Chapter 12 #2
Maybe it was partly because she was home and Vence had always had a special kind of magic for Tilly.
‘Come this way.’ Without thinking, Tilly reached out her hand and, to her surprise, Angus caught it with his.
She led him across the road and past cafés where they needed to skirt the chairs that were edging well into the footpath area.
Was that why Angus was still holding her hand?
To protect her from someone pushing their chair back to get up, or a waiter coming with trays of food or drinks?
If so, there was reason to stop when she turned them into a pedestrian-only street, but her hand was still inside his when she paused by the tree outside the museum.
‘This is our famous tree,’ she told Angus. ‘They say it’s five hundred years old. I believe it’s an ash in English. It’s frêne in French, and this is the Place du Frêne.’
‘And this tree is one of your favourite things?’ Angus raised an eyebrow.
‘I do love this tree but that’s not the only reason I’ve brought you this way. Come…’
She led him on to the paved area across another street, past a huge stone basin with a continuous stream of water from the wrought-iron tap and past the stone table on a pedestal with its mosaic orientation map, not stopping until they reached the stone wall and had the Lubiane valley and the baous of Vence spread out in front of them.
‘That,’ she said proudly, pointing above the houses on the other side of the valley. ‘That is one of my favourite things.’
‘The mountain?’
‘Yes. They’re called baous here, which are a kind of mountain that has a flat top and comes out from the hills. There are four of them – la Baou des Blancs, la Baou des Noirs, la Baou de Saint-Jeannet and la Baou de la Gaude.’
One side of Angus’s mouth was tilting and he was watching Tilly with an intensity that was new body language she could recognise. He liked listening to her speak in her first language.
How ironic was it that French was one of the Romance languages that had originated from Latin? And that it was also widely considered to be the language of love?
It would be prudent not to remind Angus of that. And to be careful when and where she spoke in French.
‘They all have different faces,’ Tilly went on hurriedly. ‘Like people. The favourite of most people is the Baou de Saint-Jeannet, because it’s the most famous, but my favourite is the Baou des Blancs.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s the one that is looking down on us in Vence and, for me, it’s always felt like we’re being guarded – like the baou is a faithful dog.
And because it has the cross and the star.
Can you see the cross right on the top? This is the best time to be able to see it from here because the sun is going down and it shows up like a silhouette against the sky. ’
Angus let go of her hand to shade his eyes as he peered up. ‘Yes, I see it. It’s not solid, is it? It looks quite delicate.’
‘It’s made of curls of iron, like the tap for the fountain we just went past. It’s much taller than it looks from here and it’s pretty but the view is even prettier. You can see the Mediterranean and the Cap d’Antibes. On a clear day, you can even see planes landing at Nice airport.’
‘Blanc is white, yes? And noir is black?’
‘Yes.’ Tilly was laughing softly as she agreed.
‘You did pay attention to more than caca at school, then?’ She tried to put on a more serious face.
‘But the white and black of the baous is not about the colours. They were named after the penitents, who were a religious group in the thirteenth century who wanted to make up for their terrible sins. The white penitents have a beautiful chapel in Vence and they had a tradition of climbing this baou as a procession every year to demonstrate their penance and devotion, which is the reason for the cross.’
Angus raised an eyebrow. ‘I wonder what their terrible sins were?’
‘Probably the usual,’ Tilly suggested. ‘You know, murder and adultery and theft. Possibly breaking rules like leaving a lake without putting your feet in the water. Or listening to saxophone music.’
The tilt of his mouth acknowledged the private reference but he turned back to the view. ‘I can’t see the star you mentioned.’
‘That’s because it’s only turned on in December for la saison de Noel.
Christmas. It’s a huge star that hangs on the cliffside of the baou.
So big, people can see it when they’re landing at Nice.
When I was little, I thought it was magic.
A real star that had somehow landed on our mountain.
’ Crossing her arms to give herself a tiny hug was unconscious.
‘I love Christmas so much. The fairy lights everywhere and the decorations in the streets and the shop windows and there’s the carousel and the Christmas market in the Grand Jardin and everybody smiles more and…
and we have our star shining over us every night. ’
Tilly knew she was sounding too much like an excited child and Angus might well think that belief in the magic of Christmas was as misplaced as giving any weight to the importance of romance. She turned to lead Angus away from the view but he took one more glance over his shoulder.
‘Have you ever climbed up to the cross?’
‘More than once,’ Tilly said. ‘It’s not a hard walk and it takes less than an hour. I was going to put it on my list of locations for a photo shoot for my new business website, but Luc thinks other places are probably more romantic for proposals—’
Tilly stopped herself just in time to avoid adding that one of those places was the view from the top of èze that had been chosen for Angus’s proposal to Moira.
‘Luc?’ The succinct query covered her hesitation.
Was it Tilly’s imagination or did he sound slightly put out?
Did he think she was going to abandon him to spend time with another man?
Perhaps he thought Luc might be her boyfriend and disapproved of her having sex with anyone else.
Fair enough – she might, even though she had no right to, feel rather put out herself if he suddenly threw Moira into the conversation.
‘Luc is a professional food photographer,’ she told him.
‘He’s also the husband of my friend Sophie and they adore each other and make each other very happy, so I love him, too.
They divide their time between the South of France and London.
Sophie has a very cute little house in Saint-Jeannet that they use when they’re here. ’
She threw a smile over her shoulder. ‘They’re planning a visit soon because he has some restaurant work in Nice and Paris and he’s offered to do some new photos of a proposal for my website while he’s here.
I’ve asked my friends Antoine and Clara if they would be happy to play the part of the couple. ’
‘Are they good actors?’
‘They love each other,’ Tilly said quietly. ‘They don’t need to act.’
They walked in silence long enough for her to feel a distance growing between herself and Angus and she didn’t like it.
They were passing the small but very lovely buttery yellow cathedral now but Tilly knew it was closed.
She was about to point out the golden statue of the Virgin Mary that stood in an alcove over the doors but Angus spoke first. Maybe he didn’t like the feeling of distance either.
‘I’m thinking about food photography,’ he confessed. ‘And it’s making me very hungry.’ He eyed the tables on the footpath nearby.
‘We’ll go this way,’ she said. ‘Behind the cathedral is my most favourite restaurant in Vence and the owner is a lovely man. If he can squeeze us in, he will – and he does a very nice steak frites.’
‘Now you’re talking.’
‘There are other delicious things on the menu as well. The daube de boeuf is wonderful and so is the ravioli. Or you could go healthy and have the petits farcis, which are stuffed vegetables.’
Angus made a face like a small boy being ordered to eat broccoli, and that made Tilly laugh. Again.
She’d never met a man who could make her laugh as much as Angus seemed to be able to do without even trying.
She loved that. It made her want to hug herself again, but this time she only did it in her mind.
But it seemed to work so well she could feel it inside her body. Like a squeeze on her heart that made the happiness inside it overflow and trickle right down to her toes.
She knew that feeling.
She was on the cusp of falling in love. And despite knowing that it was with the wrong person and was only going to last a very short time, it was impossible to hold it back.
And Tilly wasn’t sure she wanted to, anyway.