Chapter 33
‘I’m so glad you suggested these early-morning swims,’ Helena said to Lorraine as the four of them made their way down the beach. ‘I know it’s only been twelve days, but I’m sure I’m already feeling the benefits.’
‘Fewer days for me,’ Liz said. ‘But I feel the same. I’d like to think I’d swim regularly when I get home, but I doubt that I will. Normal life will take over and a different routine will emerge. How about you, Mandy? Are you going to find a wild swimming club to join?’
‘Definitely and Helena’s going to join me, aren’t you?’ she said, throwing her towelling robe onto the beach and laughing at the look on her friend’s face. ‘Race you in.’
‘Depends where it is,’ Helena said, running after her. ‘Weekday mornings would be difficult because of the dreaded commute, but weekends should be okay.’
Ten minutes later as they all floated after their energetic swims, Helena said, ‘I’m treating today as the last day of writing. We’ve promised Mum that Mandy and I will spend all day Saturday with her as she’s alone today and do some sightseeing. What about you three?’
‘Writing this morning, then after lunch I’m going to google “making reels and posts” and try to learn a bit more about making content for social media,’ Mandy said.
‘Good luck with that,’ Liz said. ‘I’m hopeless with stuff like that.’
‘Becky has given me some tips,’ Lorraine said. ‘So I’m hopeful I too can do some more professional-looking posts. Why don’t you ask her too? Maybe we could have a quick session with her after Sandy’s session. I’ll ask her.’
‘I’m having a final morning of writing,’ Liz said. ‘And then this afternoon I’m looking forward to visiting the Picasso museum.’ No need to tell them she was going with Guy.
‘Tonight we have our midnight swim,’ Mandy said. ‘Something I’m really looking forward to – I think. Time to go ashore,’ and she turned onto her tummy and started a slow breaststroke back to the beach.
* * *
After Sandy’s session that morning, Lorraine brought up the subject of making content for their social media marketing directly with Becky. ‘Everyone was wondering whether you could help them like you helped me?’
‘Of course I can. You should have mentioned it before. Shall we do some now?’
‘Please.’
Within minutes, Becky had them all thinking about hooks to capture attention, practising posting photos on Instagram, adding text and then music.
An hour flew by as she encouraged them to join the sites she recommended, including several tutorials on YouTube and gave them a quick lesson on how to make reels.
‘My head is reeling from all this information,’ Isobel said. ‘Never mind the reels. Thank you so much, Becky. Now all I have to do is remember the sequence of doing things. I definitely need a drink of rosé with lunch today.’
* * *
Joan spent the morning dithering between wanting to go back to the villa to look at the photograph again and then deciding it was a bad idea.
It was early Friday afternoon when she finally walked along the bord de mer towards Villa Celestia.
Even as she walked down the drive and into the hallway, she was telling herself she didn’t know why she was there.
No, that was the lie in her head. She knew exactly why she was there.
She desperately wanted to see the photograph again and to banish all doubt.
Thankfully there was no one was around and she walked slowly towards the bookcase and stood in front of it.
It was definitely him. She’d recognise those eyes anywhere, any time.
After all these years, she had actually come face to face with a photographic memory of him like the one that was embedded in her brain.
She was unaware of Guy coming into the hallway and stopping when he saw her.
‘Bonjour. Can I help you?’ he asked and Joan gave a startled jump.
She turned to look at him and faltered. Realised he was the other man in the photograph. Realised too his probable identity. Joan opened her mouth to speak, but the words she wanted to say refused to come out coherently. Guy watched her and waited patiently, sensing her anxiety.
Several deep breaths later and when her breathing was sufficiently under control, she managed to speak.
‘My name is Joan Mitchell,’ and she gave him a brief smile.
Nervously, she turned to look at the photograph again before starting to speak in a quiet voice.
‘One summer a long time ago – thirty-five years to be precise – I fell in love with a man here in Antibes.’ Joan paused, took a deep breath and turned back to look at the man standing behind her.
‘I was wondering why there is a photograph of him in the villa’s hallway?
Does he have a connection to Villa Celestia? ’
Guy stared at her before pointing at the photograph of himself and Jake. ‘Are you talking about this particular photograph?’
Joan turned to look at the photograph again and nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘That is a photograph of me with my elder brother Jake, who sadly died.’
Joan hoped the tears she could feel welling up wouldn’t spill over as she turned back to look at him. ‘I knew it was Jake. I’ve never seen a photograph of him before, but I’d know those eyes anywhere.’ She took a deep breath before asking. ‘So you must be Guy Lyon?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Guy said slowly. ‘You knew my brother?’
Joan took another deep breath. ‘I not only knew him – I loved him. And he loved me,’ she added almost defiantly after a second’s pause.
She needed this man to understand that what she and Jake had shared had been more than a short summer romance.
It had been a real coupe de foudre. ‘Is there somewhere you and I can talk privately and not be interrupted?’
‘I was on the way out to meet someone.’
‘Please. I just need to explain something to you. About your brother.’
Guy sighed. ‘Okay. My apartment. I just need to send a quick text and then we can go up.’
Joan turned her head to stare at the photograph again whilst Guy sent his text.
‘Right, that’s sorted. This way,’ and Guy led her through the hotel, up the stairs, through the sitting room and onto the roof terrace, all the time wondering why this woman needed to talk to him. Why the picture of him and Jake had upset her.
‘This is lovely,’ Joan said. ‘You have amazing views.’
‘I know about the views. I want to know why you are here. And how it involves my brother,’ Guy said. Realising he sounded abrupt to the point of rudeness, he gave Joan a small smile, noticing how pale she was. ‘Sorry, that was rude of me. Do sit down. Can I get you a coffee or a cup of tea?’
Joan sat down on the settee and shook her head.
‘No, thank you. You might want to get yourself a stiff drink though.’ She gave him a serious look.
‘I have two children, a son Leon who was thirty-four yesterday and a daughter Helena. She is here at the writers’ retreat and the reason why I am here in Antibes – the first time since…
’ her voice faded away as she swallowed hard to stop the tears falling.
‘Since the man who I loved and thought I would spend the rest of my life with died. This is what I need to tell you – my son Leon is your brother Jake’s son – and your nephew. ’
* * *
Liz’s phone pinged with a text as she was coming into the villa to freshen up before meeting Guy for their planned visit to the Picasso museum. The happy smile on her face faded as she read the brief message.
Sorry something has come up. Have to cancel x
And then, looking up, she stared in shock as she saw Guy ushering Helena’s mother up the stairs, presumably to go to his apartment. What could possibly have ‘come up’ involving Helena’s mother?
Disappointed, Liz decided to go in search of Isobel. She hadn’t been in the garden earlier, so Liz knocked on her bedroom door, hoping she wouldn’t mind being interrupted if she was busy writing.
‘Fancy afternoon tea somewhere?’
‘I thought you and Guy were going to the Picasso museum?’
‘He’s just cancelled on me,’ Liz said shortly.
‘Can we go to the cafe with the wonderful secret garden?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s go.’
Quarter of an hour later, they were being shown to a table by Marie, who recognised Liz. ‘No Guy today?’
Liz shook her head. ‘No, he’s busy this afternoon. Please can we have a pot of Earl Grey tea for two and a selection of the gooiest cakes you have?’
Sitting there waiting for their tea, Isobel looked around. ‘This is really lovely. You deserve a slapped wrist for not telling me about it before. So you had a date this afternoon with Guy and he’s cancelled?’
‘Yes.’ Liz shook her head. ‘God, relationships don’t get any easier the older you get, do they? Something came up apparently, so he cancelled our date at the last minute – and is spending the time with Joan Mitchell instead.’
‘Ah, so you are finally admitting to having a date with Guy? How do you know he’s with Joan?’ Isobel asked.
‘I saw them going upstairs to his apartment – and I’ve had several dates with him actually,’ Liz admitted.
‘Guy will have a good reason for cancelling,’ Isobel said. ‘Don’t fret and don’t go jumping to any wrong conclusions. So, about these dates – tell me more.’
Liz shrugged. ‘Only one tea together here truly counts as a date – this afternoon would have been the second date. But we’ve had a nightcap every evening up on his roof terrace. Just talking, getting to know each other and it’s been lovely.’
‘That definitely counts as dates,’ Isobel said. ‘Romantic too.’
The waiter arrived at that moment with their tea and a cake stand with several cream cakes and meringues on it. Liz decided to drop the conversation and simply enjoy Isobel’s company and the cakes. Guy would tell her the truth about what was going on later, she was sure.