Chapter 23
It took a long time, washing, applying colour, rinsing, waiting, drying, but finally the towel came off. Béa flapped her hands nervously, making a lot of screeching sounds, then she was shown her new self in the mirror.
She had shiny yellow hair. Béa lifted faltering fingers to her locks.
‘Is it orange?’
‘It’s more gold. That’s what bleach does – it strips your hair of colour,’ Fliss said.
‘I like it.’ Béa didn’t sound sure. ‘Do I look like a goddess?’
‘It’s great. But you probably ought to go to a professional hairdresser, who’ll tell you how to keep it in good condition,’ Maxine said.
Béa was suddenly edgy. ‘Does it look bad?’
‘It’s bouncy and bright and lovely,’ Fliss soothed. ‘What Max means is that bleaching your hair can dry it.’
‘Will it all fall out?’ Béa was horrified.
‘No.’ Maxine took a breath. ‘The important thing is, do you like it?’
‘No, the important thing is, will Louis like it,’ Béa said emphatically.
‘Just sashay into the house and don’t say a word, darling,’ Fliss suggested. ‘Wait until he notices you. He’ll be amazed.’
Béa looked perplexed. ‘I was going to change into something sexy…’
‘Just be yourself,’ Maxine advised.
‘Exactly. You’re the woman Louis fell in love with.’
‘I don’t understand you English women,’ Béa grumbled. ‘You have no sense of romance. How do you ever keep a man?’
‘We don’t want to,’ Fliss laughed.
Béa looked at her as if she were speaking in a strange language and then hurried towards the door. ‘If I’m quick, I can go to the shops and buy some confit de geziers. That’s romantic. It always makes Louis feel amoureux.’
‘I must try some,’ Fliss said. ‘What are geziers?’
‘Chicken gizzards,’ Maxine said. Fliss pulled a face as though she wanted to be sick.
A golden Béa whirled from Maxine to Fliss, kissing their cheeks, her laughter tinkling. ‘Thank you for making me look like Brigitte Bardot. Now I’ll go home and seduce my husband.’
Maxine and Fliss watched her go, a blonde vision scampering through the door and down the path.
Fliss shook her head. ‘Have we done the right thing, Max? Pandering to Louis’s idea of female beauty?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘We didn’t make a bad job of her hair though. Although I preferred her as a brunette. I hope it doesn’t all fall out.’
‘Mmm.’ Maxine was thoughtful. ‘I worry a bit, you know – she doesn’t seem to do anything because she wants to. It’s all for Louis.’
Fliss shook her head. ‘Have you met him?’
‘Once.’
‘He seems nice enough.’ Fliss sniffed. ‘I think they have an up-and-down relationship. Perhaps that’s what keeps the passion strong.’
‘Mmm.’ Maxine frowned. ‘Did you see the bruise on her shoulder when we were rinsing her hair?’
‘I did.’ Fliss thought for a moment. ‘You don’t think he hurts her?’
‘I hope not.’ Maxine remembered the burn mark on Béa’s arm. An alarm bell was ringing quietly, and she promised herself that she’d keep an eye on Béa.
‘I’m sure she’ll be fine, once she swans in to Louis, all blonde with a plate full of gizzards,’ Fliss laughed. ‘Now, where were we? A pain au chocolat each, I think. Any chance of more coffee, Max? I’m absolutely parched after all that hairdressing.’
After two more cups of coffee, having recounted the sordid details of both her failed marriages, Fliss took off back to Rose Falaise.
Manu and Théo would be home by now; she intended to plan the decorating.
Maxine was at a loose end. It was Sunday, and the sunshine was glorious, so she decided to put on sturdy boots and take off for the headland again.
There were two things she wanted to think about, and the solitude of a walk would help.
Maxine walked past Le Shack towards a rocky path that led to the cliff top.
It was hard going at first; she stumbled on the stony track that intersected gorse and rose to a plateau that looked across the sea.
As she gazed on the jagged rocks below, surf splashing in white foam, the breeze blew her hair and battered her ears.
It somehow made her feel calm and her mind cleared.
The first problem was Russell. She took out her phone and stared at the text that had just arrived.
I won’t give up easily, Max. I’ll fight to get you back.
Maxine was disturbed by the word ‘fight’.
It implied stubborn determination at best and aggression at worst. Russell had always got what he wanted.
Maxine thought back to their time together.
It was usually Russell who’d decided what they would do, where they’d go.
Maxine was easy-going. She’d go with the flow.
But now? Maxine pushed her hands into her jacket pockets, lowered her head against the buffeting headwind. She was in charge of her own life.
And she had nothing to say to Russell. Answering would only encourage him.
She wouldn’t engage in his battle. She just hoped he wouldn’t turn up uninvited on her doorstep.
Poor Terry. Maxine could imagine how Russell must have badgered him continually for her address, like a dog with a bone. No, silence was the best option.
The second dilemma was a little more difficult. J-F Kastell. Something in her conscience didn’t sit right about how they’d left things. She felt awkward, even a bit guilty.
When they’d met yesterday by the river, surrounded by other people, she’d been really uncomfortable. Of course she was embarrassed. So much was unresolved between them. They’d shared secrets, an evening of too much alcohol, they’d slept together. Since then, they hadn’t spoken.
She needed to put things right.
She’d text J-F and make the peace. His number was on a slip of paper, tucked in her phone case, but first she wanted to think about what to say. It was important not to rush. She’d consider her words and when they met again, the atmosphere wouldn’t be strained.
The coastal path looped round and dropped down towards the sea. The sky was blindingly bright overhead, filled with clouds, and a new optimism flooded Maxine’s heart. She’d been brave, coming away to Brittany by herself, and it was really fulfilling.
She almost jogged down the final stony twists of the track onto the main road that led to Clotilde’s Cottage. She decided to make herself something special for dinner tonight and open a bottle of wine.
As she passed Le Shack, a light English voice called her name from the doorway. Shirl was standing, hands on hips. Then she mimed drinking from a cup.
Maxine called, ‘I didn’t think you were open.’
‘We’re not. Come up. Have a coffee.’ Shirl disappeared back into the restaurant. By the time Maxine had clambered towards the outdoor seating, Shirl was back with a tray, a cafetière and two cups. ‘Sit down. Nice to see you.’
Maxine and Shirl sat at a wooden table and Shirl began to pour. ‘Joel’s working on new creations,’ she said. ‘We’re planning a Caribbean night next week. He’s putting rum in everything.’
‘Sounds good.’ Maxine sipped her coffee.
‘We’re making jerk chicken, rice and peas. I even managed to get hold of some ackee to have with codfish.’
‘Do you do this a lot?’
‘Caribbean nights? No, but we’ll do more during the summer. We’re taking on extra staff to help. My parents were Jamaican. I grew up on this stuff and Joel likes to cook new things.’
Maxine could see the fondness in her eyes. ‘Have you two been together long?’
‘We met last year when Fliss and I came here. It was the best holiday I’d ever had. So I came back. How could I stay away? And Gemma loves being in Brittany – she lives above the boulangerie.’
‘And she’s getting married soon?’ Maxine knew she had plans.
‘Yes, she and Bastien are having a simple ceremony later this month. Joel and I are doing the food – apart from the cake. Gisele wants to do that.’ Shirl breathed a sigh of contentment.
‘Gemma’s so settled now. You wouldn’t believe the wild thing she used to be.
There was a time when I wasn’t sure how she was ever going to take to motherhood.
But she and Bastien are solid. Macey adores him. ’
‘There seems to be something about Plouvannec that makes people feel better.’ Maxine glanced towards the tumbling tide, the expanse of sand.
‘It’s good for your heart,’ Shirl agreed. ‘You’ve only been here a short while. Wait until the end of the month. You’ll be a new woman.’
‘That’s exactly what I want to be,’ Maxine said thoughtfully. ‘The best version of myself.’
Shirl seemed to broach the next subject carefully. ‘So, Joel said he saw you here the other night. With Jean-Francois.’
Maxine wasn’t sure how to answer. ‘He called round – he’s a friend of Fliss’s.’
‘And yours too,’ Shirl said quietly. ‘But when we were at his canoe place yesterday, you didn’t look pleased to see him.’
‘Oh?’ Maxine wasn’t sure she liked Shirl asking her personal questions so frankly.
‘The thing is,’ Shirl explained, ‘he does hit the bottle from time to time.’ She met Maxine’s gaze. ‘Joel said he’d had a lot of wine and you were looking after him. I know Fliss does that all the time. She takes him back to sleep it off on the couch.’
Maxine held her gaze, wondering if Shirl suspected they had slept together, and decided that she didn’t.
She was just disarmingly straight-talking.
‘Fliss texted that he was no trouble. I looked after him and the next day, I sent him on his way.’ She took a deep breath.
That wasn’t a complete lie – she’d just missed out the bit in the middle.
‘Well.’ Shirl looked into the distance. ‘Poun a fret cyaahn pae owns a det.’
‘Pardon?’ Maxine had no idea what she had just said, but it sounded beautiful.
‘One of my mother’s old sayings – “A pound of fretting cannot pay an ounce of debt.” J-F has a broken heart, but drinking won’t help.’
‘Oh?’ Maxine waited for Shirl to explain, but the restaurant door opened and Joel came out backwards, carrying a tray. He placed it on the table. ‘You must try. I have it perfect now. The mango cheesecake. Tell me how you like it.’
He placed two plates with golden slices of cheesecake on them in front of Maxine and Shirl and stood back. ‘I added a little rum, and peanuts.’
‘There’s pure sunshine in this dessert.’ Shirl’s eyes danced. ‘What do you think, Maxine?’
Maxine forked the cheesecake into her mouth and closed her eyes. She tasted thick cream, tangy mango, the sharpness of rum, the marshmallow sweetness of vanilla. ‘Heaven.’
‘Come to the Caribbean night.’ Shirl patted her hand. ‘We’ll party till dawn.’
‘Of course. And bring J-F,’ Joel said, all innocence. ‘The other day, I see you here having dinner with him and I’ve never seen him look so happy. I think, perhaps now he has found a friend who will help him feel better after the death of his wife.’