The Summer Getaway_A feel-good romance novel perfect for holiday reading

by Tilly Tennant

  He pushed the notion to one side and made his smile bigger. It was ridiculous, and wasn’t the most important thing for Ella to have a good time? If he could send her home with wonderful memories of this holiday then surely it was worth sacrificing a little of their together time to whatever new friendships she might make. And it was only natural that she’d seek out the company of her own age group.

  ‘Maybe we’ll go on a reconnaissance mission tomorrow,’ he said, looping an arm around her and guiding her back to the house.

  ‘A what?’

  ‘We’ll go and check the house out, but we won’t make it too obvious. Looking at it, I reckon it’s going to be a little old French couple – it’s very rustic and not all gleaming and touristy like ours is.’

  ‘I suppose,’ Ella said, throwing a glance over her shoulder to look at the distant villa again.

  ‘Maybe there’ll be a hot French boy for you to ogle.’

  Ella giggled. ‘Maybe.’

  ‘As long as ogling is all that happens,’ Haydon added. ‘If French boys are anything like English boys I’d better keep a close eye on you.’

  ‘They wouldn’t fancy me.’

  ‘Of course they would – you’re beautiful!’

  ‘No I’m not.’

  ‘Well, I think so, and I’m obviously right because I’m your dad, and dads know all.’

  Chapter 7

  Breakfast had been every bit as lavish and glorious as Ashley had imagined it would be. By now she had realised that, despite her very advanced years, Madame Dupont was still a gregarious and welcoming host with plenty of family members willing to pitch in and help cater for the houseful she now had under her roof. The meal featured fresh bread and croissants with lashings of creamy butter and tart preserves; fruit and cheese and cured meats; hot, bitter coffee by the bucketload and juice squeezed straight from locally picked fruit. Ashley couldn’t imagine a hotel where she’d have had better food or facilities and certainly not better company. By now the table in the kitchen had fourteen family members seated around it and more were expected to arrive during the next couple of days. The family house was big, but still Ashley had to wonder where all the extra people were going to sleep, until Maurice explained that friends in the area were going to put up the latecomers so they would probably only see them at odd mealtimes and on the day of the big party.

  ‘So…’ Ashley flopped onto the swing seat in the garden, full to bursting with breakfast as Molly settled beside her and began to push them into a gentle rock to and fro that was easily relaxing enough to make Ashley want to snooze. But she fought the silky, tempting veil of sleep stealing over her and forced herself to pay attention to Molly. There weren’t going to be many opportunities to holiday like this, certainly not in the foreseeable future, so they were going to make the most of every second the day offered. She could sleep at home and if there was a way she could have staved off sleep for this whole week in France she probably would have done. ‘What shall we do today? Explore? Beach or town? Or…’ she said, waggling her eyebrows, ‘do you have plans with a certain handsome boy named Bastien?’

  ‘Shush, he’ll hear you!’ Molly hissed.

  Ashley let out a lazy giggle. ‘Don’t be so paranoid. So you do like him?’

  ‘I guess…’ Molly said, glancing towards the open windows of the house. ‘But, you know…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He’s French.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well there’s no point because I’ll never see him again after this week, will I?’

  Ashley had to admit that Molly had a point there, and she was pleased to see that, despite the teasing, her daughter was being very mature. Certainly more mature than she herself had been when faced with the same temptation on her first trip abroad. But she tried not to think about that now. She had been a little older if no wiser, alcohol had been involved and Molly was a very different girl than she had been. Molly had grown up with the sorts of responsibilities that Ashley had never been exposed to at her age, and it had made her more measured, more level-headed. She’d learned the limits of their daily lives at an early age and Ashley had been careful to drill her in the importance of working hard to achieve her goals so that she might have a fighting chance of the life she’d missed out on. Sometimes she wondered, however, if she’d drilled those ethics in just a little too deep – often she felt that Molly worked too hard and wasn’t a normal, carefree teenager as frequently as she ought to be.

  ‘So if you don’t have plans, how about we make some?’ Ashley asked.

  ‘I thought we might go to the old town. Maurice says Victor Hugo used to live there and I can see his house.’

  ‘Victor Hugo?’ Ashley shook her head.

  ‘He wrote Les Misérables,’ Molly said.

  ‘And you’ve read that?’

  ‘No, not exactly…’ Molly gave a sheepish smile. ‘But I have seen the musical on DVD about a million times.’

  ‘Oh…’ Ashley grinned. ‘That’s the film full of wailing with the really hot guy in it?’

  ‘It’s not wailing, it’s singing!’ Molly said, more than a touch of indignation in her tone, and Ashley had to laugh again.

  ‘I’m just winding you up. Though give me a Take That album any day.’

  ‘Honestly, Mum. Have I managed to teach you nothing about real music?’

  ‘It is real music. Just not your sort of music.’

  ‘Hmm…’ Molly bit back a grin. Spirits were high, and Ashley was pretty sure nothing was going to dampen them if even her musical disagreements with Molly (and music was life or death as far as Molly was concerned) failed to irritate.

  ‘So you want to go to the old town. We could do that. Your grandma says there’s a market on daily and it might be nice to have a mooch around. I think there are some museums and stuff thereabouts—’

  ‘An archaeology museum,’ Molly cut in. ‘Apparently Saint-Raphaël has been a holiday town as far back as the Romans.’

  ‘Wow, you’ve been doing your research.’

  ‘Bastien told me yesterday.’

  ‘Ah…’ Ashley nodded sagely and thought it best to leave ribbing about Bastien for now.

  ‘He says there’s a photography exhibition in the Jardin Bonaparte too and if you go to the top of the tower at the church you can see all of Saint-Raphaël.’

  ‘Did he? He’s very useful to know.’

  ‘I suppose everyone else could have told us the same if we’d asked.’

  ‘Lucky you thought to ask then. So you’re happy with that plan?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ‘Maybe we can even grab lunch somewhere too.’

  ‘Not here?’ Molly asked.

  Ashley gave a half-smile. Despite all protestations, there was probably a very good reason Molly wanted to get back for lunch, and his name began with B.

  ‘We could come back to eat if you really want to.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s that far to walk and the exercise will do us good. Maybe later we can go down to the beach. Bastien says there’s windsurfing down there.’

  ‘Well, Bastien can take you windsurfing, because there’s no way I’ll be doing that.’

  ‘You might like it if you give it a try.’

  ‘I might be in the sea more than I’m on it too. It’ll be a total waste of money for someone as clumsy as me. But if you want to try it, don’t let me stop you. I’m sure someone will take you.’

  ‘What about something else? Scuba diving or something?’

  ‘God, no! Are you trying to bump me off? I wouldn’t last two seconds doing anything like that. Sorry, Moll, but you’re going to have to get adventurous with someone else.’

  Molly nodded, but Ashley couldn’t help feeling she looked disappointed.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ Ashley said. ‘But I can’t promise that I’ll suddenly develop a brave gene. Let’s go to town first and see what this afternoon brings, OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Molly leapt up from the seat, setting
it swinging madly. ‘I’ll get my shoes on.’

  ‘I don’t suppose we can get cornflakes anywhere?’ Ella prodded the bread roll Haydon had put in front of her for breakfast. Buttermilk light flooded the warmly furnished kitchen and the terracotta floor was cool beneath Haydon’s bare feet as he sipped a black coffee that chased away any last vestiges of tiredness. His hair was still sticking up from bed and he hadn’t yet brushed his teeth but, from the looks of things, Ella had been up for ages and had quietly gone about her morning dress routine as he slept.

  ‘I know it’s not what you’d normally eat, but I clean forgot I’d have to shop for breakfast before we settled down last night. Can you manage for now with what Bryn has left for us and we’ll try to find a shop or market to get supplies for later?’

  ‘He only left wine and bread.’

  ‘He left a little more than that. Besides, it’s a continental breakfast… almost. Bread is what kids here eat for breakfast.’

  ‘I bet they don’t have it dry with some mouldy cheese.’

  ‘I bet they do. They love mouldy cheese here. Eat it morning, noon and night. Decorate their houses with it, bathe in it, put it in their hair, drive around in hollowed-out mouldy cheeses with mouldy cheese wheels…’

  Ella giggled. ‘OK, I’ll eat the bread but I don’t want the cheese. The deal is you get me ice cream instead.’

  ‘For breakfast?’

  She nodded. ‘As soon as you’re dressed that’s our first stop – the nearest ice-cream place.’

  ‘I suppose we are on holiday. Don’t tell your mother, though.’

  ‘She had champagne for breakfast in Mexico. In bed. With strawberries and chocolate. Kevin ate it with her.’

  Haydon swallowed hard. ‘And what did you have?’

  Ella shrugged. ‘Cornflakes.’

  Haydon gave her a small smile and smoothed a lock of hair from her face. It sounded like Janine and Kevin had treated their previous holiday like a honeymoon rather than a family trip. He wondered whether Ella had felt like a spare part at times. He was determined she wouldn’t feel like that on their holiday.

  ‘What do you want to do today? After we get food, that is.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Ella said, nibbling the end of her bread roll. ‘What is there?’

  ‘I’ve been reading the guidebook. There’s the beach, of course, the old town and market and the harbour. Or we could stay here and make the most of the pool. Maybe go hunting for Frank to say hello…’

  Ella nibbled her thumbnail. ‘Well, we have to go to the town to get food so we’re ticking that off the list anyway. So maybe the beach. Is there stuff to do?’

  Haydon rolled his eyes. ‘There’s sand and sea – what more do you want from the beach?’

  ‘I don’t know… maybe pedalos or something. Kevin went paragliding in Mexico. I was too scared so I stayed with Mum, but if you were with me maybe I wouldn’t be so scared this time.’

  ‘You want to go paragliding?’ Haydon sat back and appraised his daughter. ‘Well, didn’t see that coming. I thought maybe we’d buy a bucket and go poking about in rock pools or something.’

  ‘I didn’t exactly say I wanted to go. I just meant that if you wanted to do something exciting I’d go with you.’

  Haydon sighed to himself. Sometimes trying to understand Ella was like trying to make sense of quantum physics. He clapped his hands together decisively.

  ‘So, town first, then I’m afraid we’ll have to bring our bits and pieces straight back so they don’t get ruined in the heat. Maybe, in that case, we should have a bit of lunch here and then head back down to the sea. It’s not far to walk – at least, Bryn promised me it wouldn’t be.’

  ‘And check out the house across the fields, don’t forget.’

  ‘Oh, the mysterious pink house! I’d forgotten about that. We’ll walk that way and try to look inconspicuous while we nosey. But if they chase us off it’s every man for himself!’

  ‘Dad…’ Ella giggled.

  ‘What? I’m being serious.’

  Ella dumped half her roll onto the plate. ‘I’m done.’

  ‘You’ve barely touched it. I spent hours preparing this sumptuous breakfast feast and this is the thanks I get?’

  ‘We can throw it out for the birds.’

  ‘Throw it out for the birds?’

  ‘OK,’ Ella said, backtracking quickly, ‘maybe save it for supper. I just want to leave room for my ice cream. You promised.’

  He downed the rest of his coffee and pushed his chair from the table. Ella wouldn’t have got away with demands like this at any other time, but he was feeling so relaxed and content that, just this once, she could get away with whatever she wanted. Perhaps she could sense as much and that was the reason she was trying.

  ‘I’ll get my shoes on and then ice cream it is.’

  Ashley and Molly made their way through the streets of the old town. The bells of the stone church rang out, and Ashley checked her watch.

  ‘Ten. Do you think it’s too early for coffee and cake?’

  Molly grinned. ‘We’ve literally just eaten breakfast.’

  ‘I know, but all these cafés look so lovely I want to try them all and we’ve only got a week.’

  ‘Six days now,’ Molly reminded her.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Show some restraint, Mother.’

  Ashley laughed. ‘Yes, daughter. What’s your plan then?’

  ‘We go to the market and Place Victor Hugo first, and then maybe we can get something. But you don’t want to ruin lunch, and it sounds like Madame Dupont has big plans for that. I heard her giving Nanette a huge list of stuff to go and buy.’

  ‘We could have fetched it for her – we’re in the market anyway,’ Ashley said with a vague frown.

  ‘She probably didn’t want to ask us because we’re on holiday and we’re guests. Nanette is family so she can boss her around more.’

  ‘I bet she gives them all a run for their money does Madame Dupont. She’s a wily old bird.’

  ‘I think she’s cute.’

  ‘Oh, she’s lovely. But I bet there’s an iron constitution beneath that wrinkled old-lady exterior. You don’t get to a hundred without a little toughness.’

  Molly checked a map on her phone and then pointed to a paved street on the left flanked by palm trees and shop fronts.

  ‘I think it’s this way.’

  ‘Ten past ten.’ Haydon looked at his watch. ‘Didn’t take us too long to walk down here in the end, did it?’

  ‘It felt like hours,’ Ella said.

  Ignoring her, Haydon stopped and surveyed the road ahead. ‘So this must be the old town. I was reading that loads of famous authors have lived here in the past. There’s even a Place Victor Hugo.’

  ‘Does it have an ice-cream parlour? Because unless it does I don’t care who lived in it.’

  ‘I don’t know if he lived at Place Victor Hugo – it’s just named after him.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I suppose because he wrote brilliant books.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like The Hunchback of Notre Dame.’

  ‘The Disney film?’

  ‘No.’ Haydon smiled. ‘I think his book came a little bit before the Disney film but that’s where they took the story from. He wrote Les Misérables too.’

  ‘I know that,’ Ella said, perking up.

  ‘Of course you do. I bet you’ve played stuff from the musical version at piano lessons.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘So you want to go and check it out?’

  ‘Can we get ice cream first?’

  Haydon wrinkled his nose. ‘Maybe, but I’m starving because breakfast was crap.’

  ‘You said everyone eats bread for breakfast!’

  ‘Yeah, I lied.’ Haydon grinned. ‘So how about breakfast in the market? There must be somewhere that serves pastries or croissants or something. Then we’ll get the shopping, and then we’ll get the ice cream.’

&nb
sp; ‘But you said…’

  ‘I know. Ice cream after, promise. I wouldn’t dare deprive you.’

  Ella let out a sigh. ‘Alright. I suppose we could get breakfast first.’

  ‘So we’ll head for the market and if we see somewhere that looks nice we’ll stop for a bite to eat.’

  ‘Yes.’

  Haydon scratched his head as he surveyed the streets. His attention turned to a street on his left. It was paved in slick grey stones, worn smooth by decades of footfall, and palm trees ran in neat rows along both sides.

  ‘This looks promising.’ He looked down at Ella. ‘Let’s go that way and see where it takes us.’

  ‘These look gorgeous!’ Ashley lifted a bunch of ruby grapes from a mound at the fruit stall and shook them at Molly. ‘I could eat these in one go and I bet they’re as fresh as it gets.’

  ‘Very fresh,’ the stallholder cut in, smiling. ‘Grown very close by.’

  Ashley blushed and placed the bunch back on the display. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’

  ‘No, no… you taste,’ the man said, gesturing to the grapes. ‘It’s no problem.’

  ‘I don’t really need to buy them…’

  ‘We could buy some for Madame Dupont,’ Molly said, nudging Ashley. ‘I bet she’d be chuffed to bits.’

  ‘Violette Dupont?’ the stallholder asked. ‘At Villa Marguerite?’

  ‘Well, yes,’ Ashley replied. ‘We’re staying with her. She’s my stepfather’s aunt. You know her?’

  ‘But of course!’ The man bagged up a pile of grapes along with a pot of mixed olives and a handful of almonds as Ashley and Molly watched with vague frowns. ‘You take these for her,’ he said. ‘No charge. She is very good and old friend; these are her favourites.’

  ‘That’s very kind.’ Ashley took the carrier bag from him.