Chapter 6
The air stewardess ushered the lady into the seat Mel had just given up. She’d heard the woman sigh softly about being a nervous flyer and wanting to sit next to her son rather than two rows apart. The stewardess had smiled and shaken her head sadly, saying the plane was full.
‘Mum, I did explain we booked too late to get seats together. It’s only two hours and the time will pass before you realise,’ the man at her side had said gently.
Mel, who had the window seat next in that row, had stood up at that point. ‘I don’t mind moving if it helps.’
Both the lady and the man had looked at her and the stewardess had smiled her thanks.
‘You have a window seat here,’ the stewardess had said. ‘The one you’ll be moving to is in the middle of a row.’
Mel had smiled. ‘That’s OK.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ the lady had smiled at her. ‘That is so kind of you.’
Mel had returned her smile. ‘It’s nicer to travel with a companion.’
‘Thank you,’ the man had said, flashing Mel a grateful smile before following his mother into their now adjoining seats.
Now, two rows back and sitting in the middle seat instead of the window seat she’d booked, Mel’s thoughts drifted. Could it really only be four weeks since her world had changed? So much had been organised in that time.
First there had been a long phone conversation with Nadia, followed by several emails detailing exactly what the job entailed.
One of the first things Mel had said to Nadia was about her poor schoolgirl French.
Nadia had pushed aside her worry about that straightaway.
‘English is the second language down here. Don’t worry about it.
There is always someone who speaks it wherever you go. ’ Mel hoped she was right.
The job itself seemed almost too easy. Basically, it was just to live in the house, feed and walk Croque Monsieur and let both the cleaner and the gardener in on their weekly visits.
Other than that, her time was her own to explore Antibes and the Riviera in general.
Her name would be added to the insurance for the Fiat 500 in the garage.
Nadia even apologised that the pool was covered for winter and she wouldn’t be able to use it.
Once it was settled that she was definitely going, Nadia had booked her flight and forwarded the details ready for the first of December.
‘Do treat the place as your home for the next three months and have a lovely time,’ Nadia had told her on that last phone call. ‘If you want to have family here over Christmas, please do.’
‘That’s very kind of you. I’ll see if my son would like to join me for a few days, thank you.’
When she’d mentioned it to Justin when they spoke next, he’d been enthusiastic. ‘I’d love to spend Christmas with you on the Riviera.’
For the last two weeks, Mel had bounced between two different extremes.
Excitement and terror. Excitement during the day at the thought of living on the French Riviera – and terror in the night when sleep eluded her and everything that could possibly go wrong ran on a continual loop round and round in her mind.
Late last evening when she was finishing her packing, she’d realised that she hadn’t heard from Geoff at all since that last phone call.
The fact she had no idea where in the world he was these days, no longer really bothered her.
What did occasionally flit through her mind was how he was going to react when he learnt where she was and what she was doing.
Not that she was in any hurry to tell him.
* * *
A surreal mix of fact and fantasy enveloped Mel as the plane started its descent at Nice C?te d’Azur Airport.
Fact one: Yes, she knew she was on a plane – but travelling to the French Riviera on her own felt unreal.
Fact two: She was staying in France for months – but people like her didn’t do things like that on their own.
Fact three: she was flipping terrified at the thought of living by herself in a foreign country – but bizarrely a little bit of her was proud of herself at the same time.
She watched, mesmerised, as both the sea and the runway came closer and closer until finally the plane’s wheels touched down safely.
Mel knew that Nice airport was the third busiest in France after Paris and Marseille, but that still didn’t prepare her for the size of the place or the crowds milling around in the Arrivals Hall.
Eventually, as the crowds thinned, she saw her name ‘Madame Melissa Knight’ on a small placard being held up high by the taxi driver that Nadia had promised would be there to meet her.
‘Bonjour. I am Andre. Welcome to France,’ and Andre took her case and led her outside to where the taxi was waiting. ‘Do you speak French?’
Mel shook her head. ‘Not really. Just the odd phrase at the moment. I’m hoping to improve it while I am here.’
‘You try, that is good,’ Andre smiled. ‘Nadia told me to take the scenic route to show you the coast, so we will go that way.’
Leaving the airport and joining the busy bord de mer, Andre concentrated on the traffic, leaving Mel free to look at the suburban scenery with its high-rise apartments set back from the road, shops and car showrooms flashing past. The Mediterranean to her left was blue, the sky was blue, the sun was shining, and even though it was December, Mel had felt the warmth in the air as they had exited the Arrivals Hall.
Nadia had explained that the villa was situated in a gated community with seven other villas and was a short walk from the centre of town.
Leaving the coast road and driving into Antibes, Mel enjoyed several quick glimpses of narrow streets she knew she was going to enjoy exploring.
Pulling up in front of the tall metal gates that protected the community, the driver lowered his window and pressed the intercom button for No. 5.
‘Taxi Paradise. I bring Madame Knight.’
Seconds later, the electronic gates slid open and the car edged forward onto a concrete road that circled a huge lawn of closely cropped grass with an ancient olive tree in its centre, around which the villas were spaced.
No pond or ducks, but for Mel it unexpectedly brought back memories of the village green setting for the summer Sunday afternoon cricket matches of her childhood that her father enjoyed.
The only thing missing was a traditional cricket pavilion where the wives and daughters would stand by with tea cakes and ready sympathy for the decisions the umpire had clearly got wrong.
As the taxi drew up outside No. 5, Mel stifled a gasp at the first sight of her home for the next three months.
Built out of golden sandstone, the main two-storey house was roofed with traditional terracotta tiles.
Extensions, added sometime in the fifties on either side, had lower split roofs also clad with terracotta tiles.
The bare branches of a wisteria plant wound its way under the overhang of all the lower roofs.
To Mel’s eyes, the villa looked amazing even without any colourful flowers in bloom; she could imagine how it would look in summer. Sensational was her guess.
‘Welcome, Melissa. I’m Sky.’ A young woman standing in front of the heavy wooden door smiled at her as she got out of the taxi.
‘If you’d like to come in, I’ll give you a quick run-through of the villa and explain as best I can how things work.
My lift will be here in’ – she glanced at the phone in her hand – ‘the next hour.’
The surreal feeling was back for all it was worth as Mel grabbed her case and followed Sky.
Walking through the marble-floored hallway with its walls covered in artwork showcasing the Riviera, into the large fully equipped kitchen at the back of the villa, Mel gulped.
The amount of professional-looking equipment here was scary.
Mixers. Ovens. Spit roast. She wouldn’t know how to operate half the stuff she was seeing.
The gleaming bean-to-cup stainless-steel coffee machine had so many buttons and knobs that Mel prayed there would be an ordinary cafetière hidden away somewhere in the cupboard units lining the length of one wall.
She had form with machines like that and she had no intention of doing battle with it.
She was unlikely to be the victor and would probably bear the scars forever.
Mel came out of her slight reverie to register that a large black dog, clearly of breeding so mixed he would never be welcome in the Kennel Club, had come into the kitchen and was regarding her with interest.
‘This is Croque Monsieur,’ Sky said. ‘He’s a real sweetie but a bit naughty. Who ate my toasted sandwich the other day, eh?’
Croque Monsieur looked at her, his brown eyes steady, as if saying, ‘it had my name on it.’
‘Nadia warned me about him being an opportunist around food.’ Mel laughed, bending down to stroke the dog. One of the things she was looking forward to for the next few months was taking care of the dog. She’d always wanted one but first her parents and then Geoff had said no.
Sky pointed to a folder on one of the work counters.
‘That contains everything you need to know – contact numbers for plumbers, electricians, gardener, pool man, pet shop, taxis, vet and the best pizza delivery in town added by yours truly! And intercom and security details. The key for the Fiat 500 is also in the folder pocket.’ Sky moved over to one of the units.
‘Croque Monsieur’s food and the treats he likes are in here.
He’s fed once a day in the afternoon at about four-thirty.
Treats are given whenever. The pet shop deliver a sack of food and treats once a month.
’ She glanced around. ‘I’ll show you the downstairs rooms and then we can take your suitcase up to your room. ’
By the time Mel followed Sky back down the sweeping wooden staircase with its three curved steps at the bottom after a whirlwind tour of the villa, her head was spinning.
Not only with the enormity of the actual size of the villa – huge kitchen, five bedrooms, sitting room, dining room, six bathrooms – but when Sky had pointed out the panel with the alarm system in the hallway and told her the code, the responsibility she’d taken on, almost without a thought, struck her.
This was a luxurious villa filled with artwork and other collectables fitted with security that she barely understood how to operate. What if… No, she didn’t dare allow her thoughts to go in that direction.
Sky, seeing the panic-stricken look on her face, told her reassuringly, ‘Security response is fast. Ten minutes at the most.’
Mel, deciding not to ask the obvious question, ‘you know that from experience?’ said instead, ‘That’s good to know.’
‘Now for the outside,’ Sky said, opening the French doors in the kitchen.
Standing on the terrace that ran the length of the back of the house, Mel looked out over the garden with its flat lawned area, several flower beds with rose bushes, a couple of mature palm trees and Mediterranean shrubs placed near the tall Eucalyptus trees at the bottom of the garden.
Sky pointed out the summer kitchen with its pizza oven and barbecue and the pool house alongside the covered swimming pool and outdoor shower.
The intercom buzzed as they walked back into the kitchen.
‘Ray? Great. Come on in. Give me five minutes and I’ll be with you.
’ Sky turned to face Mel. ‘If you give me your phone, I’ll enter the security codes for both the gates and the house.
I’m sorry if I’ve overloaded you with information.
It’s a lot to take in. But most of the things are self-explanatory and if not, there’s lots of information in the folder.
’ She added the numbers into Mel’s phone before crossing over and picking up a rucksack from behind the kitchen door.
‘Before I forget. Think of everything in the fridge as a welcome box – it’s all yours to eat. ’
‘Thank you,’ Mel said.
‘Do you have Nadia’s number? If not, it is in the folder, she’s always happy to talk. Singapore is seven hours ahead of us, so a good time to call her would be between 9 a.m. and 11 a.m. which is late afternoon over there.’
‘OK, thanks.’ Mel smiled.
‘The gates will close and lock automatically after we drive through, so no worries there. Bye. Nice to meet you.’
‘You too, and thank you,’ Mel said, following Sky into the hallway. She stood by the open front door, watching her climb into the black Range Rover that moved towards the already opening gates and then was gone, the gates closing slowly behind it.
Mel stepped back into the hallway and pulled the heavy wooden front door closed.
Coffee. She needed a coffee. To her relief, a search through the many cupboards in the kitchen unearthed a cafetière in one and ground coffee in another.
Five minutes later, she was settled on the terrace with coffee and the unopened folder on the bistro table in front of her.
She was on her own. Committed for the next three months to looking after this villa.
A villa so luxurious, so beautiful and one so personally unobtainable in her own ordinary life.
She exhaled a deep breath, looking at the impressive garden in front of her.
Three months of luxury living for free. What was not to like and enjoy?
She knew that eventually she would settle into things and be able to answer that question.
But right now, terrified of the responsibility, she wanted to leave. She shouldn’t be here.