Summer in Provence Read online

  ‘Come, let’s get you both out of this cold wind,’ I interrupt, and Patricia links arms as we make our way back towards the day room.

  When we enter, there’s a flurry of hellos, hugs and introductions, as Pierce brings up the rear. When Kellie and Patricia hug, there are tears in their eyes. Patricia seems happy, but I can’t wait to find out what Stefan is doing as her driver. I’d assumed it would be her husband, so this is a total surprise – I just hope it isn’t bad news.

  ‘Ah, you are here!’ Margot barrels in, heading straight to Patricia, and we all step back. ‘Oh, another surprise. Stefan, alors! If I had known, I would have made your favourite bouillabaisse. No one tells me anything. Lunch is ready. Come, take off your coats; it’s time to eat.’

  I have no idea what’s going on, but the atmosphere is jolly and everyone is more than happy to begin filling their plates.

  From the assorted charcuterie, the potato salad with aioli sauce, the taboulé, to the goose stuffed with prunes and dates, it’s a feast. And in pride of place is the Bûche de Noël – Christmas Yule Log – at which Margot has excelled herself.

  With the music turned down a touch, it’s hard to hear it at all above the chatter and ensuing laughter.

  I’m not sure anyone other than myself is aware that Patricia has a husband, so the question isn’t raised, but I’m curious. Stefan simply explains that he’s touring the UK and stopped off to visit Patricia. She’s selling her holiday cottage over here and he couldn’t resist offering her a lift. ‘Any excuse for a trip to France,’ he adds.

  ‘Are you staying in France for a while?’ Kellie asks.

  Stefan looks across at Patricia, who duly answers.

  ‘Maybe a week. I have a few things to sort out and take back with me; Stefan very kindly offered to be my transportation. There isn’t much, just a couple of boxes of personal effects before the property goes on the market. It will be rather nice to experience one more Christmas there, as the neighbours are wonderful. The final goodbye will be tough, I will admit, but it’s time to let it go.’

  The conversation moves on quickly. Patricia isn’t a secretive lady, just very private.

  Once the meal is done and the table is cleared, Patricia asks me if I could give her a tour, so she can see the recent changes. As we pull on our coats, she reaches out to touch Nico’s arm as he’s walking past us.

  ‘Could you join us, Nico?’

  He immediately flashes her a smile. ‘Of course, Patricia. Give me a moment to grab my jacket from the cloakroom.’

  Stefan walks over to hand her something rather discreetly and she slips whatever it is into her pocket. Then she curls her arm around mine and we step outside.

  ‘Is everything all right, Patricia?’ I ask as we loiter.

  ‘Yes,’ she replies and turns to watch Nico as he walks towards us. ‘Before I get to see all the wonderful changes, I have a little present for you, Nico. It’s in the back of the motorhome, if you’d be so good as to help me to retrieve it.’ She pulls a bunch of keys out of her pocket and hands them to him, as he stands there looking puzzled. ‘A little something to thank you for the wonderful experience I had here at a time in my life when what I needed was the company of some kind people. And, of course, I met Stefan.’

  Oh, my goodness, my instincts were right – Patricia’s husband, Fred, must have passed away.

  Nico flashes a concerned look in my direction, but as Patricia pulls away from me, I give him a quick shake of my head, indicating he should say nothing.

  Unlocking the side door to the motorhome, Nico swings it open and steps back. Patricia indicates for him to go inside.

  ‘It’s the parcel strapped to the table,’ she calls out. ‘It’s rather heavy as Stefan did a wonderful job of making sure it would survive the journey. Maybe we could take it into the château?’

  Nico returns with his arms around the enormous package and as we follow him, I glance at Patricia, but she’s giving nothing away. We unlink arms as I swing back the heavy oak door for Nico to pass through, and we walk down the passageway, then on into the studio.

  Very carefully, Nico stands the box against the wall and prises open the end. Reaching inside, he begins to lever it out and polystyrene strips fall to the floor. His face freezes. I return my gaze to Patricia, puzzled.

  ‘The last painting.’ Nico’s voice is uneven. ‘The collection is complete.’

  I can see how overcome he is; the colour has totally drained from his face.

  ‘You guessed that Nico had taken me into his confidence, but how did you know about the painting, Patricia?’ I ask.

  I throw my arms around her, drawing her close as she begins speaking. This is a truly incredible moment, but I wonder if she understands quite how wonderful.

  ‘My husband, Fred, bought this for me many years ago from a little gallery in Covent Garden. We were on holiday and he saw how taken I was with it. He said a work of art is an investment, not an impulse purchase. Well, that’s how he convinced me we should buy our first piece. After that we bought a number of paintings and just a couple of years ago we purchased one by Nico Gallegos. We were on a month-long holiday, driving down through Spain.’

  Nico eases the painting onto one of the rails and we cluster around it. ‘It’s the orchard in our garden in Spain, in autumn,’ he murmurs, his hand cupping his chin and resting on his arm as it’s wrapped around his body. He’s caught up in a plethora of emotions that I can’t even begin to imagine.

  ‘As soon as the painting arrived and we unpacked it, Fred realised it was by the same artist as this piece. The signature was different, but the vibrancy and brushstrokes were unmistakeable. It had life in it, something that reaches out from the canvas and makes your heart leap.’

  Nico lowers his hands, resting them at his sides as he looks at Patricia, humbly. ‘And yet you did nothing about it, knowing one of the signatures was false,’ he replies, softly.

  ‘We loved both paintings for what they were. Before Fred died, he wanted me to meet you in person, so I came here. I was in need of a break after many months of nursing him, alone, at home. The man who had contacted us a while beforehand told us that José’s son was interested in buying the canvas, because he wanted to bring his father’s collection back under one roof. We were, naturally, rather curious, as we were convinced they were both by the same person.’

  The way Patricia says the word ‘curious’ implies that both she and Fred had done some research and knew a little about Nico’s father.

  ‘I suppose we wanted to know the truth, or the full story, if you prefer. For us, it didn’t devalue the beauty, or the validity of the pieces, but if this was part of a scam, that would have been devastating. Not because of the value, but the integrity.’

  I’m holding my breath and so is Nico.

  She continues. ‘It was very clear to me that Nico has put everything he owns into this place. He has assumed responsibility for a group of people searching for a home, bringing them together to make a difference. It was then that I knew the truth. I didn’t need to ask the question, because it was irrelevant. I simply experienced what you had achieved with the retreat and now, The Haven. I went back to Fred with a happy heart.

  ‘So, this is our present to you, Nico. It was Fred’s dying wish, and while I am a little sad to let it go, it belongs with you. No one, including Stefan, knows anything about it. He only thinks I’m bringing you a gift to thank you for my time here and that’s exactly how I’d like to keep it. A little secret between the three of us that goes no further.’

  We are all in tears as we come together, hugging each other in Fred’s memory. Nico and I are marvelling at the kindness of two wonderful and generous people.

  The last piece of the puzzle is finally in place and Patricia and I hold Nico up as he sobs quietly, his body trembling.

  Fate had a plan, after all.

  My heart feels both empty and full at the same time. This is the end of years of torment for Nico and, as it turns out,
I had a very small part to play in it. One I could never have imagined. And now it’s over, but I don’t seem able to visualise the moment when I drive away and return to my old life. A light is extinguishing deep inside of me, as if an icy blast has infiltrated my heart.

  26

  Jealousy or Guilt?

  ‘Hi, Aiden, can you talk?’

  I’m phoning on a flimsy excuse, because after an emotional day and then waving Patricia and Stefan off, I feel empty. Needy, even. Nico retired to his room early and there’s a party going on in the day room, but my heart wasn’t in it. It’s nearly midnight, so early evening in Mexico. I’m propped up on the bed, with only the light from the moon outside filtering into the darkened room.

  ‘It’s fine. I’ve just arrived back. We’re having a bit of a party here later tonight. It’s been a tough week, though.’ He sounds jaded.

  ‘Same here. I’m not in a party mood, either.’

  ‘Problems?’

  He’s more at ease tonight, obviously content to talk and I’m guessing wherever he is, he’s alone for the first time in a long while.

  ‘One of the first visitors I gelled with here, dropped in for lunch today on her way further down south. Her husband was ill, and she came to the retreat for a little respite, but he’s since died. She’s made a very generous gift on his behalf and it touched my heart. She was very good to me in that first week after I arrived, when I was feeling a little lost.’

  ‘It must have been tough for you, I didn’t quite realise—’ Aiden clearly thinks I’m making a point.

  ‘No. I don’t mean it like that. She was kind and went out of her way to ease things for me. I, um, want to buy a bench to replace an old rotting one down by the lake. Something sturdy that will last for years and get a plaque with her husband’s name engraved on it. What do you think?’

  ‘No need to ask me. Just do it. It’s a lovely gesture.’

  ‘It will probably cost a couple of hundred pounds and I know you were a bit concerned about the kitty.’

  He laughs. ‘I’ve spent way more than you on this internship and I’ll soon be off on my next adventure. I think you can splash out on a gift without putting yourself on a guilt trip.’ He sounds almost dismissive.

  ‘Aiden, if something was wrong at your end, you would level with me, wouldn’t you?’

  The silence is painful. The longer I listen to it, the more the sound seems to grow. How can silence sound so deafening?

  ‘More wrong than the fact that I have no idea what’s happening at your end? You’re with a group of people with whom you are growing close, building relationships as if they are a part of your future. I’m not blaming you, it’s the same for me here. But where do we draw the line?’

  ‘Are we talking about me, or you?’

  Suddenly I can hear his breathing and it’s laboured.

  ‘Well, I’m talking about Nico. From what Hannah said, you two are very close.’

  Is he accusing me of having an affair, when all that’s going around in my head is thoughts of him and Joss?

  ‘He’s my mentor, Aiden. That’s all. Being here I’ve discovered a new side to me, the one I’ve never had time to explore. And I can tell your experiences are changing you in subtle ways, too. But I still love you with all my heart, nothing will change that.’

  He groans. ‘I’m a fool, ignore me.’ He sounds sorry, but what are his words actually telling me? Is he a fool because he’s slept with Joss? Or is he a fool because he thinks I’ve slept with Nico and he’s jealous?

  ‘Let’s not torture each other, Aiden. This is supposed to be a year of adventure. Most people get that freedom before they settle down. We didn’t, and fate sent us that windfall for a reason. You lived for your job and were so caught up in the people’s lives it touched, that you just ran out of steam. I was—’ I pause, desperately casting around for the right word.

  ‘Happy and I upset everything.’ He sounds dejected.

  ‘No. Don’t say that.’

  ‘But it’s true.’

  Is he right? Was I totally happy, or living on autopilot letting one day follow another?

  ‘Maybe I was in a bit of a rut. You know what a worrier I am and this has given me time to stand back a little and see things in a slightly different way. I feel that I’m a better, more rounded person for it.

  ‘I’ve found interests I couldn’t possibly have guessed at, including meditation. We are people in our own right, it’s simply a case of letting that shine through. When we’re back home together, I want us to be in a position where we can help each other to continue growing and be happy. Not just be people who say they’re happy without it really meaning anything. We know a lot of couples like that and it’s not living life to the full, is it?’

  He snorts. ‘No regrets and no what ifs.’

  ‘And that’s what you said at the very beginning, Aiden, remember?’

  ‘Yes, well. That was then, and this is now.’

  ‘Something has upset you and you’re rubbish at hiding things, Aiden, you know that. We can talk it through.’

  I wish I could give him the hug he obviously needs.

  There’s a long pause but something tells me not to break it, just to give him a little time to collect his thoughts.

  ‘There was a gang fight and the eldest son of the family whose home I’ve been working in was knifed. He died before they could get any medical help. He was eleven years old, Fern. It made me realise how we take each day for granted. We wake up in the morning facing a new day, but what if it’s destined to be the last one? An accident, a heart attack – whatever. One thing keeps going through my mind – what have I done?’

  Anxiety? I’m the worrier, not Aiden. He’s always been a man of action, rolling up his sleeves to get things moving and to do that requires a positive attitude.

  ‘You need to talk to someone about that, Aiden. I’m serious. After an incident like that you need debriefing. Helping people in that situation was bound to take a toll and if you get pulled down, you won’t be able function and you will make poor decisions. That doesn’t help anyone, and it could harm you.’

  He emits a huge sigh that pulls on my heartstrings. ‘You’re right. I’m getting bogged down and I’m not thinking clearly. I’ll chat to Alistair; he handles staff welfare. I’m glad we talked. Sorry I’ve been so uptight. You don’t deserve that, and I didn’t mean to stress you out.’

  It’s a pattern that’s become the norm. At the beginning of every call, I feel I no longer recognise the man I’ve loved forever, as if he’s gone. By the time we’re ready to say goodbye, he’s back with me again, but it’s fleeting. Each time we talk it takes a little longer to re-establish that link and I’m fearful.

  ‘You’re always in my thoughts, Aiden. That will never change.’ It’s true, but in my heart, I know something is different and I hope it’s only the distance between us.

  ‘You promise?’ His voice sounds uneven; maybe he’s missing home.

  ‘I promise. The trip to Thailand will be amazing. The project you’ve been involved in has been so worthwhile, but your time there is almost done. You made a difference, Aiden, and that’s something to be proud of, but now you should take a little time to chill out and relax. No pressures, just being a tourist, as if you’re on holiday.’

  ‘Hmm. But I’m not, because if I was, then you’d be by my side.’ His voice is tinged with regret. The death of that young boy has hit him hard.

  ‘Don’t get depressed over the things you can’t change, Aiden. You learnt that a long time ago, so try not to dwell on the negative. Life goes on no matter how tough some of the lessons are and you need to be strong to support the people who are grieving for their boy. They can’t give up and neither can you.’

  He takes a noisy breath in. ‘Thanks, Fern. He just… I mean, he reminded me of a young Owen. You know, when we first met and he was – what – eleven years old? That big silly grin he wore most of the time because he was always fooling around and he was
all legs and arms. You remember that phase?’

  I smile to myself, nestling the phone between my cheek and my shoulder. ‘Oh, I do. Whenever you came to the house, he always wanted you to play football with him and we just wanted to slope off and have some quiet time together. And he was constantly hungry. Mum used to make you both her infamous toasted cheese sandwiches.’

  Aiden chuckles. ‘Owen never said no to food, no matter what time of the day, or night, it was. In fact, I could murder one of your mum’s specials myself, right now.’

  At least he sounds brighter and it’s a relief to know what was eating away at him.

  ‘I miss not having you there to ease the humps in my day. Does that sound selfish?’ he asks.

  ‘No. Of course not. That’s my job… well, not my job—’ I halt, mid flow.

  ‘I think you had it right first time. We’ve always been hard work, Fern – me, your family – but you always sorted us all out. I’m not sure I really appreciated how much effort that required. Losing your sister at a time when you should have been a new bride, enjoying the first days of happy married life. Adulthood has never been carefree for you, has it? Anyway, it’s something I won’t take for granted when we get back home.’

  What a huge relief it is to hear him say that. I’ve been wondering if he’s been quiet recently because our old life seems rather staid and boring by comparison. His eyes have been opened to so many things beyond our safe little world at home. Would the thought of coming back to me be enough?

  ‘Funny, we’re thousands of miles apart and you still know when I need you. Now that’s love.’ His words are full of emotion.

  I can feel the tears just waiting to be unleashed, but I hold myself in check. Deep breaths, Fern, end this on a high note.

  As we say our goodbyes and disconnect, I close my eyes, trying to remember what it felt like to be wrapped in Aiden’s arms. I give up, wondering how I’m going to get through another six months like this, knowing the divide between us could grow and trying not to imagine someone else in his arms.