PROLOGUE
Up on the roof terrace of his home, Villa Celestia in Antibes, Guy Lyon, former chef extraordinaire and the darling of influencers and content creators, sipped his glass of Château Margaux 2023 and aimlessly watched the moon’s reflection on the dancing waves of the Mediterranean. The intense fruit flavour of the wine was wasted on Guy this evening, he barely registered the rich complex taste of black and red fruits as he swallowed. He really shouldn’t have opened another expensive bottle from the cellar.
There should be thoughts about the future going round in his head, decisions being made, but his mind had been a black void of nothingness about the future for the past eight months. Impossible to shake it into consciousness even if he wanted to. Which he didn’t. That would mean facing up to things, picking up his responsibilities and being an adult again, doing things, living life, when all he wanted to do was sit up here, sip wine and let it all pass him by.
A burst of fireworks lit up the sky along the coast to the west. Close enough to be seen, far enough away to soften the noise of the exploding gunpowder and impossible to smell the sulphur drifting in the night air. Summer down here on the Riviera went hand in hand with weekly firework displays competing for prizes all along the coast.
Twenty minutes later, Guy sighed as the last of the current pyrotechnical display faded away. He knew that this particular fireworks display on the Friday of the Easter weekend signalled the beginning of a relentless merry-go-round for the next few months involving anyone in the catering industry. Easter was early this year, the last week of March when hotels, bars, cafes, restaurants, Airbnbs, sandwich bars, pizza makers, ice-cream sellers, all geared up for a busy holiday season.
Guy picked up the bottle at his side and poured the last of the self-indulgent wine into his glass. This year, he had no intention of jumping on the merry-go-round. Villa Celestia was not opening her doors this year to the public. They could all just… just go away. He had had enough.
1
Guy was making himself a coffee when a series of demented bangs began on his front door. What the hell? He put two pieces of day-old baguette in the toaster for breakfast and pressed the lever down, confident that the noise would stop. If he didn’t answer, whoever it was would give up and leave.
As he waited for the toast to pop up, the banging continued; as he poured his coffee, the banging continued; as he buttered the toasted baguette, the banging – stopped. Relieved, Guy picked up his coffee and slopped it over himself as the banging unexpectedly recommenced, making him start at the noise.
Furious now, Guy rapidly walked to the front door and wrenched it open. ‘Stop banging on this door and go away.’
‘I knew you were in and I’m not going anywhere.’ His wife’s best friend Sandy glared at him and he instinctively went to close the door again. He wasn’t ready for this particular visitor. Or any visitor. But Sandy quickly pushed past the door and stood in the marble-floored hallway looking at him, an uneasy silence surrounding them, until Guy broke it.
‘What do you want?’ he asked, automatically bending down to stroke Twiggy, Sandy’s chihuahua, who was scrabbling at his legs for attention, recognising Guy as a friend.
‘Two things. The first is to talk some sense into you, Guy Lyon.’
‘How long are you planning on staying to do that?’
‘As long as it takes. I’m sure you are going to offer me a coffee?’
Realising Sandy wasn’t going to leave quickly now she was in the house, Guy sighed, gave in to the inevitable and closed the front door.
‘One word about the mess in the kitchen and you don’t get a coffee.’
‘I’ve seen it in a mess before when you and Jacqueline were fully booked,’ Sandy said, following him through the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the villa. ‘You’re not cooking these days?’ she said, registering the pile of empty pizza boxes on the counter, the crockery in the sink.
‘Doesn’t seem worth the effort for one,’ Guy replied as he switched the coffee machine back on, checked the water level and spooned some coffee into the dispenser before reaching into the cupboard for the last clean cup and pressing the button. ‘Nothing wrong with a good pizza.’
Sandy cradled the coffee cup in her hands and took a sip before looking up at Guy. ‘It’s been eight months since…’ She paused.
‘Since Jacqueline died in a car accident,’ Guy said. ‘I know. You can say it out loud.’
Sandy nodded. ‘And I’m worried about you – all your friends are. You rarely go out and when you do, you just drown your sorrows in various bars. Romain has seen you, but when he tries to talk to you, you walk away. You never meet up with anyone for lunch or even a coffee.’
‘I do go out – just to different places these days,’ Guy said quietly. ‘Where no one knows me. Where I don’t have to make conversation.’
Sandy sighed. ‘You turn down every invitation you get. I know it’s going to take time, you and Jacqueline were so close, together for so many years…’
‘Thirty,’ Guy said. ‘Married for twenty.’
Sandy nodded. ‘You were the perfect couple, an example to us all.’
Guy looked at her silently as he waited for the hurt inside him that had flared up at her words to calm down.
‘Don’t you miss your old life running this place as a restaurant with rooms?’ Sandy asked.
‘No. What I miss is Jacqueline.’
‘I understand that, but enough is enough, Guy,’ Sandy said gently. ‘You have to start at least thinking about re-joining the real world. You can’t hide away forever. Have lunch with Romain and me today?’
