A Riviera Retreat. Jennifer Bohnet
name, which character you identify with and why you need a holiday. For that last one, I said you lived alone, had broken your ankle and really needed time to recuperate and that Enchanted April was your favourite film.’
Matilda didn’t have to ask which character Sheila had linked her to. It would be the haughty and difficult Mrs Fisher, without a doubt.
She sighed. ‘Like you say, winning is extremely unlikely, but thank you for thinking of me. Is there any coffee left in the jug?’
Extremely unlikely it may have been, but the day Matilda was finally discharged by her doctor and told to take it easy for a couple more weeks, Sheila ran into the flat waving a piece of paper.
‘You’ve won, you’ve won! You’re going on retreat to the South of France.’
4
Amy parked the car in the multistorey and, making her way out, crossed the main road and went down the flight of metal steps that took her into the street that led into Cannes via the covered market. The last couple of months had been busy enough with some regular guests, but today was the day the competition winners were arriving.
Amy smiled as she entered the crowded market. She loved this place. Loved shopping here, her wicker basket over her arm slowly filling with local produce. Loved all the variety of food on offer. Loved… everything about it. After five years, the stallholders all knew her. She always tried to buy from the smaller stalls, the ones with the old ladies behind trestle tables, with the produce of their pottages, rather than the big commercial stalls. Pierre, the gardener she’d inherited with Belle Vue Villa, grew a lot of their vegetables – potatoes, onions, courgettes, peppers and all the summery salad stuff, but at this time of year, she always bought the asparagus, roquette, courgette flowers, rosé garlic and the freshest juiciest raspberries imaginable from madame in the centre of the market. Then there was the cheese stall with its brie and the creamiest buffalo mozzarella she’d ever tasted.
Wandering around, Amy brought her thoughts back to the things she needed and stopped in front of the boulangerie stand, buying three baguettes, a sourdough round loaf and some olive bread. Everything on her list ticked off, she made her way to the coffee shop in the street near the top end of the market. Time for an expresso and a favourite palmier biscuit before heading home.
Sitting there people watching, Amy’s thoughts drifted to the three strangers who were the winners of the competition she’d impulsively advertised. Was it a little crazy, this idea of hers inspired by the characters in her favourite film? Were the three prizewinners she’d picked out genuinely in need of a peaceful break like she hoped? Would they be women who would understand the ethos behind her wanting to do someone a random kindness? Maybe she should have asked her regular retreat guests to nominate someone deserving of a holiday.
And what if the three winners she’d picked didn’t get on? Then the next ten days would seem like ten weeks. The little she was able to glean from the competition entries and the follow up emails told her that the three of them were unlikely to have much in common. Vicky and Chelsea’s email replies to her own ‘you’ve won a holiday’ email had both been phrased in excited language and thanked her effusively. Amy thought Matilda’s reply had been slightly reserved, but the phrase ‘looking forward to it immensely’ reassured her that she was pleased to accept the prize.
Amy sipped her coffee and prayed this holiday would work out well for all of them – herself included. She’d really wanted to do something to say thank you and pay back her good fortune and she knew Tasha would approve of what she was doing. Whatever. It was too late to stop it now. This afternoon she was driving to the airport to collect them all. Vicky Lewis was arriving on the London flight at 3.30. Matilda Richardson and Chelsea Newman were flying from Bristol and would land at 4.15. The plan was to greet Vicky and take her for a coffee while they waited for the other two, before all travelling back to the villa together.
Fingers crossed there were no strikes or flight delays today which could complicate the best laid plans.
A couple of hours later, Amy was waiting in the Arrivals Hall at Nice airport, holding up her first placard with ‘Vicky Lewis’ written on it. Watching anxiously as people started to come through from the luggage area, she sent up a silent prayer that everyone would get on and that Belle Vue Villa would work its magic.
Amy liked Vicky the moment she walked through into Arrivals. They were about the same age and she sensed a kindred spirit.
‘Hi, Vicky. I’m Amy,’ she said, holding out her hand.
‘Hello, Amy – the giver of free holidays. I can’t tell you how happy I am to be here,’ Vicky said, smiling as they shook hands.
‘I’m happy you’re here too,’ Amy replied, returning the smile. ‘Good flight? I thought we’d have a coffee together while we wait for the others. Are you okay with your wheelie suitcase? Or would you rather take it to the car?’
‘Have we got long to wait?’
‘No. About half an hour,’ Amy answered.
‘Coffee then, please. My case is quite manoeuvrable.’
Choosing seats in the coffee shop where they had a good view of the ETA board in the hall, Amy told Vicky a little about the retreat and the surrounding area before glancing at the laptop bag strapped to Vicky’s case.
‘Your email said you wanted time for yourself to think about the future and to try and write,’ she said. ‘I hope this time at Belle Vue will help you with both of those.’
Vicky sighed. ‘I hope so too. I couldn’t believe I’d won when you emailed me the news. I feel guilty about accepting, if I’m honest, but time out just for me couldn’t have come at a better moment. Now the children are grown, I’d like to do something for me rather than get sucked into other things with all the free time I now supposedly have.’ She glanced at Amy. ‘My husband, Anthony, is keen for me to take on more in his constituency than I really want to. He doesn’t understand why I’m so reluctant. Oh blast!’ Vicky looked at Amy. ‘Please don’t tell the others my husband is a politician. People tend to treat me differently when they hear whom I’m married to. At least I can still manage to have the occasional private moment using my maiden name.’
‘Your secret is safe with me,’ Amy said, hoping Vicky didn’t suspect she’d immediately started wondering who her husband was. Or whether he was in the Cabinet. ‘I know how husbands have a habit of assuming and taking decisions they have no right to take, given half the chance.’ Before Vicky could say anything, Amy continued quickly, ‘Not that I have a husband any more. I left him around the time my Aunt Tasha left me Belle Vue.’
‘Thank you,’ Vicky said, clearly relieved, but not liking to pursue the matter of Amy’s ex-husband ‘Did you say the others are coming on the Bristol flight? It’s just landing, according to the board.’
‘Better get back to meeting and greeting then,’ Amy said, standing up and reaching for her name placards.
‘I’ll come with you,’ Vicky said, jumping up and following Amy.
Matilda and Chelsea came through into the arrivals hall together. Matilda leaning on a stick and Chelsea with both her backpack and Matilda’s case loaded on a trolley. Amy, seeing Matilda’s stick, sighed, hoping that moving around the house and grounds wouldn’t be a problem for her. There were a few flights of steps dotted around the place. At least she’d allocated Matilda the ‘Fitzgerald’ room on the ground floor which had French doors opening directly onto the terrace at the side of the house.
Amy introduced Vicky and herself to Matilda and Chelsea before they left the airport concourse to make their way to the car, Chelsea sniffed. ‘What’s that lovely smell?’
‘It’s