We’re picking up pace now, the roads feeling more familiar; the smooth tarmac route cut sharply into the rocky hillside, leaving exposed stone on one side and the endless blue of the Med on the other. I watch the sunlight flicker on the water as it moves gently, making the navy-blue water look like the glittered page of a child’s drawing book.
Mum’s house is on the edge of a small village called Èze, just a short drive from Nice. The village itself is gorgeous; parts of it have barely changed from medieval times, apparently. There are stone steps and little houses dotted along narrow walkways. In the centre, modern buildings and cafés have been tastefully painted in cream and peach, and it’s so close to the ocean that you can smell salt in the warm air.
We drive through and the car begins to climb towards the hill where her house is situated. And then we’re there, passing through the open black iron gates, down the small driveway, and parking in front of the renovated barn Mum’s called home for four years.
Her small dog, Peaches, runs up and she pets its scruffy head, giving it more of a welcome than she gave me, in many ways. ‘How are you, my darling,’ she says. ‘Have you missed Mummy? Have you?’
I struggle out of the passenger seat, just as a man exits the front door and begins striding towards me, his smile enormous. And everything in my body and mind simply relaxes and floods with joy at the relief of seeing my son looking so well.
‘Mum!’ Louis says, helping me straighten up. He looks down at my boot and his face creases briefly with concern before softening again as he raises his eyes to me. ‘Nice boot.’
‘I know. It’s very this season.’ I’m weary, but joking and laughing with Louis again comes naturally and makes me feel at home. I realise suddenly how much he’s like Hal in that way. He’s worried about my leg, his face gave that away, but he masks it with a joke and a grin.
‘Hi, Sarah,’ says a voice, and I see that Summer has followed Louis out. She’s dressed in a loose sundress, thin straps over her nut-brown shoulders. If she’s showing at all, it’s lost in the floral folds of material.
‘Summer,’ I say, and reach out an arm to hug her, the other firmly on the crutch, keeping balance. She smells of vanilla and an all-too-familiar scent of sun cream that takes me back to the holidays Louis and I have shared over the years. The struggle to get him to protect himself from the sun, the mixture of sand and lotion on his back as he wriggled out of my arms, desperate to play.
Twenty minutes later, I’m in my room. One of Mum’s four guest rooms, with its neatly tiled floor, double bedstead and small en suite. It feels impersonal, almost like a hotel, but I quite like its clean lines and lack of clutter. I lie back on the bed and feel my body sink gratefully into the soft mattress, the thick feather-down pillow. It’s been too long since I’ve been in a proper bed and it feels like heaven.
I check my phone – still no word from Hal – so scroll through my contacts and dial his number.
‘Hey.’ He answers on the first ring. I can hear the traffic in the background and remember the heat thumping down on that little lay-by. He must feel absolutely awful and I wish he were here with me, able to finally relax, drink cool water, consider whether it’s yet time to go sit by the pool with Louis and Summer.
‘Hey,’ I reply. ‘Still no rescue?’
‘Yeah, the guy’s here. He reckons it’s a problem with the cooling system.’
‘Betty has a cooling system?’ But my joke doesn’t land.
‘Yeah, I know. She’s a heap. But I love her,’ he says and I feel suddenly guilty. Despite my leg, it’s been quite fun spending time in Hal’s camper. If I’d been well, it could have gone so differently. Now he’s there, being roasted in the unrelenting heat while I lie on feathers and down and make jokes at his expense.
‘I know, Hal,’ I say. ‘Sorry. Hey, I’ve started to fall for her a bit too.’
‘You have?’ He sounds so pleased that I feel a rush of affection for him.
‘So what’s the prognosis?’ I ask.
He sighs. ‘Well, the guy doesn’t speak a lot of English, and you know my French is…’
‘Non-existent?’
He laughs, but there’s a weariness to it. ‘Yeah. But I think he’s trying to do a temporary repair. Add coolant. Do enough to get us to Èze. Then I’ll have to find a garage to do proper repairs.’
‘So you’ll be back on the road soon, hopefully?’
‘Yep! So get your mother to make some of her iced tea. I am going to need a gallon.’ Someone says something to him and there’s a muffled exchange of franglais. ‘Gotta go,’ he says. ‘He’s managed to get her started and thinks we’ll make it OK.’
‘Call me, won’t you, if anything goes wrong?’
‘What, so you can race out on your gammy leg and rescue me?’
I laugh. ‘Hey, I’ve got the boot remember. My leg’s stronger than a regular leg.’
‘Still, not the best for running, I imagine.’
‘I’m going to give it a miss.’
After we hang up, I lie back for a moment more, then, unable to rest knowing that Hal’s overheated and driving in a pretty dodgy camper, slip into some fresh clothes and hobble to the pool. Mum’s set it up like a holiday camp – there are sunloungers with individual parasols, little tables for drinks and sunglasses.
