Cherry was happy to rest and watch him stroll up the street. She looked lovingly down at her bags, still glowing with the blissfulness of it all. A stupid smile adorned her face as she ran through her head the new clothes she had. Maybe she could wear one of the dresses tonight. The smile suddenly faltered. Laura would likely have an opinion about this lavish spending spree. Things had been decidedly distant between them the last few days – nothing that Daniel would particularly notice, but she was very aware that the liberal welcome when she’d first arrived had disappeared. Never mind that all these clothes were a gift, and one that Daniel had instigated through no conscious prompting from her – the fact was, he’d just spent nearly 2,000 euros on her.
Cherry sat up uncomfortably. She didn’t want to arouse any suspicion about why she was with Daniel. It would just complicate things. As she was gazing around distractedly she saw in a shop window across the street a painting that looked familiar and then she recognized it as being by the artist whose paintings Laura had at the villa. Gathering her bags, she walked over to the gallery and peered in. It was displayed on a small wooden easel, an oil of St Tropez Harbour. It cost 3,500 euros and had a sold sticker on it.
The bell tinkled as she walked in. She knew she didn’t have long, as Daniel would be back any minute. She scanned the gallery quickly and found more paintings by the same artist displayed on the back wall. Sold, sold, sold, she saw, and then a smaller one, an oil of Places des Lices, the dappled shade of the dozens of plane trees casting a lace-like pattern on the sandy ground. Miraculously, it seemed to be available. She would be in debt on her credit card for months but knew instinctively it was worth it. The gallerist wrapped the painting; she paid, then quickly left the shop and returned to her spot on the bench, hiding the package in one of the clothing bags. Daniel was barely a couple of minutes later and arrived slightly red-faced as if he had been running. He apologized for taking so long, but he had a baguette and a tarte citron for lunch.
They sat in the square and ate, watching the boules players, and then headed back to the villa. Isabella’s car was in the drive when they pulled up, and as they walked in, they could hear numerous voices; Brigitte was there too, along with Nicole.
‘Here they are!’ said Isabella, who’d obviously had a couple of glasses of wine. ‘Did you have a nice day?’
‘Lovely, thanks,’ said Cherry.
‘So I can see,’ smiled Isabella, looking down at her bags.
‘Do we get a fashion show?’ asked Brigitte.
Cherry blushed. ‘No.’
‘Well, at least let us see what you got.’ She was pawing at the bags, trying to peek in, and Cherry bit back her annoyance. She pulled out a dress from one of the bags to exclamations of appreciation and envy.
‘What else?’ demanded Brigitte, and Cherry wished she’d shut up.
‘Just a shirt and a top.’
‘In all these bags?’ she said disbelievingly. ‘Come on, what’s all the secrecy? Pretty please can we see?’
Laura had remained quiet during all this, but Cherry could sense she wanted to know what was in the bags. Isabella and Brigitte were looking at her with inquisitive, expectant eyes. She had no choice and soon all the garments were out, being appraised and cooed over.
Cherry caught Laura looking at her with curiosity. She knew she was wondering how she’d managed to pay for all the clothes.
‘You seem to have made a successful tour of the shops,’ she said pleasantly.
‘Not all of them,’ said Daniel with relief.
‘You went too?’ Brigitte was amazed. ‘How did you manage to persuade Daniel to go shopping?’
‘It was my idea,’ he smiled. He put his arm around Cherry and kissed her. ‘Happy birthday. Sorry it was late.’
Laura’s face remained impassive. Now was the time, thought Cherry. She went to the bag that held the wrapped painting and, pulling it out, handed it to Daniel. ‘This is for you.’
He took it in surprise. ‘What is it?’
‘Open it,’ she said, smiling.
He pulled off the tissue and his face lit up. ‘But it’s . . .’ He tailed off.
Cherry nodded. ‘I saw it and just wanted you to have it.’ It had almost bankrupted her, but it had been necessary.
He loved it, she saw, but was concerned. ‘You mustn’t . . . You can’t . . .’
Cherry held up a finger. ‘Nope. I don’t want to hear it. I wanted to get you something special.’
‘No . . .’
She put the finger on his lips. ‘Shush.’
He looked at the painting again, eyes lit up, and he threw an arm tightly around her neck, kissing her. ‘Thank you. I absolutely love it.’ He was incredibly touched, she saw, and she was glad she’d done it. ‘Yours was a present,’ he gently admonished.
He kissed her again. Over his shoulder, she saw Laura looking on with uncertainty. She was probably trying to work out how she’d got the euros to pay for it. Let her wonder.
Laura slept badly that night. So many things were niggling her. Daniel had paid for Cherry’s flights, and seemingly over the odds, and then for all the clothes. He’d clearly spent a fortune, and to be fair, Cherry understandably would have struggled to pay for either. So why the painting? How could she afford an original oil worth 2,000 or 3,000 euros when she couldn’t pay for her own flights? It kept her awake until two in the morning, and she woke early too – around six. The unsettled, slightly queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach wouldn’t go away, so she got up and went down to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she held the glass under the tap, it slipped from her fingers and smashed in the sink. Laura swore; she seemed to be so clumsy these days, dropping things, losing things. She still had to get the hire car fixed, and now it was too late as she was leaving the following day. She carefully picked out the pieces of glass from the sink and placed them on an old newspaper. Then she got herself another glass and filled it, drinking slowly, the same questions from the night before still hammering away in her head like a pinball machine, but no clear answers came.
Laura stretched her aching, twitching limbs. Although it was the last day of her supposedly relaxing holiday, she felt more stressed and exhausted than before she’d arrived. Cherry had changed everything. She’d made herself at home and yet had so far proved unwilling to spend much time with her hostess; in fact, Laura got the distinct impression she was barely tolerated.
She picked up the painting Cherry had bought for Daniel. The light caught the plane trees, the sandy shadows of the square. It was truly beautiful. No wonder Daniel treasured it.
‘It is an original.’
Laura spun round and saw Cherry standing in the doorway.
‘Just in case you were wondering.’
‘How long have you been there?’ she burst out, irritated – guilty – although Cherry could hardly read her mind.
‘Not long.’ Cherry smiled and walked over and took the painting from her. Met her eye. ‘Anything else you want to check out?’
Laura was puzzled. What did she mean? She was only looking at it, for heaven’s sake! She was about to retort when a cold, dousing memory returned to her. The day she’d gone into their room. Cherry’s things, her flight details. Did she know they’d been looked at, read?
Daniel appeared and put his arm around Cherry. ‘Still fancy the beach?’
She smiled. ‘Sure. I’ll just get my stuff,’ and she went back upstairs.
‘How about you, Mum? Last day of hitting the rays?’
‘No, thank you.’
‘What’s up?’