Sky's the Limit

by Janie Millman

  ‘Sounds like something the Conservative Party used to do back home.’ I grimaced. ‘Minus Henri of course.’

  ‘The views are stunning and the stonework is beautiful.’ It was clear that Tariq had taken a shine to the buildings. ‘You would need to install some big picture windows, we could recycle the sandstone from those.’ He looked around. ‘You have so many resources at your fingertips here, we need use only natural products.’ His eyes were shining. ‘This place could really be very special and it needn’t cost a fortune.’

  I could see why Beatrice rated him so highly. He was enthusiastic and quick-thinking. I loved his appreciation and immediate understanding of the old building. I had seen too many old buildings completely ruined by plasterboard covering everything that was not neat and even. Tariq was someone who would let the character of the barn speak for itself.

  I was about to follow them to the other outbuilding but Nick stopped me.

  ‘Miles just rang me.’

  ‘Yes, I guessed that.’

  ‘He said you rang him.’

  I nodded.

  ‘He couldn’t make much sense of the conversation but thought that perhaps there was light at the end of the tunnel?’

  Again I merely nodded.

  Nick looked at me closely. ‘You can talk to me about anything Skylark, you know that don’t you?’

  I looked at the friend with whom I had shared everything and I was tempted. I was sorely tempted to unburden myself as I had so many times in the past. It would be a relief to talk, to see what he thought, to see if he could shed any light.

  I opened my mouth to speak but no words came. I wasn’t ready to express the powerful emotions that were swallowing me up. I couldn’t begin to explain them to anyone else. I was too scared to put into words the feelings that were surging through me.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  As normal I woke early but unusually I rolled over in bed. I simply couldn’t bear to see the mist hanging over the river this morning knowing that it was my last day. I actually wanted the memories of this magical place to start to fade, I wanted to be able to push them to the back of my mind where they couldn’t hurt me.

  Like a kid I pulled the duvet over my head in an attempt to shut out the world. It wasn’t a good idea, I became hot, I dozed fitfully for an hour and woke up feeling like shit.

  I dragged myself out of bed and into the bathroom. Glancing in the mirror my spirits plummeted further. My eyes were swollen and puffy and my tan seemed to have faded overnight. I looked bloody awful. I knew that I should really go for a swim but my limbs seemed heavy and lifeless. I doubted I could even float. Stepping into the shower, I blasted myself with freezing water. It refreshed my body but not my mind. However I knew I had to put on a good act. Philippe had booked a table for us all in Saint-Émilion and I was determined not to spoil it by being miserable.

  I had promised Emmie yesterday that I would come back, I wasn’t sure if it was a promise I would be able to keep but nothing else would satisfy her. I’d also promised that she could choose my dress and do my hair for lunch. I very much hoped that she was a little more restrained with hair than table decorations. Glancing at my watch I saw that it was still reasonably early but I knew that the coffee would be on. I gathered the big cardboard folder from the desk and tied it with a red ribbon. There were half a dozen finished paintings inside and several pen and ink drawings as well as the wine labels. I was working on a couple more which I would complete at home and my sketch pad was full of images if more were needed.

  The bloody pigeons were making a racket on my windowsill and I clapped my hands to get rid of them.

  ‘Go and shag somewhere else,’ I yelled through the open window. ‘I don’t want to hear you.’

  I met Philippe at the bottom of the stairs. He had a towel slung over his shoulder and his dark hair was damp from the pool.

  ‘You put me to shame.’ I smiled. ‘I should have gone swimming.’

  ‘I thought you’d be at the river,’ he replied.

  ‘Well I thought about it, perhaps I should have gone, maybe I missed the heron.’

  ‘You didn’t. I went for a walk before swimming.’

  ‘Gosh, you’ve been quite the action man this morning,’ I said and then watching him frown wished I hadn’t. What a stupid bloody thing to say. It sounded so patronising.

  ‘I’m not always so incapacitated, Sky,’ Philippe said brusquely. ‘I hardly think a gentle stroll and a quick swim qualify me as action man.’

  ‘No, of course not, I’m sorry.’ Why did I always manage to rub him up the wrong way? ‘I’ve got the paintings here.’ I indicated the large folder under my arm. ‘Shall I leave them in your office?’

  ‘Yes please.’ He hesitated. ‘Sorry to snap, Sky, totally unacceptable, I’ve got out of bed the wrong side, I’ve shouted at Belle for lying in a doorway, I’ve shouted at Sausage for running between my legs and I yelled at Elf for leaving the unicycle propped against the back door where I nearly fell over it.’ He shook his head ruefully. ‘I should come with a danger sign on my forehead today.’

  I laughed, I liked his honesty. ‘Something like “keep away, unexploded bomb.’’’

  ‘Exactly that.’ He grinned at me and my heart flipped over.

  Emmie came into my room later that morning bearing a basket overflowing with flowers and feathers. My heart sank, Minnehaha was not the look I’d had in mind. Emmie, however, placed the basket confidently on the table and marched up to the wardrobe. She pulled out a blue kaftan and held it up.

  ‘Bit too see-through, darling,’ I said quickly. ‘More for wafting around the pool.’

  She discarded it on the bed.

  ‘How about the cheesecloth dress?’ I went over to the wardrobe. ‘You liked it last time.’

  She shook her head. ‘They’ve seen that.’ I was sure ‘they’ wouldn’t mind seeing it again but I kept quiet.

  She pulled out a long, flowing pink batik dress that I had bought many years ago in Greece. ‘This is pretty.’

  ‘Are you sure it’s smart enough?’ I was hesitant. It was one of my favourites but it was also ancient. ‘Wouldn’t this be better?’ I pulled out my new long linen shift dress.

  ‘Green, yuck,’ she grimaced, dismissing without hesitation the most expensive dress in the wardrobe.

  She won, of course, and we settled on the faded pink batik. It had a low neckline and I was anxious that I may be showing off more than necessary. I reached for a scarf but Emmie shook her head. ‘Put up your hair, Sky, I is going to decorate it.’ She picked up the basket and studied it intently.

  I laughed at her serious face. Oh, what the hell? No one knew me in Saint-Émilion and I would probably never go there again. ‘OK, cheri, do your worst, but I’m not that keen on feathers, they make me sneeze, and save some flowers for your own hair.’

  The others were waiting in the kitchen. There was a general intake of breath as we walked in and I felt myself blush.

  ‘You both look incredible.’ Nick clapped and the rest joined in.

  ‘Is it a bit too much?’ I glanced quickly in the mirror, there was nothing subtle about the colourful circlet of flowers and the sparkly clips that Emmie had insisted on.

  ‘It’s fabulous, Sky,’ Beatrice laughed. ‘You look like something from a storybook.’

  ‘It’s true, you look like one of your own illustrations.’ Nick laughed and I glared at him.

  ‘You both look like princesses,’ Philippe said quietly, staring straight at me. ‘Saint-Émilion will think royalty has arrived.’

  Saint-Émilion was breathtakingly beautiful. Steep cobbled streets and enchanting medieval squares. Flowers tumbling out of hanging baskets, it was a world heritage site for a reason, a town full of history and romance.

  ‘You fit right in, Sky.’ Luc laughed. ‘You look as if you have arrived from a different century.’ I curtseyed to him.

  We had champagne in the cloisters of a ruined church and tied the corks onto t
he branches of a tree growing in the middle.

  ‘You have to make a wish, Sky,’ Beatrice said, handing me the last cork. I took it from her and slowly tied it on. Closing my eyes I wished like I’d never wished before, I wished with all my heart and when I opened my eyes she was smiling at me.

  The restaurant was fun and quirky. A huge bar stood in the middle, the floor tiles were metallic and glittery and the tables had been made from leftover wine boxes. The owner directed us to a round table situated by the window. It was clearly the best table and yet another bottle of champagne was chilling in the middle. The place was packed and buzzing with conversation and laughter.

  Philippe insisted that we had the special ‘gourmet meal’ and lunch lasted for hours. I lost count of how many courses were served, but they were all perfectly balanced, perfectly sized portions and simply delicious. Nick of course was in seventh heaven.

  Despite the emotions swirling around in my head I threw myself into the party atmosphere with a desperation that almost bordered on hysteria. Taking a leaf from my heroine Scarlett O’Hara I kept telling myself ‘tomorrow is another day’, and besides, I had made my wish on the cork tree. Surely if you wished on a champagne cork in an old church in a medieval town you stood a healthy chance of it coming true? Well, I was clinging to that hope anyway.

  Philippe had declared at the start that he wanted it to be a party we would all remember and looking around the happy faces I thought he had probably succeeded.

  He himself had been behaving very strangely, one moment he was the life and soul of the party and the next quiet and morose. Several times I was aware that he was staring at me and I saw Beatrice and Nick exchange glances. I wondered what the hell was going on. What was I not getting?

  Nick had inevitably wandered off to the kitchen after the meal and was now engaged in conversation with the chef. Frederick, the owner and one of Philippe’s closest friends, had joined us at the table where he was busy entertaining us with his speciality card tricks. He was good, the others had seen it all before but I was captivated, I’d always loved tricks.

  ‘No!’ I shrieked, leaping up. My hair had come loose and wilted flowers fell onto the table. ‘How could you possibly know it was the five of clubs? It’s impossible.’

  ‘It’s magic.’ Frederick laughed and immediately topped my glass up. He glanced over at Philippe and winked. ‘How come you have all the pretty ladies at your house?’ He laughed. ‘Rosa, Stephanie, Beatrice and now Sky, you should share them out Philippe.’

  ‘If you’d been less keen on sharing, Frederick, then maybe one of your pretty wives might had stayed.’ Beatrice laughed.

  He didn’t seem to take offence but smiling reached for yet another bottle. Clearly the lunch was not yet over.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  I hurled my things haphazardly into the suitcase the following morning and with huge difficulty zipped it up. I’d slept fitfully and had woken with a pounding headache and tears that seemed to flow non-stop.

  The bright sunny day did nothing to lift my spirits, in fact it only served to deepen my depression. Slowly I closed the door to the bedroom and went downstairs. I could hear voices and I could smell the coffee but not even my craving for caffeine could make me go into the kitchen. I simply couldn’t face seeing everyone and instead turned into the salon and headed out of the French windows into the garden.

  I stood in the middle of the lawn breathing in the intoxicating smell that I’d grown to love. A scent unlike any other, a heady blend of lavender, spicy herbs and sweet flowers. I gazed around, committing to memory every single detail although I knew that I would never forget this place. My heart had been stolen in France and part of it would always remain here.

  I tried hard to analyse my feelings. I’d never ever felt like this before. I recalled Gail telling me how she felt about Tariq, how he brought colour into her world, how she loved him more with every heartbeat. At the time I’d no real comprehension of what she was talking about, but my God I did now.

  Now I knew exactly what she meant. Once again my world had been turned completely upside down.

  Philippe grabbed a cup of coffee from the kitchen table and mumbling an excuse headed straight into his study. He perched on the desk and lit a cigarette. Belle followed him, troubled by his misery, and so did Beatrice.

  ‘It’s sad to see them go.’ She spoke softly. He merely grunted in reply.

  ‘It will be quiet without them.’

  He said nothing but the misery etched on his face said it all.

  Beatrice realised that the time for subtlety had gone, some straight talking was needed. ‘Not everyone has to go, Philippe.’

  He looked at her in bewilderment.

  ‘There is one person who would very much like to stay.’ She lit a cigarette and looked at him. Mon Dieu, but he was being dense, clearly she would have to spell it out. ‘Someone who is standing not very far away.’

  He frowned at her. ‘Bea, you can stay as long as you like, you know that, cheri.’

  ‘Not me, you imbecile.’ She was exasperated. ‘Look outside.’

  He turned to face the window and saw Sky standing on the lawn, her back to them. He turned back to Beatrice.

  ‘Oh, Philippe, it is so obvious.’ She stamped her foot in frustration. ‘You don’t want her to leave, it’s clear that you hate the thought of her going, I’ve never seen you in such a state.’

  He stared at her.

  ‘And Sky certainly doesn’t want to go,’ Beatrice continued, determined to drum the message home. ‘Philippe, you must be the only person who doesn’t realise that.’ She watched as, finally, comprehension slowly began to dawn.

  ‘She is much younger than me,’ he whispered finally, voicing a fear which until that moment he hadn’t really been aware he’d had.

  ‘She’s getting older by the moment.’ Beatrice smiled at him. ‘As are you.’ She kissed him gently. ‘Go, cheri, what are you waiting for?’

  But still he hesitated as if hardly daring to believe what was happening.

  ‘Philippe.’ She threw her hands up in frustration. ‘Philippe, think about how you feel.’

  She watched as an inner glow seemed to light up his face. It was as if a light bulb had been switched on.

  ‘Mon Dieu, I love her,’ he gasped. ‘Bea, I love her, I love Sky, I really love her.’

  ‘It’s not me that needs to hear this, Philippe.’ She grinned as she ushered him out of the door.

  Nick joined Beatrice in the study.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘He was being particularly dim but the message finally sank in.’

  Nick watched Philippe walk across the lawn. ‘I feel like a voyeur,’ he said.

  ‘I feel exhausted,’ she responded.

  I heard footsteps behind me and I knew that it was Philippe. He stopped and I remained motionless.

  ‘Sky?’ His voice sounded low and uncertain. My heart rate was dangerously high.

  ‘Sky…’ he began again and then stopped. My mouth was dry and a trillion butterflies fluttered around in my stomach.

  ‘I, um, well, the thing is… Sky, do you have to go?’

  I couldn’t move a muscle. I could barely breathe.

  ‘Would you be able to stay, Sky?’

  ‘Why do you want me to stay, Philippe?’ My voice was cracked and softer than a whisper. I licked my lips and tried again. ‘Tell me why you want me to stay.’

  The silence seemed endless and I closed my eyes to stop the world from spinning out of control. Still he said nothing and I couldn’t bear the tension any longer.

  ‘Why, Philippe?’ I asked again ‘Why do you want me to stay?’ I wheeled around to face him and realised that he was talking at the same time.

  We both stopped at once. I opened my mouth to speak but he silenced me, putting his finger to his lips.

  ‘I love you, Sky.’ His voice was hoarse and raw with emotion but I’d never heard anything more beautiful in my life. ‘I’ve fallen in lov
e with you.’ His eyes were full of tears. ‘I love you, Sky, I love you, I love you, and I don’t want you to go home.’

  ‘Oh, Philippe.’ I stood on tiptoe and, wrapping my arms tight around his neck, whispered, ‘I am home.’

  Drawing deeply on their cigarettes, Nick and Beatrice watched misty-eyed from the study window.

  Running out into the garden with her animals Emmie stopped short at the sight of the embrace and, as she watched them kiss, she thought her little heart would burst with joy.

  Somewhere, high above, a skylark soared, and as Philippe’s lips met mine I felt a lightness of being and a joy such as I had never experienced before.

  The earth had finally stopped wobbling. The world was a happy place.

  THE END

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Firstly I’d like to toast my fabulous agent David Headley – thank you for your belief and trust, your good humour and your friendship.

  Then a big cheers to The Dome Press and my inspirational editor Rebecca Lloyd who is such fun to work with and whose advice I value and respect enormously.

  Bottoms up to my very early readers Chris and Bernie, your continued support and enthusiasm means so much.

  To the medical team at both the Bergonie Hospital in Bordeaux and Robert Boulin hospital in Libourne where a lot of this book was actually written – you are all simply incredible and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.

  A further toast to Mark Hoddy for giving me an insight into the wine business.