Chapter 24
Sunday morning, Mel was eating her breakfast sat at the terrace table in the sunshine, Croque Monsieur at her feet, thinking about the previous evening, when her phone pinged with a text on WhatsApp. She glanced at the caller ID automatically before answering it and caught her breath. Geoff.
She stared at it for a full minute, before she opened it and read the message. Taking a deep breath, she typed a reply.
Sorry. Impossible for me to do. Ask Peter.
She sent it before she could add an explanation as to why it was impossible.
Thirty seconds later, the phone rang. Mel debated not answering it; she really had no desire right now to talk to Geoff, but in the end she pressed the button to accept the call.
‘What on earth do you mean it’s impossible for you to do? All I’m asking is for you to go to the office, find my spare pair of glasses and send them to me here in Sicily – I’ve broken my others.’
‘Like I said, ask Peter. He’s your partner and he’s there.’
‘No, he’s not actually. He’s gone to the Caribbean for Christmas, that’s why I’m asking you to do it.’
‘I can’t do it.’ Mel took a deep breath. ‘I’m not in the UK either. What about Patsy, the office secretary?’
One or two seconds of silence followed before Geoff, ignoring the mention of Patsy, demanded, ‘Where the hell are you?’
‘Doesn’t matter where I am. How’s Sicily?’ Now was not the time to ask if the blonde had travelled with him, as tempted as she was.
Geoff’s sharp intake of breath was audible down the line before he started ranting at her. Mel held the phone at arm’s length and pressed the button to cut the call, before switching the phone off.
Mel picked up her breakfast coffee and took a drink. It felt good to have had that skirmish with Geoff and to have actually won. Plus, he still had no idea where she was.
Briefly, she thought about taking another look at his Instagram account before deciding she didn’t need the aggro, and she determinedly pushed Geoff into the deep recesses of her mind. Today she was having Sunday lunch with Marc, something she was happily looking forward to.
* * *
Mel was ready and waiting when Marc pressed the intercom just before twelve o’clock. She’d locked the villa, clipped the lead on an excited Croque Monsieur and stood by the front door watching him drive up.
‘Wow,’ she said as he pulled to a stop and got out. ‘What a car – what is it?’
‘It’s a 1965 Citroen DS 19 Cabriolet,’ Marc said, looking slightly embarrassed. ‘And it’s my pride and joy.’
‘I’m not surprised. It’s beautiful. I love the shape of it and the blue colour.’
‘It’s usually locked up safely in a garage and doesn’t get an outing very often. Because of the move, I’m having to pay a local garage here for a space in their lockup. Anywhere I buy will have to include a garage so I can lock it away. Anyway, I thought it would be a treat to use it today.’
‘Are you sure about Croque Monsieur going in the back?’ Mel said. ‘I can leave him at home for a couple of hours.’
‘I’ve put a thick blanket on the back seat, it will be fine,’ Marc said. ‘If you’re ready, let’s go.’
‘Where are we going?’ Mel asked as they turned inland and drove away from the coast.
‘Not far, just up to Valbonne. It’s a lovely medieval village quite close to the Sophia-Antipolis Science and Technology Park where I’m going to be working come January. Seems sensible to buy a house there for a real easy commute. There is one slight problem, though.’
‘Which is?’ Mel said.
‘It’s a very popular village to live in and prices have sky-rocketed in recent years, so I might have to lower my sights and buy an apartment with a garage rather than a house.
Or look in other nearby villages. Anyway, I thought we could park the car, book a table for lunch in the Place des Arcades and have a wander around. ’
Half an hour later, the car was parked and the two of them, with Croque Monsieur on his lead held firmly by Marc, were wandering around the village.
A village bedecked beautifully for the season, Christmas trees and decorations were everywhere.
A few of the artisan shops were open and people were buying Christmas presents.
The wonderful toy shop was particularly busy, its window filled with toys that any child would surely love to find under the tree.
Mel couldn’t help wishing she had a small child to spoil with a present from there. Maybe one day she’d be a grandmother.
There were several estate agents in the village – a sure sign of its popularity, Marc muttered, as they looked in the window of one.
Mel went to point to a house she more than liked the look of, before the price registered with her, and she dropped her hand.
She had no idea of Marc’s budget, but it probably wasn’t around the three million euros of that particular property.
They slowly strolled back down to the lovely main square of the village and were shown to a table on the forecourt of the restaurant near the back wall.
The waiter disappeared, returning moments later with a bowl of water and a small treat for Croque Monsieur.
When the waiter returned with the menu and also placed the ubiquitous basket of bread on the table, he took their drink order.
Marc asked for a non-alcoholic beer and Mel a glass of the house red.
Mel, looking at the menu, decided on Maigret de Canard with caramelised onions and petit pois, and Marc went for coq au vin with roasted vegetables.
A bowl of sautéed potatoes was optional with both meals.
Both Marc and Mel declined a starter, Marc because he preferred the cheese course afterwards and Mel because she’d seen tiramisu on the dessert menu.
Sitting there waiting for their meals to arrive, Mel said, ‘Was Brigitte OK last night when you went home?’
Marc nodded. ‘Yes, she was fine. She decided not to tell Monique where we’d been though, said it would only cause a row. Which was probably true. Monique is so difficult at times.’
‘Brigitte said last night that Monique and your father were devastated when they lost the house, but have they come to terms with it now? Or are they still bitter about it?’
‘Monique is definitely still bitter, my papa not. He wasn’t as devastated as Monique.
He said the house held unhappy memories for him because of the way my grandfather behaved.
I’m still reeling a little from the shock of him deciding to spend the rest of his life back here with Monique.
He says he’s always loved Antibes itself and it’s where he wants to spend however many years are left to him. ’ Marc took a drink of his beer.
‘Where do you all live? Evie and I need to know the address for this champagne and nibbles party we’ve been invited to.’
‘The house is on the main part of the ramparts,’ Marc said. ‘I forget the number – I’ve always thought of it as Monique’s place – but it’s the only one with a red door.’
Mel laughed. ‘That’s very helpful.’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll find it. If you can’t, give me a buzz and I’ll come and meet you both.’
‘OK. The other thing, is it dreadfully posh – what’s the dress code? Formal or informal?’
‘I don’t know,’ Marc said. ‘This is the first year I’ve ever been to one of Monique’s Christmas parties.’
‘Really? But you’re family.’
Marc shrugged. ‘Papa and I visited a couple of times every year since Monique bought the house, occasionally at Christmas, but never in time for the party. I can ask him about the dress code for you?’
‘Don’t worry I’ll ask Brigitte next time I see her.’
Their meals arrived just then, and conversation stalled for several moments whilst they both ate.
‘Your English is very good. Where did you learn?’ Mel said, when they’d both sated their appetites a little.
‘Veronica, my ex-wife, and I lived and worked in London for a few years.’ Marc paused, and looked at Mel.
‘I’ve been divorced for twelve years, Veronica left me whilst we were there for a hedge fund manager and went to live in Bangkok.
We were married for ten years. No children, Veronique didn’t want any, and at the time I didn’t feel the need for a family.
Something I now regret.’ He smiled at Mel. ‘Your turn,’ he said quietly.
‘It’s complicated, but basically I’m separated at the moment,’ Mel said, looking around at the other couples. ‘I’ll tell you more another time.’
‘As long as there isn’t an angry husband about to appear and hit me on the nose.’ Marc laughed as he faked an apprehensive look around the other diners.
Mel laughed too and shook her head at him. ‘No, I can promise you that isn’t going to happen.’