‘Thank you,’ she said, smiling at him.
* * *
After topping up the coffee capsules, Guy left Zoe doing the prep for lunch and opened the cubbyhole cupboard. He needed something more than slicing and chopping vegetables to occupy his mind right now and tackling the dreaded accounts was long overdue. He’d gather a bundle together and take them with the laptop up to the terrace and work there.
That was the theory anyway, but once up on the terrace, trying to banish thoughts of Liz and his reaction to her and the hat proved impossible. Why had he told her he loved her hat and that she looked good? It was the truth. In fact, she looked more than good – she looked beautiful. When she’d smiled her thanks, her smile had lit up her face. If he’d paid Jacqueline a compliment like that, she would have acted all flirtatious and given him a teasing, come-hither smile. Whereas Liz had simply been gracious in her acceptance.
The two women were opposites in other ways too: Jacqueline, dark-haired, brown-eyed and long-limbed, whilst Liz was the epitome of the classic English rose, with her blonde hair and blue eyes. The kind of woman he’d always thought of as being out of his league. But there was something about Liz that gave her a quiet air of self-reliance that he found attractive. Made him want to get to know her better. Not that he was thinking of asking Liz, or any woman, out. For the last twenty-five years, he hadn’t looked at another woman. He and Jacqueline had been good together for most of that time. It was only in the last year there had been an undercurrent of dissatisfaction coming from Jacqueline.
It had started when he’d refused outright to even consider buying a grander villa with ten bedrooms, a ballroom that would make an ideal restaurant, a swimming pool in the extensive grounds and the possibility of creating a spa. That kind of business did not appeal to him. Guy had repeated his no when she showed him the sales brochure. But no matter how many times he said he wasn’t interested, she didn’t listen. She insisted he couldn’t keep saying no until he had actually visited the place with her. For a quiet life, he’d gone with her. He could see the potential of the place, but he’d still said he wasn’t interested.
He pushed the thoughts of the difficult months that had followed from his mind and tried to concentrate. Sorting through spreadsheets, adding and taking away figures in column after column of figures, Guy sighed. Whilst the current bank account still had money in it, and Sandy’s payment for the fortnight had filled the coffers somewhat, there was no doubt the loss of income over the last eight months had taken its toll. Decisions would have to be made soon.
16
Becky declined to join them that evening for their aperitif walk into Antibes, opting to stay behind and work on her social media content for the next few days. ‘I’ve concentrated on my writing all day, now I must play catch-up with the internet.’
The five of them voted unanimously to revisit the first bar at the top of the market and as they cut through a narrow street to reach it, Isobel said, ‘Did anyone think Becky was not her normal bubbly self at this morning’s informal session?’
Liz nodded. ‘The exercise invoking childhood memories seemed to upset her. Maybe she was unhappy as a child?’
‘I feel a bit guilty,’ Lorraine said quietly. ‘I was sat next to her and I did get a couple of surreptitious glimpses while she was writing. It wasn’t her thoughts or memory as such, merely more a bullet list of items.’
‘What kind of items?’ Helena asked.
‘Things like, a safe home, cuddles. One about food being on the table every day.’
‘Maybe it was things she longed for rather than having?’ Liz said quietly. ‘Meeting the grown-up Becky, you assume she had a good childhood, but maybe her background was something she had to escape from.’
‘I did sense a sigh of relief from her when Sandy said she wasn’t going to ask us to share what we’d written,’ Lorraine said.
‘That was unusual,’ Isobel acknowledged. ‘Previous retreats where Sandy has used that kind of exercise, there is always a discussion afterwards. Perhaps she sensed Becky’s emotion over the subject?’
Reaching the bar, they were welcomed like old friends by the bartender. The bar that evening was full of yacht crew on an evening off from various yachts in the marina, all determined to enjoy their downtime. Helena, Lorraine and Mandy enjoyed chatting and flirting with several of the crew, while Liz and Isobel sipped their gin and tonics.
‘Remember those days?’ Isobel glanced at Liz. ‘You take them for granted, not knowing that when you hit the big five-oh you become invisible to all men – however well you’ve aged! You know that personally from Ralph’s behaviour.’
Liz gave her friend a wry smile, acknowledging the unfortunate truth of her words, but then Guy’s words from earlier in the day popped into her mind. He’d noticed her. He might have been hesitant about overstepping a boundary, but he had definitely noticed her. And she him.
‘Guy Lyon paid me a compliment this morning,’ she said quietly. ‘So, some men do still notice women of our age.’
Isobel raised her eyebrows as she turned to look at Liz. ‘And when did you see the elusive Guy?’
‘In the dining room this morning.’
‘And?’
‘And nothing,’ Liz replied. ‘We exchanged a few words, he told me he liked my hat, that it suited me and then I went into the garden and did some writing. End of story.’
‘But what if it was a meet-cute?’ Isobel said, looking at her. ‘In which case it could be the beginning of a story, not the end.’
‘When did you turn into a romantic novelist? I thought you wrote crime.’
‘Nothing like witnessing the possible beginning of a real-life romance to stir the creative juices,’ Isobel said, laughing.
Liz shook her head. ‘Well, don’t start writing the happy ending just yet.’ Although, for the first time since Ralph had left her, inwardly she was feeling a small spark of hope for the future.
* * *
