Rosie's Little Café on the Riviera

by Jennifer Bohnet

  A few customers were having an early lunch and GeeGee recognised a couple of locals. She smiled. Word was beginning to spread about the Café Fleur and she was pleased for Rosie’s sake.

  She frowned as a man on a nearby table began gesticulating at James angrily. Briefly she wondered what that was all about but Erica and Cammie arrived at that moment and by the time they’d sorted themselves out and ordered lunch, the man was standing up to leave.

  ***

  The Tuesday lunchtime rush was in full swing when James, coming into the kitchen with new meal orders, said, ‘Compliments to the chef from some guy on table twelve. Wants you to join him for a liqueur.’

  ‘You know I don’t drink with the customers, James. I’m way too busy today, anyway. Thank him and politely decline on my behalf, will you? Is he a regular?’

  James shook his head. ‘No.’ He picked up the desserts for table nine and went back to the terrace to deliver the message. Two minutes later he was back. ‘Guy says he’s not paying his bill until you’ve been out to see him. Think he means it.’

  Rosie sighed. That’s all she needed. A perverse customer. What was it with the guy?

  ‘What’s he like, James?’ Tansy said. ‘You never know, Rosie, he could be a millionaire after your body as well as your tarte tatin.’

  ‘About sixty, designer clothes, Cartier watch, well spoken – oh, and he’s got a ponytail,’ James said.

  Rosie froze.

  ‘Sounds like the guy who was here before,’ Tansy said. ‘You know the one who…’

  ‘I know the one,’ Rosie said. ‘James, I’m sorry to use you as a go-between but would you please go tell Mr Tiki Gilvear that he is not wanted here and the management have requested he leaves immediately. Threaten him with security if you have to. There is no charge for his meal.’

  ‘Is this Tiki Gilvear, as in the film producer who’s just won the Palme d’Or at the festival?’ Tansy asked, looking at her shocked.

  ‘Just do it, James,’ Rosie said, ignoring her. ‘Now.’ She moved across to the side kitchen window from where she could see one or two of the tables at that side of the terrace. She saw GeeGee, at her usual table, busy tapping away on her laptop, look up as James went to the next table and delivered Rosie’s message to the man sitting there.

  Even after twenty-five years and the addition of a ponytail, Rosie would have recognised the man sitting on the terrace as her father.

  He was clearly not taking the order to leave without protest and customers were openly watching the scene with interest. Rosie bit her lip. How the hell was she going to make him leave if he refused? The security she’d told James to threaten him with didn’t exist. Could she phone Seb and ask him to come over? He’d be busy with lunches, too.

  She watched as James briefly left him to fetch a piece of paper from the restaurant bar, which he handed to Tiki who then dismissed him with a wave of his hand. James stayed out on the terrace clearing tables, talking to other customers while waiting for Tiki to finish writing.

  Rosie willed him to hurry up and leave. At last he put his pen down, folded the paper and beckoned James over. James took the paper and then stood to one side as Tiki left the terrace. It was only when she felt herself sigh and relax her shoulders that Rosie realised she’d been holding her breath, willing Tiki to go.

  ‘Are you going to tell us what this is all about?’ Tansy said. ‘Or is it some big secret?’

  ‘In a minute. Thanks, James.’ Absently Rosie took the piece of paper. She continued to watch Tiki Gilvear walk away from the Café Fleur – she needed to know he’d gone.

  When a young, blonde woman ran up to join him and they hugged, Rosie muttered, ‘Well, of course, he’d have to have a bimbo in tow.’

  As Tiki and the blonde disappeared from view, Rosie finally looked at the piece of paper she was holding.

  Dear Rosie,

  I am sorry you declined to talk to me today. I have to leave for London this evening for a few days but I will be back at the weekend for a holiday for a few weeks. I am staying at the Beach Hotel and I would be grateful if you could see your way to meeting me as I wish to discuss a matter of some importance to me with you. T.

  P.S. Thanks for lunch – it was delicious. My turn next time.

  Rosie looked up to see both Tansy and James watching her. She sighed. ‘OK. I’ll put you both out of your misery – but this is strictly between ourselves, OK? Tell no one. Tiki Gilvear – or, to give him his real name, Terry Hewitt – is my long-absent father. And he is totally wrong if he thinks for one minute I am interested in meeting up with him or hearing anything he has to say.’

  As for having lunch with him… No way. She screwed the note into a ball before throwing it in the kitchen waste bin before glaring at both Tansy and James. ‘We’ve got customers waiting. Move!’

  Rosie was still in a foul mood later that afternoon when Charlie turned up unannounced.

  ‘What d’you want?’ she demanded, not caring how rude she sounded.

  ‘Nothing in particular,’ Charlie said. ‘Thought I’d just pop in and see how you were doing. Have dinner with me tonight?’

  ‘No, thanks. I’m busy.’

  Charlie was silent for all of two seconds.

  ‘You seeing much of Seb?’

  Rosie glared at him. ‘None of your business if I am.’

  ‘You know’s he a gambler?’

  ‘So?’ Rosie said. ‘None of my business – or yours – what he gets up to in his spare time.’

  Charlie shrugged. ‘Just want you to know what you’re getting into.’

  Rosie resisted the urge to tell Charlie that she wasn’t getting into anything. That she and Seb were friends, that was all. The least said to Charlie about anything in her life, the better.

  ‘Goodbye, Charlie.’

  Infuriatingly, Charlie stayed put and watched as Rosie started to do the regular weekly bar stocktake. More house rosé needed, more champagne wanted in the wine fridge. By the time she got onto the bar snacks inventory his looming, silent presence was really irritating her.

  ‘Heard you went to a party with him the other night. You could come to a party with me.’ That did it.

  ‘Charlie, listen to me. We keep having the same conversation. We’re friends and that is all we’ll ever be – despite you and my mother wishing for more. I am not going out with you again however many times you ask me. Watch my lips: I. Am. Not. Interested. Okay? Go and find someone who is. How about Sarah?’

  ‘Olivia thinks you should come out with me?’ Charlie said.

  Rosie sighed. Damn. If she wasn’t careful the two of them would be in cahoots plotting her downfall. Mentioning Sarah had been deliberate on her part, hoping Charlie would pick up on the name, but he’d ignored the mention of her totally.

  ‘Charlie, please go. I’ve got lots of work to do. As from this weekend the restaurant will be open seven days a week so I need to at least try and get organised.’

  Charlie looked at his Rolex. ‘Shit. Got to go anyway. Got a meeting with Dad. I’ll see you.’

  Unfortunately, Rosie didn’t doubt it and watched him leave, wondering how long it would be before he was back.

  Later that evening, back at the flat, a tired and exhausted Rosie made herself a sandwich and poured herself a large glass of cold rosé before phoning Olivia. She needed to talk to someone who would understand.

  ‘Terry turned up at the restaurant lunchtime,’ Rosie said. ‘He seems determined to talk to me before he goes back to the States. Any suggestions as to how I get rid of him?’

  ‘How long is he going to be around?’ Olivia asked.

  ‘He’s in London for a couple of days but then he’s coming back for a holiday. I just know meeting him would be a complete waste of time. What on earth would I say to him after all these years?’

  There was a short silence at the end of the phone before Olivia said, ‘Would it help if I came with you for moral support?’ />
  ‘Remembering the way you two used to lay into each other, I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ Rosie said. ‘I’m too tired to think straight right now. At least I’ve got a few days’ reprieve while he’s away. I’ll talk to you soon. Love you,’ and she hung up.

  Pouring herself a second glass of wine as a nightcap, Rosie couldn’t help being pleased that the festival was over and the droves of showbiz types had all but disappeared, back to wherever they hung out. There were always celebs around down on the Côte d’Azur but not en masse like at festival time when every other person was ‘something’ in films.

  If only Terry was leaving, too. By rights he should be flying back to the States clutching his Cannes trophy to work on his next blockbuster. He definitely shouldn’t be staying at Seb’s for the next few weeks hoping to see her. Especially when there was no chance of that happening. After all these years she had nothing to say to him – and zero interest in any excuses he might conjure up to explain away his behaviour all those years ago.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Seb walked into the kitchen Sunday afternoon as Rosie and Tansy cleared up after a busy lunchtime.

  ‘My girlfriend ready for Monaco then?’

  ‘Girlfriend?’ Tansy said, looking from one to the other and back to Rosie. ‘Is there something you meant to tell me?’

  ‘Seb. I’d totally forgotten about this afternoon,’ Rosie said, ignoring Tansy. She’d explain later about being Seb’s make-believe girlfriend. ‘Have I got time to go home and change?’

  ‘Sure. Nothing too sexy, though!’

  Rosie looked at him.

  ‘I want Zoe to get the message I’m happy with an ordinary girl,’ Seb said. ‘As opposed to a sexy Barbie doll,’ he added with a smile.

  ‘Gee, thanks. I’ll come just as I am then, shall I?’ Rosie said.

  ‘Perhaps take your apron off,’ Seb said, grinning at her.

  ‘Know the expression “digging a hole”, Seb?’ Tansy said. ‘I’d say you’re about to disappear in one up to your neck!’

  ‘Rosie knows what I mean,’ Seb said. ‘And what I want. Don’t you?’

  Rosie shrugged. ‘I suppose so. Let’s just hope Zoe gets the message.’

  Back at the apartment, where Seb gave her five minutes to change and settle Lucky while he waited downstairs, she flung on a pair of clean jeans and pink T-shirt. Reaching for a pair of trainers, she stopped.

  What the hell. She didn’t have to look that ordinary. It was Monaco they were going to, after all, and surely Seb would appreciate her making an effort even if she was only his make-believe girlfriend. She took her favourite pale-blue sundress with spaghetti straps out of the closet, pulled it over her head and slipped her feet into her wedged espadrilles. That was better. She did at least feel feminine if not sexy. Besides, who knew who she might meet at this party?

  Fleetingly she wondered if she was doing the right thing agreeing to go to Monaco with Seb today. Curiosity to see both Zoe and Isabella had been the main reason for her agreeing to be his pretend girlfriend for a couple of hours, but suddenly she found herself wondering what she was letting herself in for. Too late to back out now, though.

  Slipping into the passenger seat as Seb held the car door open for her, Rosie smothered a yawn. It had been a hard week. She could do with staying home and collapsing with a glass of wine rather than having to put on a show for Seb’s ex.

  The Porsche was speeding through one of the numerous tunnels on the Monaco road when Seb, glancing sideways at Rosie, said, ‘Tiki Gilvear’s back at the hotel. I gather you know him?’

  ‘He’s a friend of Olivia from a long time ago,’ Rosie muttered.

  ‘He did mention he was hoping to catch up with Olivia,’ Seb said, accelerating and overtaking a lorry. ‘And… other friends.’

  Rosie glanced at him suspiciously. Had Terry been talking about her to Seb? She sincerely hoped not. It was none of his business. ‘How long is he staying?’

  Seb shrugged. ‘Open-ended. Says it depends on something he needs to sort and he’s not leaving until it’s resolved. Could be a couple of weeks or a couple of months.’

  Rosie’s heart sank. A couple of months! Did that ‘not leaving until it’s resolved’ refer to seeing her? Be more than a couple of months in that case. She’d have to ring Olivia and warn her.

  ‘Rosie…’ Seb hesitated before continuing. ‘I really appreciate this afternoon. Let me return the favour. If there is anything you need to talk about – I make a very good listener. I might even be able to help.’ He glanced across at her.

  Rosie shook her head. ‘There’s nothing to talk about but thanks for the offer.’ She stared out at the passing countryside. She’d been tempted before to talk it over with Seb, but would it help? In a way it would be good to talk to someone impartially. Someone who could help get her thoughts straight. Work out the best way to proceed.

  Would talking to Olivia help? Probably not. She’d been far too affected over the years to view the subject of her ex-husband dispassionately. But it was nobody’s business other than Olivia’s and hers, so best to keep it that way.

  She’d have to make damn sure she wasn’t available when Terry came calling at the café again, as she was now sure he would at some stage. She’d put James and Alicia in the restaurant, find another person to man the takeaway, and then she could stay in the kitchen with Tansy.

  ‘I need a couple more staff,’ she said now, glancing at Seb. ‘I don’t suppose you happen to know anyone?’

  Seb sighed. ‘Like Alicia, you mean? Afraid not. Try putting a notice on the door. This time of year the students are starting to be around looking for work. Maybe James knows someone?’

  ‘I’ll ask him,’ Rosie said.’How long are you planning to stay at this party?’

  ‘Depends,’ Seb said.

  ‘On?’

  ‘Zoe mainly.’ Seb shifted gear and steered the car into the right-hand lane ready to take the sharp bend down onto the Cap d’Ail road when the lights changed. ‘We’ll be there soon and find out how welcome we are!’

  Rosie digested this silently. Didn’t sound as though this party was going to be all fun and games. She looked at her watch. Coming up to six. On reflection it was a funny time for a party. Thoughtfully she glanced across at Seb.

  ‘Is it a real party? With food and everything? Or just aperitifs?’

  Seb laughed. ‘Oh, it’ll be a real party. Not sure the food will be to your taste but there will be some.’

  Seb pulled up outside an apartment block. One of the most exclusive and expensive blocks in Monaco. Thank God she’d dressed up a bit.

  ‘The party’s here?’ Rosie asked.

  Seb shrugged. ‘Zoe’s had an apartment here for years. Come on, let’s go find the party girl.’ He picked up a package from the back seat before locking the car.

  As the uniformed concierge acknowledged their presence they made for the elevator at the far end of the marbled floor foyer.

  ‘You didn’t tell me it was actually Zoe’s party.’

  ‘It’s not. It’s Isabella’s.’ Seb pressed the elevator button for the tenth floor and thirty seconds later the doors opened directly onto Zoe’s apartment – and the noise of a children’s party in full flow hit them.

  Seb had his arm around Rosie’s shoulders as they stepped out of the lift. ‘Come on, girlfriend, it’s showtime,’ he muttered.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me it was a children’s birthday party?’ Rosie hissed. ‘I would have brought a present.’

  ‘Not necessary,’ Seb said. ‘This is from both of us.’ He was scanning the crowd of children playing an energetic game of musical chairs.

  ‘Seb, darling. You’re finally here.’ No cheeky air kisses from this thin as a cocktail stick and twice as brittle woman; it was a full-on snog. When she finally let Seb go, she turned a puzzled look on Rosie.

  ‘Who’s this?’

  ‘My girlfriend. Rosie meet Zo
e, my ex girlfriend,’ Seb said, placing a heavy emphasis on the word ex.

  Rosie flashed a brilliant smile at Zoe.

  Zoe pouted. ‘But I thought we were going to try to…’

  ‘Daddy!’ A small girl hurled herself at Seb and shrieked with delight as he picked her up and swung her high.

  ‘Isabella!’

  Rosie swallowed hard in surprise. Daddy? Why hadn’t Seb warned her Isabella was his daughter? Looking from Seb to Zoe, realisation dawned. They’d been more than friends. Isabella was their daughter. And Zoe wanted them back together again as a family. Thanks a bunch, Seb, for putting me in the middle!

  Isabella dragged Seb off to meet her friends, leaving Rosie momentarily stranded. Zoe looked at her and gave a short laugh.

  ‘He didn’t tell you Isabella was his – our – daughter, did he?’ she said. ‘Better ask him what else he hasn’t told you. How long have you been his girlfriend, anyway?’

  ‘Not long,’ Rosie said, watching Seb with Isabella and her friends. He clearly adored the child. What had he said? Something about Zoe calling his personal morals into question? Had Zoe thrown the jibe when he’d declined to be a full-time father to Isabella?

  ‘There’s food and drink in the anteroom for the adults,’ Zoe said with a wave of her hand. ‘Help yourself. The party bags are in there, too, if you want to start filling them. We need twenty.’

  The last sentence sounded suspiciously like an order, which Rosie decided to ignore as she helped herself to a glass of wine and some smoked salmon blinis.

  The anteroom opened out onto a balcony overlooking a square with a fountain and a small lawn. As Rosie wandered out with her drink and food, two women regarded her with interest.

  ‘Hi. You with Seb Groc?’ one of them drawled.

  Rosie nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘You’d better watch your back with Zoe,’ the other woman warned. ‘She doesn’t take competition kindly.’

  Rosie shrugged. ‘She doesn’t bother me.’ If she was Seb’s girlfriend for real there would clearly be a problem, but as she was only acting the part for the day she could afford to ignore Zoe.