Sky's the Limit

by Janie Millman

  ‘It’s alright, Sky, she’s right, I love it here too.’ He looked around the kitchen and I did too.

  It was a beautiful room with buttermilk walls and pale oak cupboards. A huge wrought iron pot rack stood in one corner next to a basket full of sweet-smelling straw for the eggs. Pots of herbs lined the windowsill, strings of saucisson hung beside pink garlic plaits. The wild flowers that Emmie collected were crammed into jam jars and bright rugs lent warmth to the uneven stone floor. We were seated on a wooden bench at the side of a long table that had apparently come from a monastery. Belle lay snoring in a chewed wicker basket by the fireplace with Sausage stretched out beside her.

  ‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’ I broke the silence once more. ‘I love this room.’

  ‘Our house has been furnished for show, not for comfort, which is ironic as we have very few guests,’ Claude said sadly. ‘This chateau is full of love, full of character. There is no character stamped on our house, maybe we don’t have the right personalities?’ He smiled wistfully.

  ‘I think you and Emmie have wonderful personalities,’ I replied quickly. ‘Of course I don’t really know Celine.’

  ‘Neither do I, Sky, neither do I.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  ‘How did it go last night with Claude?’ Beatrice strolled outside with her coffee to join Philippe. He was seated at his favourite rickety wooden table underneath the old olive tree. The olive tree was purported to be well over a hundred years old and Philippe adored it. Its gnarled old boughs had heard over a thousand secrets. It had witnessed laughter and sorrow. Children had hidden their priceless treasures in the cracks and crevices within the twisted trunk.

  The sky was already a deep blue and the beautiful silver green leaves gleamed in the sunshine. It promised to be a fantastic day.

  Beatrice sat down and reached over for Philippe’s cigarettes. ‘Well?’

  ‘The affair didn’t seem to come as a huge surprise, but he had no idea about the wine.’

  ‘Poor Claude, he has spent the last few years pursuing what he can never have and not realising what he has already.’

  Philippe looked at her through narrowed eyes. ‘I’m in no mood for riddles this morning, cheri.’

  ‘And talking of riddles, here he comes,’ Beatrice waved at Claude.

  He came striding over towards them, looking tired but otherwise remarkably calm and composed.

  ‘Morning.’

  ‘Morning, Claude, how are you?’ Beatrice stood up to kiss him.

  ‘I’ve felt better.’ He too reached over for Philippe’s cigarettes. ‘Have you seen Sky this morning?’

  ‘She’s probably still in bed.’ Philippe was surprised at the question.

  ‘No, she told me she wanted to get up early to capture the mist.’

  ‘She did?’ Philippe raised his eyebrows. ‘When did she say that?’

  ‘We had a heart-to-heart last night,’ Claude replied. ‘Bared our souls to each other and I wanted to thank her.’

  Beatrice and Philippe stared at him in astonishment. They had never known Claude to bare anything, let alone his soul, and certainly not to a relative stranger.

  ‘She’s a rather special girl, she helped me a lot. It was good to talk.’ He looked at his watch. ‘I’ll take Emmie to school and then I’ve got some things to sort out at the house.’ He smiled at them briefly. ‘I’ll see you later, I’ll let you know when, er, well, I’ll let you know when I’ve, when I’ve got to the bottom of everything.’ He strode off, leaving Beatrice and Philippe open-mouthed.

  I had been studying both of them for a while, sketching them from a distance, hidden behind the fountain. I always liked observing people unseen, Nick called it stalking. I wasn’t sure that Philippe or Beatrice would like what I’d drawn but it had amused me. I made my over to towards them.

  ‘You look amazing, Sky,’ Beatrice said to me as I got nearer.

  ‘Really?’ I was surprised. ‘I guess it’s the shawl.’ Over my faded silk kimono I wore a multi-coloured woollen shawl. ‘Nonna knitted it years ago. It’s incredibly light and incredibly warm, some rare Italian sheep’s wool.’

  ‘I think it’s the whole ensemble.’ Beatrice laughed. ‘You’ve got a smear of green paint across your forehead, you look like a tribal princess.’

  ‘I’m not sure that tribal princesses wear wellington boots.’ I laughed, looking down at my feet. ‘Certainly not ones several sizes too big.’ I glanced at Philippe. He was staring at me with a strange expression. Surely he wasn’t upset that I was wearing his boots. ‘I’m sorry if they’re yours, it was very dewy first thing this morning, I just grabbed the first pair.’

  ‘Claude was just looking for you,’ he said abruptly. ‘Wanted to thank you for last night.’

  Was it my imagination or did he not sound best pleased? ‘We had a lovely heart-to-heart, shared a few secrets, helped by hot chocolate and armagnac.’ I smiled at them hesitantly. Had I done something wrong?

  ‘How long have you been up, Sky?’ Beatrice asked.

  ‘Oh, I’ve no idea, I got up with the sun, well to be honest it doesn’t really feel like I’ve been asleep but I’ve had the most wonderful few hours, I hope you like the results.’ I glanced uneasily at Philippe.

  ‘I can’t wait to see them,’ he replied shortly.

  ‘I’ll try and get them finished today.’

  ‘You work hard, Sky.’ Beatrice smiled.

  ‘Well, that’s why I’m here.’ It came out sharper than I intended. ‘I mean, you don’t want me hanging around here for ever.’ I smiled but felt an unaccountable tightening in my chest at those words.

  ‘Sit down, cheri, and I will get you some coffee.’ Beatrice stood up.

  ‘I can get coffee, you don’t have to go in.’ To be honest I didn’t really want to be left on my own with Philippe.

  ‘I need some cigarettes. Sit, cheri.’ She turned and walked back to the chateau.

  There was an awkward pause after she left.

  ‘I bet this old beauty could tell us a few stories,’ I said finally, stroking the rough bark of the old olive tree. ‘I wonder what she’s heard over the years.’

  ‘Yes, I often wonder that.’ He smiled and I was relieved.

  ‘If there’s anything…’ I leant forward to speak at the same time as Philippe.

  ‘Do you need…’ He laughed. ‘You go first.’

  ‘Is there anything you would particularly like me to paint?’ I asked.

  ‘I don’t think so, I’ll leave it up to you. You’re the one with the artistic eye.’ He shrugged. ‘Though maybe this old tree should feature.’

  I grinned and opening my sketch pad held it out for him to see.

  He gasped. ‘When did you do that?’ He looked absolutely amazed and I was delighted.

  ‘I was lurking behind the fountain watching you. It’s a bad habit, I know.’ I giggled.

  It was a wicked cartoon. I’d depicted them both as cigarettes with their faces in the middle. Philippe with his sunglasses and Bea with her cloud of hair. Every branch of the olive tree had a cigarette, the leaves curled around them like hands and plumes of smoke curled upwards.

  Philippe took the sketch pad from my hand. He looked at me and grinned and I loved the way his eyes crinkled with laughter. ‘I love it, Sky, I absolutely love it. This one is for me, I’m buying it, but you may have to sketch another for Beatrice.’

  I laughed and suddenly I wanted to throw my arms around him.

  Beatrice smiled to herself when she heard the sudden laughter from the garden. She hummed while making the coffee.

  ‘I know that face,’ Rosa said as she came into the kitchen. ‘It’s a face that spells mischief. What are you plotting, Beatrice?’

  Beatrice winked at her. ‘I love it when a plan starts to come together.’

  ‘You are a witch, Beatrice.’

  ‘Takes one to know one, Rosa.’ Beatrice laughed and kissed her cheek before walking outside with the coffee.

  ‘I
may go to Hotel de Paris again today,’ Beatrice announced, handing me a mug.

  ‘Why?’ Philippe looked puzzled.

  ‘Well I may be able to discover something else, and I have to admit the idea of a sister hotel is quite interesting. The more I think about it the more I like it.’

  ‘You’re not serious?’

  ‘I am, Philippe, and why not?’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘It’s actually a very good idea.’

  ‘But not with him?’ I was as surprised as Philippe.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He slept with Celine.’

  ‘Who hasn’t?’

  I gasped.

  Beatrice laughed. ‘Well, maybe that was a bit cruel, but no, seriously, Arnaud has a beautiful hotel, he runs a tight ship and I suspect he is a canny businessman.’

  ‘He’s a crook.’ I couldn’t believe she was serious.

  ‘He won’t try it on with me.’

  ‘How do you know?’ I persisted.

  ‘This is Beatrice’s world, Sky.’ Philippe laughed. ‘We merely inhabit it.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  Claude could not face going to pick up Celine. He could not face the two-hour journey back with her. He had some things he needed to look at first, some facts and figures he wanted to check before confronting her.

  She had always helped him with the accounts, helping him with the odd thing at first but over the years gradually doing more and more. It had made sense, she was involved in the marketing, she was quick with figures, she’d been eager to learn and he had been delighted that she had shown such an interest. He had been more than willing to teach her all she wanted to know about the wine business. He had loved the idea of working with her, of being her mentor and had failed to realise when she had overtaken him.

  He no longer felt foolish, that had been replaced by a cold anger, anger at her betrayal of not just him but of his family. He guessed the warning signs had been there for a long while but he had neglected to read them, clinging desperately to the hope that their marriage would survive. He realised now that he had been living in a fantasy world. If Celine had ever loved him it was all too evident that those feelings had long ceased to exist.

  He dialled her number to tell her she would have to get the train, and as expected she was livid.

  ‘I need to come home as soon as possible, Claude. Leave now and then you will be here when we return from the hospital with Papa. We can leave straight away.’

  But for once Claude stood firm. He remained adamant and there was nothing that Celine could do. She was seething and Nadine, who had overheard most of the conversation, was amused. Things really did not seem to be going well for her daughter. She had been spurned by her lover and now it seemed that her normally biddable husband was taking a stand. Nadine was looking forward to the next instalment.

  Beatrice drove slowly into the driveway of the Hotel de Paris. First impressions were important and these impressions did not disappoint. Since pretending to be interested in a sister hotel the thought had been niggling away in the back of her mind. With the new TGV reducing the time from Paris to Bordeaux to just over two hours it would seem the perfect time to expand the business.

  She didn’t particularly like Arnaud but then you didn’t need to like your business partner as long as you trusted him and, as she had said to Sky, she had no fear of Arnaud ever trying to cheat her. Once she had made it known that she was aware of his deceit he would be bending over backwards to gain her trust.

  Arnaud had been watching out for her. She hadn’t actually said that she would come but he had been hopeful. He had dressed with care, he had made sure that the bar and restaurant gleamed and had personally overseen the huge vase of fresh flowers in the foyer.

  Arnaud wanted this badly. He had studied her hotel online the night before and he had been impressed. He was determined that she should be equally impressed with his. He had ignored the numerous calls from Celine, refusing to let anything ruin his focus. He had no idea what her garbled message the night before meant but he had neither the time nor the inclination to go into it right now.

  Beatrice leant back in her chair and studied the proposals Arnaud had given her. He had met her on arrival and escorted her to a quiet table in the corner overlooking the garden. A young waitress had brought coffee and a gorgeous selection of viennoiserie.

  Arnaud had toyed with the idea of champagne but on reflection had decided that may be a bit presumptuous. He had instead offered a small armagnac which to his joy Beatrice had accepted.

  She looked up at him. ‘You have some interesting ideas.’ She wasn’t giving too much away but actually she was impressed. She had been right, Arnaud had an eye for detail and a good sense of business. She thought that they could work together.

  Celine would be spitting if she formed an alliance with Arnaud. That alone was enough to tempt Beatrice. She was under no illusions about Celine, had always known that they harboured a viper in the nest. Philippe had accused her of being dramatic but Beatrice knew what Celine was capable of. What was that saying, ‘hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’?

  She was pleased that it was all out in the open, that everyone now knew exactly what she was like. It would be interesting to see what would happen. She doubted that Celine would be able to wriggle out of this mess and very much hoped that Claude would finally find the strength to stand up to her.

  She would let Philippe deal with Arnaud, she imagined that he would be willing to pay back any amount of money, especially now there was the prospect of working with her. Unlike Celine, she suspected, he would have a way of extricating himself from this.

  Arnaud was talking to her and she forced herself to focus. He was talking about a forthcoming trip to Paris he had planned. She doubted very much that he had any such trip planned but admired his determination to make this work.

  They parted after an hour, both pleased with what they had achieved.

  Arnaud watched Beatrice drive away feeling very satisfied with the way the meeting had gone. He had enjoyed himself. She was a smart lady, astute and perceptive, and he knew she had liked his suggestions. She was also very sexy.

  Celine was sexy but in a very different way. Celine was glacial whereas Beatrice was the sun. Rather pleased with this analogy, he turned to go in and as he did so his phone rang. He knew without looking that it would be Celine. It was and she was angry and agitated. She launched straight into a torrent of words that made no sense to him.

  ‘Celine, for Christ’s sake calm down, I have no idea what you are talking about.’

  ‘I’m talking about bloody Beatrice, don’t be fooled by her and for God’s sake don’t see her again.’

  ‘Don’t tell me who I can or cannot see, Celine.’ Arnaud was not impressed. ‘As a matter of fact I have just had a very interesting meeting with her.’

  ‘With Beatrice?’ Celine was dry-mouthed.

  ‘Yes, with Beatrice.’ What the hell was Celine playing at? How did she know Beatrice?

  ‘Arnaud, she is not who she says she is.’

  ‘She says she owns a hotel in Paris. I have seen the details, she does indeed own a hotel in Paris, there can be no doubt that she is who she says she is.’ He was growing impatient. ‘What is this all about, Celine? Do I detect a hint of jealousy?’

  He could have had no idea of the effect that this would have on Celine. He was unaware of her deep-rooted hatred towards Beatrice. She had kept a tight lid on it for so long but now it threatened to explode.

  ‘Arnaud, you fool,’ she hissed and he was shocked to hear the venom in her voice. ‘She is Philippe’s ex-wife.’

  ‘Philippe who?’

  ‘Philippe Fontaine, of course.’ She spat out the name. ‘Tell me you have not been so bloody stupid as to have given her the wine.’

  Arnaud was becoming increasingly angry. He did not appreciate being called a fool or labelled as stupid. ‘Would it matter if I had?’

  ‘Of course it would matter, she will know it’s
Philippe’s, she knows his wine, they’ll soon realise your scam.’ She was screeching down the phone now.

  His brain kicked quickly into action. ‘Whose scam, cheri?’ he said very slowly. ‘As far as I’m concerned I paid exactly the price you were asking for the wine.’

  ‘You know that’s not how it happened.’

  ‘But they don’t.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘In fact, I would be more than happy to pay the correct price for it. I will declare that I’m mortified if there has been any mistake, if I have paid less for such an excellent wine.’

  ‘How dare you!’ She couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  ‘Celine, stop being so hysterical.’ He was bored now. She had completely ruined the enjoyment of his meeting with Beatrice. ‘You always tell me how much power you have, tell them it was a special promotion, pretend it was human error, we’re not exactly talking the swindle of the century here.’

  There was a very long pause and suddenly the penny dropped. ‘Oh, Celine, what have you done?’ Arnaud asked softly. ‘It’s not just me, is it?’ There was no answer, he didn’t expect one. ‘Mon Dieu, this has been going on for years, hasn’t it? A little bit here, a little bit there and a little bit more each time. Nothing could go wrong, but now it seems it has.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘Well, who is the fool now, Celine?’

  Celine put the phone down with shaking hands. How could everything have spun out of control so quickly? She instinctively knew that Beatrice would have found out about the wine. It would be too much to hope that she hadn’t. Once more she was filled with cold hatred and fury, only this time there was an element of fear too. Cold beads of sweat were running down her back and she felt slightly sick. God, how she hated that woman, why must she always ruin everything? For the millionth time she cursed her. If Philippe had never gone to Paris, if he had never met her, then Celine’s life might have been so very different.