Chapter 21
21
PRESENT DAY
Maggie had slipped out early that morning, hoping to get to the boulangerie and back before Allegra awoke. She walked down the cobbled steps from the house and through the narrow streets to the place on the corner Allegra had pointed out to her the day before. Opposite was a small café, one she remembered walking past on her first morning here just a few days ago. With its red awning and small round tables and chairs outside, it was already busy with locals catching up over an early coffee. Having been told there was a five-minute wait for fresh croissants, Maggie decided to join them and sat at a table, ordering her coffee from a passing waiter as she did so.
She listened to the conversations around her while she waited. No one was in a rush, everyone seemed happy to see one another. It made her think of her usual morning ritual back home, standing in line in a large coffee shop chain where people avoided making eye contact, let alone conversation. Everyone just wanted to grab their coffee and go.
The young waiter brought her drink to the table. ‘How is Madame?’ he said, as he placed the bill in front of her.
Maggie looked at him, quizzically. Was he asking after her?
‘Madame Morgon, someone told me this morning she had a fall yesterday.’
‘Oh, yes, she did. You know her?’
The waiter smiled and nodded. ‘She lives here a long time. Is she okay?’
‘She’s broken her arm, unfortunately. Two bones broken. She has a—’ Maggie indicated to her arm ‘—cast? I don’t know the word, I’m sorry.’
‘ Platre ,’ he said, nodding. ‘Ah, dommage . Are you family?’
Maggie smiled to herself, wondering how to best explain it. ‘I’m related to an old friend of hers. I just came to visit for a few days but now I’ll stay for a few more, at least until she’s up and about.’
‘That’s good. She is a very good person.’
‘Yes, she really is.’
‘Let me know if you need anything else,’ he said.
Maggie thanked him and went to take a sip from her cup.
‘Excuse me? Hello?’
Maggie looked up to see a man standing just to the side of her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make you jump, especially not as you’re about to have that.’ He pointed to her cup.
The man had curly dark hair, greying at the edges, with dark brown eyes and (Maggie couldn’t help but notice) killer cheekbones. But despite his handsome, tanned features, he looked like he’d slept in a bush. His T-shirt was covered in dirt and his shorts were not much better. She realised she was yet to say something. ‘Sorry, can I help you?’
‘I just came from the boulangerie over there; they said to tell you the croissants are ready.’ He held up a brown paper bag. ‘Got mine.’ He smiled at her, the creases at the side of his eyes making his face even more attractive.
‘Oh, thanks.’ Maggie gulped her coffee, practically burning a hole in her throat as she did so, bringing on a coughing fit.
‘Let me get you some water.’
Maggie wanted to tell him not to but before she could get the words out, he’d disappeared. She tried to regain her composure, not that anyone around her seemed remotely bothered. A moment later she was handed a glass. She took a few sips, nodding her thanks to him as her coughing subsided.
‘Are you okay?’ He put his hand gently on her shoulder.
Maggie immediately twitched and he quickly removed it.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I was just… I hope you are alright now.’
Maggie felt suddenly embarrassed. ‘Yes, sorry. Thank you.’ She took another sip.
‘Okay, don’t forget to go and get your croissants before they all go again,’ the man said. He gave her a small wave, then turned and disappeared down the street. Maggie sat for a moment, processing what had just happened. Why would the simple touch of a concerned stranger make her react like that? She’d literally shrugged him off. Putting her money on the table to pay the bill, she finished the last of her – now not so hot – coffee and got up to walk over to the boulangerie, thanking the waiter as she left.
By the time she got back to the house and started up the stairs, Maggie could hear Allegra talking to someone on the phone in her bedroom. She waved through the open door as she passed, indicating the croissants in the bag and went up to the kitchen on the top floor. After she’d laid out plates and cutlery on the table, Maggie made a fresh pot of coffee and poured some orange juice into a small jug. She put the still-warm croissants into a basket along with some butter and a pot of apricot jam, then sliced up a fresh peach, the juices running from the board as she cut into it.
She went back down to check on Allegra, who was sitting on the edge of her bed, still in her nightdress.
‘How are you feeling?’ said Maggie.
‘I can’t even get this off on my own.’ Allegra was clearly frustrated.
‘That’s why I stayed, to help you. Here,’ said Maggie. ‘Let me get your arm out, then you can do the rest. I can lay your clothes out for you if you let me know what you’d like me to get.’
‘Thank you, in that cupboard there.’
‘I’ll run you some water in the sink but I think you should wait a few days until you have a shower or a bath.’
Allegra waved the thought away. ‘Don’t, I feel so old suddenly.’
‘You’ve got a broken arm. You’re going to have to accept my help, like it or not,’ said Maggie. ‘Now, how about this one?’ She held up a long red silk kaftan and grinned at Allegra. ‘I think you should style this injury out.’
They sat and had breakfast together, Allegra’s arm resting on a pillow on the table, the colour coming back into her cheeks as she ate.
‘I had a coffee this morning when I got these,’ said Maggie, holding up a piece of pastry taken from the top of her croissant in between her fingers, ‘and the waiter at the little café on the corner, the one with the red awning, asked how you were.’
Allegra smiled and popped a slice of peach into her mouth.
Maggie laughed. ‘You really do know everyone, don’t you?’
‘Not really, it’s just that people are friendly. No one is too busy to say hello. But you can live here and keep yourself to yourself quite happily. As I do, most of the time.’
‘Is there anyone you want me to speak to, to let them know about your arm?’
‘I was just on the phone to my late husband’s daughter, and she said…’
‘We haven’t even talked about your husband! I’d almost forgotten you had one.’
Allegra laughed. ‘Darling, I just haven’t got there yet.’
‘Okay, so last night we got up to the part when you took on the gallery from Val. Which, I have to say, I didn’t see coming at all. Did you keep in touch with them?’
‘Absolutely. Robert and Val were like my surrogate parents right up until they both died. I don’t know what I would have done without them, to be honest. My father died just a few years after my mother, I only found out when the family lawyer got in touch. The sad thing is, my father knew where I worked so he must’ve kept an eye on what I was doing. He just couldn’t bring himself to forgive me for leaving.’
‘Did you ever find out what happened to the letters from Etienne?’
Allegra shook her head. ‘God only knows. They were never found. My father left me some money in his will. I didn’t want it but it allowed me to take on the gallery earlier than I perhaps would have done otherwise.’
‘And so, you ran the gallery and I’m assuming it was a great success?’
‘Well, I don’t know about that. We had our moments, that’s for sure,’ said Allegra.
‘We? Was that with your husband?’
‘No, actually. That was with Eve. After that first sell-out show, she almost instantly lost the love for creating her art. She always said it was because she got happy.’ Allegra laughed, the thought clearly amusing her. ‘But I think she just wasn’t interested in making money from her art. She was happiest helping me bring on other artists and because she was one herself she had the best connections. We made such a good team. We got to the point where we needed to expand so eventually, when the dry-cleaner’s below our apartment came up for sale, we bought it and turned that space into a sister gallery focusing just on sculpture. We both lived above, me on one side, Eve on the other. I focused on more classic Impressionist styles in the uptown gallery, but all our artists had their own space. No one in our stable was competing, they were all complementary.’
‘And your husband, when did he come along?’ Maggie poured Allegra some coffee as she spoke.
‘That was all quite unexpected. He was the kindest man I ever knew. That’s him, there.’ Allegra pointed to a photo in a frame on a small table under the mirror on the far wall.
Maggie got up to have a closer look. She picked up the frame and studied his face. ‘He even looks kind.’ He was tall, with light-coloured hair and gently sloping eyes.
‘That’s Leo, he came into my life much later. I’d given up on ever falling in love again after Etienne. It took me years to move on from that heartbreak. I just couldn’t bring myself to put my happiness in anyone else’s hands after what happened. But before she died, Val wrote to me and told me something which made me think. She’d met Leo, another art dealer, years before. He was a widower. His wife had died when their young daughter was very young. Just like they’d once been, we were two lost souls with broken hearts in New York City. Val waited until the right moment, then put us together. I wasn’t sure about it at first but then eventually, I fell in love with him. Ours was a different kind of love, not like with Etienne. This was deep friendship and companionship, really.’
‘What did Val say to change your mind?’
A slight smile came to Allegra’s face. ‘She said if it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone. Leo was my second chance at happiness.’ She sighed, gently. ‘We were together for almost thirty years.’
‘And you’re still close to his daughter? Your stepdaughter I should say.’
‘Very, she’s wonderful. Her name is Nancy. Sadly, I don’t see her very often because she lives in the States, but she comes over with her family, usually once a year. There they are, in that photo.’ Allegra pointed at another photograph on the side.
Maggie picked it up and looked at the smiling faces in the picture. Allegra stood in the middle next to a younger woman, also tall, with eyes just like her father’s. In front of Allegra were three late teenage-looking children, two boys and a girl, all laughing at whoever was taking the photograph. ‘What a gorgeous picture.’
‘That was taken a few years ago now. Her husband took the photo. I adore them all.’
‘I hope you don’t mind me asking but you didn’t have children of your own?’ said Maggie, her eyes still on the photograph.
Allegra shook her head. ‘I never really wanted kids of my own. I mean, maybe once, fleetingly. We got married when I was in my early thirties but for whatever reason, it didn’t happen for us, and I was okay with that.’ She paused. ‘Eventually.’
Maggie closed her eyes for a second. ‘Hearing you say that out loud makes me think I might get there one day too. Feeling okay with it, I mean. I thought I was, but I’m not sure I’m quite there yet.’ She sat back down at the table.
‘It takes time,’ said Allegra, patting Maggie’s hand with her good arm.
They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, eating their breakfast. After they’d finished, Maggie cleared the plates, ordering Allegra to stay put whilst she did so. Then, much to Maggie’s delight, Allegra suggested a walk down to the beach.
It was still relatively quiet as they walked along the Croisette, the tourists yet to arrive on their day trips to Cannes. The sky was blue and cloudless, just as it had been the day before and the day before that.
‘How far would you like to go?’ said Maggie, her arm held gently underneath Allegra’s sling.
‘How about we go as far as The Carlton.’
‘The hotel at the end? Isn’t that from the film with Grace Kelly and Cary Grant?’
‘I love that you know that!’ said Allegra. ‘Do you fancy having a look inside? It’s beautiful.’
‘Only if you promise you won’t make me have a martini,’ said Maggie.
‘Of course not,’ said Allegra. ‘It’s way too early for that. We’ll have une coupe de champagne instead. I lived there for a while. I’ll get us a good table.’
Maggie looked up at the majestic white hotel, the grey turrets on the corner glinting in the sunlight, adding a fairy tale touch to the Croisette. ‘Sorry, did you say you lived there? At The Carlton?’
Allegra laughed. ‘You’ll love it.’