‘My mother would have approved of this place,’ said Sid, pulling a face. ‘She was always feeding us prunes. She was obsessed with our bowels. She used to say?—’
‘I think that’s quite enough of that,’ said Beryl. ‘We don’t need to know more. How much further, Rick?’
‘Ten minutes at the most,’ he said. ‘Are you going to ring Yolanda to warn her we’re nearly at her village?’
Beryl made the call and disconnected. ‘Yolanda’s going to meet us in the marketplace to show us where to park,’ she said. ‘Apparently there’s nowhere closer to our accommodation. We can have a coffee or a beer in the bar there before we unload, if you like?’
This suggestion met with cheers of approval and soon Rick was slowing down to make his way into the little village. All around were old stone houses, some shuttered as if already preparing for the winter. There was a post office and aboucherienear the square and above the roofs of the houses could just be seen the towers of what looked like a small chateau. The autumn sunshine was still plenty warm enough for them to sit outside, and the tables set outside the café in the market square seemed an ideal spot to bask and take in the ambience of Brugnac d’Agenais. There was no sign of Yolanda.
‘This place is gorgeous,’ breathed Anthea. ‘I can see why your aunt chose to stay put when she got here, darling. Why have you never visited her before? I’d have been down here like a shot.’
Vee shrugged. It was hard to explain the restraints that had held her back for all this time, and even now she was very unsure of what her welcome would be like. Rick parked the van in the shade of what looked like an uninhabited house and got out, coming round to the back to help everyone climb down. They were all somewhat creaky after their journey but once their legs had got going again, they began to look around with interest.
‘Shall we sit down and order a beer? Maybe we should call Yolanda again?’ said Frank. ‘We could be in the wrong place.’
Just as Vee was about to snap that there couldn’t be more than one marketplace in a village this size, a small, round figure came bustling out of an alleyway and headed their way, calling, ‘Coooeeee!’
‘Is this your Aunty Yolanda, Vee?’ asked Maurice, somewhat unnecessarily as by this time the woman was nearly with them and was beaming widely. Her grey hair was wild, and she was wearing a faded garment that was a cross between a caftan and an overall. On her feet were ancient wellington boots of the green variety favoured by the hunting set.
‘Sorry I’m late,’ she said, breathlessly. ‘I was about to leave the house when one of my chickens came into the kitchen and I noticed she was limping. It was Bella,’ she added. ‘She’s an old girl now, and I wanted to make sure she wasn’t in pain before I came to meet you. Anyway, she rallied and here I am now.’
She came to a standstill in front of Vee, and they eyed each other warily. Yolanda’s smile faltered slightly but she held out both hands to her niece. ‘Venetia,’ was all she said.
Vee took her aunt’s hands in both of hers. She couldn’t speak for a moment. Memories came flooding back of this warm, friendly lady who had been such an important part of her childhood. Yolanda was the one who’d taught Vee to make iced lemon biscuits and bonfire toffee. She had helped Vee with her homework, especially when she’d struggled to learn her spellings. It was only when Vee reached her teens that the two of them had clashed, sometimes spectacularly.
‘It’s… it’s good to see you,’ Vee managed to say, before tears spilled down her cheeks. Yolanda reached out and pulled her niece close. Vee was a lot taller than the older woman and her chin rested comfortably on the top of Yolanda’s head as they clung together. She inhaled a fragrance that was so familiar that she wondered how she’d gone so long without seeing this dear person. It was a mixture of vanilla and garlic, with a hint of herbs fresh from the garden. Yolanda had always loved to cook. Something had gone badly wrong between them over the years and it was high time they fixed it.
‘Let’s get you organised,’ said Yolanda, letting Vee go and beaming round at the others. ‘We can do introductions later. Beryl and Winnie are old friends of mine, I’m not sure about the rest of you though. Once I moved over here, I was only in Willowbrook for visits so we might not have met.’
‘Would I be able to drive to the place we’re staying and drop off the luggage to save them all carrying their stuff?’ asked Rick. ‘I can come straight back here and park. We were going to have a drink, but I think we’d be better to get ourselves sorted first.’
‘Of course, just follow along behind us in the van and I’ll escort the rest of you to Pension Simone. I think you’re going to be very comfortable.’ Yolanda set off, and the rest of the party tried to match her pace. She certainly wasn’t hanging around.
‘Is she training for a marathon or summat?’ Frank muttered to Sid as they turned a corner. Sid didn’t answer. He’d stopped to offer an arm to Winnie who definitely wasn’t built for speed.
‘Come on, ducky,’ he said to her. ‘Hang on to me and I’ll get you there.’
‘This place had better be worth the hike,’ said Winnie. ‘My feet are killing me and I’m dying to spend a penny.’
Luckily, after only a few more metres, Yolanda came to a halt outside a three-storey, traditionally built house. Its shutters were open and outside the front door sat a large tabby cat.
‘Hello, Chantelle,’ said Yolanda to the cat. ‘These are your new visitors. If you’re nice to them, they might sneak you a prawn or two at dinner time. I hope you all like seafood? Simone’s cooking her famous paella tonight and she doesn’t care for picky eaters.’
‘Are you saying we don’t get a choice of menu?’ asked Anthea, pursing her lips.
‘Oh, yes, you get a choice. Eat it or don’t eat it,’ said Yolanda, laughing merrily as she pushed open the heavy wooden door.
27
The door creaked alarmingly but swung on its hinges to reveal a long, tiled hallway. The back door was also wide open, revealing a stone-flagged patio, and at the other end Vee glimpsed a sunlit garden with – blissful sight – a swimming pool at its centre. Thank goodness she’d put her swimsuit in at the last minute. She wondered if the others had too. Their holiday had never been intended to be a beach, swim and sunbathe trip. Around the pool, metal folding chairs were grouped cosily, as if they were having a conversation.
‘This looks great,’ she said to Yolanda, who had given a shout to whoever was inside and now paused to make sure all her charges were safely through the door. Rick was indoors too by this time and echoed her opinion. ‘Terrific,’ he said, grinning at Vee and giving her a thumbs-up sign.
‘It’s the only place that was likely to have enough rooms for you all,’ said her aunt. ‘You’re fortunate that you decided to come out of season. Simone gets very busy through the summer. Ah, here she is.’
Yolanda herself was well-rounded but the lady that emerged from the kitchen was even more ample, both in height and girth. Vee looked on admiringly as the two women kissed each other on both cheeks. Their hostess was magnificent. Vee had expected someone older, but Simone might have been any age from mid-forties to sixty. She had a sort of timeless beauty and opulence, with her cloud of long chestnut hair loosely tied back by a brilliant blue scarf which perfectly matched her eyes. Her feet were bare apart from a few toe-rings, and her skin was burnished to a healthy bronze. She wore a flowing sleeveless dress in shades of turquoise and green and a quantity of elaborate gold jewellery topped by dangling earrings. Her cleavage was also spectacular, and Vee stifled a giggle as she saw the effect this vision was having on the males in the group, who were goggling at their hostess open-mouthed.
‘So here you are,’ said Simone, smiling around at them. ‘This is such a treat for me. I love to practise my English. Let us get your bags inside and we can get you settled.’
