Chapter 37
The following morning, Maxine was on the beach at sunrise with Fliss and Jo.
She needed to put last night behind her and breathe in fresh air today.
Looking back wasn’t an option now. She had no intention of mentioning Russell again.
She simply told Jo she’d been too tired to visit J-F last night. It was truthful enough.
Bastien had just finished leading the yoga practice and some fifteen people were winding down, stretching, pulling on sweatshirts.
Some were stripping to their swimming costumes, ready to swim.
Shirl and Joel were there, Gemma and Macey, Théo and Manu.
There were several other people whom Maxine vaguely recognised, including a tall man who she knew was called Bérnard.
He was currently talking to her enthusiastically, practising his English.
‘So how do you relish living in the abode of Clotilde?’
Maxine said, ‘It’s a lovely house – very calm.’
‘It used to be dismal,’ Bérnard explained. ‘Before Fliss revitalised it.’
Jo was listening, perplexed. She had clearly decided to opt for a compliment. ‘Your English is very good – I mean, better than my French. Although I’m not bad.’
‘I am flowing in the English tongue. I was trained by my grandmother from an ancient tome.’ Bérnard seemed pleased with himself. ‘On Thursday, Joel and Shirl are having a festivity to celebrate Gemma and Bastien’s nuptials. I trust you will be in attendance?’
‘Oh, we’ll be there,’ Jo said cheerily, showing that she’d understood every word.
Bérnard was delighted. ‘Then I hope we may all have the opportunity to jig.’
‘I’m sure we will,’ Maxine said, not missing a beat. ‘Are you going into the water now?’
‘Oh, it’s too icy to dip,’ Bérnard said with a shiver.
‘I’m going in,’ Maxine said. ‘What about you, Jo?’
Jo watched Théo splashing in the rolling waves in his blue trunks, followed by Fliss in a white costume. ‘I’m thinking about it.’
‘I’ll pop back to the cottage to change,’ Maxine said.
‘Bring me a jumper.’ Jo was already wearing a long-sleeved top but the breeze from the sea was chilly.
‘Right.’ Maxine left Jo with Bérnard, who was explaining that he had worked in the town hall many years ago and his position had been of exceeding high rank.
She was smiling as she crossed the road to Clotilde’s Cottage.
Her thoughts slipped momentarily to J-F, who might be making his way to Vannes now to spend the time with Noémie’s family. She hoped he’d be all right.
Hurrying through the gate, Maxine was preoccupied with which swimsuit to choose. The black one was flattering. The red one was quite racy. She’d need to remember a big towel.
She froze. Someone was by the door, hunched over, putting flowers on the doorstep. A small woman in a dark dress. For a moment, Maxine thought it might be Clotilde herself.
The woman turned round and Maxine said, ‘Bonjour, Gisele.’
‘Bonjour.’ Gisele looked embarrassed. ‘I leave these here for her.’
‘For Clotilde?’
Gisele nodded. Maxine approached and noticed tears in her eyes. ‘Was she a relative?’
‘No.’ Gisele glanced guiltily at the flowers. ‘She was… pour moi, elle était comme une mère.’
Maxine understood. Clotilde had been like a mother. ‘Do you want to come in for a coffee?’
‘I don’t want to intrude,’ Gisele said slowly. The sea breeze blew her dark hair across her face and she looked cold.
‘Come in,’ Maxine said. ‘I’ll put Clotilde’s flowers in water. They’re lovely.’
‘They’re from the garden in Rose Falaise,’ Gisele said. ‘Maurice would want her to have them.’
Maxine ushered her inside, filled the kettle and grabbed two mugs. She offered a packet of Sablé biscuits, but Gisele shook her head.
‘Merci.’ She glanced at the flowers that Maxine was placing in water in a jar. ‘I give flowers to Clotilde when she was alive. Now I leave them here to remember.’
‘I wish I’d met her.’ Maxine handed Gisele a cup.
‘She was kind.’ Gisele was doing her best to speak English and Maxine thought it might be rude to switch to French. ‘She knew it was hard for me. I was a mère seule.’
‘Single mother?’
‘Bastien’s my son. He’s twenty-six years. I’m not married.’
‘I’m sure he and Gemma will be happy.’ Maxine wasn’t sure what else to say.
‘Gemma is a mère seule too. But Shirl is gentille. My mother avait honte de moi.’
‘She was ashamed of you? And Clotilde stepped up?’
‘I told her everything and she was kind. Many people think that Bastien is Manu Barron’s son.’
‘Oh?’ Maxine remembered that Gisele always seemed to look to Manu for approval.
‘They are wrong. Manu and his family make sure I… they s’occupent de moi.’
‘They take care of you?’
‘Yes. They bought the boulangerie and Bastien and I live upstairs in the appartement.’
‘That’s kind.’
‘And they give me money for Bastien, for his wedding too. And Clotilde is my angel. When someone will bavarde…’
‘Gossip…’
‘She says them to – ferme la gueule…’ Gisele’s tears streaked her cheeks but she was smiling at the memory.
‘She tells them to shut up?’
‘But very forte…’ Gisele waved a small fist. ‘I loved Clotilde.’
‘She sounds wonderful.’
‘She was like a grand-mère to Bastien. And I never keep from him who was his father.’
‘You’re a good mum.’
‘Théo was in Paris. When he meet me, he has left his first wife. We were happy for a short time. For a while, I was in love with him. But soon he was unhappy. He married for the second time and was unhappy again. I think Théo will never find love.’
The penny dropped. Maxine recalled Fliss saying something about how the Barron brothers had always supported Gisele. Like family. Now she understood. ‘That’s why Manu and Théo will both walk with you at the wedding procession.’
‘Manu’s like a brother. Even when he was living in Paris. And now Théo and I are friends. They help to pay for Bastien’s wedding because Shirl is making the food and they want to—’
‘Share. That’s how families should be.’ Maxine sipped her coffee. ‘I can see now why you leave flowers for Clotilde.’
‘They help me to say thank you.’ Gisele glanced at the wall clock. ‘Bastien has finished yoga.’
‘Yes – people are already swimming.’
‘I’ll go home. I make lunch and this afternoon I look after Macey Roux,’ Gisele said. ‘I love that baby like she is my – comme ma propre petite-fille.’
‘Your grandchild.’ Maxine nodded. ‘Gisele, you’re welcome here any time. Come and have coffee.’
‘Thank you – I will.’ Gisele looked around. ‘The cottage has changed. It was dark and cold. Now Fliss has made it warm.’
‘She has.’
‘You’ll come to the party on Thursday at Le Shack?’
‘I wouldn’t miss it.’
Gisele turned towards the door. ‘Merci de m’écouter.’
‘C’était un plaisir.’ Maxine had enjoyed listening to Gisele’s story. She understood her a little better.
Gisele disappeared and the front door clicked. Maxine finished the last of her coffee and rushed upstairs to change into the red swimsuit. She wouldn’t forget to bring Jo’s jumper and one for herself.
Back on the beach, Maxine was surprised to see Jo still deep in conversation with Bérnard. She’d expected her to gravitate towards Manu or Théo, or Fliss. But they were huddled together with Shirl and Joel making wedding plans. Bérnard was instructing Jo on how to make the perfect moules marinière.
‘I always find that it is important to perspire the aromatics for a long duration,’ Bérnard said seriously.
‘To do what?’ Jo looked as if she was trying not to laugh.
‘Cook the shallots, garlic, celery and thyme slowly in butter.’ Maxine was just in time.
‘Your beloved will treasure you if you prepare it this way,’ Bérnard said. ‘Moules are the latch to a man’s core, I believe.’
‘Pardon?’ Jo had no idea.
‘The key to his heart,’ Maxine said.
‘I don’t think I’ll ever find the key to his heart again.’ Jo’s face fell.
Maxine said, ‘Trust your instincts.’
‘I’m doing my best,’ Jo said miserably.
Fliss shouted, ‘I’m going in the water again, Max – are you coming? Théo and Manu are up for a second dip.’
‘I’m on my way,’ Maxine yelled and started to run. ‘Come on, Jo – I’ll race you.’
Fliss caught up with her in seconds. Behind her she could hear Jo panting, and Gemma calling over to Macey Roux.
Then she was in the sea, her teeth chattering, Jo next to her, splashing and grinning, and Fliss squealing in an attempt to beat Manu and Théo, who were making strong strokes against the tide.
In the shower, Maxine was enjoying the sensation of scalding water against her frozen skin while Jo was downstairs wearing a dressing gown, a towel over her wet hair, trying her hand at making French onion soup.
Maxine knew why. Each new recipe was a plan to win Terry’s heart, to convince him that she was the perfect wife.
She sent him photos of her French food. Even if he wouldn’t reply, he’d know each delicious morsel was a prayer to tempt him back.
Jo had said twice that she’d love to persuade Terry to come over to Brittany. She’d even asked Fliss about the availability of Clotilde’s. The cottage would probably be empty all through the summer, unless Fliss moved back in, which was unlikely given the work she was doing at Rose Falaise.
Maxine stepped out of the shower and inhaled the rich aroma of onions and something that might have been melted cheese. She dried herself quickly, dragged on some jeans and a T-shirt and hurried to the top of the stairs.
She paused. There were two voices downstairs – Jo’s and another woman’s. The second voice was raised, speaking French, troubled.
In the kitchen, Béa was holding a cloth against her cheek.
Maxine glanced at the case at Béa’s feet. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’ve left Louis,’ Béa said, her voice rising to a dramatic note. ‘Please don’t ask me to go home.’
‘What happened?’ Maxine held her breath as Béa showed her the dark bruise on her cheek. It was swelling.
‘It’s nothing. I fell downstairs.’
‘Did Louis hurt you?’