Chapter 24
The next morning, Maxine sat at the table, wondering what to text to J-F.
She’d tried three times already and deleted each attempt.
It was going to be difficult, now she knew he’d lost the love of his life.
She thought of Andy. If she wrote from the heart, her feelings would be sincere – she hadn’t ever meant to be dismissive or cruel, but there was no way she could have guessed the root cause of his drinking.
She’d keep it simple.
How about lunch?
That was it, just a few words. She’d take him out, he could talk about the past, about himself and she would put things right.
She sent the message.
It was almost eight and Maxine needed breakfast. Through the window, the sun was already streaming gold.
It was going to be a hot day. She grabbed her bag and hurried out of the door, glancing to see if there was a floral gift on the step.
There wasn’t. Perhaps the secret flower sender wouldn’t visit again.
Maxine drove to the boulangerie and joined the queue of seven. Gemma was serving, her French confident, efficient. When Maxine’s turn came, she said, ‘You’re busy this morning.’
‘It’s Monday – we close at eleven-thirty. It’s a half-day.’
‘Oh – are you off somewhere nice?’
‘Not really. I’m taking Macey to a toddler group with Gisele. Bastien’s decorating a house near Keroulien-sur-Mer. Have you been there?’
‘Once.’ Maxine remembered going with J-F on his motorbike. ‘There’s a nice café there.’
‘That’s right – and the beach is lovely. We often take Macey.’ Gemma put on her questioning face. ‘What can I get you?’
‘Two croissants. And a pain complet.’
‘Tranché?’ Gemma asked.
‘Oui – s’il te pla?t,’ Maxine replied, watching Gemma take the loaf to the slicing machine.
‘So, what are you doing today?’ Gemma asked. ‘The sun’s out.’
‘I might just see the sights,’ Maxine said. She’d made no plans.
‘Mum and Joel are cooking up a storm – are you going to the Caribbean night?’
‘Definitely. Do I need a ticket?’
‘No, just rock up and pay.’
‘Great – I’ll be there. I tasted some of the mango cheesecake yesterday.’
‘Macey loves mango. She likes all the sweet things, just like her grandma.’ Gemma took the money from Maxine. ‘Enjoy your day.’
‘I will.’ Maxine took the bread back to the car and started the engine.
As she drove back to Clotilde’s Cottage, she wondered what to do.
She didn’t want to be on her own. For a moment, she felt a pang of loneliness.
Most Mondays, she’d been at work, immersed in morning briefings, organising the team.
She wasn’t used to long stretches of her own company.
So, she wouldn’t spend the day by herself wishing she had someone to talk to.
She’d be proactive. Shirl was working; she had no idea where Béa lived but Fliss was great company.
After breakfast, she’d drive up to Rose Falaise and join her for a coffee.
And if Fliss was busy, she wouldn’t feel disappointed, she’d just go somewhere else.
It was that easy.
After a croissant and a peppermint tea, Maxine took off at a pace towards the house on the cliff. She walked up the steps and found herself in the car park. There were two cars in the drive; one was an elegant old E-Type coupé.
She walked round to the front of the house, where a long lawn led to the cliff edge and a wooden fence.
A table and six chairs, perfectly placed, looked out onto the beach.
The view seemed to tug her towards it; she wandered towards the fence and glanced down.
There was a sheer drop to the sand, the sea pulling in and dragging itself back.
A few people dotted the sand, a family, a jogger with a dog.
Maxine looked towards the town, the tall spire of the church, clusters of houses.
A community. Her eyes swept back to the beach, the indigo depths of the sea, the jagged rocks like black fangs jutting from the depths.
The view was wild and beautiful. It would be so easy to live in this house, to walk to this spot whatever the weather, to linger, the breeze whipping your hair.
A voice came from just outside the house, raised in question. ‘Bonjour, madame.’
‘Oh, pardon.’ Maxine did her best in French, hoping to apologise, to explain she’d just come to visit Fliss. ‘Je suis venue rendre visite à Fliss – je suis désolée de vous déranger.’
‘Vous ne me dérangez pas du tout.’ The man took a step forward and gave a light laugh. ‘Oh, it’s Maxine, isn’t it? No, you’re not troubling me at all. We met at the canoeing and had lunch. I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it was you.’
It took Maxine a few moments to recognise Manu’s brother. ‘Théo – hello.’
‘Hello. You’ve come to see Fliss?’
‘I have.’
‘I’m afraid she and Manu are out in Chapellin, shopping for paint.’
‘Oh.’ Maxine wondered what to say.
‘The last thing she said was that she might come back with a new range cooker and a man to put it in.’ Théo clearly knew Fliss well. He seemed to think for a moment. ‘Would you like a coffee? We could take it out here.’
‘Well, if it’s no trouble…’
‘Not at all,’ Théo said. ‘We’re very lucky to have the beach at the bottom of our garden. Make yourself at home,’ Théo said gallantly before disappearing inside the house.
Maxine sat at the table, facing the cool sea breeze, tasting the salty tang.
She hoped Fliss wouldn’t be too long; she didn’t know Théo well, but it would be nice to stay in such a glorious spot for a while, and it would have been rude not to stop for a coffee.
Besides, there was something a little sombre about Théo – Maxine suspected he was still grieving the loss of his father.
After all this time, she was good at recognising grief in others.
Of course, she’d be happy to keep him company for a while.
There were two kiteboarders on the water, zipping up and down the horizon, surrounded by spray, their kites soaring high.
The freedom and the joy of being alone on the swelling ocean appealed to her.
Maxine wished she’d taken up water sports and wondered if it was too late to learn.
She imagined herself out there, trying to rein in the wind, feeling the power of the sea surging beneath her.
‘Do you take sugar? Cream?’ The voice at her elbow dragged her from her daydream.
‘Black’s fine.’ Maxine looked up as Théo placed the tray in front of her. He smiled with perfect teeth. Of course – he was a dentist: he would have perfect teeth.
He sat opposite her. ‘So – are you enjoying your holiday?’
‘I am.’
‘And Clotilde’s Cottage is comfortable?’
‘Yes. Fliss did a great job.’
‘She did.’ Théo sipped his coffee.
Maxine had never been very good at making small talk. ‘So – you live in Paris?’
‘I have a dental practice there. I only go there a few days a month now. I’m trying to retire.’ Théo almost smiled. ‘You’ve retired already, I think?’
‘I have.’
‘What did you used to do?’
‘I worked for a charity, The Hopeful Group, in London. I was Director of Communications.’
‘That sounds important,’ Théo said. ‘It must be a big change now. You have a lot of free time.’ He glanced at the kiteboarders on the line of the sea. ‘You can make your life your own.’
Maxine leaned forward, impressed. ‘That’s remarkably perceptive.’
Théo smoothed his dark hair, which the wind had rearranged. ‘For many years, my life didn’t belong to me. In the daytime I had clients to entertain. In the evening, I had to entertain my wife.’
‘You’re married?’
‘I was, twice. But no longer.’ Théo took a deep breath.
‘And is this a better life?’ Maxine was surprised to hear herself being so forthright.
‘Of course.’ Théo’s face was serious but Maxine noticed a sparkle in his eyes. ‘Now I’m older, I’m ready to live a young man’s life.’
Maxine laughed. ‘Oh yes – if only we knew then what we know now.’
‘May I ask? You’re not married?’
Maxine shook her head. ‘I lost the man I loved in my twenties – I mean, he died – and…’ She reached for her cup and noticed her hand was shaking.
Théo seemed to understand. ‘How can someone recover from such a big thing? It becomes part of who you are. It leaves scars.’
Maxine felt the breath leave her lungs. ‘You know how it feels?’
Théo was thoughtful. ‘What you’ve experienced is something only you understand. I made a big mistake once and, in the same way, it’s stayed with me.’
‘What happened?’
‘My first marriage was over and I found comfort in a sweet woman. She was expecting a child, and it was mine. I should’ve been a proper father to the boy, but I went back to Paris. He’s a fine young man now, but I regret losing those special years.’
‘So we’ve both lost someone.’ Maxine met his eyes. ‘How do you cope, knowing what could’ve been?’
‘I worked hard: I made money, but it didn’t make me happy. So I’m ready to change – and I have this.’ Théo waved a hand towards the beach. For a moment he stared at the rolling waves splashing onto the sand. ‘This beauty is a free gift.’
‘It is.’ Maxine had hardly touched her coffee, which was cool now. ‘Théo – thank you.’
‘What for?’
‘It’s been nice to share, you know, what we just talked about.’
‘Sometimes it’s easy to tell things to someone you don’t know well.’
‘Yes, it is,’ Maxine said. ‘And sitting here with this glorious backdrop. I feel…’
Théo knew. ‘Close to what is real?’
‘Exactly.’
They were both silent for a moment, then Théo said, ‘So – while you’re in Plouvannec, what have you been doing?’
‘I’ve been horse-riding, swimming.’ She wondered if Manu had mentioned that she’d rushed out of the sea and collapsed at his feet.
‘And canoeing.’
‘Oh yes – that was fun.’
‘It was.’ He indicated her cup. ‘Your coffee’s cold. I can get you another?’
Maxine was about to say no, to hold up her hands and babble something about having wasted enough of his time already, but she had nowhere else to go.
He was a nice man, sympathetic and honest. And yes, he was handsome, but she hadn’t considered him as a romantic partner.
And, unlike J-F, he wasn’t wild and dangerous – he was simply a nice man. So she said, ‘That would be lovely.’
An engine rumbled and a car drew up, tyres crunching against gravel. Théo said, ‘Here are Manu and Fliss. They’ll want to start decorating.’
Maxine stood up. ‘Oh, I don’t want to intrude.’
‘Not at all. You’re welcome to stay,’ Théo said quietly.
A voice shrieked from the corner of the house.
‘Max! You’ve come to help. Oh, that’s perfect.
’ Fliss bounded across and hugged her. ‘It’s going to be such fun.
Stop for lunch. Help me paint these old walls.
Manu and Théo can strip. Now there’s a thought.
’ She gave a cackle. ‘Strip the old wallpaper, I mean. Oh, who cares? The decorating can wait. Let’s open a bottle of wine… ’