The notaire’s office, situated on the third floor of a modern building on the bord de mer, positively hummed with quiet but serious efficiency. Monsieur Damarcus and Josette were clearly old friends as he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek as well as a handshake before turning and shaking Carla’s hand.
‘So, now we do the official paperwork for you to inherit your half of the Villa Mimosa. And then you sell, n’est pas? Like Josette has wanted to do for years.’
‘Josette and I haven’t discussed it, but would it be possible to keep it and carry on renting it out?’ Carla asked. She glanced across at her aunt who was shaking her head.
‘No discussion necessary. I want to be rid of the place,’ Josette said. ‘Amelia made life difficult, refusing to sell and leaving it to me to deal with while she stayed in England doing nothing. You’re not likely to be a hands-on landlord either, are you?’
‘I would come across on a regular basis,’ Carla promised.
Josette stared at her. ‘Non. Selling is the better option.’
‘Ladies,’ the notaire interrupted. ‘The formalities will take a few weeks, once Carla’s name is on the deeds you can decide then. I have to say, if you do decide to sell, I don’t doubt there would be a lot of interest locally. It would probably sell for four or five million euros.’
Carla felt her mouth fall open at his words, but before she could say anything, Josette ended the discussion.
‘Good. In that case we’ll go to auction.’
The rest of their appointment time was filled with various forms Carla had to fill in and sign, but eventually it was done and Carla and Josette said their goodbyes to Monsieur Damarcus, who promised to be in touch very soon.
Walking back to Josette’s cottage, Carla again broached the subject of not selling Villa Mimosa. It had been in the family so long, it felt wrong to sell it without at least exploring the possibility of keeping it.
‘I promise I wouldn’t leave you with all the hassle of managing the place and finding tenants. I’d come over whenever you needed me.’
‘I need the money,’ Josette said. ‘I wasn’t going to say that to Monsieur Damarcus, but it’s the truth.’ She glanced at Carla. ‘I’m at the age when you start thinking about what happens when you need help. Residential care doesn’t come cheap.’
‘I understand,’ Carla nodded. ‘But if and when you need that help, couldn’t you sell your cottage?’
‘It’s rented, And my money would disappear with residential home fees très rapidement.’
‘I didn’t realise that,’ Carla said. ‘But how about when the tenants leave, you move into the villa? At least it would be rent-free.’
‘Rent-free maybe, but the maintenance wouldn’t be. Besides, it’s too big. What would I do with five bedrooms?’
‘Monsieur Damarcus mentioned a separate fund to pay for essential maintenance. You could even rent out a couple of the rooms and have an income.’
‘Non,’ Josette said. ‘It is best to sell. Close the past down.’ The look she gave Carla dared her to argue further.
Regretfully, Carla let the subject go. She didn’t want to leave her aunt with bad feeling between them, but secretly she promised herself the next time she was over to sign the inheritance papers, she would talk again to Josette about the possibility of keeping Villa Mimosa. Surely if she was in need of money, giving up the cottage, moving to the villa and living rent-free made economic sense?
Josette walked to the end of the rue with Carla, where the taxi ordered for the journey to the airport was waiting. The tight hug Carla gave her was unexpected.
‘Thank you so much, Tante Josette. I promise I’ll give you a ring before I descend on you next time. You take care.’
The taxi was moving down the narrow street almost before Carla had slammed the door shut. Watching the car disappear, Josette sighed. She knew was going to miss Carla. Despite herself she’d enjoyed getting to know her better over the last few days and was already looking forward to her return once the notaire had the final papers ready for signature.
Back indoors, Josette cleared the lunch things away and tidied the kitchen before taking her secateurs out of the gardening drawer in the cupboard and going into the courtyard. Trimming back the rampant honeysuckle, she inhaled its perfume, taking care to avoid the bees busy feeding on the flowers.
Deadheading the geraniums in their pots and generally tidying up the jasmine and the passion flower she was encouraging to climb the trellis Gordon had fixed to the back wall for her recently, Josette hummed happily to herself. She loved pottering about out here, the nearest she got to a proper garden these days. Remembering how beautiful the garden at Villa Mimosa had been looking the other day, the old longing for a decent-sized garden sprang uninvited into her mind. Together with the thought, If I lived in the villa I’d be able to garden whenever I wanted to.
‘Not. Going. To. Happen,’ Josette said, startling herself by uttering the words out loud as she over-trimmed an unlucky plant. ‘Merde.’
Whatever Carla said, the villa was going to be sold. Josette hadn’t been lying when she’d said she needed the money, but it wasn’t just that. It was the memories the place contained. Memories she’d be forced to confront on a daily basis if she lived there. Besides, it was too big for just one person. As for renting rooms out, she was too old for the hassle. Even if Carla was serious about visiting regularly, her own life for the next few months was likely to be difficult with the David situation.
Placing her hand on the small of her aching back and rubbing it, Josette looked around the courtyard. Enough for today. Back in the kitchen, she loaded her favourite Ella Fitzgerald disc into the player while she waited for the coffee machine to do its stuff. Sitting out in the courtyard sipping her coffee and listening to Ella singing ‘The Man I Love’, her thoughts drifted back to the days when listening to Ella had literally gone hand in hand with loving Mario. They’d both adored Ella’s singing.
The photograph of them that Amelia had kept for some strange reason evoked so many happy memories. Josette half started up to fetch it from the bureau to look again on Mario’s handsome face, before sinking back down onto her seat. Later. She didn’t need to look at the photograph itself to relive the day and her unrestrained happiness of that summer. The summer she’d believed she was destined to marry Mario and spend the rest of her life with him.
She’d met Mario at a mutual friend’s party a year or two before. The attraction had been instant on both sides and their new friendship had quickly developed into something special. The day the photo was taken Mario had asked her to be at Antibes station ready to catch the morning train travelling in the Marseille direction. He wanted them to spend a day together in Cannes.
Waiting on the platform clutching her ticket, she’d scanned the growing crowd, hoping to see him. When he still hadn’t shown up when the train arrived, she hung back, letting people board and cursing the fact he hadn’t turned up and she’d wasted money on a ticket. She turned her head at a sudden whistle from the third carriage and smiled. She should have realised he’d be on the train already.
‘Josie, over here,’ Mario had shouted from the open door of the carriage. She ran across the now empty platform and jumped in next to him. The doors had closed as Mario moved away from them. Josette realised later he’d illegally kept his foot against it to prevent its closure. Seconds later, the train had begun to move.
‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ she’d said.
‘I had to work at the pizzeria last night, Mama, she’s not well,’ Mario had replied, his face clouding. The family lived just over the border in Italy at Ventimiglia and his parents had run a lively pizza bar for decades after taking over from Mario’s grandparents. Mario’s brother, Alexandro, had gone into the family business as soon as he left school.
‘I’m sorry,’ Josette had said. ‘What’s wrong?’ She’d met Mario’s mother several times and liked the Italian woman who welcomed everyone as part of her extended family. She loved it when Mario invited her to eat with his family. Mealtimes at Mario’s home were so different to those at her own home, especially since Amelia had married and gone to live in England, leaving Josette alone with their parents.
‘A bad cold. She’ll be better tomorrow and back at work. But my father, at times like these, he take the opportunity to try to bully me into working full time at the pizzeria along with Alexandro. He knows I will do anything for Mama, but I will not work for him,’ and his face had clouded over at the thought.
Seconds later, he’d shrugged before smiling at Josette. ‘Enough. Today belongs to us and we enjoy! You can take some more of your photographs,’ he’d said, looking at the camera Josette carried with her everywhere.
She’d always loved taking photos from the moment her grandfather had placed an old box camera in her hand when she was about twelve. By the time she met Mario she’d graduated to a five year old Canon and was saving hard to buy one of their new models.
Moving through the carriage, they’d found a couple of seats together and sat holding hands as the train rattled along the coast towards Cannes. Watching the waves of the Mediterranean lapping the various beaches they passed, some sandy, some full of pebbles, Josette couldn’t imagine living anywhere else – although if moving to Italy to be with Mario was necessary, she wouldn’t hesitate.
‘Your sister, she arrive for a visit soon, yes? I’m looking forward to meeting another you.’
Josette had laughed. ‘I’m looking forward to her coming too, but I’m still worried. Robert says she is still far from well. I think he’s placing too much hope on their visit helping Amelia recover.’
When Amelia had married and moved to England, Josette had felt a shift in their unique twin relationship. No longer in daily contact, it was only natural their total oneness would diminish somewhat now that Amelia was married and had a new family. But even before Robert had told them of Amelia’s recent illness, Josette had suffered some terrible nightmares that she knew were telepathically linked to Amelia and her fears. Robert had simply told the family that Amelia was suffering from depression and it would take time before she was completely well.
‘I’m sure being back in France and seeing you will be good for her,’ Mario had said. He stood up. ‘Come on, Cannes station is next.’
Jumping off the train in Cannes, they’d run down through the narrow streets towards the front and the old quay where the fishing boats unloaded their catches. They’d stopped by the imposing Hotel de Ville building to watch a wedding party posing for photographs in front of the entrance.
‘One day, my Josie, it will be our turn,’ Mario had breathed in Josette’s ear. ‘But first I make my business work. Make some proper money. Come, we buy ice cream and look at the boats.’
The words ‘our turn’ had stayed in Josette’s mind long after Mario had whispered them. She was still hugging them to herself as, hours later, they’d climbed up to Le Suquet tower and stood looking out over the town and its curved bay with the Îles de Lérins in the distance. She knew she was in love with Mario and surely with those words he’d confirmed he loved her too. Even if he’d not actually said so.
She’d taken a step back from the wall and Mario, lifted the camera to her eye and taken a snapshot of him gazing out to sea, the expression on his face unfathomable. As the shutter clicked, she’d asked, ‘What are you thinking?’
‘That one day I will have a boat or three taking the tourists out to the islands every day. Tourism is on the up down here. A few years and it will be the biggest employer in town. And it’s going to be good for you and me, Josie. You wait and see.’
A passing tourist had offered to take a photo of the two of them and Josette had handed over her precious camera. She remembered the excitement she’d felt collecting the developed film from the pharmacy days later and seeing her and Mario standing so close.
A blackbird up high on the honeysuckle in the courtyard burst into song as Ella’s voice faded away. Josette stayed where she was for several moments, lost in the past, before pulling herself together with a sharp mental shake. Daydreaming about what might have been was not something she’d ever indulged in. She’d always believed that life was what it was and one got on with whatever hand it dealt you. Even if it did turn out to be a lonelier and less satisfying life than you’d expected or wanted.
Josette sighed as she picked up her cup and went indoors. The house felt different, empty now that Carla had left. ‘Get a grip, you knew she wasn’t a permanent fixture,’ Josette muttered.
A sudden urgent need rose in her to have the company of a real man tonight – not a ghost from the past. She’d phone Gordon and see if he was free for supper. If not, she’d go to one of the cafes in Place National, have a bottle of wine to banish the demons and forget how much she’d loved being Mario’s ‘Josie’. Nobody else since had ever called her that.
An hour after she’d said goodbye to Josette and checked her luggage in at Nice airport for her flight home, Carla still had time to kill. With at least another hour to wait before her flight, she bought an English magazine in the newsagents and then, rather than spend the time in the departure lounge, made her way upstairs to the restaurant with a view out over the runways, in search of coffee and a comfortable seat.
Sitting at a window table in the restaurant overlooking the Mediterranean and the runways, Carla left the magazine unopened, watching the planes landing and taking off – wondering who was going where was way more entertaining.
A smiling waitress placed coffee and the pain au chocolat she’d ordered on the table. ‘Merci,’ Carla said automatically.
Sipping her coffee and slowly allowing the chocolate and buttery pastry to melt in her mouth, Carla felt herself getting uptight as she thought about the reception she could expect from David when they met.
She hadn’t told him, or Maddy, that she would be back today. She’d booked herself into a local hotel for a couple of nights to give her time to sort things with the solicitor and the estate agent and, crucially, find herself somewhere to live. She was determined not to go back to the house she and David had lived in for over twenty years. She’d ring Maddy and tell her she was back but make her promise not to tell David until she was ready to face him.
‘Bonjour. I’m happy to see you managed to survive your holiday in one piece,’ a male voice interrupted her thoughts, making her jump. The man who’d saved her from certain injury that first day in Antibes.
‘Bonjour. Yes, thanks to you,’ she said. ‘May I buy you a coffee?’
He shook his head. ‘I’ve already ordered and paid, but I’ll join you if I may? I’m Bruno, by the way,’ he added as he pulled a chair out.
‘Carla. Nice to meet you officially!’
‘Your holiday was good, I hope?’
‘Just the break I needed,’ Carla said. ‘Back to the real world now.’ She glanced at him. ‘Have you been on holiday down here too?’
Bruno shook his head. ‘Non. I live in Cannes. Today I meet my uncle who comes for a short stay.’
‘I didn’t get to Cannes this week, but maybe next time when I visit my aunt.’
‘Of course, I’d forgotten you said you have family down here.’
‘My mother was born in Antibes, although she rarely returned after she married my father. She died a few months ago and this visit was to… to deal with family stuff.’ Not a complete lie, but not the total truth either. Bringing the package down to Josette had been a convenient excuse for her to run away from her own family, but she wasn’t about to tell Bruno, a stranger, that.
‘My condolences for the loss of your mother. It is always a difficult time, the months after someone loved passes. Sorrow does not go well with the things that officialdom sometimes requires us to deal with.’
‘That is so true,’ Carla said, smiling at him. ‘I’ve some more officialdom to deal with next week.’
‘Bon chance. Ah,’ he said, glancing out of the window. ‘The Italian plane lands. My uncle will be in Arrivals soon.’ Bruno stood up and held out his hand. ‘Au revoir, Carla. Perhaps you visit Cannes one day and we’ll meet again.’
‘Perhaps,’ Carla smiled. ‘And thank you once again for saving my life.’
She watched Bruno stride away and disappear into the crowd before finishing her coffee and picking up her bag and magazine.
Time to make her way through security and on to the departure lounge before boarding the Bristol flight and flying back home to face her problems. Tomorrow she’d begin the process of pulling the pieces of her fractured life back together, even though she knew, with absolute certainty, a major piece was fractured beyond repair.