Summer in Provence
Page 31
Taylor and Kellie
Sometimes people heal themselves; sometimes two people can heal each other. And that’s what happened with Taylor and Kellie, but it was a slow process.
When Taylor introduced Kellie to his family, she immediately realised that he had cut himself off as his penance. His penance for being a survivor. All she could do was to get to know them and, after they both returned to France, encourage him to keep up regular contact.
It took four years, during which time Kellie studied hard on her journey to becoming a trained Psychological Well-being Practitioner, before Taylor asked her to marry him. She said yes on one condition and that was that they would start their life together back in the States.
While it was a sad upheaval leaving behind the love and support of their family at The Haven, Kellie felt it was time for Taylor to let go of his guilt. Going home represented a fresh start for him; he faced his worst fears and realised they were all in his head. The lesson he’d had to learn was acceptance.
Taylor set up his own carpentry business, building bespoke kitchen and bathroom units. Two years later, Kellie gave birth to their daughter, Alicia, and later found a part-time job in a private clinic while continuing her training.
Over the years, her relationship with her parents dwindled further and they had little to do with their granddaughter. However, Kellie came to realise that you can’t let other people define who you are, or drag you down. Her personal experiences actually made her a better practitioner and she went on to help many, many people over the years. But her biggest triumph was seeing the confident man Taylor eventually became. Their daughter grew into a strong and determined young woman, whose love of nature and animals led her into a rewarding career as a veterinarian.
Ceana
When her father died several years later, Ceana moved back to Scotland to look after her mother. She continued to keep in touch with both Nico and Pierce for many years and made two trips back to visit her old friends.
While she never found love in the form of a companion and soulmate, Ceana ended up becoming a short-term foster carer. Taking in children requiring emergency placement, she found her true vocation. Eventually, she also offered respite care to parents and families with a disabled child. She was an active fundraiser for a local charity supporting the cause and was well respected by the community at large for the work she did.
At the age of seventy-eight, Ceana was awarded an OBE. She was quoted as saying it was ‘Very nice’, but the only thing that mattered to her was being able to make a difference. The love she received in return from people of all ages was reward enough and she considered herself to have been blessed with a rich and happy life.
Pierce
Pierce recruited a new deputy manager after Ceana returned to Scotland. Sadie Marchant knew she had big shoes to fill. But she didn’t just achieve that, she also stole Pierce’s heart. They became not only a strong management team but also husband and wife.
Their twins were born five years later and they asked Nico and Fern to be godparents. Whenever Karl and Kyla disappeared, everyone knew they would be in Nico’s studio, paintbrushes in hand, daubing away. Throughout their lives, they remained close with Nico and Fern’s daughter, Olivia, and often reminisced about their childhood and the wonderful times they had shared at The Haven.
Dee-Dee and Odile
When a very special relationship began to grow between these two very different ladies, no one was really surprised. They had much in common after all; both were talented in what they did and inspired many visitors to continue on after their first experiences of working with textiles and clay at The Haven.
But Dee-Dee was always the over-the-top personality and Odile the quieter one. As time passed, they formed a bond that would one day see them living as a couple and becoming firm favourites with visitors of all ages.
They eventually retired to a little cottage on the outskirts of the Bois-Saint-Vernon, where they lived quite happily until their deaths, some six months apart.
Patricia
When the love of your life dies, nothing is ever quite the same again, but Patricia knew that Fred was with her always. Her fate was to live until the age of ninety-one.
Stefan remained by her side, although they were only ever friends. They travelled far and wide together in that smart, shiny black motorhome.
For more than ten years, every August they returned to The Haven for a week’s stay and their word-of-mouth endorsement helped a lot of people discover it for the first time.
Patricia died peacefully in her sleep, just one month after Stefan died of cancer. In the final moments before her eyes closed for the last time, a smile flickered around her mouth. The two men whose lives she’d felt privileged to be a part of were waiting for her. The next chapter was about to begin.
Bastien
No one knew Bastien’s story until after he died, unexpectedly, from a heart attack, twelve years later. Always the gentleman, kind-hearted, he was the proverbial gentle giant. Arms like steel, he was never happier than when the forge was fired up and the almost unbearable heat reddened his skin.
Among his personal effects were some letters and Pierce made contact with someone he assumed was a relative. A woman named Ana.
Ana turned out to be Bastien’s estranged wife of many years. Their only son had drowned in a pond in the back garden of their home when he was three years old. Unable to cope with his loss, Bastien disappeared one day and it was years before he contacted Ana again.
She wanted to see where he’d been living and made the trip from Vittel, in the north-east of France, accompanied by her sister. When she stood in Bastien’s room, her eyes swept around and immediately alighted on the black, wooden crucifix hung on the wall. Her religion had saved her sanity, but as a devout Catholic she had feared for Bastien’s soul when his faith lapsed. She stood and cried, as she lifted it down and hugged it to her body. The relief was immense and she thanked God for looking after the man she had never stopped loving.
Margot
When Sadie took over from Ceana, the first initiative she implemented was the visitor’s wish list. A little form they completed after dinner on day one. It encouraged guests to focus on what they wanted to achieve during their time at The Haven. She tied this in with Pierce’s end-of-course wrap-up, on the final day. The word cloud, as it came to be known rather affectionately, was a huge success, but Sadie’s idea was clever, too. As everyone ticked off the items on their wish lists, they were encouraged to give feedback and make suggestions.
It turns out that Margot’s occasional cookery demonstrations were becoming increasingly popular. When she was asked if she was willing to become a tutor, running three sessions a week in the evenings, she was delighted.
Pierce and Sadie realised she’d need help, so Margot drafted in her daughter, Yvette, and a long-standing friend. And what a team they made. Margot prepared the menus and oversaw dinner in the evening. Her demonstrations turned into more of a hands-on class, with people invited to work alongside her. It became a firm favourite with the visitors and eventually a new, bespoke facility was built. Le Havre de Cuisine was born and throughout the year, places were offered for Margot Bressan’s five-day culinary courses.
Margot was delighted with her enhanced role and, before long, the new kitchen was also producing a range of The Haven’s own jams and sauces. A little industrie artisanale had been born.
Hannah and Owen
Hannah went on to have four children within a period of six years.
Eventually, once the children were all at school, she trained as a teaching assistant and her home and working life revolved entirely around kids. She’d found her calling.
Owen’s army career ended up spanning twenty years and he rose to become a Warrant Officer Class 2, responsible for the training, welfare and discipline of a company of more than a hundred men.
When he left the army, he took a year off to go backpacking around the world and Fern feared he wa
s going through a mid-life crisis. However, he ended up meeting his future partner, the woman he married in Las Vegas only six months later. Returning home for good, he and his wife set up an outdoor activity centre in the Forest of Dean. From paintballing to archery, the business grew and Fern was relieved that at last her brother was finally settled and had found his soulmate.
Every year at Christmas when The Haven was closed, Fern’s family hired a minibus and Owen drove them to Provence. It was bedlam, but it reminded them all that there’s nothing so comforting as having family around you. It was the highlight of the year for each and every one of them.
Not everyone is lucky enough to have a family. That’s the way life is and sometimes the family you have isn’t the family you need. But everywhere around the world, groups of people, as with those at The Haven, are drawn together by an invisible, cosmic design. All with a common cause, need, or altruistic goal. And that’s a very powerful thing.
When we stand alone, we are an island;
when we join together, we become a force.
Acknowledgments
It’s time to give a shout out to my amazing editor, Sarah Ritherdon, who is a real pleasure to work with and a tremendous support. You are an inspiration, lady!
And to the wider Boldwood team – a wonderful group of inspiring women I can’t thank enough for their amazing support and encouragement.
A hug to my wonderful agent, Sara Keane, for being there for me every step of the way on this exciting journey.
There are so many friends who are there for me through thick and thin. They suffer periods of silence when I’m head down, writing. I hide myself away to spend my days with characters who become very real to me and I’m sad when a story draws to a close. But when I pop my head back up it’s like I’ve never been away and no one refers to the fact that I’m such an erratic friend!
As usual, no book is ever launched without there being an even longer list of people to thank for publicising it. The amazing kindness of readers and reviewers is truly humbling. You continue to delight, amaze and astound me with your generosity and support. Without your kindness in spreading the word about my latest release, your wonderful reviews to entice people to click and download, or pluck my book from a shelf, I wouldn’t be able to indulge myself in my guilty pleasure… writing.
Feeling blessed and sending much love to you all for your treasured support and friendship,
Linn x
More from Lucy Coleman
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1
When Fairy Tales Come True
‘Once upon a time there was a little girl who had a very big dream.’
‘How big?’ Little Maisie stares up at me questioningly. Surrounded by a mantle of shadows in the darkened room, only the tiny shaft of light seeping in from the landing allows me to see her baby-blue eyes. She’s determined not to give in to sleep, but it’s obvious she’s fighting a losing battle.
Maisie blinks in rapid succession and already her breathing is beginning to slow.
‘Hu-u-u-uge.’ The sound of my soft whisper fills the air. ‘And she promised herself she would never, ever, let anyone deter her from trying her hardest to make everything she wished for come true.’
I glance down at my darling niece and catch a fleeting glimpse of a smile before sleep finally whisks her away. Hesitant to make a move for fear of disturbing her, I decide to sit for a while, fascinated by that perfect little heart-shaped face. It tugs on my heart strings as I realise how much I’m going to miss her this spring.
As I’m about to ease myself up very gingerly off the bed, to my complete surprise her little voice suddenly rises up out of the darkness.
‘When you come back you will tell me all about your adventure, won’t you, Auntie Lexie?’
I reach across to smooth a few strands of hair away from her warm little cheek.
‘Of course, I will. And it will be a story of palaces and kings and magical gardens that stretch out as far as the eye can see. Now go to sleep, beautiful girl, and keep a tight hold of Mr Panda, because he will keep you safe until I get home.’ She snuggles her rather threadbare companion even closer.
Stooping to plant a kiss on her forehead, I notice she’s fallen back to sleep. It’s hard not to feel sad, because when I return, she’ll probably have grown another inch and I will have missed so much. Even a few months can see so many changes in a five-year-old and she’s growing up way too quickly. Maisie is an old head on young shoulders, and takes after me, rather than my sister, Shellie. Much to Shellie’s annoyance.
I creep out to find my older sister in the kitchen, sitting at the breakfast bar leisurely reading her Kindle.
‘That was quick, but Maisie was exhausted. Swimming always has that effect on her. She’s going to miss you, you know.’
Shellie holds up her empty coffee mug and shakes it at me. I nod, sinking down onto the stool next to her as she jumps up and heads in the direction of the coffee machine.
‘I know she’s only a phone call away, but it won’t be the same. She’s my little buddy. You made a special one there, sis.’
Shellie laughs. ‘Well, I might not have attained the lofty heights of ambition and fame that my baby sister and my older brother have, but this is the life I wanted, so I’m happy.’
I studiously ignore the reference to our estranged brother, Jake. Success often comes at a price and, in his case, it went to his head. I guess family doesn’t mean much if your ego tells you that you’ve outgrown the people who love you.
Reining in that little surge of anger his name always invokes, I watch Shellie as she moves around the kitchen. With baby number two due in seven months’ time she’s in her element. I know she’s impatient, ticking off each precious day on her calendar at the thought of giving Maisie a sibling. Shellie is a mini version of Mum, whereas Jake and I take after our late father, Paul.
Chrissy, our mum, has always been the rock of the family because Dad was often away travelling, or home working late in his study. They were a team, though, and she was a bigger part of his success than most people realise. And because they were both happy in their respective roles, I can’t remember them ever having a cross word.
Dad was someone who grabbed every opportunity and was determined to live his dream. Was he a little self-centred? Well, yes, I suppose he was, because as soon as he was away, it was as if we didn’t really exist for him. But on his return, Dad would thrill us with stories that captured our imaginations and fired our enthusiasm.
Dad was lauded as one of the top wildlife photographers of his generation, and he lived for the thrill of capturing that perfect shot. With a long list of magazine articles and natural history programmes to his credit, he was always in demand. The fact that he died while doing something he loved seemed fitting in a tragic sort of way.
I remember the day of the fateful call and the phone falling from Mum’s ear as she struggled to take in the devastating news. Dad had a massive heart attack while filming on location in Tarangire National Park, in Tanzania. If only it had happened in the UK, maybe we could have…
‘You haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying, have you, Lexie?’
Shellie appears in front of me, proffering a mug of steaming coffee and one of her delicious, homemade chocolate and beetroot brownies.
‘Sorry. My head is all over the place right now. So many last-minute things to do before I fly out tomorrow.’
She eases herself up onto the stool alongside me, frowning.
‘No regrets? I mean, you’re always heading off somewhere or other, but this is th
e longest stint in one go. I know there’s a lot at stake for you personally on this one.’
I burst out laughing. ‘A lot? You could say that. I’m sinking every penny I’ve saved into this, and it’s my one-time shot.’
Absent-mindedly, she scoops the long blonde hair back from her face, yanking a scrunchy from around her wrist to pull it into a ponytail. I’ve always envied her hair, another gift bestowed by Mum, and my short, feathery look is about all I can do to tame my wavy mane. Taking after Dad doesn’t come without its drawbacks.
‘You aren’t regretting this project?’
I shake my head. ‘No. I don’t want to be just a TV presenter any more.’
She smiles. ‘Your chance, at last, to be a producer, too. You just like being in charge.’
The smile becomes more of a smirk – she knows me so well and yet her comment puts me on the defensive.
‘Well, you know that I love gardening programmes. You can blame that on Grandma. All the time I spent with her in the garden as a child. And teaming up with cameraman Elliot Nielson is a dream come true. Elliot has great connections and has filmed at Versailles before. Fingers crossed, between us we can do the business.’