On Friday morning, La Maison du Paradis was bathed in a soft golden light as the sun rose over the French landscape. A slight chill felt welcome after weeks of heat and dry weather, and a hint of dew created freshness where tiny droplets of water glistened in the garden like mystic charms.
Up early and dressed in a robe, Fran sat on a bench and stared at the countryside. Tapping her slippers on the path, she fidgeted with the rings on her fingers. Fran’s active mind was jumbled. In the night, she’d had a dream of Daniel attacking her with a knife and, as he gripped her throat, Fran shouted out, suddenly wide awake. Weary and anxious but unable to sleep, she’d got up.
Anxious of the day ahead, Fran felt sure that Daniel would have discovered her drawing and demanded she be booted off the course. Fran sighed and considered pre-empting the situation by coming clean about her antics. She could reason that Daniel had been vile when he left her alone with the pasta, struggling to comprehend a complicated recipe, which, without help, she would never master. But it was no excuse for her bad behaviour, and she shouldn’t have done what she did.
‘You are a silly old woman,’ Fran said as she gazed at the tranquil surroundings. Then, determined to change the subject, she thought of the week’s highlights.
One of her favourite outings was to the market in Chauvigny. Fran remembered the colourful shutters being flung open as café owners arranged tables and chairs on the perimeter of the cobblestone square. Like herself, they would be up early to welcome traders and shoppers with a café au lait or robust expresso. Fran wished she’d had time to stroll along the river Vienne, with its vast banks and leafy pathways. She loved to be beside the water and found it so relaxing. Being by the sea in Blackpool had always given her pleasure.
Sparrows were chirping, and Fran thought she could smell freshly baked bread. Someone was preparing breakfast, and she imagined Tomas or Angelique in the kitchen. She wondered if Daniel was awake but doubted that he’d risen early to help heat the oven for crusty baguettes and buttery croissants and prepare fresh fruit for breakfast bowls.
He was likely wrapped around Sally, snuggled down and sleeping off the excesses of another late night.
‘Well, it’s no good sitting here,’ Fran told herself and, gripping the bench, turned to the house. Following the pathway, she shuffled in her fluffy slippers, reaching into her pocket for hair clips to pin escaping tendrils into a messy top knot. ‘It’s time to get dressed and face the music.’
With a heavy sigh, Fran headed towards her room.
* * *
After a surprisingly refreshing sleep, Waltho stood under the shower and turned the dial. Icy needles of water pelted his skin, and Waltho gasped, but as blood circulated, the cold shock soon focused his mind.
He hadn’t expected to sleep so well.
Caroline’s worries were niggling, and Angelique had informed him about the incident with Daniel’s jacket. On top of this, he was undecided on what to do with the guests that afternoon and wondered if he should leave options open for them to decide.
Stepping out of the shower, he reached for a towel and rubbed briskly.
Waltho wondered how Caroline felt as a new day began; he hoped that her problems didn’t seem impossible after their chat. He remembered holding her in his arms and realised he’d enjoyed the experience. Caroline’s hair was soft as it brushed his hand, and her skin smelt of bergamot and citrus fruits, reminding him of the sun-kissed Mediterranean coast he’d visited for holidays with Lauren.
As he buttoned an Oxford shirt, he thought of the years since Lauren had gone. These were dark, dismal days where the future held no promise, hope of joy, or pleasure in living a singular life. But as he slipped his feet into loafers, he thought about something she’d whispered in her final hours.
‘We as human beings need to believe that there is something better out there.’
Waltho paused to reflect.
Friends told him that only time would heal his pain, and there had been occasions when he never thought he’d get over Lauren’s death. But strangely, in the last few days, he could feel the shoots of recovery. Perhaps having the house full of people gave him a purpose. But there was something he was uncertain of, and this involved Caroline. For some inexplicable reason, she tugged at his broken heart. Knowing hers was as shattered as his own, he felt a compelling urge to help put it back together again. If she could continue to talk to him, maybe they would find a way to ease her out of her problems.
It was time to stop thinking of himself. Time to stop dwelling in the past and wallowing in his own misery. Lauren would be furious if she thought he’d lost the will to enjoy life and make the best of what he was fortunate to have left.
‘Take the word “I” out of your vocabulary,’ she’d told him. ‘By helping others, you’ll learn to live again.’
Waltho entered his sitting room and opened the shutters to flood the room with light. The sun lit the painting of Lauren, and the glow caught a glint in her eyes. As she smiled, he caught his breath. Such was his feeling of love. Her gentle hands seemed to reach out, caress his face, and tell him everything was alright. ‘It’s time to move on,’ he heard her whisper.
Waltho wiped a tear from his eye and, after touching fingers to his lips, pressed them to Lauren’s cheek. ‘Thank you,’ he replied.
Turning to a window, he looked out at the garden where he could see Fran hurrying along the path towards her room. She wore a vibrant purple robe and fluffy pink slippers, and Waltho smiled. If only everyone had such a generous heart like Fran. He knew that Fran had swapped accommodations with Sally to relieve Caroline of the sound of her snoring and that Sally now spent each night with Daniel.
He also knew that Fran was the likely culprit that had defaced Daniel’s jacket, and Waltho chuckled. Daniel could be difficult and seemed to put Fran under pressure. Waltho wondered if it was Daniel’s way of turning Fran into a decent chef in the limited time available. But, he reasoned, the guests were paying a decent amount to be in Daniel’s company, and the least he could do was be civil.
Angelique knocked on the door.
‘Come in,’ Waltho called out, and as she crossed the room, he took hold of her shoulders and kissed her forehead. ‘Good morning,’ he said, ‘it’s a beautiful day out there.’
‘Yes, it is, and the temperature will be pleasant too.’ She placed a mug of coffee on the bamboo table and stood back. ‘You look very chirpy. Is there something I should know?’
‘For the first time in ages, it feels good to be alive.’
‘Hallelujah!’ Angelique exclaimed and clapped her hands. ‘The magic of La Maison du Paradis is finally working.’
‘Indeed,’ Waltho nodded, ‘there were times when I wondered if it ever would.’
‘Well, whatever is happening, long may it last,’ Angelique smiled. ‘Now take your coffee and come and help me. The guests are up and about despite me thinking they’d want a late start after yesterday’s exploits.’
‘I’m on my way,’ Waltho replied, and blowing a kiss to Lauren’s portrait, he picked up his coffee and followed.
* * *
In the trees outside Daniel’s room, the chirruping of birds had built into a crescendo, and the noisy warblers meant that sleep was no longer an option for Sally. As she eased into a sitting position and ran fingers through her mop of tousled pink hair, Sally thought of the man who slumbered beside her.
She was no fool and had soon sussed out Daniel’s culpabilities.
The enormous ego that came from his celebrity status, she now knew, was a front that hid an anxious man. Reaching out to stroke his naked shoulder, she remembered that after a moonlight swim, they’d talked long into the night, and he’d been surprisingly candid.
Confiding in Sally, he’d told her about his background. It was something he said he’d never disclosed to anyone.
‘Not even my agent,’ Daniel said as he held Sally in his arms. ‘My dad was a drunk and mother just as bad,’ he told her. ‘They were terrible parents, and I suppose the world should be grateful that they didn’t have any more children.’
Sally wanted to tell Daniel not to be hard on himself, but she feared he might not continue if she butted in.
‘I walked away from my parents many years ago. They’re both dead now, and my memories of childhood will stay firmly in the past.’
‘Were there no happy times?’ she’d tentatively asked.
‘Occasionally, when they were sober, but that was rare.’
‘But you should be so proud of what you achieved, how you overcame your hurdles to do so much with your life.’
‘I was determined not to be like them. I couldn’t face living in poverty and seeing the harm that alcoholism can inflict.’
‘It’s a rags-to-riches tale and would make a brilliant story,’ Sally insisted. ‘If your agent got hold of it, you’d have a best-selling biography, another Kitchen Confidential and a Netflix deal.’
‘No, you’re wrong,’ Daniel had laughed, ‘the hospitality industry has many like me. I’m nothing special.’
But Sally thought Daniel was special. He was the most talented chef she’d met. She was aware that Fran thought he disliked her, and despite his tough approach, Sally felt that Daniel was doing all he could to help Fran on the path to achieving her dream.
Daniel had once had a dream too, which to his credit, he’d made come true.
For all his faults, she could sense that Daniel was fragile and gambling was a diversion. For Daniel, a win on the roulette wheel was a way to lift his spirits, away from the rigours of the kitchen and pressures of business. He gave little thought to the subsequent debts that often mounted when he lost. Daniel was his own worst enemy and when his gambling took over, his successful business suffered.
But Daniel’s failures were issues she wasn’t prepared to overcome. Been there, done that! Sally thought as she stroked his thick dark hair.
Last night, under the moon and stars of the silvery sky, the soft, silky water of the pool embraced their naked bodies. As they intertwined, Daniel surprised her. He’d whispered in Sally’s ear that he wanted her to return to the Cotswolds and move into his home. They could get engaged if she wanted respectability.
Sally had almost laughed at the preposterous suggestion! Did he really imagine that she would throw in her lot with a man she hardly knew after only a few short days?
As she stared out at the milky blue sky where puffy white clouds drifted over the garden, Sally thought La Maison du Paradis was one of the most magical places she’d ever visited and she vowed to enjoy this brief fling. But at the end of the week, she would return with Romeo to her solo life.
As she’d swum with Daniel, he pressed her for an answer and luckily, she’d had no time to reply. A shadowy figure had appeared on the pathway, and moments later, they’d stared wide-eyed as Bridgette removed her robe and slid, naked, into the water at the other end of the pool.
‘Don’t mind me!’ she’d called out, bare breasts bobbing, as she swished about in the shadows.
Now, as Daniel stirred and reached out to pull Sally into his arms, she giggled. Good old Bridgette! She’d saved Sally from coming up with a response. As Daniel’s hands wandered lovingly over her body, Sally sighed with pleasure and silently thanked Bridgette, the naked swimmer.
* * *
It was with hesitant footsteps that Caroline walked into the salon for breakfast. Looking around the room, she saw that most guests had left. Only Jeanette and Pearl remained. Both had finished their coffee and stood to shake napkins free of croissant crumbs before folding the linen neatly and placing it on the table.
‘Good morning,’ Jeanette said.
‘It’s good to see you up and about,’ Pearl smiled.
‘I’m fine,’ Caroline replied, ‘but thank you both for everything you did for me yesterday. You were very kind.’
‘It was nothing,’ Jeanette waved a dismissive hand. ‘After this heat, any of us might have had a funny turn.’
‘Well, I had a wonderful sleep and now feel refreshed.’
‘We’re so pleased to hear that,’ Jeanette smiled. ‘The temperature is much more comfortable today, but the sun will still be hot, so don’t forget to drink plenty of water and stay hydrated.’
‘No more fainting!’ Pearl wagged a finger.
Caroline resisted the urge to swat the finger. She’d had more than her share of finger-wagging from Stanley throughout her marriage.
‘See you in class,’ the twins called out and, linking arms, moved away.
Caroline wasn’t hungry. She was still sated from the night before. Still, after promising Waltho that she would try to eat more, she poured a glass of juice and selected a pastry, then, taking a seat by the window, began to eat.
She looked up when she heard laughter and saw Fran, Sally and Bridgette on the path that led to the kitchen. Fran was holding court, waving her arms, and Sally and Bridgette shook their heads, chuckling at Fran’s antics.
Caroline noted that Fran wore a hat to one side at an angle on her untidy hair. A beret? Caroline wondered. Why on earth would Fran wear such a hat?
With a Breton-style top above navy-blue cut-offs, Fran finished her outfit with a flashy display of gaudy costume jewellery.
She looks like she’s going to a fancy-dress party, Caroline thought, pushing away the half-eaten pastry.
Studying the trio, Caroline wondered at the speed of their friendship.
In only a few short days, everyone on the course had bonded. Even Bridgette, grieving her Hugo, was part of the pack and openly admitted that she was touched by everyone’s kindness. Caroline had never known friendship so quickly adopted, and she felt alone with worries never far from her mind.
Sighing, Caroline glanced at her watch. The class was about to start, and she’d better get a move on. Slipping her bag onto her shoulder and straightening the skirt of her dress, Caroline took a deep breath. Facing the guests was causing mild anxiety, and she wondered how everyone would react to all the fuss she’d created.
But most of all, she was fearful of seeing Waltho. Would he still be kind and caring in the cold light of day? Or would he take her discreetly to one side and suggest it might be better if she returned home as soon as possible to sort out her problems?
Caroline remembered the embrace as she’d sobbed on his shoulder.
Despite her despair, the strength that came from Waltho had been so comforting. With soft, rhythmic strokes on her back, his fingers were like a salve, soothing away her fears, and momentarily, she felt safe. Waltho’s presence radiated reassurance that her problems were mere molehills, little bumps to be skipped over, not the mountains she felt she had to climb.
He seemed to understand the fragility of her emotional state.
But most of all, she’d felt a surge of emotion that had nothing to do with debts and divorce. Caroline’s heart had pounded, and her tummy began to spin. Was it the considerable dinner she’d eaten or something more? The same feeling nudged from the past, and she remembered how she’d fallen in love with Stanley.
The touch of his hand, the feel of his skin, the warmth of his body…
‘Stop it!’ Caroline suddenly told herself. This was ridiculous. At sixty-one, about to turn sixty-two, with all her difficulties, there wasn’t a hope that any man would find her attractive. She was tempted to return to her room and pack her bags, but the thought of additional travel costs stopped her.
Caroline couldn’t afford more expense.
She left the salon and slowly walked along the path to the kitchen. Her heart was heavy despite the start of another glorious day and the beautiful surroundings. But, taking a deep breath and patting her churning stomach, she willed herself on.
‘Another day in paradise,’ she whispered.