Chapter 24
Tuesday is Bastille Day—France’s national day—and that evening Mellie, Jackson, Albert, and I walk into town to watch the parade before returning to Chateau Angèle to enjoy the fireworks display from the balcony.
It’s quite possibly the last time this summer that I’ll feel fully at ease at the chateau: Sandrine is due to arrive from New York tomorrow so I need to take a big, deep breath because I’m not sure when it’ll be safe to exhale.
But Sandrine is in great spirits the next day, waltzing into the office in the afternoon and engulfing Jackson in a hug.
Really, he’s the one who engulfs her. She’s tiny—shorter than me by three inches unless she’s in heels, which she almost always is, but her son still towers over her by almost a whole head height.
I wait patiently for her to greet me. This could take a while.
She and Jackson are notoriously touchy-feely. I’ve even seen Jackson sweep his mum up and spin her around, making her squeal like a little girl on a fairground ride.
Once I conquered my fear of Sandrine, I was actually quite envious of Jackson’s relationship with her. I’m still a little wary, but over the years I’ve learned how to deal with her.
I remember her mocking me for eating nougat once. “You’re like a cow chewing the cud,” she said distastefully.
I chuckled and replied, “You can be such a bitch, Sandrine.”
She threw her head back and cackled loudly, and when she was done laughing, she regarded me with warm affection. It was as though I’d won her respect by giving her a taste of her own medicine.
Chloe knew how to handle her from the start. She didn’t take crap from anyone so she made it into Sandrine’s inner circle very quickly. Not that the honeymoon period lasted, from the sounds of it.
When she finally releases Jackson from her embrace, she turns to me with a wide smile.
“Gracie, it’s been too long!” she cries in a thick French accent, clutching my shoulders as she gives me two air kisses—a cozy hug by Sandrine standards. Her unbridled affection is reserved for Jackson, but I don’t mind. I’m grateful that she raised him to be tactile.
“It’s nice to see you,” I reply. I can’t believe it’s been three years.
She’s wearing a cream trouser suit and her bleached-blond hair is pulled up into a typical sleek topknot.
Her cheekbones look more pronounced than ever and her makeup is intact, despite the transatlantic flight.
As usual, I find myself eyeing her immaculate winged eyeliner with envy.
It’s a skill I will never master, no matter how hard I try.
“I can’t wait to see what you’ve been up to,” she says, looking around the office.
“I can’t wait to show you,” I reply.
That’s a lie. I’m glad we’re already so far along with the project, but she could still rock the boat.
“Tomorrow?” she asks.
“I, um, can’t tomorrow,” I reply awkwardly. “I’m actually—”
“She’s going kayaking,” Jackson interrupts with a smirk.
“Kayaking!” Sandrine exclaims. “With you?” she asks Jackson.
“No, with the guy who owns the garage you’re trying to buy,” he replies nonchalantly, and I’m not sure if he’s intentionally trying to wind me up, but I could actually kick him.
Sandrine shoots her head around to look at me. “Gracie!” she says with surprise. “Are you being our little mole? Getting to him from the inside?”
Jackson laughs. “Calm down, Mom. She’s not a spy.”
“She could be,” Sandrine says with a shrewd look.
Inside I’m having a mini panic attack.
“Have you got the contract back yet?” Jackson asks me, kind of changing the subject, but not in a particularly helpful way.
“Tomorrow,” I reply.
“Has he signed it?”
“Yep.”
I don’t know if either of these things are true, but that’s what I’m hoping.
étienne comes to collect me from my doorstep at six thirty the following morning. Before he arrives, I have a restless feeling in my stomach, as if I’ve had too much coffee.
Only I haven’t had any coffee yet today.
Raphael took étienne’s kayak to Vallon Pont d’Arc yesterday, so we’re collecting it from his hire place in an hour, before the tourists arrive.
Mellie comes outside to say hello.
I don’t think étienne was expecting to meet my grandmother, especially not at this hour, but the way he springs out of his GTi to be introduced…it’s Jackson-level bouncy.
“What a cool car!” Mellie coos.
“Thanks.” He folds his arms, looking at it. He’s wearing a powder-blue T-shirt and gray shorts. “It was my mother’s.”
“Your mother had good taste.”
“Yeah, she was into cars.”
I can’t stop staring at him. It feels as if it’s been an eternity since Sunday.
“I didn’t know your mum was into cars,” I say. I’d always thought it was more his grandfather and uncle’s remit.
“Yeah. I grew up watching WRC with her,” he tells me with a smile, jiggling his leg.
He’s definitely had a coffee. A double-shot espresso from the looks of him.
“She liked rallying?” Mellie asks with interest.
“She was obsessed,” étienne replies. “Michèle Mouton was her hero.”
Mellie gasps. “She’s mine too!”
“Who’s Michèle Mouton?” I ask.
Both Mellie and étienne do a fast upper-body swivel to stare at me in disbelief.
“Who’s Michèle Mouton?” étienne asks me with incredulity.
“Only the greatest female racing driver to have ever lived!” Mellie exclaims. “She was a rally-car driver. We’re watching Queen of Speed when you get home.” She jabs her finger at my shoulder to illustrate how serious she is.
“Ah, that’s such a great documentary,” étienne enthuses, nodding his approval.
“Come and watch it with us,” Mellie suggests. “We need to educate my granddaughter.”
“Okay, sure,” he agrees amiably.
My God, he’s cute.
“How did you get into rallying?” he asks Mellie.
“My friend Albert introduced me. He lives right there, at the chateau.” She points at the mansard rooftop. “We watch all the stages together.”
étienne is suddenly looking more edgy-jumpy than happy-bouncy so I hurry things along. “We should get going.”
“Have you got everything?” he asks me.
He sent a text last night with a list: water bottle, sunscreen, hat, sunglasses, change of clothes, swimming costume, towel, shoes that I don’t mind getting wet, plus dry ones.
“Yep.”
He holds out his hand for my bag. I pass it over, and we both jerk as our fingers brush.
“How much coffee have you had this morning?” I ask as he reverses back up the hill at speed.
“None. I’ve brought a flask with me. Why?”
“No reason.” I stare out of the front window.
“Have Mellie and Albert ever…?” he asks when we’ve been on the road for a while.
“Been romantically involved? No. I always thought they’d make a great couple, but he never got over the loss of his wife. She died about thirty years ago and he hasn’t opened himself up to anyone since.”
“I can understand that,” he says.
“Because of Eve?”
He nods. “And my mum.”
I can’t accept that he’s closed off to love. It’s raw for him right now, but I bet he’ll meet someone else one day and fall head over heels. He’s only twenty-seven: he has his whole life in front of him.
Raphael is waiting for us when we arrive. He’s wearing a maroon hoodie and is nursing a cup of something hot, but he comes out of the reception hut to say hi and to loan us a waterproof barrel for all our belongings.
It’s so nice of him to do this. étienne said that he’s a good friend—“like a brother”—and added that he fixes his van for free.
“Do you want sunglasses straps?” Raphael asks me. “So you don’t lose them if you fall in?”
“Am I going to fall in?” I ask étienne with alarm.
“Not likely if you do what I tell you to do, but let’s take some in case.”
He and Raphael exchange knowing smiles and Raphael disappears back inside the hut.
“I’m starting to feel nervous now,” I say.
“What’s new?” he asks.
The look in his eyes makes me feel like I’ve gone downhill over rapids, but I’m still standing on solid ground.
Raphael returns and hands me some brand-new sunglasses straps that he refuses to let me pay for and then we wander down to the bank where dozens of orange kayaks are stacked up beside a single canary-yellow one—it’s the same kayak that étienne had ten years ago.
“Is this what you and Eve used to train in?” I ask.
“No.” He seems entertained at the thought. “She had her own kayak. I have a solo too. This is just for fun.”
He secures the barrel at the back and I help him maneuver the boat into the water, taking a paddle from Raphael with a thanks and a see you later.
The river is wide and shallow at this point and although it tumbles over a gazillion rocks, giving the appearance of rapids, it’s not deep enough to keep the boat afloat.
We have to carry it until we’re right at the edge of rougher waters.
My nerves ratchet up as étienne holds the kayak steady while I get settled in the front seat.
“You remember what to do?” he asks. “Paddle fast. I’ll steer.”
“Okay.”
“Ready?”
I nod. No.
“Let’s go.” He climbs in behind me and we are immediately off. “Paddle!” he commands as the boat veers to the left, heading for a boulder protruding from the water.
I feel a rush of adrenaline as he steers us away from it.
The bottom of the boat grazes the tops of other rocks and then suddenly it drops at the front as though we’re on a log ride at a theme park.
Water splashes in over the bow and I gasp, sure that we’re about to capsize, but miraculously, the boat levels out and then all I can see in front of us are smooth, clear waters.
I burst out laughing.
“Okay?” he asks with amusement from behind me.
“Yeah, those rapids were fun.” Even if my navy wrap skirt and red T-shirt are damp.
“Wait until the next ones.”
The river is a dark olive green, but it’s so clear that you can see to the bottom. It would probably only reach up to my waist if I were to fall in, which helps to ease my anxiety.