Chapter 9
After leaving Vintage Vignettes, Mel glanced at Evie. ‘I know I said I was going to walk the ramparts, but I’ve changed my mind. I think I’ll head back to the villa with the dress and put it away safely.’
Evie gave a disappointed sigh. ‘OK. Shall we fix another day to meet up for a coffee?’
‘You could come back with me if you like?’ Mel said hesitantly. ‘Have lunch. There’s still a lot of food in the fridge that Sky, the previous guardian, left. Far too much for me to eat before it goes past its best.’
‘Thank you, I’d love that.’
‘Come on then. Let’s see if I can remember which road I came down,’ Mel said. ‘Without having to open the map on my phone.’
They sauntered up through town, admiring various windows with their Christmas decorations. ‘The lights at night are beautiful,’ Evie said. ‘You should come down one evening and see them. Come to the Christmas market with me.’
‘Definitely,’ Mel agreed. ‘I’d like that.’
Passing a boulangerie, she handed Croque Monsieur to Evie to wait outside and bought a baguette and two delicious-looking apricot croissants.
As they reached the busy Place de Gaulle, she said, ‘We go this way now,’ and she pointed to a smaller road that went uphill and away from the current bustle of town into a more residential area.
Ten minutes later, she held her phone up and pressed the button for the side gate code that Sky had put on her phone.
To her inner relief, it started to slide open.
‘Wow. You’d never know this was here,’ Evie said, looking at the eight villas grouped around the green.
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it? I’m in villa number five,’ Mel said, pointing to it, as she checked the gate was closing behind them.
Mel remembered reading that she had thirty seconds to enter the villa once the door opened and switch the alarm off before it began to ring and also alert the security firm, so the minute the front door was open she ran in and found the right button to press.
She turned to Evie with a sigh of relief. ‘All this security is new to me. Come on in.’ She unclipped Croque Monsieur and he made straight for the kitchen and his bowl of water.
‘What a beautiful place,’ Evie said, standing in the hall and turning around looking at everything. ‘I love all the marble and so much art. I understand all the security now.’
Mel put the parcel on the hall table before going into the kitchen and inspecting the contents of the fridge. ‘Anything you don’t eat?’
Evie shook her head. ‘No, I eat anything,’ she said, following Mel into the kitchen and placing the boulangerie bag on the counter. ‘What can I do?’
Mel took the bottle of rosé out of the fridge. ‘Find a corkscrew and open this?’
‘Sure.’
Mel studied the contents of the fridge. Two slices of ham left, a packet of paté, enough lettuce, tomatoes, cucumber and olives for another salad and the last of the mint-flavoured couscous.
Plus the baguette, and the croissants for dessert.
More than enough for the two of them. Tomorrow, she would definitely need to find the market for some fresh stuff.
As Mel quickly made a salad, Evie took the rest of the food, the glasses, crockery and cutlery outside and placed it all on the terrace table currently bathed in sunlight.
‘I have a rooftop terrace with my apartment,’ she said.
‘But, so far, I’ve only had breakfast once or twice out there.
I don’t think it’s a suntrap like here.’
‘I love the fact we can eat al fresco the first week in December. It was cold and wet when I left home yesterday,’ Mel said. She poured them each a glass of rosé and held one out to Evie. ‘Here’s to new friends,’ she said with a smile as they clinked glasses.
Evie glanced at Mel as she helped herself to a slice of ham and some of the salad. ‘So, Mr Knight – dead or alive?’
Mel almost choked on a mouthful of couscous and couldn’t answer for several seconds.
‘I know Americans have a reputation for being, shall we say, forthright, but really, Evie, that’s bit blunt and to the point.
Couldn’t you just have asked whether I was a widow or divorced, that would have been the politest.’
‘I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. Mum’s always telling me to think before I speak. I was just wondering why you’re here on your own.’
‘It’s a fair enough question phrased like that,’ Mel said quietly.
‘As far as I know, Geoff, my husband, is alive. Where he is currently, I have no idea. Somewhere in Europe, I imagine, or he may have gone to Timbuktu. I’m not sure I care where he is right now.
’ She picked up her glass of wine and swirled it slowly before taking a sip.
‘About four weeks ago, he suddenly announced he was leaving to have the gap year he’d never had and going travelling.
Alone. He left within ten minutes of telling me what he was doing. ’
Evie stared at her. ‘Am I allowed to call him names on your behalf?’
‘Both Ginny, my sister, and I have already called him all the names you can think of.’ Mel looked at Evie.
‘So, I’m not a widow, a divorcee or even officially separated.
At the moment, I’m determined to focus on enjoying my time down here, living in a lovely villa and trying not to think about either Geoff or the future.
Although the future will have to be thought about eventually. ’
‘I’m here for another reason other than simply walking in GeeGee’s footsteps,’ Evie said quietly.
‘I was supposed to be getting married this month, but Perry cheated on me with a friend of mine. Said he was sorry, it was a one-off, all the excuses,’ she shrugged.
‘But I knew I would never trust him again, so I gave him his ring back.’
‘Oh Evie, I’m so sorry, but it sounds like you had a lucky escape.’
‘Yep. That’s what my mom said.’
‘Mums are usually right.’
Evie nodded thoughtfully. ‘Why do some men seem to think they are completely entitled to do whatever they want? Whenever they want.’
‘Because they can. It’s still largely a patriarchal society we live in,’ Mel said wryly.
The two of them were silent, each lost in their own thoughts for a moment. It was Mel who broke the silence.
‘So which part of America are you from? And what do you do there?’
‘Mom and I live in New York, and I write features for an online magazine. The idea is to carry on with that remotely while I’m here and also write stories for other magazines and papers – lifestyle pieces, that type of thing. And to finally start the novel I’ve been talking about for years.’
‘Sounds a good plan.’
Evie laughed. ‘In theory it is, but I’ve been here over a week already and because of jet lag I haven’t started anything. I’ve not even opened GeeGee’s journal.’
‘You’ve had a little holiday,’ Mel said comfortably. ‘And now I know your plan I can ask you how it’s going on a regular basis. In other words, I shall nag you every time I see you.’ She picked up her phone from the table. ‘What’s your number before I forget?’
As Evie told her, she typed it in and then pressed send. The Star-Spangled Banner immediately started to play loudly and Evie quickly pulled her phone out of her back pocket and silenced it. ‘Sorry about that.’
Evie left shortly after lunch and Mel tidied up and loaded the dishwasher thinking about Evie.
Such a lovely girl, if a little lost after being hurt by her ex-fiancé, but given time she would no doubt be thankful she’d escaped a disastrous marriage.
A disastrous marriage that she herself now seemed to be unexpectedly facing.
Since the passport drama phone call nearly four weeks ago now, Mel hadn’t heard another word from Geoff.
Not even a thank you. Closing the dishwasher door, Mel turned and picked up her laptop from the worktop and carried it outside.
Geoff had had an Instagram account for several years and enjoyed posting photographs and reels on there at every opportunity.
Presumably he was continuing to do that wherever he was currently.
Curiously, Mel opened her laptop and typed in Geoff’s password for his Instagram profile.
It was the same password he used for everything, and Mel half expected him to have changed it.
But no, there was his face smiling out at her from his profile photograph.
She stared at it for a few moments, trying to assess how she felt these days about the man she’d loved and married twenty-five years ago.
Indifferent was the word that sprang into her mind.
She quickly scrolled past photographs of Paris – even Mel, who had never been there, recognised the tourist hotspots of the Eiffel Tower, the Moulin Rouge and the Sacré-Coeur.
All places she’d longed to see in her youth.
In amongst them there were snapshots of pavement cafés, bistros and street scenes – and several selfies of Geoff and a blonde woman laughing together.
The Paris street scenes made way first for countryside scenes and then they were replaced by marinas and boats, beaches and restaurants under blue skies with gently lapping water on golden sand.
The blonde woman featured again and again in photographs with Geoff and there were several of her smiling seductively at the person taking the photo.
Which was presumably Geoff. Who was the woman though?
Mel didn’t recognize her as one of their mutual friends, but she and Geoff looked undeniably close in the photos. Possibly more than just a new friend?
Switching off her phone, Mel realised she was trembling.
So much for Geoff saying he wasn’t leaving her, he was simply going travelling for a year.
He’d clearly been lying. The feeling of indifference she’d felt earlier had vanished.
Replaced by bitterness and resentment, which were totally alien to her.
She glanced at her left hand; engagement and wedding rings still on her third finger.
Maybe she should start to think about taking them off?