Rosie's Little Café on the Riviera

by Jennifer Bohnet

  Rosie pulled the lever that sent the large, old-fashioned dishwashing machine whirling into action down with a bang.

  ‘Temper. Temper. It won’t last the season treated like that,’ Tansy said, picking up the roasties and the veg in the serving dishes to accompany Charlie’s beef.

  ‘Here, you’ve forgotten his favourite horseradish sauce,’ Rosie said, thrusting the pot towards Tansy.

  Surreptitiously, she watched the pair of them through the small hatchway between the kitchen and the bar area, envying the way they could still laugh and joke together like she had in another life – before everything had changed between her and Charlie.

  Rosie turned away and vigorously set to cleaning the roasting tin until it was pristine and the ends of her fingers could take no more from the sharp shrouds of the shredded-steel wool. Tansy came back as she rinsed the tin and left it to dry on the draining board.

  ‘No prizes for guessing what Charlie wants for dessert,’ Tansy said. ‘And please, will you join him for coffee?’

  Silently Rosie opened the fridge and took out a tiramisu – Charlie’s absolute favourite dessert.

  ‘I let Lucky in, by the way. Like a true female she made a beeline for Charlie and is now worshipping at his feet,’ Tansy said. ‘You going to take this out to him?’

  Rosie nodded. ‘Okay.’ She couldn’t hide in the kitchen for ever, and now Charlie had had his say about the Café Fleur, maybe they could at least be civil to each other.

  Have I ever told you, you make the best tiramisu?’ Charlie said.

  ‘Once or twice,’ Rosie said, determined to keep the conversation on an even keel.

  ‘I think I might have overreacted last night,’ she said, bending down to stroke Lucky. ‘Tell James if he wants to come back – ten o’clock Tuesday morning.’

  ‘Will do,’ Charlie said as he spooned the last vestiges of cream from the bowl. ‘Have you still got that beaten-up mini you call a car?’

  Surprised by the question, Rosie shook her head. ‘No.’ The car had gone for a few hundred euros to add to her pot of money for the Café Fleur.

  ‘I figured I could live without one for a while. Working here seven days a week in summer, I’m not going to be going anywhere.’ She was blowed if she was going to tell Charlie the truth – that she couldn’t afford a car until the restaurant was a success.

  His eyes narrowed. ‘How about getting home at night?’

  ‘I walk.’

  ‘I don’t like the thought of that.’

  ‘I’ve got Lucky now,’ Rosie said. ‘And it’s not far.’

  ‘Well, that’s something, I suppose, but it’s a bloody good fifteen-minute walk,’ Charlie said. ‘I’d prefer it if you took a taxi.’

  ‘And I’d prefer it if you minded your own business. How I get home is nothing to do with you – besides, it’s not fifteen minutes away. It’s five. I’ll get your bill,’ Rosie said forgetting that Charlie was unaware of the fact that she’d moved. Another economic necessity. The rent for the apartment in one of the new gated blocks overlooking the sea had been an expensive luxury even when she was working on A Sure Thing.

  To Rosie’s relief, Charlie paid his bill, included a generous tip, and kissed Tansy goodbye. ‘Any time you want a job, you know what to do,’ he told her. ‘Ciao. I’ll be seeing you both.’

  Rosie, safe behind the bar and out of Charlie’s kissing reach, muttered ‘Ciao’ and held her breath until the door closed behind him.

  ‘Thank God he’s going to Sardinia tomorrow out of the way,’ she said. ‘Right. That’s the door locked. I’ve had enough for today.’

  She glanced at Tansy. ‘I did ask him to tell James he could come back if he wants to. I can’t believe he said that to you about wanting a job. Cheek. He seems to think this place is doomed because I’m English.’

  ‘He’s worried about you losing all your money, that’s all,’ Tansy said.

  ‘So am I – that’s why I intend to work flat out to make sure this place is a success,’ Rosie said. ‘Here’s the tip he left for you.’

  ‘Half each?’ Tansy said.

  Rosie shook her head. ‘No, you take it. I’m sure Charlie meant it for you, anyway.’

  ‘Thanks – generous as ever,’ Tansy said, taking the euros. ‘Right, I’ll see you on Tuesday morning, bright and early. Don’t work too hard tomorrow. Remember it’s supposed to be your day off as well. If nothing else, take Lucky-dog for a walk.’

  ***

  Rosie pottered around after Tansy left, tidying up and putting some leftover food in her basket to take home. The bottle of wine she’d opened for Charlie was still half full so she stuck the cork back in and put that in her basket, too. She’d enjoy a glass tonight while she did the week’s accounts and worked on her laptop.

  ‘Right, Lucky, time to go home,’ she said, looping a piece of thin rope around the dog’s neck. ‘Tomorrow we’ll buy you a collar and a proper lead but this will have to do again for now.’

  Satisfied the door was securely locked and the security grill down, Rosie turned to walk through the car park and out onto the main road, where she came face to face with Charlie.

  As the basket was taken out of her hand and he fell into step alongside her Rosie said, ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’

  ‘Seeing you get home safely.’

  ‘It’s not dark. It’s Sunday afternoon and I don’t need an escort.’

  ‘Maybe not, but I want to see where you’re living now.’

  Ah, so he had picked up on her ‘five minutes away’ remark.

  ‘Well, we turn left here and it’s at the end of this street. The converted villa. See, literally five minutes.’

  ‘You going to ask me in for a glass of my wine?’ Charlie asked, looking at the basket.

  ‘N… oh, all right. I’m on the second floor.’ And Rosie pressed her code into the pad at the side of the ornate front door. Damn, why had she just agreed to that? Guilt, probably. He’d paid for the wine so was entitled to drink more than just the one glass he’d had at lunch.

  Charlie followed her up the marble staircase. ‘Sad to see these old places converted like this really. Imagine what they must have been like in their heyday.’

  ‘At least this way more people get to live in and enjoy them,’ Rosie said, unlocking her own door.

  She released Lucky from her makeshift lead and the dog made straight for the end of the sofa she’d taken as her own.

  Charlie placed the basket on the kitchen counter. ‘Glasses?’

  Rosie indicated the glass-fronted cupboard. ‘I’ll be back in a moment.’

  From her perch on the loo, Rosie studied the small bathroom. The linen basket, filled with a week’s worth of washing, overflowed onto the floor and the paper holder was empty. Feverishly Rosie stuffed the clothes deep into the basket and pressed the lid on, slid the last roll of loo paper onto the holder and swished water around the sink. No time to do more. With a bit of luck Charlie wouldn’t need to come in here, anyway. Once he’d had his glass of wine, he was out the door.

  ‘I’ve put the other stuff in the fridge for you,’ Charlie said, handing her a glass of wine. ‘Cheers. You sure you’re eating enough? Fridge is practically empty.’

  ‘Cheers. I don’t eat here much,’ Rosie said. ‘No point. So, what’s this business proposition that’s taking you to Sardinia?’ Not that she wanted to talk to Charlie; she wanted him gone, but they had to talk about something over their wine.

  ‘Agrotourism,’ Charlie shrugged. ‘I suspect it’s going to be a waste of time but Dad wants me to investigate the possibilities.’

  William was the head of an environmentally ‘green’ company with interests in property and farming. Charlie was his right-hand man and would eventually take over. Rosie knew that both father and son were committed to trying to promote the ‘Fair Trade’ policy.

  ‘Will you spend the day with me when I get back?’ Charlie asked. ‘For o
ld times’ sake?’

  Rosie shook her head. ‘No. The season is just starting and I’m going to be busy. Besides, our “old times” are just that. In the past. If William hadn’t bought A Sure Thing we’d never have met up again. We move in totally different circles these days.’

  ‘I’d be more than happy to move in yours,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t be happy in yours.’ Rosie stared at him.

  Charlie drained his glass. ‘When I get back, I promise you I’m going to do everything possible to make you change your mind.’

  ‘Back off, Charlie. Go meet someone else.’

  ‘There is no one else, Rosie. I…’ The ring of his mobile interrupted him. He glanced at the caller ID. ‘Excuse me. I have to answer this. Hi, Sarah, how’s things?’

  Rosie stroked Lucky as she tried not to eavesdrop on Charlie’s conversation. Which was impossible. And just who was Sarah?

  ‘What? OK. I’m on my way. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ He snapped his phone shut and turned to Rosie, his face white.

  ‘Sorry, Rosie. Emergency. Got to go.’

  ‘Not William, is it?’

  ‘No.’

  Before she realised his intention, Charlie leaned in and kissed her. ‘You take care. And don’t fire James again because I’ve told him to walk you home after work every night. Ciao.’ And he was gone, the door slamming behind him.

  Absently Rosie topped up her glass. Whatever the emergency was it had at least got Charlie out of the apartment. Getting him out of her life for a second time, though, was proving harder than she’d anticipated.

  When would he realise she was serious when she told him she didn’t want a relationship with him or any man? She’d learned a long time ago that relationships that worked were few and far between and personally she didn’t intend to let one cloud her judgement ever again. Café Fleur was her baby and her life now.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  GeeGee sighed contentedly. For once, Sunday had turned out to be the way she always thought Sundays in France should be – but in her case rarely were.

  A leisurely lunch around Erica’s large kitchen table followed by coming up here to the roof terrace and lazing around for an hour before she’d jumped to her feet. A bit of payback time was needed.

  ‘Come on. Let’s give this terrace a makeover.’

  For the next couple of hours the three of them weeded and watered the pots before sweeping the terracotta tiles and setting up the small, white, cast-iron table and chairs. Erica had found some candles for the lanterns that were now, together with the setting sun, casting a gentle ambience over the place. A perfect place to unwind.

  Cammie was tucked up in bed and Erica had gone down to fetch a baguette and the remains of the lunchtime rosé for supper. So far she hadn’t mentioned whatever it was she’d said she wanted to talk about. GeeGee smiled to herself. Knowing Erica it could have just been a ruse to get her here and feed her. She knew her friend worried about her not eating enough.

  She enjoyed food as much as anyone; it was just that, after paying the rent, the phone bill, her quarter’s rent for her desk, putting petrol in the car, etc., etc., there was so little left over. And now, on top of everything, she was about to be made homeless.

  When her next commission came in she’d treat both Erica and Cammie to… She sighed. Her next commission payment was spoken for even before it arrived. Not to mention the next two or five. She’d struggle to even afford an extra coffee at Café Fleur for the next few months. Maybe Rosie would let her do the washing-up in exchange for lunch?

  Hearing Erica coming back upstairs GeeGee determinedly pushed all financial worries to the back of her mind. With a bit of luck there would be a flurry of sales in the next couple of days, she’d find an apartment she could afford and all would come miraculously right in her world. Well, she could dream.

  ‘I ought to be thinking of going home,’ GeeGee said.

  ‘You don’t have to. You can always stay,’ Erica said, placing the tray of food on the table between them. ‘You know there’s always a room here for you.’ She glanced across at GeeGee.

  ‘I know everything down here is based on appearance and money rules supreme and your clients are super-impressed when you casually tell them where you live.’ She shook her head. ‘You might live on the Cap d’Antibes but your actual studio is like your landlord – the pits.’

  ‘But my clients don’t know that,’ GeeGee said. ‘They think I’m uber successful living in that location. And clients like dealing with successful people.’

  ‘You know, though, that you could get a better place for less money away from the Cap and have enough money for food.’ Erica glared at GeeGee. ‘I wish you’d move in with me and Cammie.’ She handed GeeGee a glass of wine. ‘You’d get to eat regularly and I’d be a better landlady than the snake you’ve currently got.’

  ‘Cheers.’ GeeGee hesitated. ‘Actually, I might need to take you up on that offer. Stan’s given me notice to quit.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Have to be out next week. There’s nothing remotely suitable on the rental side at work – even if I had the money for all the upfront fees, deposit, etc. Which I haven’t.’

  ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me before?’ Erica demanded. ‘Right. No argument. You move in here tomorrow.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll try not to get in your way. As soon as I get some money in the bank I’ll find another place. I’ve got a villa in Antibes due to complete soon and an apartment on the coast road that should go through quickly. Just need some more clients to find their forever homes.’

  A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips. ‘I seriously owe you one,’ she said, taking a sip of her wine. ‘So, what did you want to talk to me about?’

  ‘Selling this house.’

  GeeGee choked on her wine, before turning to look at her. ‘Really?’

  Erica nodded. ‘I want you to put it on the market for me.’

  ‘But…’ GeeGee hesitated. ‘You sure selling up is the right thing to do? You’ve made a lot of memories here – for Cammie, too. You and Pascal were so happy here.’

  Erica fiddled with her glass. ‘That’s part of the problem. I still keep expecting him to bound up the stairs looking for me. Everywhere I turn in this house he’s there. I’m sure it’s the same for Cammie – which in the long term can’t be healthy, can it? I so want the rest of her childhood to be happy. Not one clouded with ghosts from the past.’

  GeeGee regarded her friend silently and waited.

  ‘I’m not talking about forgetting Pascal – how could I? But living somewhere that isn’t associated with family memories in every room must be easier. Up here I can see him wheeling the bar-b-q into position, busy organising an evening with friends.’ Erica glanced at GeeGee. ‘I’ll still have the memories of how happy we were. How perfect life was before the accident.’

  ‘Have you mentioned moving to Cammie?’

  Erica pulled a face. ‘Sort of. She favours a house like Madeleine’s so long as we can take Pascal’s things with us. Oh, and she wants a dog if we move! She’s slowly coming out of the melancholia she sank into after the huge trauma of Pascal dying. And I don’t want to risk that progress so we’ll have to take it slowly. We still have this ongoing phobia about cars to deal with, too.’ She downed the last of her wine. ‘I just feel a new home would give us both a fresh start and hope for the future. No shadowy presence hovering in any room I happen to be in.’

  ‘You want the same area?’ GeeGee said.

  Erica nodded. ‘Cammie’s school and, of course, the shop both need to be within walking distance.’

  ‘Not many cheap properties in this area these days,’ GeeGee said.

  ‘Pascal’s insurance means I don’t need ultra cheap,’ Erica said. ‘I just want somewhere Cammie and I can learn to live and be happy again – oh, and a pool would be nice.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Tansy was waitin
g for Rosie Tuesday morning when she arrived at work. ‘Am I late or are you early?’ Rosie said.

  ‘I’m early. I need to talk to you before we get busy.’

  ‘Sounds ominous,’ Rosie said. ‘You’re not taking Charlie up on his offer and going back to the boats, are you?’

  ‘Of course not. Rob and I have set a date for the wedding.’

  ‘Oh, that’s brilliant. Congratulations.’

  ‘You mightn’t think so when I tell you it’s in August and we want to hold the reception here.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Rosie said.

  Tansy nodded. ‘Last Saturday of the month. Late afternoon wedding – evening reception party.’

  Rosie could feel the problems running through her brain. The beach would still be busy; she’d have to close to other customers; she’d need more staff; it would be hot hot hot; Tansy would go away on…

  ‘Honeymoon?’

  ‘We can’t afford one straight away so we’re going to delay it and go skiing in the New Year.’

  Well, that was something. ‘How many people?’

  ‘Not many and very informal,’ Tansy said. ‘No receiving line, no sit-down dinner. Good food, dancing on the beach, maybe some fireworks at the end of the evening, and lots of champagne. A big beach party, really. What d’you think?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Rosie said. ‘I love the idea but wouldn’t you rather have someone like Seb organise things for you?

  Tansy shook her head. ‘I doubt we could afford Seb’s prices. I’m hoping you’ll do me a good deal, pretty please?’

  ‘Tansy, I really don’t know. I do want to say yes, but part of me says it will be too much when it’s hot and the beach is busy.’

  ‘If we have a really simple menu?’ Tansy pleaded. ‘I can do some of the stuff when I’m not working and freeze it. And it would only mean no dinner bookings for the one night. If you close at three and the party starts at, say, eight, there’d be five hours to get things out and organised. Please?’

  Rosie sighed. ‘I hope I don’t regret this… Okay. But only easily prepared buffet food – not a sit-down meal. Do you want a cake?’