Chapter 7
Evie’s first few days in Antibes had passed with a mixture of sleeping and sightseeing.
More sleeping than sightseeing, if she was honest. It wasn’t something she had ever suffered from before, but jet lag turned out to be a real thing.
Her body clock, totally thrown out of sync, took its time to adjust to the time difference.
She tried as hard as she could to keep aligned with regular mealtimes – breakfast at seven, lunch in the middle of the day and dinner early evening.
But several times she found herself falling asleep before dinner and then being wide awake again at ten o’clock, starving.
Strangely enough, it was being wide awake and hungry late in the evening that helped to start correcting her body clock.
She discovered Antibes at night was even more enchanting than it was during the day – especially in the run-up to Christmas.
The moon was high in the sky and streets were lit, with the Christmas lights strung across the street, wound around the lamp posts and even palm trees had colourful lights around their trunks.
People were out until late in the evening, milling around the Christmas market chalets that offered such a variety of gifts, with hot mulled wine in their hands and eating tasty socca.
Once she’d tried it, Evie couldn’t get enough of the local chickpea delicacy and made a beeline for the stall every evening.
After a couple of hours wandering around, soaking up the festive atmosphere, thinking about the presents she’d buy for her mum and Granny Charlotte, Evie returned to the apartment around midnight, feeling naturally ready to go to bed.
On the third evening, she noticed a chalet at the far end of the market she’d somehow missed before that was selling pens, diaries, notelets, desk accessories – and Moleskine notebooks.
Not having brought many euros out with her, she could only look, examine and try to decide on the colour, resolving to return in daylight to treat herself.
At the beginning of her second week, she was feeling more like herself.
A WhatsApp chat with her mom had helped.
Daisy had been delighted to hear from her, assuring her everything, and everyone, was well back home.
She’d started sleeping longer at night, mealtimes were more regular and afternoon naps had virtually disappeared.
Life had begun to settle into a routine of shopping at the market, having a coffee at what quickly became her favourite coffee shop under the arch and she’d explored the town, becoming fascinated by some of its architectural treasures dating back to medieval times.
Used to the American culture of twenty-four shopping, it had been a shock to discover not only that shops closed at seven in the evening, lots of them also closed for two hours at lunchtime and didn’t open on Sundays at all.
She’d taken photograph after photograph on her phone and started to think about a few magazine features she could write.
A couple of ideas for her novel had also popped into her mind and she knew several of the photos would jog her memory when she started writing.
She still hadn’t done more than flick through the pages of GeeGee’s journal, but that day when she would sit down and read it was getting nearer and nearer as she acclimatised to a French way of life.
The one thing she worried about a little, though, was the absence of friends.
The chance of building a social life for the next few weeks whilst she was in Antibes.
Of course, she knew that it took time to make friends in a new place.
But so far she hadn’t met or spoken to anyone other than waiters or shop assistants, who were all invariably too busy to make small talk.
People smiled and murmured a polite ‘Bonjour’ as they passed in the street, but that was it.
Everywhere she went she was invariably the only single person in amongst crowds of couples or families.
It had also occurred to her that she would be on her own for Christmas. How had she not taken that into consideration when she’d arranged the long-stay visa?
* * *
The first evening, Mel sat at the breakfast bar in the kitchen to eat her supper and enjoy a glass of red wine from an open bottle she’d found next to the coffee machine.
The contents of the fridge had been a pleasant surprise.
Sky had obviously enjoyed her food. The shelves contained a veritable feast. That evening, she enjoyed a thick slice of ‘proper’ ham as her mother would have called it, cut off the bone rather than pulled out of a packet.
A slab of cheese so creamy that Mel could have eaten it all in one go.
Lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber, a red pepper and olives made a delicious salad.
Some mint-flavoured couscous was the final touch for her meal.
Croque Monsieur, curled up in his basket in the corner, on high alert for any morsel she might drop, kept his eyes firmly fixed on her.
To Mel, the house felt unnaturally silent.
Would she ever feel relaxed within these walls?
At home? She was used to living alone for days, occasionally longer when Geoff was away on business, and had her own routine for dealing with all things domestic and living a single life, knowing that it wouldn’t be forever.
Geoff would return to claim his side of the bed and three quarters of the duvet.
And the house would revert to his timetable, not hers.
Whatever routine she established here would at least be her own.
The folder was next to her on the counter and she planned on reading it after she’d eaten and try to memorise as many of the important points as possible. She’d just finished her wine and was about to open it when Ginny video-called her.
‘Good flight down?’
‘Yes, thanks.’
‘What’s the villa like?’
‘Unbelievably luxurious. Intimidating really.’
‘It’s a house, how on earth can it be intimidating?’
‘Because it’s full of beautiful, expensive things, original artwork. It’s like a show house really. I’m worried I might spoil or break something valuable. Think I’ll spend most of my time in the kitchen – which itself is scary with all its modern equipment.’
Ginny laughed. ‘I’ll remind you about this conversation in three months when you come back full of the wonderful time you’ve had and realising there is another way of life to be had.’
‘A way of life completely out of my reach,’ Mel said. ‘Yours too, I think.’
‘Yes, so just enjoy it for both of us. The girls want to know have you seen any celebrities? I’ve told them it’s unlikely so soon. Maybe at the airport?’
‘Too busy looking for my taxi to notice the people around me,’ Mel said.
She paused before continuing, knowing that what she was about to say was sure to upset Ginny.
‘I haven’t heard from Geoff for weeks now – do you think I should message him, make sure he’s all right and let him know what I’m doing? ’
‘No, I don’t,’ Ginny said firmly. ‘The fact that you haven’t heard from him speaks for itself. He’s not thinking about you, so you can stop thinking about him right now.’
Mel sighed. ‘I know you’re right, but it seems wrong not to check on him.’
‘Geoff taking off for a year is what’s wrong,’ Ginny snapped. ‘Let’s change the subject. Do you have plans for tomorrow?’
‘I need to find a supermarket sometime and buy some supplies. Take Croque Monsieur for a long walk. No, not now,’ Mel said, laughing as the dog leapt out of his basket and went to stand by her.
‘Tonight, will be a meander around the garden. After I’ve read the file properly,’ she said, stroking his head gently.
‘We’ll speak again in the week,’ Ginny said. ‘Brian’s home wanting food. Take care and enjoy yourself!’
After the call ended, Mel opened the file and read through it slowly.
Among the pages, there were notes about dog walks, the days the gardener came, the cleaner – twice a week – a photocopy of a map with details of where certain shops were, the quickest route into town, the supermarkets that would deliver, the best places for coffee and, apparently, there was just thirty seconds to stop the alarm sounding after opening the front door.
Despite her worries, it all seemed straightforward and she felt better about things as she closed it.
Tomorrow she would walk into town and explore a little before finding a supermarché and stocking up with essentials.
Right now, it was time to let Croque Monsieur out for his night-time exercise in the garden.
Mel opened the kitchen door and followed the dog out into the garden.
As Croque Monsieur sniffed his way around the garden, Mel stood on the terrace.
A gentle breeze was rustling through the leaves of the Eucalyptus trees and the garden was bathed in silvery moonlight.
Lights in distant houses were visible, even the occasional Christmas tree with coloured lights, but the stars in the sky were hidden by light pollution.
Looking at the moon in a cloudless sky, Mel was struck by a sudden thought.
Was Geoff looking at the same moon at the same time – or was he on a different continent now, in a different time zone?
Could he be thinking about her if he was gazing up at the sky right now?
Mel shook her head. Unlikely. She remembered the way he’d taken off without a backward glance.
Currently he didn’t seem to have the time to think about anyone other than himself.
And she needed to put him out of her mind too for the next few months.