Beryl drew away from Frank, conscious that a group of people was approaching. She heard their chatter and laughter getting closer. ‘Come on, let’s go and see some very grand boats and maybe toast ourselves with a glass of wine with our lunch.’
‘We’ll do better than that, my pet. It’s champagne today for us. Nothing but the best for my fiancée,’ Frank said, holding out his arm for Beryl to take.
They strolled towards the harbour, dodging the crowds and taking a diverse route that meandered through ancient streets. Beryl couldn’t remember when she’d been so contented. Shocked, stunned, a bit aghast at herself for accepting Frank’s proposal so readily when she’d always told herself that she was her ‘own woman’, but very happy all the same. She squeezed Frank’s arm, and the answering pressure told her that he felt the same.
‘Do you know what? I’m already quite tired of travelling around,’ said Beryl. ‘I wonder what the others would say if I suggested cutting out Bordeaux and heading straight for Yolanda’s village. Maurice still hasn’t booked anywhere there. He and Anthea can’t agree on a hotel. It’d be more peaceful further south, and we could settle into some nice accommodation for a few days instead of always being on the move.’
‘I don’t mind what we do, so long as I’m with you,’ said Frank. ‘But wasn’t it your idea to go to as many places as possible? Won’t you be disappointed?’
‘No, not at all. We can always call in at Bordeaux on the way home if everyone wants to,’ said Beryl. ‘I think we need time to sit back and watch the world go by. Find a café with a bar where we can relax, go for walks to explore, eat lovely food and have time for some proper afternoon naps. I booked the pension that Yolanda suggested so I’d only need to phone and ask if we can arrive early. Shall we see what the others say?’
‘Absolutely,’ said Frank. ‘And it’ll give you and me time to get to know each other better, won’t it? Let’s not tell the others our news just yet. I want us to have at least a day or two when it’s our secret. Do you mind?’
Beryl didn’t reply because they’d reached the sparkling waters of the harbour and the sight of all the yachts and pleasure boats took her breath away, but later as they walked back, she began to have misgivings. Frank seemed to think she was perfection itself. How was he going to react when hedidget to know her better and discovered what emotions simmered under the surface? Beryl was well aware that although time might have been expected to do its job of healing, she’d never stopped being a boiling mass of resentment that her only child had died and she was still trying to find out what had actually happened to upset him so much all those years ago. Surely Frank would think that she should have left her resentment behind a long time since. But that was impossible. There had to be answers, and Beryl was now more determined than ever to find them.
26
Beryl’s suggested change of plan went down surprisingly well with the rest of the party. The older members in particular were all exhausted by the time they met for dinner and were more than ready to opt for a peaceful few days. It was a matter of moments for her to ring the owner of Pension Simone and change their arrangement, and a quick call to Yolanda followed.
Vee had very mixed feelings about all this. On the one hand, she was also feeling tired. The long, gruelling hours that she and Rick had been putting in on the house renovation were catching up with her and she’d seen Rick stifling yawns too, even as she was driving them down to Dover. But then there was the looming prospect of seeing her aunt. She’d managed to put this out of her head for most of the time since they’d set off, concentrating on the fun of new scenery and amenable company. Now it was getting far too real.
‘Well, that’s settled, we’ll head south tomorrow morning,’ said Rick, as they finished a leisurely dinner. Beryl’s suggestion had sparked a mood of relaxation in everyone, and when the last of the wine had been drunk, they all headed for their beds quite happily.
The next day, a new sense of excitement altered the atmosphere in the minibus as Rick started the engine.
‘Lot-et-Garonne, here we come!’ shouted Sid as they wove their way through the already busy streets and out towards the road that would take them south and east. ‘What kind of place is this village? I hope there’s a good bakery. I’m addicted to those pain au chocolat things now. I’m still going to need my fix.’
‘I’m sure there will be,’ said Beryl. ‘And hopefully a lovely bustling market in the square… if thereisa square in Brugnac d’Agenais, of course.’
They all fell silent, thinking about their destination. Vee’s reservations about her own welcome grew bigger with every mile they travelled and by the time they’d reached the quieter roads, some hours and a couple of comfort stops later, her stomach was in knots.
‘This is beautiful countryside, darling,’ said Anthea to Vee. ‘It’s so rolling and green. Your aunt’s chosen well. I wouldn’t mind living here. What do you say, Maurice? Shall we sell up and buy a rambling old chateau? They might do a TV programme about us. I’ve always fancied being the mistress of a magnificent estate in the country.’
She laughed when she saw the look on Maurice’s face. ‘I’m joking, don’t look so panic-stricken. I know you’ll never leave Willowbrook. I don’t think any of us would.’
Vee noticed that Beryl and Frank had chosen the back seats of the bus and were whispering to each other. ‘What’s going on with you two?’ she said. ‘You’re looking really furtive. Have you been up to mischief? Did you rob a bank in La Rochelle?’
‘N… nothing,’ stuttered Frank. ‘We were… ah… talking about…’
‘…Talking about whether we should have bought a gift to take for Yolanda,’ finished Beryl. Her cheeks were very pink, and she didn’t meet Vee’s eyes.
‘Oh dear, we ought to have thought of that sooner,’ said Winnie. ‘Can we stop somewhere, Rick? What about a nice bunch of flowers?’
Rick muttered something under his breath. He was yawning now and tapping his fingers on the wheel. Vee could sense the tension mounting inside the minibus. It was as if her own jittery feelings had spread themselves amongst everyone else. She supposed it wasn’t surprising because the closeness that was developing between the eight of them was more noticeable with every mile they travelled and every meal they ate together.
Luckily, at this point they entered a small town, and Winnie spotted a stall selling flowers and plants by the roadside. ‘Look! Can you stop, Rick?’ she said. ‘I think we’d be okay to pull up for five minutes. I’ll go in.’
Rick screeched to a halt behind a delivery van and sat back in his seat. He stretched both arms above his head. ‘Go for it, Winnie,’ he said. ‘But don’t be long. I don’t know what the parking rules are in France. We don’t want to be landed with a massive fine.’
Winnie scrambled out of the bus with a groan as her stiff legs met the concrete, followed by Sid and Beryl, who couldn’t resist being in on the action. They were soon back with a magnificent chrysanthemum plant covered in yellow flowers. Vee gasped. ‘Oh, no, I should have warned you. We can’t take that. Chrysanths are the plants they put on graves over here. They’re used especially around All Saints’ Day but nobody gives them as gifts. Yolanda would be really offended.’
Winnie sighed. ‘We’ll just have to find a nice grave to put it on when we get there, in that case. Back inside, gang.’
Eventually, the three returned with two large bunches of assorted flowers in different colours. ‘We have no idea what she likes so we hedged our bets, and we bought one for the lady who owns the pension too so she doesn’t feel left out,’ said Beryl. ‘Drive on, Rick. We’re on the last lap now.’
The final part of their journey took them through more gently hilly countryside, ever greener and more verdant. Every now and again the road passed alongside or through the middle of woods of graceful birch trees, tall and slender. The warm breeze coming through the open windows was energising, and everyone began to perk up. In some places row upon row of twisted vines marched across the fields and further on they were replaced by small fruit trees.
‘Plums,’ said Frank. ‘I’ve been reading up about the area. This is the prune capital of Europe, you know.’
