Rosie’s Little Café on the Riviera. Jennifer Bohnet
shied away from telling her the truth. She couldn’t face it yet. The thought of being in Pascal’s family home without him made her want to cry.
She tried to soften her latest refusal. ‘I’m busy getting the shop ready for the summer at the moment.’
Amelia didn’t push her, saying simply, ‘I’ll see you both in a couple of weeks then. Take care.’
‘You, too. Give our love to everyone up there,’ Erica said, knowing she’d hurt Amelia with yet another refusal.
Slipping the phone into her pocket she turned back to Cammie. ‘So, shall we ask GeeGee if she can find us a new house?’
Cammie looked thoughtful before saying slowly, ‘Yes. But we will take Daddy’s things with us, won’t we?’
***
GeeGee poured herself a bowl of muesli, added a generous dollop of fromage frais, and mixed it all into a gluttonous mess before slicing the last five strawberries onto the top. A delicious supper. It would fill her up and she’d have a glass of rosé later.
Bowl in hand she opened the studio’s French doors and stepped out onto the minuscule balcony. So tiny one wrought-iron chair almost filled it, leaving no room for a table, but it was a good place to sit and relax at the end of the day.
A small ginger and white kitten was curled up on the chair. ‘Hello, Trouble,’ GeeGee said. ‘You here again? Your real home next door too noisy with all those children around?’
The kitten simply stretched its legs before curling up in a ball again, closing its eyes and ignoring her. GeeGee didn’t have the heart to disturb it so stayed standing to eat her supper.
There was a tantalising glimpse of the sea through the trees and shrubs that covered the acre of grounds that surrounded the villa. Grounds that she had no access to; grounds she was never invited to walk around. But nobody could stop her enjoying the smell of the night-scented jasmine that mingled with the lavender drifting on the air up towards her and she sniffed appreciatively.
Erica was always telling her there were nicer studios out there – with nicer landlords, too – but this location was perfect, giving her the solitude she’d craved when Jay had left. The fact that none of the wealthy neighbours were interested in making her acquaintance was an added bonus. Something that would have infuriated Jay. He did like to mix with what he called ‘the right set’.
Since Jay had gone and she’d moved here, coming home, closing the door and losing herself in her own space had been wonderful. Nobody to hear her crying.
Last year, when he’d upped and left with practically no warning, she’d been devastated. Her home and boyfriend both gone in a single stroke. There was no way she could afford to stay in their apartment.
In those first dark, lonely weeks she’d read and reread his infrequent emails, looking for any sign that he was missing her. That he’d made a mistake leaving. That he was coming back. Mostly, though, he said he had to find himself.
Gradually, as his emails became full of news about people she didn’t know, and waxed lyrical about both his work and social life in London, GeeGee started to skim-read and then stopped automatically replying to them. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him to stop writing to her; she just hoped her silence would give him the message.
Over the past couple of months the emails had been more subdued. Almost as though he was tiring of his new life. Which, knowing Jay’s low boredom threshold, wouldn’t surprise GeeGee at all.
Today’s email had been shorter than usual. Maybe he’d noticed she wasn’t replying to every one he sent. There was no point. He wasn’t coming back. The relationship was clearly over – time to move on. It wasn’t as if Jay had been the love of her life. Working together, they’d simply drifted into a relationship.
Absently GeeGee spooned the last of the muesli mixture into her mouth. She was on her own now. A state of affairs she was beginning to enjoy, even feel happy about. Time to begin making plans for herself.
Tomorrow there would be some money in the bank when the sale of a small villa in Cannes La Bocca completed and her commission was paid. Mentally she ticked off the bills waiting to be paid: a month’s rent on the studio; a quarter’s desk rent to Hugo; a month’s car lease payment – plus petrol in the tank.
She’d need to do a supermarket shop, too, see if the English hairdresser’s in Antibes could fit her in… stop! It wasn’t that much commission. Anything else she wanted, needed, would have to wait for the next commission payday which, fingers crossed, was due in about a fortnight if the notaire was on the ball. And then Dan’s purchase of apartment 4c would be the next in about six weeks.
Ah, Dan. He was so… so nice. An over worked word but one that described him perfectly. She’d seen him briefly when he’d come into the office to sign the first of the official papers and she’d been struck by his old-fashioned manners and courtesy. Before leaving the office he’d thanked her profusely for her help and asked if he could buy her a coffee.
Smiling, she’d agreed and had been reaching for her tote when his mobile had rung.
‘GeeGee, I’m sorry, I’m wanted back onboard. We’ll have to do coffee another time. Completion day maybe?’ And he was gone. Now things were in the hands of the notaire there would be no need for him to contact her again; the notaire would answer all his questions.
Music and sounds of laughter from the grand villa on the corner of the road drifted on the air. The new owners had moved in then. Russian, Hugo had said when he’d gleefully told her he’d made the sale. A sale he’d virtually snatched from under her nose and for which she had yet to forgive him. The commission on that property alone would have set her up for the summer.
The buzz of the bell made her jump. Nobody ever visited her here, not even Erica.
‘Evening, babe,’ sleazy Stan, her landlord, said as she opened the door. ‘Beginning to think I’d have to use my master key.’
‘I hope that’s a joke,’ GeeGee said.
‘You’ll never know will you, doll?’
GeeGee gritted her teeth. No way was she going to let him rile her tonight. ‘You bought my new lease for me to sign?’
‘Nope. There isn’t one. Don’t know why you thought there would be. Studio’s a winter let only. Always has been. You’ve had an extra month as it is.’
Dumbly GeeGee stared at him. She’d gone through that lease several times. It had been a standard six-month renewable tenancy agreement. Nowhere had it said anything about it being a winter let.
She’d wanted a year’s lease but Stan had said take it or leave it. Desperate at the time, she’d signed. She’d been stupid enough to believe that renewing every six months would be automatic. Should have realised what the scum-bag was up to.
‘But you have to give me a new lease.’
Stan shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. I’ve got holidaymakers coming in here soon. You can come back in October if you want but I want you out of here by the end of next week. And make sure you take that cat with you.’
GeeGee didn’t have the energy to say the cat wasn’t hers. What the hell was she supposed to do now? Finding another place needed money for a deposit, rent in advance, etc. Money she didn’t have.
In the lull between closing the restaurant after lunch and reopening for dinner, Rosie sat at one of the tables with her laptop, planning to try and catch up with some of the restaurant paperwork – being French, it was breeding at an alarming rate. Lucky lay across her feet sleeping. Nobody had come looking for the dog and she’d shown no inclination to wander off. Stretching her hand down to fondle her ears, Rosie whispered, ‘I guess it’s you and me from now on.’
Rosie