She turned to look at him and faltered. Realised he was the other man in the photograph. Realised too his probable identity. Joan opened her mouth to speak, but the words she wanted to say refused to come out coherently. Guy watched her and waited patiently, sensing her anxiety.
Several deep breaths later and when her breathing was sufficiently under control, she managed to speak. ‘My name is Joan Mitchell,’ and she gave him a brief smile. Nervously, she turned to look at the photograph again before starting to speak in a quiet voice. ‘One summer a long time ago – thirty-five years to be precise – I fell in love with a man here in Antibes.’ Joan paused, took a deep breath and turned back to look at the man standing behind her. ‘I was wondering why there is a photograph of him in the villa’s hallway? Does he have a connection to Villa Celestia?’
Guy stared at her before pointing at the photograph of himself and Jake. ‘Are you talking about this particular photograph?’
Joan turned to look at the photograph again and nodded. ‘Yes.’
‘That is a photograph of me with my elder brother Jake, who sadly died.’
Joan hoped the tears she could feel welling up wouldn’t spill over as she turned back to look at him. ‘I knew it was Jake. I’ve never seen a photograph of him before, but I’d know those eyes anywhere.’ She took a deep breath before asking. ‘So you must be Guy Lyon?’
‘Guilty as charged,’ Guy said slowly. ‘You knew my brother?’
Joan took another deep breath. ‘I not only knew him – I loved him. And he loved me,’ she added almost defiantly after a second’s pause. She needed this man to understand that what she and Jake had shared had been more than a short summer romance. It had been a realcoupe de foudre. ‘Is there somewhere you and I can talk privately and not be interrupted?’
‘I was on the way out to meet someone.’
‘Please. I just need to explain something to you. About your brother.’
Guy sighed. ‘Okay. My apartment. I just need to send a quick text and then we can go up.’
Joan turned her head to stare at the photograph again whilst Guy sent his text.
‘Right, that’s sorted. This way,’ and Guy led her through the hotel, up the stairs, through the sitting room and onto the roof terrace, all the time wondering why this woman needed to talk to him. Why the picture of him and Jake had upset her.
‘This is lovely,’ Joan said. ‘You have amazing views.’
‘I know about the views. I want to know why you are here. And how it involves my brother,’ Guy said. Realising he sounded abrupt to the point of rudeness, he gave Joan a small smile, noticing how pale she was. ‘Sorry, that was rude of me. Do sit down. Can I get you a coffee or a cup of tea?’
Joan sat down on the settee and shook her head. ‘No, thank you. You might want to get yourself a stiff drink though.’ She gave him a serious look. ‘I have two children, a son Leon who was thirty-four yesterday and a daughter Helena. She is here at the writers’ retreat and the reason why I am here in Antibes – the first time since…’ her voice faded away as she swallowed hard to stop the tears falling. ‘Since the man who I loved and thought I would spend the rest of my life with died. This is what I need to tell you – my son Leon is your brother Jake’s son – and your nephew.’
* * *
Liz’s phone pinged with a text as she was coming into the villa to freshen up before meeting Guy for their planned visit to the Picasso museum. The happy smile on her face faded as she read the brief message.
Sorry something has come up. Have to cancel x
And then, looking up, she stared in shock as she saw Guy ushering Helena’s mother up the stairs, presumably to go to his apartment. What could possibly have ‘come up’ involving Helena’s mother?
Disappointed, Liz decided to go in search of Isobel. She hadn’t been in the garden earlier, so Liz knocked on her bedroom door, hoping she wouldn’t mind being interrupted if she was busy writing.
‘Fancy afternoon tea somewhere?’
‘I thought you and Guy were going to the Picasso museum?’
‘He’s just cancelled on me,’ Liz said shortly.
‘Can we go to the cafe with the wonderful secret garden?’
‘Yes.’
‘Let’s go.’
Quarter of an hour later, they were being shown to a table by Marie, who recognised Liz. ‘No Guy today?’
Liz shook her head. ‘No, he’s busy this afternoon. Please can we have a pot of Earl Grey tea for two and a selection of the gooiest cakes you have?’
Sitting there waiting for their tea, Isobel looked around. ‘This is really lovely. You deserve a slapped wrist for not telling me about it before. So you had a date this afternoon with Guy and he’s cancelled?’
