by Leah Hope
“Now now Heather, nothing’s going to happen to you or Tony” said Bridget, sensing tears weren’t too far away. “You’ve had your bad times, you and your mum of course, but you mark my words, you’ve all overdue for some happiness.”
“I hope you’re right Bridget, everything seems so perfect at the moment, I half expect it to all go wrong again.” Just as Heather appeared to be on the verge of tears once more, she pulled herself together. “But I’m stronger now, thanks to Tony and my wonderful friends and family. Besides, I’ve got Tommy to think about, I have to be strong for him.”
“Of course you do, and I can see a change in you too Heather, I know those dark days are behind you. I think that deep down, you know that too.”
“You’re right Bridget, you usually are” Heather replied, glancing anxiously around. “Is it here? I’m absolutely dying to take a peek.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about Mrs Lloyd-Jones” Bridget said with a cheeky grin. “Oh come on then, but just a quick look.”
Heather followed Bridget into the open-plan kitchen area and watched with anticipation as she lifted a large box out of the bottom of the fridge. She gasped as the lid was opened and the contents revealed. “Oh it’s gorgeous Bridget, absolutely beautiful, I don’t know what to say.”
“Well as long as you’re pleased with it, you don’t need to say another word. I’ve been so worried about getting it here in one piece, but thankfully it seems to have survived the journey” Bridget replied, carefully returning the box to the safety of the fridge. “I’m so sorry Heather but with all the excitement of seeing you, I completely forgot to ask if you wanted a coffee, or a cup of tea. If my head wasn’t screwed on…..”
“No thanks, I’m fine Bridget. As I said I’ve got loads to do so I need to get a move on before everywhere shuts for lunch. Before I go though, I really need to have a word with Gil, but he seems to have disappeared” Heather replied, looking around.
“He’s probably in the garden looking to see what needs doing” Bridget replied as she opened the French doors. Sure enough, there was Gil, staring up at the tops of the three cherry trees which had given the house its name. “Gil” Bridget shouted. “Heather wants a word before she goes. Hurry up, she’s in a bit of a rush.”
“Ok, ok, I’m coming. I was just looking at those trees, I think they could do with pruning but I need to check in the gardening book first to see when it’s best to do it. I don’t want to kill them off.”
“Never mind about that now, Heather needs to get off” Bridget replied sharply.
“Sorry Gil, it’s my fault I’m running a bit late. Once I get talking….Anyway, I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you, well for all of us actually. Mum isn’t coming.”
“What do you mean, not coming? I thought she would be on her way from Charles de Gaul by now” Gil replied, glancing at his watch.
“Well she should have been but her flight got cancelled at the last minute, the airport’s fogbound. As you know that part of the south island of New Zealand is pretty remote so there’s no other airport for miles. I don’t know who’s more upset, Mum or me. When she rang me yesterday morning I offered to cancel the ceremony but she wouldn’t hear of it. She knows that as well as you two, all my family are flying in from Wales as well as Tony’s from London. I wish there was something I could say Gil, sorry doesn’t quite seem to cut it.”
“Now now Heather, it’s not your fault, nor your Mum’s, it’s just one of those things” Bridget said as she put a comforting arm around her friend’s shoulder. “It must be far worse for you. I know how much you were looking forward to having your mum with you at such a special time” Bridget added, glancing anxiously at Heather and then at her brother.
“Yes of course I was, especially after all she’s been through. But”, Heather said, swallowing hard, “I’ve got the rest of my family and my gorgeous little boy and I’m determined we’re all going to have a wonderful day tomorrow.”
“That’s the spirit” said Gil, but who looked as if he’d had the stuffing knocked out of him.
“Before you go Heather, what time do you want us tomorrow?” Bridget asked as she walked her guest to the door.
“The ceremony starts at three so if you get there just after two, there’ll be a glass of champagne for everyone on arrival.”
“It sounds wonderful, we’re really looking forward to it. Aren’t we Gil?”
But Gil hadn’t heard a word. He was already lost in his own little world.
*
Gil and Bridget first met Maggie Thomas just over a year ago while she was enjoying a two week holiday with Heather and Tony. She’d had to cut her stay short when her builders rang to tell her they would be starting work on her new kitchen sooner than planned. Finding it impossible to get a flight home at short notice during half-term week, Bridget invited Maggie to travel back to the UK with her and Gil. Maggie was so grateful, but if she had known how things would turn out, she might have not have been quite so eager to accept.
After the long drive from St Rémy, it had been agreed that Maggie would spend the night with Gil and Bridget in Whytecliffe, mainly out of deference to Gil’s increasingly creaky knees, before continuing their journey to Maggie’s home in Bath the following day. The next morning, whilst Gil and Maggie had been sat in the car on the drive waiting for Bridget, a gunman had appeared from nowhere and shot Maggie at pointblank range. Thankfully she made a swift recovery and thinking the worst was behind her, she began to see more and more of Gil. But one again fate stepped in and unbelievably, Maggie was the victim of a second harrowing crime.
As she struggled to come to terms with what had happened to her, Maggie made the momentous decision to embark on what she called her “gap year for golden oldies”. Never having travelled much in her youth, all of a sudden she felt drawn to visiting far-flung corners of the globe while she still had her health. Life really was too short, she had said to Gil and Heather. Given that she had twice cheated death neither could argue with that. Whilst they desperately wished she would change her mind, neither Gil nor Heather would have dreamt of trying to stop her. They both knew that would be futile.
Gil was distraught. Just as he thought he had reached an “understanding” with Maggie (it was much too soon to embark on a relationship she had told him) she flew off half way round the world to South America. They would keep in touch Maggie had promised, by email and Skype whenever possible; she even talked about writing a blog. She had been true to her word, she and Gil had been in regular touch ever since, or as regular as communications from the foothills of the Andes would allow.
Six months ago, Maggie embarked on the second leg of her trip. Working on a sheep farm on the South Island of New Zealand, she said she has been happier than she has been in a long time. Just what Gil didn’t want to hear. Not that she was happy of course, but that she could be happy without him. Although he had tried to put a brave face on things, Gil had been thoroughly miserable without Maggie. He felt they may have a future together. Why couldn’t she feel the same?
He wouldn’t even have tried to stop her travelling. All he wanted was some sort of assurance that they would pick up where they left off when she got back. If it didn’t work out, fine, but all Gil wanted was a chance. But Maggie couldn’t or wouldn’t make any promises. But Gil still clung on to what little hope he had. He pounced on every email Maggie sent and counted the hours until their next Skype call. But he always had the sense that it was different for her. Whatever they had shared in that awful time last year, it seemed to be slipping away. It was only a matter of time before Maggie fell for a handsome gaucho or a brawny sheep-farmer he told himself. He tried to let go, to make it easier on himself when the end came, but he couldn’t. He loved her. The first woman he had truly love since Pamela. All he had was hope. For now, that would have to be enough.
*
Gil had been in no mood for shopping after Heather’s bombshell. Bridget didn’t need telling and left he
r brother to “come round” in his own time. She busied herself by re-checking her shopping list and making a few meal plans for later in the week. Feeling peckish, she made herself a simple lunch with the remnants of the provisions they’d bought on their way down from Calais. She had little appetite but a light salad might hit the spot, besides, it was a long time until dinner.
Gil surfaced half an hour later. Heaven knows where he’d been, Bridget didn’t ask but took it as a positive sign when he said he could manage “a little something”. Just as well, as there wasn’t “a big something” she thought to herself. Fortified by a sandwich and a strong coffee, Gil declared himself ready to hit the shops.
Although St Rémy wasn’t a large village by any stretch of the imagination, it was nevertheless served by a good selection of independent shops. Bridget hated shopping in “soulless” supermarkets and was in her element as she went from shop to shop until she had ticked everything off her list.
“Fancy a coffee at the Mirabeau?” she asked Gil as they made their way across the square.
“Why not, we’ll book a table for tonight too while we’re there.”
“Well look who’s here!” said a beaming Pete McNally as Gil and Bridget entered the hotel’s bar. “I’d heard you were coming over for the christening. Good to see you both again. Now what can I get you?”
“Just two coffees please Pete, oh and a table for tonight if you’ve got one free” said Gil.
“The coffees I can do, the table might be a problem, but just hang on a sec.”
“So how’s life been treating my two favourite Poms?” said Pete as he made the coffees.
“Not too bad thanks Pete” Gil replied. He and Bridget hadn’t seen Pete since the dreadful incidents with Maggie as he’d been in Australia the last time they were in St Rémy. Gil had no desire to raise the subject, but knowing full-well that Pete would have heard about it from Heather and Tony, he hoped he wouldn’t either. “What about you?”
“Tell you what, you two sit yourselves down and after I’ve had a look at the bookings for tonight, I’ll tell you all my news.”
“Sounds intriguing Pete” said Bridget. “I can hardly wait.”
Pete served the coffees and disappeared momentarily before returning with an attractive red-headed woman.
“Ok guys, this is Jacqueline, who despite her French name, is a fellow Aussie, and my new restaurant manager” Pete said proudly as he joined Gil and Bridget at their table.
“Hi you two, I understand you’d like a table for tonight?” said Jacqueline.
“Yes please” said Bridget. “But Pete thought you might be full.”
“Well strictly speaking we are, we’ve got a block booking for a party of forty. But if you don’t mind sharing the space with them, I’m sure we can fit you in.”
“I’m fine with that. Gil?”
“Yes of course, around eight ok?”
“Perfect, we look forward to seeing you both then” said Jacqueline as she headed back towards the restaurant.
Noticing the gleam in Pete’s eye, Bridget leant forward. “Did I detect a certain frisson between you and the lovely Jacqueline?”
“Blimey Bridget, you haven’t lost your touch. Just as well I haven’t got any secrets! Yes, me and Jacqui are “an item” as they say. It’s early days, so we’re just enjoying the moment. Who knows where it might lead.”
“Well I’m very pleased for you Pete, you deserve some happiness after what you went through.”
“What we all went through, don’t forget. No-one who was in St Rémy that summer escaped unscathed. Even if people weren’t directly involved, they were all scared shi.., er, sorry Bridge, scared to death. I got off quite light in comparison. But this does bring me nicely on to my news that I mentioned. You remember my business partner, Philippe? Well after everything that happened, he just wanted out. I can’t say I blame him. But what really hurt was that he accused me of not protecting his daughter, can you believe.”
“You mean Aurélie?” Bridget asked, her eyes widening in amazement. “What made her your responsibility? As far as I can recall, wasn’t Philippe cruising somewhere in the Caribbean with his latest wife?”
“Your memory is spot on Bridget. Anyway, we both said some things we shouldn’t have and realistically there was no going back from there. There was no way we could work together after that. So, I had a word with the bank, made Philippe an offer he couldn’t refuse and bought him out. So” Pete continued, spreading his arms out wide, “you are now looking at the sole owner of the Hotel Mirabeau!”
“That’s wonderful Pete, but I’m so sorry to hear that Philippe blamed you. That was very unfair.”
“That’s life isn’t it, who said it was going to be fair. Anyway, I’ve put it all behind me and moved on.”
“I’m glad to hear it Pete” said Gil. “I feel we ought to drink a toast to your new business empire, and to your new lady-love of course, but we need something a bit stronger than coffee.”
“Well thank you kindly, I’ll have a large whiskey if I may. I rarely drink when I’m working but as I’m the boss I think I’ll make an exception!”
“Make that two Pete. A G&T for you Bridge?”
“Yes please, but not too strong. I don’t want a headache before this evening.”
“Coming right up.”
Chapter Three
The Big Day was here at last. Bridget threw open her bedroom window and shutters and breathed in the heady perfume of cut grass, roses and chrysanthemums wafting up from the garden below. The sun was shining and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky, perfect weather. Maybe a little too perfect she thought as she cast her eye over her outfit hanging on the outside of the wardrobe door. She had, so she thought, chosen an outfit suitable for autumn, well autumn in the UK anyway. Bridget was so annoyed with herself at forgetting she would be wearing it almost 1,000 miles further south. How could I have been so stupid, she said to herself with a sigh.
Bridget had made a special trip to her new favourite shop to buy her outfit; Ginnie’s in Brighton. She had been thrilled with an outfit Ginnie had selected for her to wear at the wedding of Max, Doug’s son, to Genni. Not known for her sartorial elegance, Bridget had flown into a panic when she received the invitation and poured out her concerns to Diane, her hairdresser. Diane had come up trumps in recommending Ginnie and Bridget hadn’t been disappointed. Her dress of lavender linen with a pattern of huge creamy yellow roses was nothing like Bridget had ever worn before. But the icing on the cake were the gasps of admiration and, if she was honest, of astonishment, from Helen Faulkner and her new daughter-in-law when they saw how good she looked.
When she received the invitation for the christening, Bridget didn’t hesitate in making a beeline for Ginnie’s once more. She was flattered that Ginnie recognised her, considering all the glamour pusses she must have amongst her clientele. As on her first visit, Ginnie immediately selected an outfit which she knew would be perfect for Bridget. As she emerged from the fitting room, Bridget wasn’t entirely sure if the forest green dress topped with a little boxy jacket in burgundy was a colour combination too far. But she had learned to trust Ginnie’s judgement and soon the dress, jacket and matching green court shoes were stacked on the counter waiting for Ginnie to ring up her purchases. Bridget almost shut her eyes when she handed over the receipt, but just about managed to convince herself it was worth it for the perfect outfit.
Now that Bridget had taken a closer look at the weighty linen dress and lined jacket, she wasn’t sure the outfit was so perfect after all. It would be far too warm. France was experiencing an Indian summer and temperatures touching the low thirties were forecast. Bridget flew into a panic once more. Blindly, she flung open her wardrobe doors desperately looking for something cooler to wear but which would also suit the occasion. There was nothing, well not exactly nothing, there were plenty of casual trousers, skirts and tops but nothing that would do for today. Maybe I could just wear the dress without the jacket, Brid
get thought to herself in a flash of inspiration. But the dress was sleeveless and Bridget would rather stick red hot needles in her eyes than display her upper-arms in public. I’m just going to have to wear it and swelter, Bridget told herself, and pray for a cold front.
As she couldn’t bear to think about her dilemma any longer, Bridget had a quick shower before heading to the kitchen. She stopped briefly outside Gil’s bedroom and, on hearing snores, decided against disturbing him. She had warned him last night that two large brandies on top of the bottle of red they’d shared with dinner probably wasn’t a good idea. As she expected, her brother hadn’t listened, but as she wouldn’t be the one with the headache, why worry?
Sitting on the little terrace enjoying a second cup of coffee, Bridget had to pinch herself that this gorgeous place was really hers. Even though it was now several years since they’d bought Les Cerisiers, and had visited many times, she never quite got over the thrill of eating breakfast outside. After all, this was the stuff of dreams for most visitors from northern climes.
As she gazed idly over the fields beyond the garden, which had given over to maize this year, her thoughts turned to the afternoon ahead. If she were honest, Bridget wasn’t entirely sure if the event they would be attending was a christening or a naming ceremony; Heather had used both terms. Whilst she and Tony had never been particularly religious, they had both been baptised into the Anglican faith and very much wanted the same for their son. The problem was that the nearest Anglican church was more than half a day’s drive away, which ruled it out for their needs. After mentioning the problem to Helen Faulkner, Heather had been delighted when her friend rang her several days later with the news that she had found a solution. An old school friend of Doug’s was related to a semi-retired Anglican clergyman who lived less than half an hour from St Rémy. After a brief phone call, Doug had persuaded the Reverend John Waterson to baptise baby Thomas at their home. Heather and Tony were thrilled.