As I watched those dark, rising clouds bolstered by winds drift high over our house, it finally hit why no one could get the fires under control. This threat was different.
The tipping point? An unexpected heat wave sweeping across Europe. People were dying of heatstroke and fleeing the scorching cities. Now add the hoards of people already on the Riviera coast in late summer. With the mix of the gusty Mistral, unusually overwhelming heat, large crowds, and spreading fires, they all shared one deadly common denominator: a greater potential for chaos and panic.
And perfect for one or more arsonists to spread it.
Everyone escaped to the sea, regardless of their income. Every overheard conversation included complaints about the unbearable, searing heatwave. Roads were congested night and day. A several minute drive to St. Maxime to eat was one to two hours. So we dined locally for a few weeks.
I’d never felt such intense heat. I’m used to Florida’s heat, but usually tropical breezes accompanied it. My fair skin burned easily anyway, and this bone-dry intense heat sucked the energy right out of me.
The bad news? The A8, a super highway, was on the other side of those burning mountains behind us. We could end up being trapped between the flames and sea…
With no escape route to drive out of there, then what?
Chapter 6
The Potential For The Unthinkable
After seeing the smoke and the potential for something unthinkable—an evacuation—we started to take seriously the possibility of being forced to flee somewhere, anywhere. I looked around our cozy old villa and was immediately torn between refusing to leave and wait it out or escape as soon as possible. But we had to face the fact we might not have that luxury if the fires arrived at our doorstep. Then we would have no choice.
I never considered something like this would ever occur on the Riviera. The worst thing I thought could happen was a bad case of sunburn at the beach. But there I was, ticking off a list for a worse case scenario. I glanced outside. All the old trees up against the house we had taken down because they were blocking our view of the sea. That could help the odds to our favor and was one less thing to worry about catching fire.
My husband began methodically hosing down all the gardens that stair-stepped the property. I asked my son to start packing valuable possessions, clothes, and toiletries. I went outside to sweep any debris that had the potential to burn and cause damage to our house and property. But every time I swept up a pile, the Mistral would swoop in to scatter it everywhere but where I wanted it.
I felt like closing my eyes like a small child does. If I didn’t look, it wasn’t there. But I couldn’t. My son and husband were depending on me to have my usual level head and steady reasoning they always relied on. But one disturbing thought kept lingering and wouldn’t let go.
Was there another shoe to drop?
I kept checking the coastal road in both directions all afternoon. Although the traffic was heavy, it appeared normal enough. I guess no one had considered the threat yet and were more concerned with their beach activities than panicking about commonly-seen summer brushfires.
But as the afternoon wore on, traffic on the coast road dramatically increased, while the skidoos and yachts slowly began disappearing. Traffic on our street also picked up as cars began coming and going with more urgency.
Martine and Jean called to say they would stay put. Jean had built their house back in the 1950’s and refused to leave. Right after that, the married couple who lived on their property and were their live-in groundskeepers, began securing some shutters on their windows and hosing down their house and gardens.
We never considered hosing down our house because it was all stone. What good would it do? Stone was absorbent and would dry immediately in this heat. By this time, I was starting to pack our overnight bags with two changes of clothes, more toiletries, passports… I was sick with worry.
The planes scooping up water had stopped flying. Why?
Chapter 7
Pushing Our Luck
I thought about that phrase, don’t push your luck. What luck? The fires appeared widespread and out of control. It was time for us to make some hard choices.
Do we stay put like Martine and Jean? Do we flee? If so, what do we take? We had a sedan. It could only hold so much, including three people and a small dog.
I looked around at the pictures, furniture, and all the rest of our possessions that were purchased with the greatest of care, to be left behind like useless trash. Because that’s what it would look like once the fires licked it all clean.
Since no evacuation order was given, the three of us were tempted to stay and save our villa. A miracle might happen, like the wind shifting course and the water planes returning once again. But the situation had changed. Mother Nature was in charge. So we dragged the rest of the lower terrace furniture and the grill into the garage, then would hose down our gardens for the last time. Minutes were ticking away and sunset would soon be closing in.
After the gardens were soaked, the three of us walked down to our driveway gate and mailbox still not sure what to do. We stood on the street and watched cars whiz by us heading downhill toward the sea. A few attempted to go up our street only to disappear around the bend and onto another small parallel street. They looked like mice running in a maze, weaving in and out, pursuing an exit. What exit?
How could the roads handle all these cars at once?
They were narrow, even the coast road. Suddenly a large van came screeching to a halt in front of where we were standing. The van had Hebrew writing on it. A confused, bearded man was driving. All the passenger seats in the back were packed with children.
A summer camp group?
He was speaking in such rapid, fear-filled French, we couldn’t catch every word. Finally he pointed downhill.
“La mer?”
He wanted to know if the sea was straight ahead.
We nodded and said, “Oui!”
And like a shot, he took off speeding down our narrow street, waving his hand out the driver’s window, then gave us a thumbs up. We stood there for a second or two. It appeared that fear had taken a foothold. In spite of that, we knew without another word spoken we would stay to save our house. So we closed the driveway gates for our own safety against the panic setting in and headed back inside.
All we saw below on the coast road were motionless red taillights heading in both directions. To leave now and sit in that nightmare didn’t make any sense. As I stared from the terrace, I thought about all the fear filtering in. Our mountain ranges further up that were on fire, stood between everyone on that coast and the A8, the super highway out.
Where did all those people think they were going?
Other Books by Peggy A. Edelheit
The Samantha Jamison Mystery Series
The Puzzle Book 1
Without Any Warning Book 2
86 Avenue du Goulet Book 3
A Lethal Time Book 4
Mouth Of The Rat Book 5
Death Knell In The Alps Book 6
No Hope In New Hope Book 7
The Lush Life Book 8
Too Close For Comfort Book 9
Memoir: The Riviera is Burning
Visit my website: http://samanthajamison.com
About The Author
Peggy A. Edelheit has three sons and lives with her husband and miniature Schnauzer, Samantha in south Florida.
Visit the author’s website: http://www.samanthajamison.com
or
Twitter: @samanthajamison
I am so grateful to all my readers for all your wonderful
feedback and support. Thank you, Peggy
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Saving Sindia (Samantha Jamison Mystery Book 10) Page 15