Authors: Karen Aldous
The Vineyard (34 page)
The kitchen was spotless. Sophie and Charles had kindly cleared away. She reached for the kettle and filled it then prepared a hot coffee. As she took the hot mug over to the terrace door and slid it open, she felt the coolness of the dawn air. She gently eased out a cushioned chair and sat on the terrace. The market below was already filling with stall holders assembling their wares from their vans. Each aisle congested as they dropped off their goods. A small black parked car blocked the square periphery obstructing traders. Traders began hooting as Lizzie observed the hustle and bustle sipping her drink. Her head was still heavy from sleep and the drama from the previous evening. Her body was aching and her knee still sore. She closed her eyes still unable to believe the surreal events of the evening before and the strength that her small frame was capable of. What was Anton thinking? How did he imagine he could get away with abducting Thierry? Had his lawyer given him the reality and he couldn’t face not doing things his way?
She sat and observed the market activity for a while, her eyes beginning to feel heavy. She shook her head hard to force herself awake and was just out of her chair and reopening the large door from the terrace when she saw Thierry and Marie-Claire entering the kitchen. Lizzie gave a motherly smile as she watched her son toddle behind his nanny. His eyes puffy from heavy sleep, he looked so adorable and she loved him so much and was so glad that he slept so well after the drama.
‘How are my two shining stars this morning?’
‘Mummy.’ Thierry’s eyes opened wide as his little frame trundled towards Lizzie. She held out her arms and let his still warm body heat melt into her along with his ever enchanting fragrance of sweet blueberry as he hugged her neck.
‘Marie-Claire?’
‘I am sleepy. I did not sleep so well.’
‘Well I hope you are not worrying. You should be proud.’
‘I’m a little shaken, I think,’ Marie-Claire admitted. ‘I cannot understand how I could do it.’
‘He deserved everything he got and we are really grateful aren’t we Thierry.’ Lizzie carried her son to the lounge area. ‘You sit down and relax, I will get you both breakfast and then Marie-Claire, you go back to bed and catch up on your sleep.’
‘No, I am ok.’
‘I insist.’ Lizzie kissed her son gently on his forehead before releasing him in a sitting position on the sofa. ‘Sit,’ she demanded to Marie-Claire patting the sofa seat next to Thierry. ‘I will run, well no, take the lift,’ she remembered her knee, ‘downstairs to the boulangerie.’
Lizzie collected her purse and her new front door keys, so thoughtfully replaced by Charles, and made a swift visit next door for some fresh bread and some pastries as a treat. As she approached the main apartment door carrying the small bag of pastries, her eyes met with a familiar figure hovering outside the door. Collette, Anton’s sister. Lizzie stood still observing for a few moments as Collette, hand across her forehead, peered into the door. Could she be here to make trouble Lizzie wondered, or was she here to see and understand what had happened to her brother? Lizzie thought about sliding back quietly in the hope she wouldn’t be spotted but Collette looked round and clocked her, her eyes boring into her like a speeding drill.
‘What have you done to my brother? He didn’t deserve that. He is critically ill and you did it to him. You damaged him for life,’ she accused furiously. Lizzie faced her, unsure if she was vulnerable to attack but allowing Collette to vent her anger. ‘He only wanted to see his child and you stopped him. You tried to kill him.’ Collette broke into tears and Lizzie stood helpless, unsure whether to sympathise and comfort her or just simply run.
‘I’m afraid your brother had to be stopped from abducting Thierry, Collette. Nobody intended for this to happen. Unfortunately, he has to take responsibility for his injuries. He was the one committing the crime.’
‘You think you can stop Anton seeing his son? He may be injured now but in a couple of days he will be back. Don’t deny him the chance to give the love he never had,’ Collette sobbed.
A lump throbbed in Lizzie’s throat.
No, I’m not being sucked in to emotional blackmail.
‘I wasn’t stopping him from seeing his son. As you know, I was willing to get the visitation process going as soon as I returned to France. Anton chose to do things his way. What can I say?’
‘He is Anton’s son,’ Collette yelled attracting attention. ‘All he wants is his son. You denied him that for three years.’
‘He was a paranoid drug addict and a control freak, that’s why I didn’t tell him. If you were faced with what I was, you would have done the same. For your child’s sake I hope.’
‘You’re a liar and a murderer,’ Collette spat. ‘We will see you in court.’
‘With evidence of what? Me going to work to support my child, taking him to nursery, being a mother to him. Fine. That’s all you’ll get!’
‘Attempted murder for a start and the Englishman will not get him.’
‘I hope not. He is my son Collette. Get it into your heads, he is mine. He’s happy and loved. That’s all the evidence you need.’ Lizzie, angry and shaking, bolted for the door. Entering the foyer where, less than twenty four hours ago, her worst nightmare had almost occurred, Lizzie stopped to calm her racing pulse. She drew in some deep breaths to steady her trembling and at once inhaled the stench of Anton’s blood in the process. She stared at the floor where he had fallen and disgust bored into her like a fist. More than ever, she yearned for Cal’s arms to catch her and Thierry and whirl them off and away from this nightmare, but she was sure now she had made the right decision. Men and children didn’t mix. If she’d had the foresight, would she have done anything different? No, probably not. They say everything happens for a reason, and, once she and Thierry got over all this, they would be fine. She had her mother, her son had his grandmother, Sophie, Marie-Claire and her business. That was all she needed. She’d succeeded so far. Anton had given her Thierry, Cal had given her back her mother. For those gifts she would be grateful to the two of them. Both had given her grief but, as the Macmillan nurse told her and her mother, take each day as it comes and don’t worry until you have to. Which reminded her, she must ring her mother.
Arriving back up at the apartment, Sophie was there to greet her with a comforting coffee.
‘We were getting worried, did you have to wait for a fresh batch?’ she asked Lizzie.
Lizzie peered over at Thierry and Marie-Claire sitting on the sofa where she left them. Both their eyes were on her, silence awaited her answer. ‘Yes. It’s very busy,’ she lied opening the bag of pastries and placing them on a plate. ‘But we have a lovely selection here.’ She then hurriedly placed two sticks of fresh pain de cereal on a chopping board and gathered the butter, cheese and jam from the fridge and set out the table.
‘Slow down,’ Sophie urged handing a cup of milk to Thierry. ‘Are you ok?’
‘Fine. Yes, I said to Marie-Claire she can go back to bed so I was just trying to feed her.’
‘Ok guys,’ Sophie ushered Marie-Claire and Thierry to the table, ‘Look at all these goodies. Thierry what would you like? Pain au chocolate?’
‘M…mm yes please Aunty Sophie.’
‘Marie-Claire, please help yourself,’ Lizzie added, observing a listlessness about the girl. ‘Have you got a drink?’
‘Yes, Sophie just made me one,’ she answered dropping lethargically into a chair at the table next to Thierry.
‘You’ll feel a bit more energised after this.’ Lizzie hoped mothering her a bit would work some magic. She sat down next to Sophie and began slicing bread when they all then jumped as the apartment phone rang. Lizzie shot up to answer it. With a few nods and a thank you she returned. ‘That was Charles. A restraining order is in place and the patient is stable,’ she told them. ‘He will be fine Marie-Claire. Don’t waste any energy worrying about him.’
Marie-Claire bounced back a faint smile.
***
With substantial relief Lizzie found the next few weeks easier and she was able to restore much of her energy on the salon and the launch. She was able at last to set up the Skype connection in her apartment and Michael got everything working his end. Thierry loved to call his grandma and was fast becoming competent with Lizzie’s laptop, which was becoming somewhat of a hindrance to her, particularly if she had work to do from home, as he’d also discovered it gave him access to his favourite songs and children’s series which, yes, Lizzie had shown him, but she hadn’t really thought it through! She now had to borrow her laptop from Thierry.
However, progress was being made, and with Anton out of the way for now, she could at least feel her mojo returning. Her energy was increasing daily and she was definitely thinking more clearly.
With the new salon needing some initial problems ironing out, Lizzie tried to spend as much free time as possible with Thierry, giving Marie-Claire time to recover from the ordeal. She sensed guilt was still with her and she didn’t want her spending too much time with Thierry alone at the apartment, not yet anyway. It was rather paranoid of her but after a trauma like that, she daren’t take risks. Lizzie also wrote notes to the other residents in the building not to allow anyone in without a key, which was in their contract anyway.
Annatia returned too, making herself useful with the salon refurbishment and Lizzie repaid her with a lovely lunch with her and Thierry. After their bad start, they could now laugh at their first introduction and Annatia was grateful for the introduction to Jean-Luc because he had so many projects on the go in the area that he had begun involving her in. He had already set up meetings for her with two of his clients.
It was also Jean-Luc who also mentioned to Lizzie about an apartment. She thought it ideal for Sophie, who was squeezed for time to look herself. Jean-Luc, had heard one of his landlord clients had a tenant vacating. On hearing this, Lizzie immediately thought of Sophie. She rang her straightaway but Sophie was too busy to answer so Lizzie took Monsieur Malo’s number. He told her he would meet them at the address the following evening and that he would let it to her short term at half normal cost as refurbishment was due to begin in six months but he preferred not to leave it empty. Sophie was not the least bit offended when Lizzie relayed the news later that day. Sophie had been eager to start and finally got underway with her treatments as demand grew for her expertise. Although the clinic at the new salon wasn’t ready yet, she was now able to do fillers and Botox at the old salon plus her first consultations at a treatment room temporarily rearranged. She also found some artistic material for her input into some of the marketing material for the new salon. She admitted she’d got side tracked.
‘I didn’t want you to think I was trying to push you out,’ Lizzie told her. ‘I thought it might be an option. You’ll have to like it though. Who knows what state it’s in?’
‘Well, it’s probably the push I need and you need your space back not to mention the fact that it gives unnecessary ammunition for Anton to load his gun with. It’s a blessing really and the location sounds fantastic. Hopefully it will give me some time to look around. This business is just buzzing right now so I’m sure an apartment at such a good rent in such a sought-after area can’t be that bad. Besides, it saves me shit loads of hassle, for now anyway.’
It was much better than both the girls expected. So too was Monsieur Malo, who they had both imagined being mid-fifties but who was actually more mid-thirties and rather a stunner with dark Mediterranean skin tones and a shaved head but presented in cool cream jeans and a soft light cashmere sweater pulled up the arms in a casual way. They shook his firm hand as they introduced themselves at the entrance, eager to see beyond his dark sunglasses.
‘Ok, he said waving his arm in the direction of the doors. ‘Follow me.’ The building alone screamed French villa at its finest. Then as the old lift reached the fourth floor and they entered the first door opposite, Sophie gasped at its warm vintage style as soon as she laid her eyes on it.
‘It’s so beautifully French and traditionally decorated. What a shame to destroy such a charming ambience,’ she choked at Monsieur Malo. ‘I can’t believe you want a new high-spec face lift. And the views. Wow, oh wow.’ Her voice shrilled excitedly as she rushed to open the French doors facing Cannes Old Port. ‘It’s just stunning Monsieur.’ She turned around again to admire the cream interior so lavishly draped in an array of light coloured textures and fabrics whilst the walls in contrast were adorned with heavily carved wooden-framed painted mirrors and matching display cabinets. The light colours blended in such a sumptuous fashion. Sofas and a chaise lounges graced the ivory-toned carpet showing off the grey tones of the rug and the oversized grey chandelier lamps. ‘Shabby chic in its most luxurious form.’ She whirled dreamily. ‘Yes. It’s perfect. When can I move in?’
Lizzie was sad to see her best friend setting off just two days later with her few belongings, but she was pleased her friend had secured, if only short term, such a beautiful bargain and only five minutes away at the other end of Rue Antibes. Charles volunteered his help and had parked outside with her speedily packed though sparse belongings in his car for the short drive. Sophie hugged Lizzie and Thierry.
‘Life couldn’t get any better Lizzie, I’ll be just five minutes away. Pop along in a while with Thierry but give me at least an hour’ Then she whispered, ‘Well Charlie and I will need to try the bed out.’
Lizzie laughed, pecking her on the cheek. ‘See you in two,’ she said and felt a huge burst of pride for Sophie. ‘You have worked hard, you deserve every happiness.’
As the door closed, the apartment suddenly felt very empty without Sophie.
As the English summer was drawing to a close Cal kept a vigil on the weather forecast as well as carefully monitoring his grapes in terms of sugar and acidity in order to plan his harvest date. It was time-consuming collecting sample grapes from the top and bottom of the many vines, twice a week now, and testing their readiness but he had to get it right. His white grapes were sweetening and it would be just a matter of days before he could collect the first harvest of the season. It was an exciting time. In the last couple of weeks the winery had been fitted out and his winepress was ready and waiting to go into its first operation. Other apparatus was cleaned thoroughly and made sterile in readiness for its part in the process. As the weather report was good for the coming week, he had time to check the old tractor and make sure the parts were maintained, clean and up to the task ahead, in particular, he couldn’t risk contaminating his crop. He now had a small window in which his first harvest would need to be collected and transported to the winery. After that he would carry out his first press, so calling in expert help from Brian Best, a viticulture consultant was his priority.