When Gordon phoned and suggested they made their long overdue visit to have lunch on St Honorat now that Carla had left, Josette readily agreed.
Gordon was waiting for her, tickets in hand, by the landing stage when she arrived, a queue of passengers already boarding the boat. The two of them found a couple of seats out on deck. Minutes later, the boat was making its way across the Mediterranean on its fifteen minute voyage to the Îles de Lérins.
Josette took a couple of deep breaths, filling her lungs with the tangy salt air and feeling the breeze on her face. ‘I do like being out on the water,’ she said.
‘Did you sail when you were young?’ Gordon asked.
Josette shook her head. ‘No. Friends of my parents had a small day cruiser and often took us out fishing or brought us here for a picnic.’ Josette gestured towards the islands. ‘So many boats these days,’ she said, looking at the multitude of yachts anchored in the broad reach between the two islands as the passenger ferry slowed to approach St Honorat’s landing quay.
Ten minutes later, they’d disembarked. ‘I’ve booked a table for lunch at the restaurant, shall we go straight there?’ Gordon said.
‘Would you mind going ahead on your own?’ Josette asked. ‘I’d really like to have a few moments in the Abbey first.’ She knew Gordon wouldn’t want to visit the Abbey. He’d told her soon after they’d met he didn’t have time for any religion and had no real interest in even looking at the buildings that encompassed their ideology.
‘Of course,’ Gordon said. ‘Take your time.’
‘I won’t be long.’ Josette smiled at him gratefully before making her way alone along the rustic path towards the entrance to the Abbey.
The monks were just leaving after morning mass and she stood to one side as they passed, their long white robes swishing across the ground. Once inside the ancient Abbey, Josette slipped into a pew at the back and closed her eyes. Sitting there, inhaling the special atmosphere that had surely been created by centuries of silent worship trapped forever amongst its high rafters, she felt her spirits lift. Not a religious person by nature, sometimes she just needed the utter calm that only an ancient church like this one seemed able to give out.
Having Carla visit had unsettled Josette more than she’d expected. Could returning to live in Antibes on something of a whim and an overwhelming yearning for her roots a year ago have been a mistake after all the years she’d spent travelling around? Was it time to move on again? Her love of photography, once all-consuming, had dwindled away. She hadn’t picked up her camera since she’d returned to Antibes. Was it because she was getting old and everything was so much more of an effort that it was easier to do nothing? Or was it something else? Regret of the choices she’d made throughout her life?
She’d never been one for living by routine, preferring a more free and unfettered lifestyle. Her previous nomadic life, flitting from one place to another as a freelance photographer, had had its drawbacks, but on the whole it had suited her. However unsettled she felt now, she didn’t want to get sucked into a life of routine at her age. Or start reminiscing about the past, every day. It was the future that mattered. However short that might prove to be. After all she’d had her three score years and ten.
Several moments passed before she came to with a start when a shooting pain in her right leg made her jump and she realised she’d been sitting awkwardly. Carefully flexing her leg, she stood up and hobbled to the exit, hoping the pins and needles would go away once she was moving.
By the time she’d walked down through the flower filled cloisters and out of the Abbey grounds, the pain had dispersed and she felt better. Spending quiet time in the Abbey had worked its magic and she felt soothed and comforted.
Gordon got to his feet as he saw her approach and she threaded her way through the crowded tables to reach him.
‘Sorry, I lost track of time,’ Josette said, accepting the aperitif he handed her.
‘No problem, we’ve got all the afternoon. Have a look at the menu and then we can order.’
‘Thanks. I don’t need the menu. I saw the special of the day board as I came in. I’ll have the set meal please.’
While Gordon placed their order with the waitress, Josette sipped her drink, thinking about their friendship. It had been one of those fortuitous encounters when complete strangers know they’ve met a kindred spirit.
Back in early January, after a disturbed night listening to a ferocious blizzard battering the coast, Josette had got up early and discovered the Riviera slumbering under a heavy and unexpected snowy duvet. Within minutes, she was dressed and stepping out into an eerily silent town, making her way through the empty streets to the nearest park, just one thing on her mind. Once in the park, she began to make a snowball, rolling it through the pristine snow and patting it together. When it was too big to move, she began to make a smaller one.
She barely registered the first snowball that hit her in the back, she was concentrating so hard, but the next one, arriving seconds later, got her full attention. Oooh – somebody wanted a snowball fight, did they? Carefully, she placed the smaller snowball on top of the first one before swiftly bending down, gathering a handful of snow and turning, throwing it expertly at the child who’d thrown the snowball. Except it wasn’t a child. It was a man. A man who smiled and threw another snowball at her, calling out, ‘Game on,’ as he did.
For five minutes, they had laughed as they flung snowball after snowball at each other before a breathless Josette had said, ‘This is fun, but I need to finish my snowman.’
The man had closed the gap between them. ‘May I help you?’
Josette had nodded and together they had set about creating the biggest snowman they could.
‘I’m Gordon,’ he’d said, scooping up another large handful of snow.
‘Josette. Nice to meet you.’
‘You too. Think Jack’s head is big enough now,’ Gordon said. ‘What?’ he’d asked as Josette had stared at him crossly.
‘You’re calling my snowman, Jack. Why?’
‘After Jack Frost of course. I’m going to find him some eyes.’ Gordon had wandered off and started to kick around in the snow at the edge of the park. A minute later, he’d returned with two smallish stones and placed them carefully on the snowman’s face. ‘Bit tiny, but they’ll do. Really need something for his nose,’ he’d said, looking around for inspiration.
‘I came prepared for that,’ Josette had answered, pulling a carrot out of her coat pocket and positioning it below the stone eyes.
‘Looks good, although I think he could do with this,’ and Gordon had unwound his tartan scarf and tied it around the snowman’s neck. ‘Now he’s a proper snowman. Fancy a hot chocolate?’ he’d asked, looking across the park. ‘Looks like the cafe is opening up.’
‘Sounds good.’
Standing near the café’s outdoor gas heaters, drinking the hot chocolate, Josette had glanced at Gordon. ‘Thank you for this and the snowball fight. I haven’t had so much fun in years.’
‘Doesn’t do to be serious all the time,’ Gordon had said. ‘Life is always better with friends and fun in it.’
‘Are we going to be friends?’
‘I think we’re going to be really special friends,’ he’d said.
‘Special friends?’ Josette had looked at him. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Special friends have lots of fun together. Having fun is king in my book.’
‘D’you have a wife who might object to us having fun together?’
Gordon shook his head. ‘No. D’you have a husband at home?’
‘No.’
‘There you go then. Nothing to stop us having fun together.’
Josette had laughed and since that day in the snow their friendship had flourished and they did indeed have fun together. Discovering that they’d both lived unconventional lives formed a surprising but happy bond between them. Josette had been on the fringe of a celebrity crowd, while Gordon’s life of writing songs for famous singers had meant he’d actually met and mixed with lots of them – something which he said he’d hated, preferring a quieter life really, out of the limelight.
Josette came back to the present with a jolt, realising Gordon was asking her a question.
‘Want to talk about whatever it is that’s bothering you?’
Josette looked at him. His pragmatic Scottish attitude towards solving problems always made Josette smile. There were no grey areas as far as Gordon was concerned. Things were either black or white, nothing in between. She was far too analytical to ever see anything in such a cut-and-dried manner. Maybe it would help sort things out in her head to talk them through with Gordon, without going into too much detail. He knew something of her past life but not everything.
‘Having Carla here has reminded me of stuff that has been buried a long time,’ Josette began. ‘Things I feel that are best left buried but will, I’m afraid, force their way out in the foreseeable future. The catalyst is likely to be the fact that Carla has inherited her mother’s half of Villa Mimosa.’
‘Will she agree to selling the place like you’ve wanted to do for so long?’
‘She’s already mentioned keeping it and promising to make regular visits to help with the renting et cetera.’ Josette placed her empty glass on the table.
‘At least you’d have support and practical help. Wouldn’t that be a good thing? You said your sister was always difficult and uncooperative as far as the villa was concerned.’
Josette shrugged. ‘The trouble is I’ve lived for so long without any proper family contact, I’m… I’m not sure how I’d cope with being Tante Josette on a regular face-to-face basis. Part of me thinks family contact would be good as I get older, but a larger part is telling me keeping the status quo would be better.’
She didn’t add she was also beginning to get the feeling that she was no longer in total control of her own destiny. Carla’s appearance in her life was like a ticking time bomb waiting to go off.