiday but for some reason he thinks you have taken Thierry to England with the Englishman,’ she said. ‘I’ve done my best to reassure him you are in France and away just for a few days but he don’t believe me I know.’

Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘Calm down Marie-Claire. I will call him. I should have given him my mobile number.’

‘I don’t know why he say England?’

‘No, neither do I. Just take the telephone off the hook Marie-Claire. I will ring him ok?’

‘Yes, please ring him,’ said Marie-Claire, ‘he is a mad pig.’

Lizzie nodded to herself, her au-pair had summed him up quite quickly. ‘Oh, and Marie-Claire, did you tell him exactly where we are?’ she said quickly before she put the phone down.

‘No. I said you are in France on a vacation,’ she said.

‘Good. Ok. I’ll speak to him. Don’t worry.’

‘Lizzie. For goodness sake!’ Sophie cried. ‘What the hell is wrong with that man? It sounds like he is trying to control you again.’ Pointing to her arm she continued, ‘Look, I’ve gone all cold with goose bumps. Poor Marie-Claire!’

‘Who knows? I hope Marie-Claire is ok though. It’s all so urgent since he saw me that day with Cal.’

‘Cal does seem keen on you, Lizzie,’ Sophie teased. ‘Would you?’

‘No. No. No way,’ Lizzie frowned, looking sternly in to Sophie’s eyes, ‘I don’t believe you just asked me that. And anyway, I wouldn’t go there! He obviously likes a more mature woman.’

‘That was defensive,’ Sophie laughed. ‘There was quite a noticeable spark between you two the other night. Anyway, so what if you were with someone, anyone. It’s really none of Anton’s business, or mine, for that matter, who you date.’

‘Shall I continue?’

‘Sorry, carry on,’ said Sophie.

‘As for Anton, I think he’s just being his scheming self, unable to accept that he cannot control me.’

‘That sounds plausible.’

‘But, he’s also mentioned the Englishman again to Marie-Claire, which makes me think he’s more fixated on Cal rather than Thierry. I hadn’t heard from him for weeks before that.’ Lizzie filled Sophie in about her meeting with Anton at his hotel.

‘That’s so hilarious,’ Sophie roared. ‘He’s decided he wants to fulfil his role as a daddy and he thinks you’ll just drop everything and depend totally on him.’

‘So, he knows the score, there is no future for us, so, he’s being contrary. Wants me dancing to his tune I imagine.

Anyway, Dr Pitou, I’m rather shocked you saw anything other than Cal’s friend, erm, Charles?’

‘God, yes, he’s gorgeous. So unpretentious and rather endearingly shy.’ Sophie fluttered her eyes.

Thierry was now getting fidgety and increasingly aware he wasn’t the girls’ centre of attention.

‘Swimming pool Mummy?’

‘No it’s late darling. We will be going up to get showered for dinner soon.’

‘Swim,’ he repeated, then he moaned, rubbing his belly. Lizzie, glancing at her watch reached into his buggy.

‘A little early for dinner T but Mummy has your juice here,’ and she passed him his beaker of water with just enough orange juice to pacify a sweet taste. Thierry’s eyes lit up at the sight of his refreshment and his chubby little hand rose up to take the cup. ‘What do you say T?’ Lizzie prompted.

‘Thank you.’ He raised the beaker to his mouth.

Smiling tenderly down at her son she said proudly. ‘Good boy.’

Inside her head though, her thoughts were churning over. Was Sophie close to what was going on inside it? Would she want Cal if he wasn’t her mother’s lover? Sophie had struck a nerve and it was a question she couldn’t answer. It seemed he wasn’t one to trust though. She could swear he was flirting the other night.

Placing her son in his shaded pushchair with his drink, Lizzie returned her attention to Thierry and his father and the immediate situation. The thought of phoning Anton and answering his pathetic childish questions was unbearable. Frowning, she turned to Sophie.

‘I really don’t want Anton to know my whereabouts Sophie. I really couldn’t cope with him right now.’

Sophie lay back sinking into her bed closing heavy eyes and mellowing in the soothing warmth of the afternoon. ‘Quelle surprise! Why tell him. It has nothing to do with him anyway what you do. If he is beating himself up so much that you’re in England then text him and tell him to ring your phone. The ring tone would be different if he was ringing England.’

‘Genius Sophie,’ stated Lizzie ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

‘Because you are too pre-occupied with him finding you and giving you unwarranted grief and goodness knows what. That’s why,’ relayed Sophie, her eyelids still hiding her eyes. ‘If he really insists on knowing where you are, tell him the Alps. That’ll keep him busy for a while trying to find you.’

Lizzie burst into laughter imagining Anton’s fierce face with his dilemma. The graceful undulating green hills of the Luberon were much softer than the massive majestic mountains of the Alps – but it would not altogether be a lie. ‘What would I do without you Soph? You minx,’ she giggled. ‘It could take him a while to figure that one out.’

‘I would never underestimate that man Lizzie. I can just imagine Anton embracing the mission. Designer clad, trekking the peaks and meadows of the Alps in search of his son only to stumble instead on herds of grazing cows draped with those huge deafening bells jangling incessantly. Their so not ‘Armani Pour Homme’ dung clinging to his soft Italian leather mules. A hilarious vision!

Lizzie spewed a large snigger. ‘Although,’ Lizzie added after some thought, ‘why don’t I call him from the hotel phone in the foyer. The public one I mean, I don’t want him ringing me back on my mobile. In fact, the last thing I want him to have is my mobile number.’

The cooling sun sent them all into a relaxing slumber.

***

The evening was warm and balmy and after a refreshing shower, the trio enjoyed their meal on the hotel terrace, relaxing and savouring the spectacular view of the hazy pink hills. Lizzie, tense, couldn’t help but keep looking over her shoulder. She was becoming more and more on edge for some reason. Strangely, she felt that Anton was going to jump out behind her at any minute, which promptly reminded her.

‘Sugar! I forgot to call Anton. I will do it now.’ As she turned, her heart thumped so loud she swore the entire population of Bonnieux could hear it. Cal was being seated at a table inside the restaurant.


Chapter 9 (#ulink_46ba3eb7-ac4a-5d91-9a7d-b85fe0fb0fb3)

The following morning Lizzie was up early after a night tossing around with just a morsel of sleep. All night she couldn’t get him out of her head and tormented herself with whether he actually saw her the previous evening.

Thierry was stirring and she saw that his sheet had slipped off. As she tiptoed round the bed to cover him again, she was suddenly startled by Sophie’s phone starting to ring.

Sophie grabbed her phone and pushing her hair from her face, she pressed the phone and glanced at the time. ‘Christophe? It’s seven o’clock in the morning and I’m on holiday.’ Sophie groaned listening to her caller. ‘I’m back the weekend. Why?’ At the next pause, Sophie’s jumped up in disbelief. ‘What do you mean they’ve…how, why? I sent you a copy.’ Sophie paced up and down, her head wrapped in one hand, the phone in the other. ‘Well, yes I have got a copy but it’s at home. It will be on my laptop.’ Sophie took a deep breath and scrunched her face in disgust. ‘I haven’t a choice have I? I’ll sort out a flight. I’ll ring you once I’ve got a flight.’

Lizzie couldn’t help but show her disappointment, but stroked a now wide-awake Thierry, his face grinning at Sophie. Unable to resist his charm Sophie greeted Thierry.

‘Hello, how is my favourite boy?’

‘Go phwim Aunty Sopie?’ he pleaded, holding up his arms and pulling at her heart.

‘I’m so sorry darling, Aunty Sophie has to go back to Paris. Lizzie, I can’t apologise enough. It seems they need a report urgently, well today actually. God knows where in cyberspace it is but Christophe says he didn’t get it so I’ll need to get back to my apartment. I’ve got them on my…’

‘Sophie, it’s fine, I completely understand. I’m just sorry you have to go.’ Lizzie was genuinely sad but tried to remain positive for all their sakes. She got Thierry dressed whilst Sophie telephoned the airline. ‘I’ll take you to the airport.’ Lizzie added.

‘Absolutely not my friend.’ Sophie’s hand rose in authority as she spoke in French to the airline and grabbed her small bag to pack. ‘You two are on holiday. I’ll ring the desk for a cab.’

‘It won’t take...’

‘No, I mean it. You have a walk planned. Thierry’s favourite.’

‘I’ll ring the desk whilst you pack then.’

‘That would be good, thanks,’ Sophie said, finishing her call to the airline. ‘Excellent, flight at twelve thirty back to Paris.’

Lizzie organised the taxi and then turned to her son. ‘Thierry can take Mummy for a walk today. Would you like that Thierry? Then afterwards we’ll have a swim.’

‘Will you try ringing Anton again?’ Sophie asked.

‘No, my message said I’m just in Provence for a few days, it didn’t need to specify where but, he’ll hopefully stop calling the apartment for a few days. Marie-Claire would have called if there was a problem, but I’ll give her a quick call now just to make sure she’s ok.’

After waving Sophie off from the front of the hotel Lizzie and Thierry headed to the restaurant for breakfast. With doors drawn back, the rising sun scattered its light delicately among the guests occupying the terrace tables, with the hills loitering deliciously in the distance. Such a shame Lizzie thought as she imagined her poor Sophie winding back down the hills to catch her plane. They stepped out to the terrace and Lizzie sat Thierry securely in a chair.





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