Chapter 17
17
Theo had left to collect Oscar’s ashes and Agnes was washing the breakfast cups and plates when Francine and Zazz arrived at the cottage.
‘Has Theo taken Cerise?’ Zazz asked, disappointed there was no sign of the little dog.
‘Yes. She adores the car. Do we have a plan for this morning?’ Agnes asked.
‘Just have a wander I thought,’ Francine said. ‘See how much has changed. Shall we start with Marché Forville? That should still be much the same. Maybe we can pick up a few things for lunch or supper tonight.’
The large covered market was bustling just as Agnes and Francine remembered it although they both admitted they’d forgotten how many stalls there were: vegetables, cheese, cooked and fresh meat, olive oil, herbs, socca, soaps, lavender, cream, eggs, soft fruits and flowers. After a quick conference Francine bought some cheese, fresh cream, eggs and some green salad leaves. ‘That’s lunch sorted. Cheese omelette and salade .’
Leaving the market by the lower entrance they wandered down towards the harbour. Francine and Agnes marvelling with each other at how busy the place had become but changed so little. Passing the H?tel du Ville Agnes stopped and stared around. Something she tried not to ever do if she were honest, was to think about her marriage. But standing there in front of the imposing nineteenth-century four-storey building, it was inevitable. Watching the French national flag over the porch-like entrance to the building fluttering in the on-shore breeze off the Mediterranean, the memory of the time that her life had changed irrevocably for the worse fell unwanted into her consciousness…
The foggy daze that had enveloped her whole being as Oscar had pushed the diamond ring onto her finger had rarely lifted in the few weeks leading to the wedding day. Through her parents discussing wedding arrangements, through choosing a dress to be married in, through cake tasting and through ensuring her passport was up to date, through it all, she sleepwalked. It might be the 1960s as she’d once told Oscar but the changes of the decade were conspicuous by their absence in her own life. Plans to escape drifted in and out of her consciousness: where to go; how to survive; would she get a job easily; would her parents miss her – be angry? Disown her? Theo would help her to run away but could she actually do it?
At one point she even thought of trying to find her sister, Denice, and asking for her advice. But that was something else she didn’t know how to go about. Nobody had heard from Denice for a couple of years; she could be anywhere in the world. She could have changed her name, anxious to put the past behind her.
Even after her papa had told him it was impossible to stop the wedding and told him to leave her alone, Theo continued to beg her to stand up to both her parents and Oscar and say NO. Ever since that morning when he’d turned up with a black eye he’d been pleading with her to run away with him. Telling her how much he loved her and would take care of her.
Four nights before the wedding, Oscar had gone to Monaco with some friends for ‘my last weekend of freedom’, as he’d joked to Agnes, who’d known he didn’t mean a word of it. She knew he was a ladies’ man, as Theo had politely put it and knew that was unlikely to change once they were married. Theo had been given a ‘come if you want to but I don’t care if you don’t’ invitation by Oscar for the Monaco weekend but refused point-blank to go. Instead, he’d persuaded Agnes to spend time with him that Saturday afternoon in Antibes where they could have a final dinner together. If truth were told, Agnes hadn’t taken much persuading. Her feelings for Theo ruled her heart in those last days before the wedding. If she was marrying Theo she would have been the happiest girl alive.
Antibes, the afternoon they spent there, was wonderful. Hand in hand the two of them walked the ramparts, enjoyed a glacé and strolled through the narrow streets of the old town. In one of the hidden away streets Theo took her into a jewellers’ where he bought her a silver Celtic Knot pendant which he placed lovingly around her neck. And finally they wandered around the harbour where the private yachts were moored. Both conscious all the time that they were making memories that had to last them a lifetime. Theo had told her earlier as they strolled through the old town that he was leaving on the morning of the wedding. The band had been contracted for a tour of Europe. He would be away for months.
Just as Agnes was beginning to feel hungry and wonder where they were to have dinner, Theo stopped by a shiny well maintained motor yacht with a large notice tied to its guardrails reading ‘Available for Hire’ and called out a greeting. Instantly a man appeared on the aft deck.
‘Monsieur Bois. Everything is ready for you and your wife. The caterers have delivered your meal. Champagne is in the fridge. Any problems, I’m on the third yacht in that direction,’ and he pointed to his right. ‘Your Cinderella hour is ten o’clock. Enjoy your evening.’ And he leapt off the boat onto the quay.
‘You’ve hired the yacht for the evening?’ Agnes said, deciding not to question the way the man had thought her to be Theo’s wife. She’d pretend and cherish the impossible idea of it being true for the evening.
‘For the next three hours anyway. I thought we’d have more privacy than eating in a restaurant. We both know Oscar has his spies everywhere.’
‘Was that the reason for the ridiculous Bois nom de plume ?’ Agnes said laughing. Theo nodded.
Agnes started exploring. A galley, a salon with white leather furniture and scarlet velvet cushions, a bathroom with a large shower, and marble and gold decorations everywhere. Agnes gasped at the sight of it. She’d never seen such an over-the-top bathroom. A narrow gangway with two small cabins on either side, lead to the master cabin at the front of the yacht. Theo was fiddling with the stereo system as she wandered back through to the salon where an open bottle of champagne and two glasses now stood on the table. Slotting a tape into the machine, Theo pressed a button and as music began to play Agnes whispered, ‘I wish you weren’t leaving.’
‘Change your mind and come with me? Please.’ Theo begged, turning to her.
‘I can’t.’ She couldn’t tell him how much she longed to run away with him and turned away, biting her lip.
Gently he pulled her towards him and took her in his arms before bending his head and kissing her. Responding to his kiss, Agnes leant into his body and knew that she was powerless to stop whatever followed. And didn’t want to.
Sometime later, laying there in Theo’s arms fingering the necklace and listening to the emotional words of ‘The Windmills of Your Mind’ drifting in the air, Agnes wiped a tear away. A tear of happiness. A tear for what might have been. A tear for what would never be.
And never again would she hear ‘The Windmills of Your Mind’ without crying and remembering the most wonderful evening of her life.
Two mornings later there had been no sign of Theo as she arrived at the Cannes H?tel de Ville. True to his word, he’d gone. It was in that instant that Agnes knew if he’d been there and held out his hand, she would have taken it and run away with him whatever the consequences of her action. She knew her life without him was going to be a sad one.
Even as she walked into the room on her father’s arm, clutching her bouquet to her body like a shield, and allowing him to leave her at a smiling Oscar’s side, she was still inwardly questioning herself about what on earth was she doing. She shouldn’t be doing this. She loved Theo, not Oscar. Her mouth opened but no words came. It wasn’t until the mayor finished his introductory speech to the legal ceremony that she finally acknowledged to herself she’d left it way too late to do anything to stop her inevitable marriage to Oscar. She wasn’t brave enough to say no in the middle of the ceremony, not with her parents standing at her side in the wooden panelled room with its decorative ceiling, where the brief ceremony was held. It would humiliate them as well as Oscar. She couldn’t do it to them. And who knew how Oscar would react? What revenge he would exact?
She’d zoned out of the rest of the legal formalities, knowing when she left the room she would be a different person. Mrs Agnes Agistini. Whoever that would turn out to be.
Sadly, the old cliché ‘life’s a bitch’ had turned out to be only too true for Agnes Agistini née Bernard…
Agnes swallowed hard. In the words of another popular song of that time, ‘Like a Puppet on a String’, she’d allowed herself to be used by both her parents and Oscar. He’d wanted a wife he could control to show his respectability as a married man to the world. And her parents, her father in particular, had wanted her married before she came of age and whilst he still had the last word on what she did. What a naive wimp she’d been to go along with what was virtually an arranged marriage. Her relationship with her parents had never recovered from what Agnes regarded as their betrayal. If only she’d been brave enough to run away with Theo her whole life would have been so different.
‘Maman, are you okay?’ Francine asked, gently touching Agnes’s arm.
The touch pulled Agnes back into the present moment and she nodded. ‘Shall we have the coffee we promised ourselves?’ she said turning away from the H?tel de Ville.
‘There’s a lovely cafe just along here,’ Zazz said pointing across the road.
‘Your friend Mr Google showed you that, I presume?’ Francine said.
Zazz shook her head impatiently. ‘No. Oscar gave me the grand tour when I came.’
She turned to her mother. ‘I’m sorry that came out the way it did, but honestly I can’t keep pretending that I’ve never been here before.’
‘Being honest didn’t bother you before,’ Francine snapped.
‘Please stop,’ Agnes said, looking from one to the other. ‘There is very little point in us falling out over something that can’t be changed. You shouldn’t have sneaked down here the way you did.’ She gave Zazz a hard look. ‘But you and I, Francine, have to accept it and move on.’ Agnes took a deep breath. ‘It is hard to believe he is gone and has no place in our lives any more but Oscar is dead. Let’s go to the cafe and have an apricot croissant with our coffee.’
The cafe felt strangely familiar to Francine. Once they were settled at a table inside, as the tables on the pavement were all occupied, she looked around. Three decades ago the decor had been left over from the seventies with a grumpy owner behind the counter who had little time for his teenage customers. Today it was ultra-modern and bright with modern art on the walls and comfortable rattan chairs. The barista busy working the large coffee machine seemed vaguely familiar to Francine – a grown-up version of someone she’d known in the past when he caught her glance but he didn’t so much as look at her again, he was so busy.
Sipping her coffee, Francine started to wonder if any of her old friends were still around and a rueful smile crossed her face. Thirty-six years since she’d left so it was highly unlikely that they would recognise her – or she them for that matter – even if there was anyone from her past still living in Cannes. But she couldn’t help giving the middle-aged barista a second glance and wondering.
Agnes confessed to feeling a little tired as they drank their coffee and ate the delicious coffee eclairs they’d decided on instead of apricot croissants. ‘I think I’ve done enough sightseeing for our first day.’
‘Are you okay?’ Francine gave her an anxious glance.
‘I’m fine but a rest before this afternoon’s meeting would be good.’
Walking back to the cottage they met up with Theo and Cerise who instantly made a beeline for Zazz. Laughing, she took the lead from Theo and walked her the rest of the way. Whilst Agnes went for a rest the others turned the purchases from the market into lunch.
‘I hope Maman is well,’ Francine said, grating the cheese for the omelettes. ‘I hope this trip is not too much for her.’
Theo looked at her. ‘I think the memories it is stirring up are very hard for her. We must make sure she does not get melancholic.’