Читать книгу Rosie’s Little Café on the Riviera - Jennifer Bohnet - Страница 17

CHAPTER NINE

Erica took her cup of coffee up to the roof terrace of the townhouse she and Pascal had bought before they were married. Early Sunday morning and the remains of a light mist hanging over the town were giving way to the sun.

She and Pascal had loved to sit up here together in the evening, sipping a glass of wine, happy to be spending time with each other. She’d barely been up here recently. She’d got used to the rest of the house feeling empty and lonely without Pascal around but the roof terrace had been a special place. Up here the memories were still raw. Even now, all these months later, she had to fight back the tears.

Facing inland away from the coast, the terrace had a view out over red-roofed villas and their swimming pools, stretching away in the distance to the boundaries of the town before merging into the beginning of the hinterland Provençal countryside. Pascal had fixed a low trellis around the three walls and between them they’d created a small, perfumed oasis where the two of them had relaxed and entertained friends.

Looking at the trellis now, with its rampant passion flower and honeysuckle tangled together, Erica realised how much she’d neglected things up here. Her beloved Italian glazed pots, too, were full of weeds strangling the spring flowers that had poked their way through.

Pulling a few weeds out from under the honeysuckle, Erica decided she and Cammie would do some pruning and tidy things up later. Get ready for eating al fresco in summer – their first proper summer without Pascal.

Besides, if she was serious about selling the house, it would need sprucing up. This morning, though, she’d promised Cammie they’d go to the vide grenier being held in the huge car park on the edge of the beach.

Erica smiled to herself. Cammie was as much a magpie for ‘treasure’ as she herself was and was already developing a good eye for what was rubbish and what was good in among all the tat that was always on offer.

As Erica pulled weeds out of the pot containing her favourite rose, the church bell tolling for eight o’clock Mass broke into her thoughts. Cammie’s Sunday morning alarm. Time to go back downstairs and prepare for the day and the long walk to the vide grenier. Erica sighed.

Ever since the accident, Cammie had refused to get in a car; had screamed and shaken violently on the couple of occasions Erica had tried to force the issue.

All these months later and they were still either walking or catching the train or bus to wherever they needed to go, with Cammie showing no sign of losing her phobia over cars. This morning, with no convenient train or bus going in the right direction, walking was the only option.

An hour later they set off, Cammie pulling the empty wheely shopping bag behind her and Erica lost in her thoughts about the past and what the future would bring them. By the time they reached the vide grenier it was in full swing with people jostling around the hundred or so stalls.

‘Right, young lady, you know the drill. You stick close to me and no wandering off,’ Erica said. ‘But in case we do get separated, you don’t talk to strangers and you come and stand by the entrance here and wait. Understood?’ Erica looked at Cammie intently as she waited for her answer.

Cammie nodded. ‘I promise. I won’t wander.’

Erica took charge of the shopping trolley and together they began to explore the various rows with their laden tables. Buying bits and pieces here and there, Erica carefully placed their purchases in the bag before they stopped in front of a stall devoted to art nouveau collectibles.

So much stuff here that would be good in the shop, but Erica was drawn to a magnificent, stained, leaded-glass table lamp. Never mind about putting it in the shop, she’d love it for herself. Too big and precious to be put in the shopping bag, it was also too cumbersome for her to carry all the way home. She glanced at the woman behind the stall. ‘Any chance you could deliver this for me later today?’

The woman shook her head. ‘No can do, sorry. We’ve got a tight schedule today. We’ve got to get down to St Tropez for an evening sale when we leave here.’

Erica turned away and caught Cammie by the hand. ‘Fancy getting a taxi home later?’ She knew the answer before she asked the question really.

The quick withdrawal of her hand and the shuttered look that came down over Cammie’s face confirmed it.

‘Never mind,’ Erica said quickly. ‘It doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s explore the next row.’

To her relief, Cammie for once was easily distracted and was soon engrossed in looking at a table of children’s books and toys and surplus ornaments – including a foot-high pottery lighthouse the base of which was badly chipped. When Erica pointed this out, Cammie said, ‘It doesn’t matter because it’s not “treasure”. I just want it for my beach project.’

‘Wasting your pocket money again, Cammie?’ a voice behind them said, and Erica turned to see GeeGee standing there, a big grin on her face as she gave Erica a hug.

‘You’re thinner than ever,’ Erica said now as she returned the hug. Rosie mentioning she hadn’t seen GeeGee for a few days should have rung alarm bells in her mind. She knew GeeGee skipped meals when commissions dried up and money was tight.

‘How’s things?’

GeeGee shrugged. ‘Things are so-so.’

‘Want to come back with us for lunch?’ Erica said. ‘And before you say no, I could do with talking to you.’

‘Lunch would be great.’

‘Actually,’ Erica said as a sudden thought struck her. ‘There’s something else, too. Have you got your car here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Brilliant. Fancy an ice cream?’ And Erica led the way to the picnic area and the catering van. She handed the shopping basket over to GeeGee before giving her a ten-euro note. ‘You two have whatever you want and wait here. I’ll be back.’

Finding the stand with the tiffany lamp took Erica some time, and when she did finally find it she had to wait for the woman to finish serving an elderly man who wanted to discuss the provenance of a glass plate he was buying. Erica crossed her fingers while she waited, hoping he wouldn’t want the lamp as well. He didn’t. Fifteen minutes later, the lamp was wrapped in protective bubble wrap and Erica was making her way carefully back to Cammie and GeeGee.

‘You can take everything back to the house in your car while Cammie and I walk back, OK?’ she said. ‘I’ll pick up a roasted chicken in the market.’

‘Don’t forget the sautéed potatoes,’ GeeGee said, knowing Cammie loved them but Erica rarely bought them.

‘Here’s the house key. There’s a bottle of rosé in the fridge. Help yourself. I’ll see you in a bit.’