Summer in Provence

by Coleman, Lucy

  ‘Oh, I thought maybe I’d tag along with Ceana’s group. I think she’s giving pruning tips and demonstrating how to take cuttings. It might come in useful, although my garden is mostly grass with only two borders. No trees, but a couple of climbers and a large collection of prize-winning rose bushes.’

  Somehow, I worry she isn’t really getting into the spirit of things. It’s as if she prefers to watch rather than join in.

  ‘I noticed there wasn’t anyone down for Odile’s pottery class this afternoon. If I wasn’t already committed to the painting group, I’d switch, but it’s only day two and I don’t want Nico to think I’m giving up already,’ I joke, dropping a big hint.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise. Maybe I could give that a go instead.’

  ‘Why don’t you talk to her at lunch, find out what’s on offer?’

  ‘I will, thank you.’

  It’s not long before Kellie and three others join us and, this morning, Ceana has moved us across to begin weeding one of the vegetable patches. The rows extend out seemingly endlessly and it’s already getting very warm, so it’s going to be hot work.

  Everywhere around us is filled with the sounds of buzzing bees and birdsong; summer is a busy time and every little creature has a full agenda, it seems.

  ‘Can I just remind everyone to take frequent breaks in the shade? I’ll pop back up to the kitchen and grab one of the cool boxes so there’s plenty of water on hand.’

  They’re a cheery bunch this morning and already there’s a little banter going on. I think two new faces will make a big difference. You only need one chatty person to encourage everyone else to join in and create an air of camaraderie. John isn’t someone I’ve really spoken to, but he has a natural sense of humour and it’s good to hear a little laughter.

  As I’m walking back to the kitchen, my phone begins to ring. I yank it out, glancing at the screen, but it’s too bright to see anything.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Fern, it’s me! God, it’s good to hear your voice!’

  I stop in my tracks. My stomach does a somersault.

  ‘Aiden. Oh… same here, darling.’

  ‘We’re in town picking up some supplies. As I finally have a decent signal, I just wanted to… I mean, you’re on my mind all the time.’

  He sounds distant, not in miles, but as if he doesn’t quite know what to say to me and yet he made the call.

  ‘I’ve been worried.’ I shouldn’t have said that.

  ‘It’s all good. Fun, surprisingly, and I can see how people get hooked once they find a piece of rock with some twinkling colours in it.’

  After a creaky start, at least he sounds a little more relaxed.

  ‘Are you still with those guys? It’s not underground mining, is it?’ I’ve done it again.

  ‘No. I’ve been manning a bulldozer, exposing the bottom of a rocky incline. We found our first vein of opal.’

  I can hear the buzz in his voice now and I close my eyes. At least he’s not in some hand-hewn tunnel somewhere far beneath the ground.

  He said ‘we’. ‘You sound like you’re enjoying it. Any plans to head off somewhere else?’

  ‘Not sure at the moment, babe. Anyway, I must shoot off. I just wanted to check you were okay and settling in. How did your first art class go?’

  ‘Illuminating. And you’re right, it is fun.’ I’m desperate to make the few words I say sound upbeat and not judgemental, even though I have concerns, I don’t want to alienate him in any way. ‘It’s a wonderful set-up here and the first group are very friendly.’

  ‘Is everyone all right at home?’ he asks.

  So, he hasn’t been in touch with anyone.

  ‘Yes. Mum and Dad are doing well; Mum sends me all the gossip by email – you know what she’s like. They’re restyling the garden, but it sounds like a lot of work when there wasn’t anything wrong with the old layout. Still, it’s keeping them busy. And Owen rang. He’s spoken to Hannah and says she’s fine.’

  ‘Oh, she still hasn’t forgiven us, then.’

  ‘Not quite.’

  Us? You’re responsible for this, Aiden. Not me.

  ‘And you’re well? And safe?’ There I go again. I can’t hide my anxiety and he’ll know that from my tone.

  ‘Everything’s just great. Send me some photos and I’ll do the same. Sadly, my lift is about to leave and the line is beginning to break up.’

  ‘I will, promise. Love you.’

  There are a bunch of voices in the background and it’s getting hard to hear him. One of them calls out his name. It’s a woman’s voice.

  ‘Love you, more.’

  Click.

  I let out a huge, depressed sigh. Temptation is everywhere when you’re in the middle of a crisis. I know Aiden slept with someone before me, but he’s my first and my only.

  It isn’t until I hear Nico’s voice that I even realise he is walking towards me.

  ‘Problems?’ he asks, concern in his tone as his eyes scan my face.

  I try to turn my anxious look into a smile, but I don’t quite manage to pull it off.

  ‘No. Just a family call. We’re in different time zones which doesn’t help.’

  He gives me a sheepish look. ‘I came to apologise for last night. And for anything I might have—’

  ‘It’s all right, please don’t feel you have to explain. I was just glad to help.’

  He idly kicks the toe of his trainer against a tuft of grass. ‘It was the anniversary of my father’s death. Even from his grave he continues to haunt me, it seems. I, for one, should know better than to let the past drag me down, but it caught me unawares. Your discretion is appreciated, Fern. I mean it.’

  With that, he turns on his heels and strides out purposefully in the direction of the art studio.

  9

  Still Waters Run Deep

  Lunch is a low-key affair today. Margot was in early making up pack lunches for everyone and then she disappeared. Apparently, she won’t be back until late afternoon as she had a full-on day yesterday. Regretfully, I missed the late afternoon session where she demonstrated how to make croissants, but those who sat in on it said she made it look easy. Next week I’ll make sure I don’t miss out.

  ‘Is it okay if I join you?’

  I peer up, squinting. Standing there, the sun’s rays are uncannily like a halo effect around Kellie’s head. I nod and smile back at her.

  ‘Of course. I only came out here because I had a long email to read and I wanted to send my husband some photos, but I’m done. My mum is keeping me up to date on all the latest news at home and she doesn’t leave anything out,’ I say, unable to hide the amusement in my voice. ‘But that’s my mum and I love her for it.’

  ‘You must miss them all. It’s a big change being here, isn’t it?’

  I adjust my position as the rough bark on the tree begins to dig into my back.

  ‘Yes. But sometimes being taken out of your comfort zone is a good thing. It can give you a slightly different view of life. You didn’t fancy a fishing expedition, then? I bet it’s nice and cool down by the lake beneath the canopy of trees,’ I reflect.

  Kellie lowers herself down next to me, screwing up her face.

  ‘I like the idea of fishing, but catching something on a hook seems cruel. I mean, I’ll happily eat the fish tonight after Margot’s cooked it, but I’m a bit squeamish. If I stop to think about where my food comes from, I end up living on chips. I went through that stage for a while a few years back and it wasn’t much fun,’ she admits.

  ‘You came through it, though. That’s all that matters. And I agree with you, but the food chain is what it is and we need to eat to live. I hate waste, but I don’t have qualms about what I eat.’

  We lapse into silence as I tidy away the wrappings from lunch and snap the lid back on the plastic box. Kellie bites into an apple and we both stare out over the orchard.

  This is bliss. At home it’s either too wet, too cold, or too hot. Here, even when the
temperature soars, as long as I can find a little shade, it feels therapeutic. It warms from the outside in and lifts the spirits. The air is fragrant and that adds to the sense of well-being. I wonder if it’s because I associate that with other holidays, or whether it’s a part of the charm of Provence? Maybe everyone has a special place with which they connect and this is mine.

  ‘Can I ask your advice about something, Fern?’

  ‘Feel free, but it will only be my opinion, remember.’

  ‘I’m thinking that I’d like to extend my stay here if Nico will let me. My parents can afford it and I think they’ll be relieved not to have me hanging around for another week or so. I love working on the garden and Taylor’s pretty cool. He thinks I play quite well and he’s very patient.’

  ‘It sounds to me like you’ve already made up your mind. I’m sure Nico will be fine about it, but you might have to change rooms. So, why are you hesitating?’

  ‘I wanted to ask if you’re here permanently. It’s just that I know Patricia is leaving on Friday and you’re the only other person, besides Taylor, I feel really comfortable around. But I know you aren’t a tutor, as such.’

  Ah. That touches my heart.

  ‘Yes, I’ll be here for the foreseeable future.’

  ‘You said your husband is travelling around and maybe if he gets to really miss you, he’ll fly back to the UK early. You know, you might both get homesick.’

  I draw in a long, slow breath. She’s an intelligent young woman and deserves an honest answer.

  ‘We’ve known each other a long time, Kellie, as we met while we were still at school. Fortunately, we’ve grown together over the years, but this break is allowing us to explore our different interests. So, while we do miss each other, naturally, this is a time of self-discovery for both of us. Time we might never get again. I have a creative side of me clamouring for attention, but family commitments and work mean time is always at a premium. With Aiden, he longed to travel further afield and my fears have held him back. He sacrificed his sense of adventure because he loves me. We will get homesick at times, I know I already have, but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. No one wants to live their lives regretting the things they didn’t do.’

  She ponders on my words for a little while. We are both content to take in the ambience of the leafy setting around us. The myriad shades of green at every turn and the sound of rustling leaves overhead, as the breeze disturbs them, is restful. Time seems to have been temporarily suspended and I can’t help wondering if Kellie is feeling as at peace as I am.

  ‘You sound concerned that he will resent what he gave up for you. But you don’t seem to regret what you gave up for him.’

  I’m shocked at her perception, because she’s spot on. I can feel her eyes as she stares at my side profile. Raking my fingers over the spiky grass, it feels good against my skin: grounding. My old life hardly seems real any more; already it’s like a distant memory.

  ‘It’s not as easy as that because I know he understands it’s extremely difficult to overcome a deep-seated phobia. I appreciate that and I’m happy with my life, so what’s to forgive?’

  ‘I’ve never felt that sort of love for someone. I hope I do, sometime in my life. I’d hate to settle for what my parents have. They never put each other first and never will. Sounds like you’d do anything for Aiden. Well, except jump on a plane.’

  I swallow hard.

  ‘My eldest sister died in a plane that went down over the Mediterranean Sea in 2010. Sixteen out of the thirty-nine passengers and crew lost their lives.’ The words seem to come from someone else; matter-of-fact, almost devoid of emotion because, right now, it doesn’t feel real.

  ‘Oh, Fern, I’m so very sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I wasn’t thinking—’

  I reach out and squeeze her arm, comfortingly. ‘It’s fine, really. I rarely think about it these days. I’ve learnt to accept that some things in life are outside of our control, even though they still influence the way we live our lives. I shared my secret with you because I want you to know that I’m here if there’s anything you ever want to share with me.’

  She looks at me with tears in her eyes and I lean in to throw my arms around her shoulders.

  ‘I don’t know how you knew, but when I’m ready… I’d like that.’

  The sound of voices draws our attention to the trees beyond the allotment. The fishing party is returning.

  ‘Are you taking the art class this afternoon?’ Kellie asks.

  ‘Yes. You?’

  ‘I might have the afternoon off and head down to the orchard to read a book. It’s one I picked up in the day room last night and I stayed up till midnight because I couldn’t put it down.’

  ‘What’s it about?’

  ‘A woman whose life is rather messed up and she runs away to start over again. It’s quite sad in parts, but there’s also a lot of humour. I can’t wait to find out how it ends. We’re all looking for that happily ever after, aren’t we?’

  I thought I had mine and I hope when I return home the new reality won’t have changed that.

  ‘I guess we are,’ I reply, softly.

  We stand, exchanging an empathetic smile as we part company. I feel I did the right thing confiding in Kellie; it was strange, though, hearing myself say the words because it’s been a long time since they passed my lips.

  I traipse back to the courtyard in a little world of my own, startled when a hand touches my shoulder. I turn to see it’s John. He’s the joker of the group and a Londoner.

  ‘You whipped your painting away yesterday before I could get a look at it.’ He leaps forward to hold the studio door open for me.

  ‘Thanks, John. Well, it was my first ever attempt and a bit of a disaster. It’s in the bin, but I’m looking forward to today.’

  ‘Ha! Did you see mine? Couldn’t tell what was apples and what was pears.’

  I start laughing. ‘Oh, I thought it was rather unique; Picasso eat your heart out.’

  He tips his head back and laughs with gusto. ‘Ain’t put off, though. Never ’ad so much fun.’

  ‘What do you do for a living, John?’

  We head up the stairs, walking side by side.

  ‘I’m a retired painter and decorator, so I’m used to being plastered in paint. Thought I might get a bit creative, but after yesterday I think maybe not. Nico says we’re drawing today. Might ’ave a better chance with that.’

  It’s hard not to laugh. ‘Well, good luck to you, John.’

  Nico looks across, catching my eye for a moment as I settle down on one of the chairs he has set out in a semicircle. On each is an A4 artist’s sketch pad and a small tin, which I place on the floor by my feet.

  ‘Okay. Today we’re going to explore the art of sketching. If you open the tin, you will find a range of six different graphite pencils and a sharpener. You will notice that the blacker the pencil, the softer the lead. The rule of thumb is that for detailed work use one of the H pencils – you’ll see the scale printed on the side just here.’ Nico holds up a pencil to indicate. ‘If you want to create texture and tone, then you choose a pencil with B on it. The most popular ones for general sketching, and to begin with, are HB and 2B.’

  Nico’s demonstration makes it look easy and, fortunately, instead of asking us to draw something from real life to experiment, we simply start with 3D shapes to see what each pencil does. It’s fun without being a daunting challenge.

  ‘Right. Practice time over. Now I want you to head out and find something to draw. It doesn’t matter what, but if this is your first time I suggest you choose something simple. A single leaf, or flower head for example. For the more adventurous, have a go at maybe one of the sheds down in the garden. It’s easier to focus on one thing, rather than to make it complicated.

  ‘Sketching can be like taking notes. A small drawing that at some point will inspire a much bigger work. Maybe divide your page into four for this afternoon’s task. Above all, make it fun, and I’ll
be around if anyone needs any help or advice.’

  We all stand and walk off towards the staircase when Nico motions for me to hold back.

  ‘I know you enjoyed yesterday’s session and I wondered if before you make a start, you’d like to see what a working artist’s studio looks like up close. It’s messy, I can promise you that.’

  I’m intrigued, but then I can see he knows I will be. ‘I’d love to, thank you.’

  As we walk up to the château, Nico tells me a little about the history of the house. Originally, it was his grandmother’s parents’ home. When they died, his mother was living in Villacarrillo, in Andalucia, and had been for many years, having met his father while on holiday there. It fell into decline because she rarely came back here. It wasn’t until Nico’s father experienced financial problems that they came here to live. Nico was settled into school and his mother, Viviana, began working part-time as the local notaire’s secretary, who, he explained, was a legal specialist. She kept the family going.

  ‘He was almost penniless at the time; a typical impoverished artist living on dreams. After he died, eight years ago, my mother returned to Spain and I remained here. As difficult as he was to live with, it broke her heart and two years later she succumbed to pneumonia. Life was never the same for her; it was easier without the worry of his turbulent moods, but she lost her zest for life.’

  ‘How sad. I’m so sorry to hear that,’ I reply, gently.

  Nico leads me through the long corridor, past his bedroom on the ground floor, and I try not to recall the image of him slumped up against the wall.

  ‘It’s through here.’

  I follow him into a large room that overlooks a walled garden. It’s filled with a mass of different hues, from white through to opulent purple. So unlike the orderly allotment, this feels instead like nature has taken over. Several huge rambling roses spill over the walls and there’s a real sense of the beauty of a garden doing its own thing. But the colour isn’t just outside. While the end wall is mostly glass, the rectangular, elongated room – which has two enormous tinted skylights – is also a riot of colour.