Chapter 1
Guy was making himself a coffee when a series of demented bangs began on his front door. What the hell? He put two pieces of day-old baguette in the toaster for breakfast and pressed the lever down, confident that the noise would stop. If he didn’t answer, whoever it was would give up and leave.
As he waited for the toast to pop up, the banging continued; as he poured his coffee, the banging continued; as he buttered the toasted baguette, the banging – stopped.
Relieved, Guy picked up his coffee and slopped it over himself as the banging unexpectedly recommenced, making him start at the noise.
Furious now, Guy rapidly walked to the front door and wrenched it open. ‘Stop banging on this door and go away.’
‘I knew you were in and I’m not going anywhere.
’ His wife’s best friend Sandy glared at him and he instinctively went to close the door again.
He wasn’t ready for this particular visitor.
Or any visitor. But Sandy quickly pushed past the door and stood in the marble-floored hallway looking at him, an uneasy silence surrounding them, until Guy broke it.
‘What do you want?’ he asked, automatically bending down to stroke Twiggy, Sandy’s chihuahua, who was scrabbling at his legs for attention, recognising Guy as a friend.
‘Two things. The first is to talk some sense into you, Guy Lyon.’
‘How long are you planning on staying to do that?’
‘As long as it takes. I’m sure you are going to offer me a coffee?’
Realising Sandy wasn’t going to leave quickly now she was in the house, Guy sighed, gave in to the inevitable and closed the front door.
‘One word about the mess in the kitchen and you don’t get a coffee.’
‘I’ve seen it in a mess before when you and Jacqueline were fully booked,’ Sandy said, following him through the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the villa. ‘You’re not cooking these days?’ she said, registering the pile of empty pizza boxes on the counter, the crockery in the sink.
‘Doesn’t seem worth the effort for one,’ Guy replied as he switched the coffee machine back on, checked the water level and spooned some coffee into the dispenser before reaching into the cupboard for the last clean cup and pressing the button. ‘Nothing wrong with a good pizza.’
Sandy cradled the coffee cup in her hands and took a sip before looking up at Guy. ‘It’s been eight months since…’ She paused.
‘Since Jacqueline died in a car accident,’ Guy said. ‘I know. You can say it out loud.’
Sandy nodded. ‘And I’m worried about you – all your friends are. You rarely go out and when you do, you just drown your sorrows in various bars. Romain has seen you, but when he tries to talk to you, you walk away. You never meet up with anyone for lunch or even a coffee.’
‘I do go out – just to different places these days,’ Guy said quietly. ‘Where no one knows me. Where I don’t have to make conversation.’
Sandy sighed. ‘You turn down every invitation you get. I know it’s going to take time, you and Jacqueline were so close, together for so many years…’
‘Thirty,’ Guy said. ‘Married for twenty.’
Sandy nodded. ‘You were the perfect couple, an example to us all.’
Guy looked at her silently as he waited for the hurt inside him that had flared up at her words to calm down.
‘Don’t you miss your old life running this place as a restaurant with rooms?’ Sandy asked.
‘No. What I miss is Jacqueline.’
‘I understand that, but enough is enough, Guy,’ Sandy said gently. ‘You have to start at least thinking about re-joining the real world. You can’t hide away forever. Have lunch with Romain and me today?’
‘I’m not really good company at the moment.’
‘That’s because you are out of practice.’
Guy swallowed a sigh. This unwanted conversation with Sandy was exactly why he had shut himself off from the world. ‘Have you finished your coffee? I’ll show you out.’
‘I need to talk to you about something,’ Sandy said, realising that Guy had shut the conversation down. ‘Something I need your help with.’
‘Go on, ask away, but I’m not promising anything.’ Guy picked up Twiggy and cuddled her as he waited to hear Sandy’s question.
‘The next one of our writer retreats is a month away,’ Sandy said, looking at him. ‘With five writers signed up for the fortnight and another one deciding this weekend.’ She hesitated, clearly unsure about continuing.
‘I’m pleased for you and Romain, you’ve worked hard to establish your business as the go-to writers’ retreat,’ Guy said into the silence. ‘But I’m not sure why you’re telling me this?’
‘We have a major problem with this one. The villa we’ve used for the past four years has been having some refurbishments this spring.
Last week, they had a plumbing disaster.
One of the renovated bathrooms on the first floor had a burst pipe that flooded the kitchen below and brought the ceiling down, ruining most of the units.
Consequently, the villa is unavailable for at least the next six weeks.
Finding another available villa is proving impossible; everyone already has bookings.
’ Sandy took a deep breath. ‘So we were hoping—’
Holding Twiggy in the crook of his left arm, Guy held up his right hand. ‘Stop right there. Do not put it into words. I know what you are hoping. I’m sorry. The answer is no.’
‘Not even to help some old friends out?’ Sandy asked quietly, looking at him. ‘You were my last resort.’
Guy closed his eyes and his shoulders slumped at her words. ‘I just can’t and I’m truly sorry because you and Romain have been so supportive of me.’ He let out a deep breath. ‘I genuinely feel terrible, but it’s an impossible ask.’ He held Twiggy out and Sandy took her before turning to leave.
‘Well, it was worth a try. I’ll see myself out.
If you do change your mind in the next forty-eight hours, you know where we are.
’ She sighed. ‘Romain said you wouldn’t do it, said I shouldn’t even bother asking.
But I truly didn’t think you’d refuse to help out friends in dire need when you own the very thing we need desperately. Bye, Guy. Look after yourself.’