Chapter 2
2
The two sisters were standing outside the estate agency again less than an hour later.
‘I thought that guy on the motorbike was delivering a pizza or something,’ Ellie said. ‘Who would have thought that he’s our agent?’
‘If Noah Dufour was any more laid back, he’d be horizontal.’ Laura was looking uncharacteristically dazed. ‘At least he seems to know what he’s talking about. I didn’t realise that real estate is so complicated here with all the fees and taxes and legal requirements.’
‘I wasn’t really listening then,’ admitted Ellie. ‘When Noah asked if we were all in agreement about selling as quickly as possible, I was thinking about the other night.’
That hastily called family meeting.
‘We’ll have to sell it.’ It had been Laura who’d taken the lead, of course . ‘It’s not as if any of us can afford the upkeep on a holiday house, let alone the cost of getting there on a regular basis. Anyone disagree?’
‘Fiona’s not here. She should get a say.’
‘Fi might think it’s a grand idea to keep it, Mam,’ Laura had warned . ‘She never seems to pass up an opportunity to be difficult these days, does she?’
‘Let’s try calling her,’ Ellie had suggested. But she’d known how unlikely it was that the call would be answered.
‘We’ll go for a majority, then.’ Laura had announced. ‘Fi’ll get some money eventually and that will be a far more useful inheritance than a share of a house nobody else wants. I’ll do some research, find the best local agency and get the ball rolling.’
The best local agency had been that of Noah Dufour, and it had been a relief to hand over the big iron key and the task of disposing of something none of them wanted. Now they could enjoy a bit of sightseeing before the flight they had booked back to Glasgow tomorrow morning.
‘Shall we leave the car here and walk down to the old part of St Paul de Vence?’ Ellie suggested.
‘Good idea. I could do with a bit of fresh air. That office reeked of cigarette smoke. And red wine.’
They reached a tiny chapel on a bend in the road which gave them a clear view of the old town, and, by tacit consent, they paused to look at the jumble of ancient stone buildings piled inside the impressively high walls. A square tower that stood out against lower rooflines had to be a church.
Laura didn’t seem to be focused on the view, however. ‘It could be a year or more before the place sells by the sound of how slowly things are likely to happen. Unless we do something to speed the process up…’
Ellie could feel her sister’s gaze shift to settle on her rather than the view.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay and do some of the cleaning and tidy up the garden and make sure things like the broken shutter is fixed? It would probably only take a few weeks.’
‘ No .’ The word came out more sharply than Ellie had intended. ‘I don’t even want to see the place again, let alone stay in it.’ She shook her head to emphasise her negative response. ‘I don’t speak French, Laura. I wouldn’t even know where to go to buy a broom or cleaning products. I don’t want to drive on the wrong side of the road. I… just don’t want to…’
… to be even more alone than she already was?
In a house that had a baby’s cot in one of the bedrooms?
‘Fine.’ Laura gave up with a shrug. ‘Let’s go and see if we can find a wee gift to take home for Mam, shall we?’
They crossed the main road, walked past another large, gravelled square with another game of boules happening in one corner and then started the climb up to the gap in the medieval ramparts to enter the old town. Stone walls crowded in on either side. Shop signs hung on metal brackets. Vines with their roots in huge terracotta urns scrambled up to reach wooden shutters. The contents of tourist-type shops, with racks of tee shirts and baskets of lavender- or violet-scented soap, edged onto the walkway and every second space seemed to house an art gallery.
But Ellie was looking down at her feet.
Not because she wasn’t interested in what was around her. Or because she didn’t want to talk to her sister.
It was because she’d never seen cobbled streets quite like this.
Between edges of larger cobbles, small, flat stones had been used – the kind you might find on a beach or riverbed. Some were set deep into the grey cement on their sides and others were lying flat to make patterns of flowers.
It was a simple but very effective technique, and, with every turn, a new twist appeared. A flower with a terracotta centre was amongst flowers with pale centres and a larger circle enclosed the whole bouquet. Around another corner, darker stones had been placed to form a flowerpot that held a trio of blooms on long stalks. Some flowers had sparse petals that made them look like daisies, but others had so many petals it made her think of the kind of flowers her grandmother had loved, like dahlias and chrysanthemums.
Completely unexpectedly, it stirred something in Ellie.
Interest.
Inspiration, even? How long had it been since she’d felt even a flicker like this?
‘I’d like to try that,’ she said aloud.
‘What… these chocolates?’ Laura was peering into a window display. ‘They look amazing, don’t they? You’d think they were olives, but it says they’re almonds. And those ones look like little pebbles. Let’s get these for Mam. Chocolate-covered almonds are her favourites.’
‘You get them. I’m going to sit here for a minute.’
Ellie perched on the edge of a large, deeply pitted stone step. She was close enough to the ground to reach down and trace the outlines of the cobbled flowers nearest to her feet. They’d been so carefully set that the surface was smooth enough to be easy to walk on, and there were people walking past who seemed oblivious to the artwork beneath their feet.
Who had laboured over the placement of thousands of small stones so long ago? Ellie could imagine herself doing it. Selecting shades of grey that would accentuate the design. Placing a pale stone in the centre and then darker ones for the petals. There was a surprising variety of colours when you looked more closely. Shades of red to orange and yellow fading to cream, but the effect was as harmonious as the myriad colour combinations you’d find in a cottage garden like the one her mother took such pride in.
‘Hullo? Earth to Ellie?’
‘What?’ Ellie blinked as she looked up.
‘You were away with the fairies. You didn’t even hear me, did you?’
She scrambled to her feet. ‘What did you say?’
‘That maybe we should head back.’ Laura was already leading the way back to the gap in the ramparts. ‘I’d like to see if the tourist office in Vence is still open, so I can get some information. I’m planning to write the copy for the advertising myself. Noah’s English is excellent, but I know the market at home and how to pitch something like that house.’
That house.
Their house.
‘Are there any rivers around here?’ Ellie threw a last glance over her shoulder as they left the cobbled streets behind them.
‘I have no idea.’ Laura’s gaze was bewildered. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Not really.’
Her homeland had plenty of rivers. Beaches that were made of countless millions of stones. Ellie knew she could be taking photographs of these patterns, but she resisted taking her phone from her pocket. Because she knew it was unlikely that the images in her head were going to fade anytime soon? Maybe she would prefer to tap into these memories than hold a two-dimensional print that could become a barrier to something more significant.
But would a memory alone recapture this spark of connection? The way that touching them had? These paths were part of this place, and maybe the tiny glow of whatever it was that felt like a glimpse into the soul of the person she had once been was about more than simply a pattern. It might be connected to the sense of history that was as unique to this part of the world as the language and the smells and the softness of the sunlight and warmth. Different instruments but all playing their part in the same concerto?
They were almost back at the estate office, where they’d left the car.
‘I’m going to pop back in and ask how soon the house might be ready for some marketing photographs to be taken. I think I’d better come back to supervise that myself.’
‘You could ask for the key back, too.’
Ellie was almost as surprised by her own quiet words as Laura. They were enough to have stopped both of them in their tracks.
‘Why would I do that? You said you didn’t even want to see the house again, let alone go inside it.’
‘I think I’ve changed my mind,’ Ellie said slowly.
‘Oh, my God…’ Laura was watching Ellie intently, her eyes widening. ‘Is it the idea of staying and cleaning up the house that you’ve changed your mind about?’
That wasn’t the reason that was prompting this crazy impulse, but Laura didn’t need to know that. Whatever that flicker of connection had been, it was too tiny and fragile to expose to any external influence in case it was instantly extinguished.
It wasn’t that Ellie wanted to stay, exactly.
It would be a terrifying idea if she let herself think about anything other than taking this first, tentative step. But she knew that she needed to stay.
That she needed to find out if that spark had been real. If there was the possibility that all of her dreams hadn’t died forever.
‘Yes… I think so.’ The words came out as no more than a whisper. Then she cleared her throat. ‘Only for a while,’ she added, because that made it feel not quite such a huge decision. ‘Maybe just for the summer.’
‘I hate rushing off like this.’ Laura pulled back from Ellie’s hug the next morning to look down at the bags by their feet. ‘I’d help you carry it all inside, but I have no idea what the traffic will be like near Nice and I’ve got to get the rental car back. Unless you want to change your mind and keep it? I could get a taxi.’
Ellie shook her head firmly. ‘I’m not going to drive here. I’d forget which side of the road I’m supposed to be on and kill somebody. Me, probably, but it would be worse if I killed somebody else. Besides, how expensive would that be? You’ve already spent enough, and you’re going to be covering the costs of this renovation.’
‘I don’t mind. I’ll get it back when the house is sold. How are you going to get to the shops?’ Laura waved her hand at the bags. ‘That food won’t last long and the supermarket in Vence is miles away.’
‘I can get a bus. The main road’s not that far.’
‘I suppose so.’ Laura turned towards the car but then stopped again. ‘You’ve got the key?’
Ellie patted the back pocket of her jeans. ‘Yep.’
‘And you’ve got Noah’s card? With his phone number? You’ll ring him later, won’t you, if that plumber he called hasn’t turned up to sort out the hot water?’
‘Aye.’ The card was in her pocket along with the key. ‘Now get going or you’ll miss your flight. You don’t want to be late for that awards dinner tonight.’ She stepped forwards to give her sister another brief hug. ‘Good luck. I reckon you’re going to win a gold medal for your sales record this time.’
‘I’ll call you. And I’ll get some of your clothes packed up and your laptop and anything else that looks useful and get them couriered tomorrow, okay?’
‘Okay. Go!’
But Laura paused again on the other side of the road. ‘Do you really want to do this, Ellie? Are you going to be all right?’
‘I’ll be fine.’ Ellie sucked in a deep breath as she heard the tiny wobble in her own voice. She summoned a smile. ‘I’m going to make lemonade.’
‘What? Oh… from the lemon trees?’
‘No.’ Ellie’s smile widened as she caught a sudden flicker of something new.
Courage, perhaps? Hope, even?
‘From life,’ she said.
There was no point in putting any of the groceries away until there was somewhere clean to put them, so Ellie found a shady spot behind the shed to keep things out of the sun.
The house felt different as she entered it today, maybe because she knew what she would find. Or perhaps it was because she was alone and she wasn’t about to escape anytime soon. If this was going to work, she needed to find a connection to this house. To start caring about it at some level.
Finding a small fridge tucked under the wooden benchtop was a good start, and, surprisingly, it was cold enough inside for the small metal freezer compartment to be coated with white ice. Maybe Laura was right and there was going to be the less pleasant surprise of a large electricity bill in the near future. The shelves were far from clean, however, and Ellie knew she would need more than paper towels and a spray product to tackle the grime. Was she going to have to find kindling and work out how to get a wood-fired cooker going in order to have some hot water available?
No. Hidden under a large wooden breadboard was an electric cooktop with two hotplates. She held her breath as she turned one of them on and didn’t let it out until the plate began to glow red. Then she twisted the top of the brass tap over the sink as far as she could, hoping that the spluttering and rust would eventually run its course. By the time she located a cast-iron pot in one of the cupboards, the water was definitely clearer, although the sputtering continued. She half-filled the pot, put it on the hotplate and went back outside to find one of the bags of cleaning products that Laura had selected from the supermarket that morning. She needed a scouring pad and bleach and cloths.
An hour later and the interior of the fridge looked hygienic enough to put food inside. She rescued the bag that contained milk, cheese, butter and ham and then went back for the bottle of wine. She had just closed the door on her culinary treasures when her phone beeped.
About to board
Laura’s text read.
But I’ve been online to pass the time. Make sure you’re home for a delivery late this afternoon xx.
More food? Or maybe some more clothes, Ellie thought. That would have been a brainwave. Who knew that cleaning out one small fridge could have made her tee shirt and jeans quite this grubby?
She looked even worse a few hours later, when she’d emptied kitchen cupboards, scrubbed them out, washed all the pots and put them back. She hadn’t stopped to eat anything, she realised. The crockery cupboard needed to be next on the list so that she had something clean to put food on to and eat it with, but she was tired already and needed to do something about where she was going to sleep.
Oh, help…
It wasn’t as if there was any choice about which bedroom she would use, because she knew she couldn’t even set foot in the one with the baby’s cot, but pigeon poo on the floor was almost as off-putting as bats hanging from a curtain rail. Was she going to find some new horror when she went to put clean sheets on the larger bed – like mice nesting in the mattress?
Ellie sank onto the cushions of the huge old leather couch in the living area. The combination of fatigue, hunger and a glimpse at the scale of the challenge she had taken on was suddenly overwhelming. Especially when she could feel every mile of the distance that was now between her and everybody she loved. Or even knew, for that matter. She was alone in a country populated entirely with complete strangers, most of whom she wouldn’t even be able to communicate with.
Squeezing her eyes tightly shut was the only way to stave off tears that could end up being an admission of defeat. She’d made a start, she reminded herself. She had food in a clean fridge and clean pots and pans and basins in the cupboards under the sink. A small corner of the house was useable, and all she needed to do was gradually expand that area.
Cleaning the entire crockery cupboard wasn’t urgent. She could simply wash a single plate. And one wine glass. The thought of a cold glass of the local rosé she had chosen from a bewildering variety on offer in the supermarket was becoming increasingly appealing. She didn’t even have to make the bed today. It was already quite apparent that this couch would be more than comfortable enough to sleep on.
A bath was going to be essential, however, so Ellie kept her fingers crossed that the tradesman Noah had called would appear. She would never be able to summon the energy to carry multiple pots of hot water up the stairs to try and fill that old clawfoot bathtub, and, anyway, it needed scrubbing out and bleaching before she could even start. Imagining the effort that the task would entail made her sink back against the cushions of the couch, her eyes still firmly shut.
Her swirling thoughts gradually subsided and it was impossible to resist the lure of escaping completely into sleep. Just for a minute or two…
Startled into wakefulness by the sound of a truck stopping on the road outside the house and a door slamming, Ellie had a moment of confusion about where she was and what time of day it was. As reality rapidly dragged her back into the present, she noticed that the light had changed, softening into early evening. At the thought that this could be the arrival of the person who could supply her with the luxury of a hot bath, she had a hopeful smile on her face as she hurried to the front door.
‘Mademoiselle Gilchrist?’
She recognised her surname and nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘ Signez ici, s’il vous pla?t .’
Ellie didn’t understand a word, but having a form and a pen thrust towards her made the meaning clear. Except… why would she need to sign something before any repairs to the hot water system had been made? The truck didn’t look like a tradesman’s vehicle, either, she realised. It was large enough to be blocking the narrow road, and a car was already waiting behind it.
‘Um… Sorry… what is this about?’
The young man’s sigh, along with an exasperated expression, let her know that he couldn’t be bothered with someone who couldn’t speak his language. An impatient toot from the waiting car added to the tension.
‘ Venez avec moi ,’ he commanded, leading the way to the truck. He waved at the impatient driver that he was blocking. ‘ Un moment ,’ he shouted, and then shook his head, waving a dismissive hand in Ellie’s direction. ‘ Anglaise .’
It was patently obvious that the irritation was being explained by her nationality. Ellie felt her cheeks flush as she waited for the back door of the truck to be flung open.
‘ Voilà .’
‘Ohh…’ Ellie pressed her hand to her open mouth. So this was Laura’s surprise? It was… fabulous. Her family might be a long way away, but this felt like an encouraging hug. She wasn’t really alone, was she? Her lips curved into a smile that wobbled a little. ‘It’s… beautiful.’
Her reaction seemed to have diffused the atmosphere. The waiting driver was climbing out of his car to peer into the truck himself.
‘ Oh là là ,’ he exclaimed.
It was the first time Ellie had heard the exclamation, which was such a cliché, in real life and it took her back to French classes in high school, where she and her friends had decided it was the most hilarious response to anything at all until the novelty wore off. The memory brought another smile and a soft huff of laughter from her lips. When she took the pen and swiftly signed the delivery form, she actually received a smile from the delivery man in return. He jumped into the truck and handed her surprise to his unexpected assistant from the trapped car, who set it onto the roadside in front of Ellie.
It was a bicycle.
Not just any bicycle. This one was retro style, bright red, and it had a basket on the front.
Ellie searched for her schoolgirl French.
‘ Merci ,’ she said. ‘ Merci beaucoup . It’s… magnifique …’
The two men nodded, spoke to each other and then shook hands. Within seconds, the truck rumbled to life and took off along the road. The driver of the car waved as he followed. The sound of the vehicles receded into total silence, but Ellie was still standing there, holding the handlebars of the bicycle.
This was, quite possibly, the best present anyone had ever given her.
She could go as far as her legs would be able to pedal. She’d have to do it on the wrong side of the road, but she could go wherever she wanted to go. Into the nearby small village of Tourrettes-sur-Loup for daily requirements like bread or cheese. Into Vence if she needed a supermarket. Back to St Paul de Vence, maybe, to spend more time on those cobbled streets. To a river, even, to fill the basket with stones of her own choosing…
It was a stroke of genius on Laura’s part, and it pretty much wiped the slate clean of all the criticism and disappointment that had accumulated for too many years. In that moment, Ellie had never felt so much love for her oldest sister. She wasn’t trapped in this sad, dirty little house.
It felt like Laura had given her freedom.