Laura tweaked the vase of flowers in Daniel’s – what would be Cherry and Daniel’s – bedroom. Provence was renowned for its early-summer blossoms and the fields of poppies spilled out into the roads. She’d picked great bunches, along with honeysuckle-scented brilliant yellow broom. The bed was made with crisp broderie anglaise sheets and she looked at the final effect, pleased. There was food in the fridge and a bottle of wine chilling, ready for when they arrived in about – she looked at her watch – twenty minutes or so.
She moved around the villa, a typical Proven?al house, checking everything was tidy and welcoming. Finally satisfied, she went out onto the sunny terrace, from where she could see the whole of the St Tropez peninsula. She gazed out at the gleaming white yachts, tiny dots in the distance, some moored, some gently drifting in the breeze. She felt different when she was here. The house in London was Howard’s; this was her escape, and over the years it had been a place of refuge when things had got on top of her at home. Since she’d gone back to work, she only got here a few weeks a year, but whenever she did, it was like returning to an old friend.
It was particularly gratifying to be here now as their neighbours in London had started building work the day she left. They were embarking on their own basement extension and the excavator was deafening, vibrations throbbing right through their house. The builders had already tripped the power and it had been a relief to get on the plane. It seemed the whole of Kensington was digging underground. A labyrinth of tunnels and vast chambers. Laura had visions of whole sections of London collapsing into one great big pit. A brief thought crossed her mind: how would Howard cope with the disruption? He hadn’t been able to come to France due to work commitments. The answer came just as quickly and she knew he wouldn’t be staying at the house: he’d be at Marianne’s.
She quickly brushed away this painful thought. For two weeks at least she could escape everything, and no doubt Daniel was pleased to be coming here as well. She knew he had lots of studying to do, and there wasn’t much chance of getting it done with the cacophony next door. Cherry would be with them until Monday night and Laura had lots of plans for her visit. She really wanted to show her around and get to know her a bit. She was looking forward to making this trip special for her, wanted it to be a place she could relax too and had an idea they might bond, become friendly. It would be nice. Hearing a car on the gravel drive, she turned and went back through the house, opening the front door wide. Daniel had parked the hire car and was hauling out the luggage from the boot.
Laura opened her arms and went to hug Cherry. ‘Welcome! So glad you could get the time off!’
‘Me too,’ said Cherry.
‘Come in. Are you tired? Do you need a drink?’
It was early evening and gloriously warm. Cherry looked up at the house. The shutters and windows were open and gauzy white cotton curtains caught against the window frames. She already liked what she saw. She let herself be taken inside and fussed around. She took in the large, airy reception rooms with big open fireplaces and the French country-chic kitchen with gleaming teak worktops. She accepted a glass of chilled Sauvignon.
‘How was your flight?’ asked Laura.
‘Good, thanks.’
Cherry’s attention was taken by her surroundings and she didn’t really engage with Laura’s polite conversation. She continued to gaze around the kitchen and was struck by a painting on the wall above her, a vivid oil colour of russet-roofed buildings round a sandy-coloured square with yachts on an azure sea in the background.
‘What a beautiful painting,’ she exclaimed.
‘Isn’t it,’ said Laura. ‘A local artist.’
‘Is it of St Tropez?’
‘Yes. Of course, there’s stacks of painters down in the village, all excellent, but this one, he’s among the best. We’ve got a few more dotted around the house.’
‘My absolute favourite is on the landing,’ said Daniel, coming up behind them and putting his arm around Cherry. ‘Les Pins.’
‘The Pines. Sounds wonderful.’
Daniel looked up at the picture. ‘It’s fantastic, isn’t it? I’ve always loved this artist. Cherry’s got good taste, eh, Mum? These are worth quite a bit now he’s become pretty famous. I love them. One day, I might get one for myself, if there’s ever one available. Most of the time they have sold stickers on them.’
‘Would you like to see outside?’ asked Laura.
Cherry followed her hostess through some large glass doors onto the terrace and her breath caught in her throat. Beyond the large, gleaming pool was the blue of the Mediterranean, a heart-soaring expanse that fused into the hazy sky. Lured by what she could see, Cherry walked towards the garden wall, dotted with red geraniums, and leaned over to get a better look. Far below her lay the tops of the russet roofs of St Tropez that she’d just been admiring in the painting. And the yachts! There were so many of them. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen before.
‘Bit of a rubbish view, eh?’ said Daniel, joining her.
Cherry blinked. Speechless, she burst out laughing.
‘We can go and explore later,’ said Laura enthusiastically. ‘Show you around. And we’ve got an invitation from Isabella for dinner.’
‘Mum’s oldest friend,’ explained Daniel. ‘Is Brigitte here?’
‘Yes,’ said Laura. ‘Brigitte is Isabella’s daughter,’ she added to Cherry.
Cherry smiled politely.
‘Hope you’ve got lots of stamina,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve got loads of ideas for your stay. Thought you might like to go and take a look at some of the vineyards – it’s so beautiful up in the hills. And of course a little tour of the village here. It’s classified as one of France’s “plus beaux villages”, and we can go to the beach, obviously, and I thought maybe you’d like to take a drive up the coast to Cannes? Anyway, there’s loads to do – you can just go at your own pace.’
Cherry smiled along but inwardly prayed that she didn’t have to share her entire weekend with her boyfriend’s mother.
The first event was dinner at Isabella’s villa down in St Tropez itself. Cherry had just had enough time to shower and change, and had spent a stressful ten minutes wondering what she should put on. Did the moneyed dress up, or did they just do expensive casual? Cherry didn’t know and eventually settled on a fairly simple – and cheap – cotton dress. She couldn’t afford much of a holiday wardrobe, and the dress was something she’d got when she was in Australia. She hoped it didn’t look too faded.
Cherry noticed Isabella’s eyes went to her first as she opened her wooden front door, even though she was busy ‘hello’-ing those she knew.
‘Oh, you darling boy,’ said Isabella, embracing Daniel tightly, ‘I don’t see you for months and then you spring this’ – she turned to Cherry and beamed – ‘lovely surprise on me.’ She wasn’t unfriendly, but her gaze was most definitely one of assessment, of ego-laden curiosity, thought Cherry. ‘Brigitte’s going to be devastated, you know . . .’
Daniel laughed. ‘I think she’s got better taste.’