Chapter 36
Nadia phoned Christmas Eve morning to wish Mel and Justin a happy Christmas.
Late afternoon on Christmas Eve, Mel and Justin walked Croque Monsieur down to a strangely quiet Antibes, with closed shops and few people wandering around.
The Christmas street lights were blazing away and Mel decided she liked this almost silent picture-postcard version of Antibes in winter.
Once back at the villa, Justin asked if it was OK to watch the TV in the sitting room. ‘I quite fancy watching a film on the huge television in there. Want to join me?’
‘Maybe a bit later. I’ve got a few things to do in the kitchen,’ Mel said. ‘Just keep your feet off the furniture.’
The lights on the Christmas tree outside on the terrace with the star newly fixed to its top branch were twinkling and reflected in the kitchen door, the laptop was open on the work surface currently playing carols, which Mel was happily singing along to.
It was strange doing Christmas Eve things somewhere other than in her own kitchen, but she was happy.
She’d done some of the things she always did: last-minute wrapping of presents, this year for Evie, Rudi and Marc, stuffed a handmade Christmas stocking for Justin with a pair of silly socks and several small fun items she’d found in a two-euro shop.
All that was left to do was to prep the vegetables for tomorrow’s lunch, albeit different ones to go with a change of menu, and laying the table ready for the next day.
Now she had time to start mending Evie’s dress.
With a little luck, she’d finish it tonight and be able to give it back to her tomorrow.
As the carols she was listening to finished, Mel picked up her phone to choose another playlist. Rather than go straight back to her invisible mending, she opened her Instagram and started to scroll through some seasonal reels.
One in particular caught her eye and she stopped it to watch again and again.
Surely that was Geoff with the same blonde woman, both smiling crazily as someone snapped them.
It wasn’t Geoff’s Instagram page so she clicked on the profile file name it showed, ‘@americansuzie’. And immediately wished she hadn’t.
Several of the photos had the caption ‘Finally met the love of my life’.
There was photo after photo of a ‘I’m so happy’ @americansuzie with her new love.
Geoff. A Geoff that Mel barely recognised.
Thinner, smarter, younger looking and happy.
He’d never looked quite like this in all the years she’d known him.
Mel switched off her phone and sat there, numb.
Well, at least she knew the truth now. She could start to seriously make her own plans, determine what it was she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
How she wanted her future to look. She wished desperately, though, that she hadn’t learnt the truth on Christmas Eve.
Celebrating tomorrow with this lurking in the back of her mind was going to be difficult.
She’d definitely keep this latest news from Justin for a day or two.
* * *
As she helped Monique with the preparations for their Christmas meal, Brigitte was tempted to tell her maman her news.
Get it out of the way early. But there was every chance that Monique would be so cross that the whole evening would be spoilt for everyone.
She’d be better off waiting until she’d placed the thirteen desserts on the table, champagne had been drunk, and everyone was feeling a little mellow, maybe even wait until it was bedtime when everyone could politely escape.
The fish soup was in the pan ready to be heated, garlic bread was wrapped waiting to go in the oven.
The large silver salver with the prepared lobster, oysters and large langoustines was in the fridge along with the aioli sauce.
The salads were prepared, the champagne was cold and the presents were under the tree.
Typically, Monique disappeared around seven o’clock to get ready, leaving Brigitte to finish the preparation of the deserts, including the b?che de Noel that she’d been determined to include.
It was half past seven before Brigitte went to shower and get ready to join everyone in the sitting room at eight o’clock.
Albert was pouring the first of the champagne when she went downstairs, the last to arrive, ready for the opening of presents.
‘You timed that well,’ Albert said, handing her a glass. ‘Happy Christmas to us all.’
‘Happy Christmas,’ the three of them echoed.
Presents were opened and thank yous said, before Monique pronounced it was time for dinner, le Réveillon. Which was Brigitte’s cue to go and heat the soup and put the garlic bread in to warm.
It was a lovely, happy family evening that Brigitte was loath to spoil with the announcement she knew she had to make. Consequently, it was late when she finally plucked up the courage, and everyone was in the sitting room having a final digestif cognac.
‘Maman, I have something to tell you,’ she said, during a short lull in the conversation. ‘I think it’s time for me to be independent again. I’ve decided in the new year I’m going to move into the apartment over Vintage Vignettes.’
Marc was the first to speak. ‘Happy to help with moving furniture, decorating, anything you need, just shout.’
‘Thank you, Hervé is going to help as well,’ Brigitte said. ‘We both close the shops for the first ten days of January, as it’s rarely worth being open then. People don’t have any money left. I’m hoping to get it partially decorated and furnished with the bare necessities in that time.’
‘I’m starting my new job on the second,’ Marc reminded her. ‘So my help will have to be in the evenings that week if you need it, but I can make a start for you between now and new year if you want me to.’
‘I can’t offer any practical help,’ Albert said. ‘But good luck and congratulations. Don’t forget to invite me to the apartment-warming party.’
‘Thanks, Uncle,’ Brigitte said gratefully. ‘You’ll be top of the list, next to Maman.’ She glanced at Monique, who was simply sat staring at her stony-faced. ‘Maman? I know you don’t want me to move out, but now Uncle Albert is here you will still have company and I’m not far away.’
Monique stood up. ‘I think you’re making a mistake. You’ll be lonely in that apartment. But it’s your choice.’
‘Monique, Brigitte is a grown woman and is entitled to live her own life,’ Albert said quietly. ‘You and I have had years of independent living, she is entitled to the same.’
Monique glared at him. ‘I’m off to bed,’ and she swept out without saying goodnight to anyone.