Chapter 11
Once dinner was over, the tables had been cleared and the dishwasher loaded, Guy had sent Zoe home and finished wiping down the work surfaces and doing the final tidying up of the kitchen himself, before turning off the kitchen lights and making his way upstairs.
Taking off his chef’s whites, he had a quick refreshing shower, pulled on a clean polo shirt, boxers, a pair of shorts and he was ready for a traditional ‘winding down’ glass or two of wine on the roof terrace after a busy evening.
Down below, lamp posts along the bord de mer shone their lights on the traffic moving in both directions and in return were illuminated by car headlights driving west towards Juan-les-Pins and Cannes and eastwards along the curve of the coast, where the lights of Nice airport could be seen.
Inland, lights shone from Antibes town into the back country, where they glowed from the villas and apartment blocks in the villages and small towns that populated the countryside.
Out at sea too, there were lights flickering on distant unseen cargo boats and yachts navigating a safe passage into port.
It was a night-time view that Guy never tired of.
Slowly he sipped his rosé and thought about the evening.
He was pleased with the way he’d slipped back into the well-oiled routine of producing good food effortlessly.
Although tonight’s simple meal had in no way been haute cuisine or a challenge, he had enjoyed producing it and hearing that everyone had enjoyed their dinner.
He hoped Sandy was happy. Perhaps this fortnight wasn’t going to be too difficult after all.
He realised with a start that Jacqueline hadn’t been in his mind at all for the past few hours.
The kitchen had always been his domain, so he couldn’t miss her not being there to help when she’d never been a part of his ‘brigade de cuisine’.
Jacqueline had enjoyed being the face of the hotel and the restaurant, had loved accepting all the ‘compliments to the chef’ on his behalf, whereas he had always shied away from too much personal involvement with the customers.
Looking out over the part of the hotel garden he could see down below him, Guy frowned. As well as the solar lights, he could see the terrace lights were on. He’d better go down and turn them off before making for his bed.
* * *
Sandy looked up from her Kindle as Guy appeared. ‘Hi.’
‘Sorry, I didn’t realise you were still out here. I thought the lights had been left on,’ Guy said, looking at her anxiously. ‘Are you sitting out here at nearly midnight because your room is uncomfortable? I did warn you it’s tiny.’
Sandy shook her head and put her Kindle down on the table. ‘The room is fine. I’m waiting up for a certain guest, who may or may not decide to return this evening.’
‘Zoe mentioned that Becky Taylor was the absent dinner guest.’
‘That’s the one,’ Sandy nodded. ‘I doubt she has any intention of being back by midnight when I told her the door would be locked. She wanted a key or the passcode, which I refused to give her. Didn’t think you would want to give out either.’
‘No, I wouldn’t. What is she doing here anyway? Does she not have thousands of followers on social media that keep her busy posting content?’
‘She wants to write a novel. Feels that is her next logical step.’ Sandy gave a rueful smile. ‘I should warn you, she seems very keen to offer you her condolences for Jacqueline.’
‘Oh hell.’ Guy felt his body tense at her words. ‘Bit late,’ he muttered.
‘Lovely meal tonight, Guy,’ Sandy said, changing the subject.
‘Glad you enjoyed it. You happy with everything? Guests happy?’
‘Five of them definitely are,’ Sandy answered with a grin. ‘You should have taken the opportunity to come out and meet them.’
‘You know I prefer to stay in the background. And with Becky Taylor lurking around…’ Guy shook his head and didn’t finish the sentence. ‘You could have mentioned she was coming.’
Sandy sighed. ‘I didn’t know it was her until she arrived.
She booked under the name of Rebecca, not Becky.
The little bit of personal information I ask for – basically name, any writing history and what people hope to get out of the retreat – didn’t throw up any red flags.
Have to say, I think that was a deliberate ploy on Becky’s part because there was no mention of her bestselling book or the fact that she has a huge social media following.
I have to admit I’m not sure either why she is here – maybe just putting “I’m on a writing retreat” on her Instagram is some sort of cachet in her world. ’
Guy looked at his watch just as the distant sounds of the town hall clock striking the hour in the old town could be heard. ‘Go to bed. I’ll do the lights here and then lock up. Sleep well.’
Sandy looked at him doubtfully. ‘Shall I lock up and you see to the lights in case Becky puts in a late last-minute appearance and you come face to face?’
‘I’ll risk it,’ Guy said. ‘See you in the morning.’
‘Goodnight then,’ Sandy said and began to make her way indoors and up to her room.
Cleansing her face and getting ready for bed, her thoughts were centred around Becky, hoping against hope that she would not become a disruptive influence on the success of the retreat for the others.