Chapter 10
After Sandy had left them to finish the few remaining cakes and champagne, Helena looked at Liz. ‘I’m sorry if I came over all fan girly earlier, but I am genuinely thrilled to be here with you. And I’m sorry you’ve had a difficult year.’
Liz shrugged. ‘I’m not the first middle-aged woman to find herself cast out and single again, exchanged for a newer model. I’m quite enjoying the unexpected freedom. I just need to get my writing mojo back.’
‘I’m so looking forward to the next couple of weeks,’ Isobel said.
‘I always feel inspired after one of Sandy’s retreats.
The first one, three years ago, really gave me a creative boost. After fourteen books, I felt I was in danger of becoming…
’ She shrugged. ‘Stale is the word really. I didn’t seem to have an original idea in my head, but by the end of the fortnight, I was buzzing. I’m hoping for the same again.’
‘Doesn’t finding ideas get easier the more books you’ve written?’ Mandy asked.
Isobel shook her head. ‘You’d think so, wouldn’t you? Seeing the books you’ve had published does make you think, I’ve done it before and I can do it again, but easier? No.’
‘It’s why I like writing series,’ Lorraine said quietly. ‘There’s always a character lurking somewhere in the background waiting for their story to be told.’
‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Liz said. ‘I’ve always written standalone books and shied away from writing a series because of remembering details from book to book.’
Lorraine laughed. ‘I keep what I call my book bible for each series – physical description of all characters, settings, annoying quirks I may have given one of them and other stuff that needs to stay the same in every book.’ She shrugged. ‘It helps.’
Becky put her empty glass down on the table and stood up. ‘Going to have to love you and leave you all to it until tomorrow. I just hope this Sandy knows her stuff,’ she said. ‘My agent has already got a contact who is interested in seeing my ideas. Ciao.’
As Becky turned and disappeared into the villa, Mandy broke the silence that descended. ‘Lucky her. I guess it truly is a question of who you know and Becky Taylor clearly knows the right people.’
Liz shook her head. ‘I can’t deny that knowing the right people doesn’t help – in all walks of life actually – but at the end of the day you have to have written a book that readers want to read for it to hit the bestseller lists.’
Isobel glanced at her watch. ‘Two hours until dinner. Fancy a stroll around Antibes, anyone – and maybe an aperitif in one of the bars in the old town? Last time I was here, there was a small friendly bar at the top of the market.’
Everybody agreed it was a good idea and with Isobel appointed as official guide as nobody else had ever been to Antibes before, the five of them set off.
Isobel led them along the coast road and onto the old ramparts that bordered the sixteenth-century town along the coastline. Early evening but there were still people strolling along, enjoying the calmer atmosphere now that the frenzy of crowds of day visitors had died away.
Isobel pointed out the Musée Picasso, housed in the old Grimaldi Castle building.
‘Need to visit that sometime during the fortnight,’ Mandy said.
Further on near Port Vauban, they all stood and admired the eight-metre-high delicate sculpture of the seated human, ‘Nomade’, looking out across the Mediterranean.
‘Wow,’ Lorraine said. ‘How amazing is that.’
‘It’s wonderful, isn’t it?’ Isobel said. ‘So high and made entirely of letters and see-through. You can actually go inside it.’
As they walked away from the harbour under the archway leading up to the Cours Masséna where the covered Le Marché Provencal stood, Liz gave a happy sigh as she glanced at Isobel.
‘Thank you for twisting my arm to come here. I already adore Antibes. Ralph would never consider France, said he didn’t like the country and always wanted to go to Spain for the golf – somewhere I find too hot.
I could never come up with any suggestions that he would even consider. Wish I’d discovered Antibes years ago.’
‘It’s the kind of place that draws you back time and time again,’ Isobel said. ‘Wait until we explore the town properly. There’s just something special about it. I think it’s my favourite place on the Riviera.’
* * *
For the first dinner, Guy had decided on hot smoked salmon vol-au-vents, a chicken and herb casserole, and for dessert, crème br?lée.
With Zoe serving, he hovered out in the kitchen yard, unashamedly eavesdropping as every course was placed on the table out on the terrace, anxious to hear how the food was being received.
By the time the dessert was being served, he knew the meal had gone down well and he stayed back in the kitchen.
‘That was a truly delicious meal,’ Isobel said. ‘Congratulations and thanks to the chef. If we’re going to be eating like that every day, I shall have to seriously think about doing some exercising.’
After the meal had been cleared away, everyone was happy to stay sipping the last of the wine and chatting as the solar lights dotted around the garden switched themselves on.
Inevitably, the talk turned to writing and books.
When Sandy deliberately threw in the title of a recent controversial bestseller and asked them what they thought, it kicked off a heated discussion.
But it proved to be a positive and pleasant evening as the five women got to know each other.
Once everyone had gone off to bed, Sandy settled in one of the comfy chairs on the terrace, reached for the last of the wine and thought about the women.
The first day of a retreat was always a worry – who would be arriving, would they like the accommodation, would the women get on together and gel into a good group?
Sandy sipped her wine. Her gut feeling told her this was going to be a good retreat.
With Becky Taylor in their midst there might well be a few awkward moments, but on the whole she felt the other women would discover things in common and new writer friendships would be formed.
Retreats were also about networking, as well as getting words on paper.