Rosie's Little Café on the Riviera

by Jennifer Bohnet

  Only eight when her parents split up and ten when the divorce was finalised, her father had barely figured in Rosie’s life since then. At first there had been weekend visits and even an annual holiday together, but when she was a teenager he’d disappeared off to America and she hadn’t seen him since. Despite him promising he’d show her the sights of New York and San Francisco, he never had.

  She’d ceased a long time ago to miss his presence in her life. Occasionally he’d flit through her mind on the edge of some long-forgotten memory but that was about it.

  Mentally Rosie tried to work out how long it had been since they’d even spoken to one another. She’d been seventeen – so, a lifetime ago. Had Olivia heard from him in that time? Would she have told Rosie if she had?

  Throughout her childhood she and Olivia hadn’t exactly clung together for moral support, but both adult and child had wanted to protect the other from more hurt. Consequently they’d enjoyed a closer relationship than many of her friends did with their mothers.

  Taking a couple of ham slices from the fridge, Rosie remembered how close she and Olivia had been, still were in many ways. It was just that these days their lives didn’t revolve around each other to the same extent.

  Rosie going to college had been the turning point for living separate lives and developing a more normal mother-daughter relationship. Hell, they even rowed sometimes now, something that would have been unheard of back in the days when Olivia struggled as a single mother to put food on the table and clothes on both their backs.

  Quickly finishing making the sandwich, Rosie hurried after Olivia.

  ‘This is a great location,’ Olivia said. ‘How’s the café going?’

  ‘Fine,’ Rosie said. ‘Apart from a food poisoning accusation which I’ll tell you about later. But first you need to tell me what this is all about. Are you sure you’re not ill? You’re very thin.’

  ‘I’ve been following the 5.2 diet for a couple of weeks,’ Olivia said.

  ‘So what is it? Has “he who shall not be mentioned” been in touch and upset you?’

  ‘Good God, no. Haven’t heard from him in years. We’re definitely off his radar these days, thank God.’

  ‘What the hell is it then?’

  Olivia selected a sandwich before glancing up at her. ‘The thing is, I’ve met someone whom I like a lot.’

  ‘Oh, is that all?’ Rosie said, relieved. ‘That’s great, Mum. I’m really pleased for you. What’s his name?’

  ‘Zander’

  ‘Different,’ Rosie said.

  ‘He’s Italian. He’s also very kind, very sweet and says he loves me.’

  ‘Was that him playing taxi?’

  ‘Olivia nodded. ‘Yes. He sends his apologies for not stopping. He needed to get back to Monaco. Breakfast business meeting tomorrow. He’ll be back here next week to collect me.’ She twirled the wine around in her glass before looking up at Rosie.

  ‘I’d like you to meet him before…’ She hesitated and then added, ‘Before I move in with him in Monaco.’

  ‘Blimey Mum. It must be serious. How long have you known him? Where did you meet him?’ Rosie struggled to take in the news of Olivia giving up her independent life to move in with a man.

  ‘One of Rosemary’s dinner parties three months ago. She sends her love, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks,’ Rosie said. Rosemary was her godmother and her mother’s oldest friend. For years she’d been trying to find Olivia a husband. Had she finally succeeded?

  ‘I’m not thinking of marrying him, so don’t worry about that,’ Olivia said, breaking into her thoughts.

  ‘Mum, if you’ve met someone you love, marry him.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘I’m not sure Zander’s the marrying type.’

  Rosie laughed and shook her head. ‘This isn’t the way it’s meant to be. I’m the child. I should be the one talking to you about me moving in with someone.’

  ‘Are you? Is it Charlie? It’s about time you settled down,’ Olivia said eagerly.

  ‘No, I’m not planning on moving in with Charlie or anyone else.’ As Rosie bent down to stroke Lucky sitting at her feet, Seb strolled across the beach and up to the terrace carrying a plate and a bottle.

  ‘Hi, mind if I join you?’ Seb asked. ‘I’ve got some leftover salmon canapés that it would be a shame to waste.’

  ‘Seb, this is Olivia, my mother. Mum – Seb. He owns the hotel next door.’

  ‘Heard you had a spot of bother this morning,’ Seb said, looking at Rosie. ‘Got any names yet? Details of what they ate?’

  Rosie looked at him. ‘How did you…?’

  ‘James.’

  ‘I hope he’s not busy spreading the news all over town,’ Rosie said. ‘Publicity like that I do not need. I’ll have to have a word with him tomorrow.’

  ‘I already did on your behalf,’ Seb said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Rosie said. ‘Monsieur Douce was very nice about it all but told me to expect a lawyer’s letter. And I’ve got to get a new fridge. Must admit the one here is pretty ancient.’

  ‘How’s business otherwise?’

  ‘Today has been quite a day,’ Rosie said. ‘Tansy is nagging me to get more staff but I’m not sure I can afford to yet.’

  ‘It would be a mistake not to,’ Seb said. ‘It’s going to get busier every day from now on as summer heats up. You’re going to need all the staff you can get.’

  Rosie sighed. ‘I’m not sure I can even afford one more person right now. Ideally I could do with someone happy to come in at a moment’s notice at odd times when needed. Asking for the impossible, I know. People want regular hours and money.’

  ‘Try this number,’ Seb said, scribbling on a piece of paper. ‘Alicia. She works for me occasionally and might be the answer for you, too.’ He handed Rosie the piece of paper as he stood up. ‘See you tomorrow. Nice to meet you, Olivia.’

  Olivia smiled. ‘You, too.’ As Seb left she turned to Rosie. ‘He’s nice. You’d make a good pair – you look good together.’

  ‘Mum! Stop it. One minute you’re pushing Charlie at me – the next Seb, who incidentally is one of the best chefs down here and just a friend. Anyway, the only relationship I’ve got time for this year is with the Café Fleur.’

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Erica stood rubbing the small of her back, achey and tired but happy, as she surveyed the shop critically. Three days it had taken her but now every shelf, cupboard, window ledge and the small amount of tiled floor space left was gleaming.

  The stainless-steel bar holding the collection of vintage clothes was reflected in the glass doors of the old dresser where the second-hand books were kept. New kitchen paraphernalia stood on shelves mixed in with antique brass scales, Provençal plates, cuisine plaques, laguiole cutlery, with its signature tiny bee on the handles, and ancient kilner jars. Aprons and tablecloths patterned with olives, glasses of wine and cicadas hung from either end of the shelves.

  Reproductions of jazz age posters and cards were arranged on the eighteenth-century wooden bureau she’d lovingly polished with beeswax. Tins of the same beeswax stood in a neat pile along with bottles of organic olive oil by the till, ready for impulse buying.

  In among the orderly layout there were equally carefully arranged higgedly-piggedly corners too. Erica knew people liked to feel they were discovering something special or even unique. Pictures and frames leaning nonchalantly against the wall; wooden boxes of miscellaneous things; a pile of old embroidered linen; tapestry cushions on old, wrought-iron patio chairs. It invited people to have a rummage; to discover their own treasure.

  Standing there looking around, Erica sniffed and relaxed. The shop both looked and smelt wonderful. The perfume from the bunches of lavender hanging from the ceiling, the beeswax polish and the citronella candles had all blended together to give the place its own distinctive smell.

  The only thing missing was Pascal sitting on the wheel-back cha
ir by the counter, toasting her with a cup of coffee and saying, ‘Here’s to the new season.’ Although if she stared at the chair hard enough she could almost imagine him there.

  She sighed. She missed him so much. He’d been so proud of the way she’d brought her dream of The Cupboard Under the Stairs alive. In the early days he’d been with her every step of the way, urging her on. Carrying on without him in her life had seemed impossible at one stage, but for Cammie’s sake she’d had to try and keep her dream alive.

  She turned as the shop doorbell tinkled and smiled in welcome at GeeGee.

  ‘You timed that well,’ she said. ‘I’ve just finished and was about to have a coffee.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ve brought you a couple of villa brochures,’ GeeGee said. ‘One I’m hoping you’ll really go for. Where’s Cammie?’

  ‘Swimming and tea at Madeleine’s. I’ve got to pick her up later,’ Erica said, holding out her hand for the brochures. Flipping through them she knew instantly which one GeeGee meant.

  Stone-built, with a traditional terracotta roof and the obligatory bougainvillea climbing over three quarters of the walls, the villa looked wonderful. The pictures of the inside showed a spacious layout decorated in creams and whites with occasional splashes of Provençal blue and yellow.

  The immaculate lawns and flower beds surrounding it were equally stunning. ‘Does it come with its own gardener?’ Erica said. ‘Gosh, it’s got an infinity pool. I’d definitely have to employ a pool boy for that!’ She glanced up at GeeGee. ‘I know I said I could do expensive but this looks like it’s off the scale? Where is it?’

  ‘Owners are looking for a quick sale so the price can be negotiated. The only problem is it’s slightly further out than you wanted. It’s actually on the Cap.’

  Regretfully Erica put the brochures down on the table. ‘I’m not sure I’m a Cap d’Antibes person, as lovely as that particular house is. It’s so exclusive up there. Maybe somewhere a bit more down to earth?’

  ‘Go through the brochures later and see if there’s anything you fancy,’ GeeGee said. ‘I’m on my way to measure up your place and take some photos ready for doing the brochure.’

  ‘Cammie and I will be home in about an hour,’ Erica said.

  ‘I’ll probably have left by then. I’ve got to go back out and meet someone on the beach.’

  Erica raised her eyebrows.’Friend or client?’

  There was the merest hesitation before GeeGee answered, ‘Friend,’ and opened the shop door. ‘See you later then.’

  ‘OK – but don’t think you’re going to get away with not telling me who you’re meeting!’ Erica called out as GeeGee positively ran out of the shop.

  ***

  Arriving early for her meeting on the beach, GeeGee opened her laptop and tried to settle to doing some work while she waited for her old friend Bruno to show.

  Tossing and turning the other night, worrying about money and how her life was going nowhere, Bruno had popped into her mind. Strictly speaking Bruno had been Jay’s friend, but since Jay had left their paths rarely crossed and she’d missed hearing Bruno’s often inappropriate take on things.

  Running his own successful holiday letting agency, maybe he could use some part-time help. Something she could fit in around seeing clients. Well, no harm in asking, she’d figured, and had rung him the next morning.

  Now, as she saw him striding across the beach towards her, she crossed her fingers and prayed he’d be able to help her.

  Living with Erica and Cammie was working out well. Erica insisted on feeding her every evening, saying, ‘I’ve got to feed Cammie and me anyway, one extra is nothing,’ but refusing to take any money. ‘All in good time,’ was her current mantra. But GeeGee was determined to pay her way – sooner rather than later.

  ‘Long time, no see,’ Bruno said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. ‘Can’t stay long, I’m afraid. I’ve got to get to the airport in half an hour.’

  GeeGee smiled. No change there then. Bruno was always in a hurry.

  ‘I need to up my income between house sales and wondered whether you needed any part-time help? I’m free every evening and all day Sundays. Office work? Cleaning? Anything.’ God, she didn’t sound as desperate as she was, did she?

  Bruno regarded her thoughtfully before shaking his head. ‘Patsy and I manage the office work between us. We’ve just taken on two new cleaners – if they don’t work out, there may be something there. You still got a car?’

  GeeGee nodded. ‘Expensive necessity for the day job.’

  ‘How d’you fancy doing a few evening airport runs then? Owners and their guests. We manage fifty properties now and it’s a bloody nightmare when several parties arrive on the same flight and want collecting. Weekends are particularly difficult. I’m back and forth like the proverbial.’

  ‘Sounds interesting,’ GeeGee said.

  ‘One way of putting it,’ Bruno said. ‘But airport tedium will soon set in, I can promise you, when flights are delayed.’ He glanced at her.

  ‘You don’t have a dog, do you? Last woman I employed insisted the clients loved having a dog in the car to greet them. Maybe some of them did but mostly they didn’t.’

  ‘No, I don’t have a dog,’ GeeGee said.

  ‘OK. Get your car valeted – needs to be immaculate. I’ve got two lots of clients coming in at the same time Saturday night so I’ll be at the airport, too, and can show you the ropes. Terminal Two at seven-thirty. I’ll meet you in arrivals.’

  ‘Um, hate to ask, but what do I get paid? And how?’ GeeGee said.

  When Bruno named the price she gulped. ‘Really? I had no idea it would be that amount.’

  ‘Clients know the door-to-door service is an extra they have to pay for at the time. You have to pay your petrol and parking out of it.’

  Bruno stood up. ‘Gotta go. See you Saturday then. Ciao.’

  ‘Ciao, and thanks, Bruno.’

  Watching him take the short cut through the hotel car park, GeeGee felt her spirits lift. Just a couple of weekend airport runs at the price Bruno had told her would help her finances considerably. She wondered how many Bruno meant by a few.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Olivia’s mobile rang as Rosie unlocked the apartment door early Monday evening after they’d spent a couple of hours exploring Cannes. Leaving Olivia to answer it, Rosie went into the kitchen and surveyed the contents of the fridge. Two eggs, a bottle of chardonnay, a limp lettuce, half a tub of fromage frais. Not inspiring.

  The leaflet she’d pinned to the back of the kitchen door caught her attention. ‘Chinese Takeaway.’ Supper solved. She’d order them both a Chinese. Rosie fished in her bag for her own mobile as the apartment intercom went.

  ‘You ready, Rosie?’ Charlie’s voice boomed into the kitchen. ‘Or shall I come up and wait?’

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘We’ve got a dinner date.’

  Rosie sighed. ‘You invited. I declined.’

  ‘No, you didn’t.’

  ‘I sent you a text saying no…’ Rosie’s voice trailed away as she remembered starting the text but not finishing it when Olivia arrived Friday evening. ‘Well, I meant to,’ she sighed. ‘You’d better come up.’

  She’d explain to Charlie face to face that she had no intention of having dinner with him and then he could be on his way while she and Olivia enjoyed their supper and the rest of their evening. She pressed the button and minutes later Charlie bounded into the apartment.

  ‘I’m not having dinner with you, Charlie,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m tired. I’m going to order a Chinese and Mum and I plan a quiet evening.’

  ‘Actually, darling,’ Olivia said, reappearing from the bedroom. ‘That was Zander. He’s unexpectedly free this evening so he’s picking me up for dinner in five minutes.’

  ‘Well, that’s sorted then,’ Charlie said. ‘Go and change.’

  Rosie looked at him. ‘Charlie, I do not want to come out with you t
his evening – or any evening, in fact. Understood?’

  Charlie looked at her for several seconds before saying, ‘OK. We’ll eat in. What’s on the Chinese menu?’

  ‘Charlie!’ There was no way she was going to spend the evening alone in the apartment with him. ‘Just go.’

  Charlie shook his head. ‘I want to talk to you, Rosie. So we can either stay here or we can go out and have dinner. You decide.’

  ‘I’ll wait for Zander downstairs,’ Olivia said. ‘I’ll probably be late so don’t wait up for me, darling.’ With a quick spray of Dior and a wave of her hand she opened the door.

  ‘Give my regards to Zander,’ Charlie said.

  ‘Will do,’ and Olivia was gone.

  ‘You know Zander?’ Rosie asked.

  ‘We’ve met a couple of times. Must say I’m surprised at Olivia being his current squeeze.’

  ‘Why?’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘Wouldn’t have thought she was his type. You haven’t met him yet then?’

  ‘No,’ Rosie said, wondering what Charlie was not telling her. The thought of her mother being anyone’s current squeeze was disturbing.

  ‘Rosie, please go and get ready.’

  ‘Charlie…’

  ‘Rosie, we’re both hungry. There’s no food here so let’s just go and get some together. There’s an Italian bistro in the next street. We can go there.’

  ‘OK, I’ll come for a bowl of pasta and then I’m coming home – alone,’ Rosie said. At least this way she’d get Charlie out of the apartment. And maybe she’d get him to say more about Zander.

  But Charlie clearly didn’t want to talk about him and shrugged off her ‘So what does Zander do?’ question as they waited for their food to arrive with one word: ‘Businessman.’

  He raised his glass. ‘Santé.’

  Rosie picked up her own glass of chilled Prosecco. ‘Santé. I hope your emergency in the UK wasn’t too bad a one.’

  Charlie looked at her and sighed before picking up his own glass. ‘The emergency was a friend who was in a state of shock and needed a helping hand.’