Rosie’s Little Café on the Riviera

Seb raised his eyebrows.

‘There were a couple of scruffy men – boys, really – hanging around earlier,’ Rosie said. ‘Probably perfectly innocent but…’ She shrugged. ‘Anyway, what are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at your party?’

‘I’ve come to collect you. Your champagne awaits.’

‘Seb, I’m sorry but I’ve had a busy evening. I’m tired – besides I’m not dressed for a posh party.’ She glanced down at her smart, but plain, little black dress.

‘You look fine to me,’ Seb said. ‘Maybe comb your hair. Bit of lipstick. Come on, Rosie. Just the one glass. There are a few people over there who could be potential customers. Come and do a bit of networking.’

Rosie looked at him dubiously. ‘You keep telling me, we’re aiming for different parts of the market.’

‘They might want to slum it one evening,’ Seb said.

Rosie gasped at his cheek before seeing a smile twitch his lips and realising he was joking. A bad joke but a joke nevertheless. Maybe she should go. He had, after all, taken the trouble to come and find her. It was just a drink with a neighbour. Be churlish not to go.

‘OK. One glass,’ Rosie said. ‘Then I’m really going home to bed. It’s been a long week.’

‘You can bring Lucky if you want,’ Seb said.

‘No. I’m not sure how she’ll behave,’ Rosie said. ‘She can stay on her blanket in the restaurant. I’ll come back for her after I’ve had that glass of champagne.’

The party was in the conservatory Rosie had spied from the studio room upstairs and was packed to overflowing. Sipping the champagne Seb had poured for her while he went to fetch some nibbles, she looked around.

Seb was obviously well connected. There were a few, if not exactly famous, then certainly well-known, Riviera faces and a couple of minor A-list celebrities she recognised. And GeeGee was here, too, Rosie was pleased to see. She raised her glass in her direction when she saw her glance across, but before she could make her way over to her James appeared at her side.

‘Seb changed your mind then?’

Rosie nodded. ‘Just having a quick glass. So, which is your stepbrother out of this crowd?’

‘He’s… over there,’James said turning to look around the room. ‘You should recognise him.’

‘Why should I?’ Rosie said as she followed his gaze. ‘Oh.’

‘How long has he been your stepbrother?’

‘My mum married his dad a month ago. Oh, he’s seen us. He’s coming over.’

‘Rosie. How lovely to see you. I do miss not having you onboard. How’s the Café Fleur going?’ And Charlie leant forward to kiss her cheek. He sighed as Rosie averted her face and he kissed air.

‘What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be on your way to Sardinia.’

‘We’re leaving at the crack of dawn Monday. I hope James is behaving himself and being useful?’

Rosie stared at Charlie as realisation dawned. ‘You sent him, didn’t you? To spy on me!’

‘To help, Rosie. To help.’

Furious, Rosie turned to James. ‘You’re fired. I’m leaving. Goodbye.’

Rosie was still fuming when she got into bed that night. As far as she was concerned, sending James to spy on her was a step too far even for Charlie the control freak. Furious didn’t start to describe her feelings that, after all these years, he expected her to like having him back in her life.

If she’d had any sense she’d have walked off A Sure Thing the moment she’d heard the name of the new owners fourteen months ago . Unfortunately, there’d still been a year of her contract to go and the agency had refused to release her even when she’d begged them to let her go. So she’d thought of the money and prepared to be a good employee until she could legitimately take her money and run.

She’d been busy preparing a lobster for dinner the first time Charlie had strolled into the galley and asked for another bottle of champagne to be sent up to the aft deck. If it hadn’t been such a standstill moment, Rosie would have laughed out loud at the look on his face when he saw her. As it was she just said, ‘Right away, sir.’

She’d genuinely believed him when he’d sworn he didn’t know she was the chef onboard until the moment he walked into the galley. When he learnt that she’d known the name of the new owner and had chosen to stay on, he decided it was because she wanted to see him again.

‘Believe me, Charlie, I’d have left if I could. I had no choice – the agency insisted I honour my contract. But don’t worry – I have no intention of renewing it. Once it finishes, I’m off.’ Even as she’d said the words she could see he didn’t believe her.

The more Rosie protested, the more determined he became that their youthful relationship should be revived and given another chance. Rosie was equally determined against it. So, during the season she made sure she was always too busy to take more than the occasional day off and then she made sure there was no chance of Charlie being around, insisting they spend it together.

Out of season, when Rosie lived ashore, it had been more difficult to keep her life separate from Charlie’s. She had hoped the evening in The Recluse, when they’d had what she’d hoped would be the row to end all rows, would bring Charlie to his senses. Make him give up and go find himself a proper girlfriend.

No such luck. The moment he heard the agency were sending a replacement chef for William to interview, he redoubled his efforts to try and stop her. Telling him ‘no’ and leaving the yacht had failed to get the message across that she could never forgive him for letting her down all those years ago in college. He didn’t seem to understand how his action all those years ago had changed the course of her life.

Turning out the bedside light, Rosie sighed. How the hell was she going to get him to butt out of her life once and for all?

CHAPTER NINE

Erica took her cup of coffee up to the roof terrace of the townhouse she and Pascal had bought before they were married. Early Sunday morning and the remains of a light mist hanging over the town were giving way to the sun.

She and Pascal had loved to sit up here together in the evening, sipping a glass of wine, happy to be spending time with each other. She’d barely been up here recently. She’d got used to the rest of the house feeling empty and lonely without Pascal around but the roof terrace had been a special place. Up here the memories were still raw. Even now, all these months later, she had to fight back the tears.

Facing inland away from the coast, the terrace had a view out over red-roofed villas and their swimming pools, stretching away in the distance to the boundaries of the town before merging into the beginning of the hinterland Provençal countryside. Pascal had fixed a low trellis around the three walls and between them they’d created a small, perfumed oasis where the two of them had relaxed and entertained friends.

Looking at the trellis now, with its rampant passion flower and honeysuckle tangled together, Erica realised how much she’d neglected things up here. Her beloved Italian glazed pots, too, were full of weeds strangling the spring flowers that had poked their way through.

Pulling a few weeds out from under the honeysuckle, Erica decided she and Cammie would do some pruning and tidy things up later. Get ready for eating al fresco in summer – their first proper summer without Pascal.

Besides, if she was serious about selling the house, it would need sprucing up. This morning, though, she’d promised Cammie they’d go to the vide grenier being held in the huge car park on the edge of the beach.

Erica smiled to herself. Cammie was as much a magpie for ‘treasure’ as she herself was and was already developing a good eye for what was rubbish and what was good in among all the tat that was always on offer.

As Erica pulled weeds out of the pot containing her favourite rose, the church bell tolling for eight o’clock Mass broke into her thoughts. Cammie’s Sunday morning alarm. Time to go back downstairs and prepare for the day and the long walk to the vide grenier. Erica sighed.

Ever since the accident, Cammie had refused to get in a car; had screamed and shaken violently on the couple of occasions Erica had tried to force the issue.

All these months later and they were still either walking or catching the train or bus to wherever they needed to go, with Cammie showing no sign of losing her phobia over cars. This morning, with no convenient train or bus going in the right direction, walking was the only option.

An hour later they set off, Cammie pulling the empty wheely shopping bag behind her and Erica lost in her thoughts about the past and what the future would bring them. By the time they reached the vide grenier it was in full swing with people jostling around the hundred or so stalls.

‘Right, young lady, you know the drill. You stick close to me and no wandering off,’ Erica said. ‘But in case we do get separated, you don’t talk to strangers and you come and stand by the entrance here and wait. Understood?’ Erica looked at Cammie intently as she waited for her answer.

Cammie nodded. ‘I promise. I won’t wander.’

Erica took charge of the shopping trolley and together they began to explore the various rows with their laden tables. Buying bits and pieces here and there, Erica carefully placed their purchases in the bag before they stopped in front of a stall devoted to art nouveau collectibles.

So much stuff here that would be good in the shop, but Erica was drawn to a magnificent, stained, leaded-glass table lamp. Never mind about putting it in the shop, she’d love it for herself. Too big and precious to be put in the shopping bag, it was also too cumbersome for her to carry all the way home. She glanced at the woman behind the stall. ‘Any chance you could deliver this for me later today?’

The woman shook her head. ‘No can do, sorry. We’ve got a tight schedule today. We’ve got to get down to St Tropez for an evening sale when we leave here.’

Erica turned away and caught Cammie by the hand. ‘Fancy getting a taxi home later?’ She knew the answer before she asked the question really.

The quick withdrawal of her hand and the shuttered look that came down over Cammie’s face confirmed it.

‘Never mind,’ Erica said quickly. ‘It doesn’t matter. Come on, let’s explore the next row.’

To her relief, Cammie for once was easily distracted and was soon engrossed in looking at a table of children’s books and toys and surplus ornaments – including a foot-high pottery lighthouse the base of which was badly chipped. When Erica pointed this out, Cammie said, ‘It doesn’t matter because it’s not “treasure”. I just want it for my beach project.’

‘Wasting your pocket money again, Cammie?’ a voice behind them said, and Erica turned to see GeeGee standing there, a big grin on her face as she gave Erica a hug.

‘You’re thinner than ever,’ Erica said now as she returned the hug. Rosie mentioning she hadn’t seen GeeGee for a few days should have rung alarm bells in her mind. She knew GeeGee skipped meals when commissions dried up and money was tight.

‘How’s things?’

GeeGee shrugged. ‘Things are so-so.’

‘Want to come back with us for lunch?’ Erica said. ‘And before you say no, I could do with talking to you.’

‘Lunch would be great.’

‘Actually,’ Erica said as a sudden thought struck her. ‘There’s something else, too. Have you got your car here?’

‘Yes.’

‘Brilliant. Fancy an ice cream?’ And Erica led the way to the picnic area and the catering van. She handed the shopping basket over to GeeGee before giving her a ten-euro note. ‘You two have whatever you want and wait here. I’ll be back.’

Finding the stand with the tiffany lamp took Erica some time, and when she did finally find it she had to wait for the woman to finish serving an elderly man who wanted to discuss the provenance of a glass plate he was buying. Erica crossed her fingers while she waited, hoping he wouldn’t want the lamp as well. He didn’t. Fifteen minutes later, the lamp was wrapped in protective bubble wrap and Erica was making her way carefully back to Cammie and GeeGee.

‘You can take everything back to the house in your car while Cammie and I walk back, OK?’ she said. ‘I’ll pick up a roasted chicken in the market.’

‘Don’t forget the sautéed potatoes,’ GeeGee said, knowing Cammie loved them but Erica rarely bought them.

‘Here’s the house key. There’s a bottle of rosé in the fridge. Help yourself. I’ll see you in a bit.’

CHAPTER TEN

Sunday morning, when Tansy arrived for work, Rosie was tired and grumpy having tossed and turned more than she’d slept.

‘James not in yet?’ Tansy asked.

‘Not coming in.’

‘Why?’

‘I fired him. Those carrots need peeling,’ Rosie said, slamming the oven door closed on the rib of beef.

‘I’m not doing another thing until you tell me what’s happened.’

Rosie sighed. ‘I went to Seb’s party last night. Charlie was there.’

‘How is he?’ Tansy had a soft spot for Charlie and had never understood Rosie’s reluctance to get involved with him again.

‘Antoine forgot to tell us that Charlie’s dad, William, got married recently. It turns out that Charlie is James’s newly acquired stepbrother. He sent James to spy on me – so I fired him. End of.’

‘Oh. But James is so good. Just what we need.’

Rosie shrugged. ‘I can’t really afford him at the moment anyway. We’ll find someone else for later in the season. Now, can we please get on with preparing Sunday lunch?’

Tansy shrugged. ‘Okay.’

Rosie left her to it and went through to the restaurant to open up and set the tables ready for customers. Keeping busy kept Charlie out of her thoughts. She placed the reserved tags on the five tables already booked for a total of fifteen people. Not bad for a Sunday so early in the season. People were out and about on the beach, too, so hopefully there’d be some passing trade.

Three hours later, when a tired but happy Rosie was saying goodbye to the last of her lunchtime customers and about to close the door, Charlie walked in and sat at one of the window tables.

‘Hi again, Rosie.’

‘What d’you want?’

‘Sunday lunch, of course. And don’t say I’m too late.’ This as Rosie glanced at her watch. ‘I know last orders are at two and it’s only ten to.’ He picked up the menu.

‘I’ll have the asparagus soup followed by the beef. Oh, and tell Tansy the usual, easy on the veg but the more roasties the better.’

Wordlessly Rosie turned and marched away.

‘And open a bottle of decent red for me, would you, please?’ Charlie called out after her. ‘And bring a glass for yourself.’

‘One soup, one beef, heavy on the roasties, lose the veg,’ she said to Tansy through gritted teeth.

Tansy glanced up from the soup she was pouring into a fresh bowl ready for the fridge. ‘Charlie’s here?’

‘Yep. And he wants me to open a decent red for him,’ Rosie replied, standing in front of the wine rack. ‘He wants decent – I’ll give him decent.’ And she opened the most expensive Chateau Margaux currently on her wine list.

She ignored the request to take another glass for herself. No way was she going to have a drink with him. Carefully she poured a taster into his wine glass and waited for Charlie to take a sip.

‘Nice. Can I afford it?’

‘Sure you can.’

‘Where’s your glass?’

‘I don’t drink with the customers.’

‘I don’t see any customers,’ Charlie said, looking around the empty restaurant. ‘Only me, and I reckon I rate higher than a mere customer anyway.’

Tansy appeared with Charlie’s soup and a basket of bread rolls. ‘Hi, Charlie. Good to see you.’

Rosie glared at her.

‘Thanks for sending Jamie our way. Can you now please persuade Rosie to unsack him? I could do with some help around here and he was good,’ Tansy said, ignoring Rosie.

‘I’ll fire you, too, if you don’t stop interfering,’ Rosie threatened. ‘Kitchen?’

‘You can’t fire me – you need me too much. Okay, I’m going…’ And Tansy disappeared back into the kitchen.

‘I am not having one of your relatives spying on me in my own kitchen,’ Rosie said. ‘Talking of relatives – tell your dad congratulations from me. I hope he’s very happy.’ She liked William and was pleased he’d met someone new. She knew he’d been lonely since Charlie’s mum died a couple of years ago.

‘I’ll pass the message on. But he’ll be down soon and you can tell him yourself. He’s sure to drop in for lunch – if you’re still in business then.’ Charlie paused. ‘I didn’t send James purely to spy on you, He does genuinely need the experience and I thought you could do with someone keen to learn from you. He’s really upset you don’t want him any more.’

‘He should have told me the truth then… What d’you mean – if I’m still in business next month?’ Rosie demanded.

‘Charlie shrugged. ‘Oh, come on, Rosie. You know how prejudiced the French are about “les rosbifs” and their cooking skills. They’re not going to be rushing to support an English woman. I wish you’d talked to me before you took on this place. I could have saved you a lot of money.’

‘Well, I’ll just have to be the exception to that rule, won’t I?’ Rosie said. ‘My cooking will get them in. And if the French don’t come, the English will.’

‘The French don’t care who cooks their lunchtime frites for them, but at dinner they want the whole gourmet experience, which they believe only a Frenchman can give. Nobody English in their right mind opens a restaurant in France – not without employing a French chef, anyway.’

‘I’ll get the staff to call me Fleur and start speaking with a French accent then, shall I? You could be more supportive,’ she added quietly. ‘You know this is my dream. What I’ve been working towards all these years and the reason I stayed working on the boats for the last five years. Besides, I’m thirty-five this year, so if I don’t do it now…’ She shrugged.

‘Cooking on the yachts is a totally different ballgame, Rosie. Sorry, but I just don’t see this place working. I know you’re a good cook but…’ Charlie said. ‘But with Seb Groc right next door.’ He shook his head.

‘Different markets,’ Rosie said. ‘Seb and I have already discussed it. Finished your soup? I’ll get your main course.’ And she snatched the bowl away the instant Charlie replaced his spoon in the empty dish.

‘Main course ready? Good. You take it out,’ she told Tansy. ‘Make sure he’s got everything he needs – and don’t talk about me. I’ll start the clearing up in here.’

Rosie pulled the lever that sent the large, old-fashioned dishwashing machine whirling into action down with a bang.

‘Temper. Temper. It won’t last the season treated like that,’ Tansy said, picking up the roasties and the veg in the serving dishes to accompany Charlie’s beef.

‘Here, you’ve forgotten his favourite horseradish sauce,’ Rosie said, thrusting the pot towards Tansy.

Surreptitiously, she watched the pair of them through the small hatchway between the kitchen and the bar area, envying the way they could still laugh and joke together like she had in another life – before everything had changed between her and Charlie.

Rosie turned away and vigorously set to cleaning the roasting tin until it was pristine and the ends of her fingers could take no more from the sharp shrouds of the shredded-steel wool. Tansy came back as she rinsed the tin and left it to dry on the draining board.

‘No prizes for guessing what Charlie wants for dessert,’ Tansy said. ‘And please, will you join him for coffee?’

Silently Rosie opened the fridge and took out a tiramisu – Charlie’s absolute favourite dessert.

‘I let Lucky in, by the way. Like a true female she made a beeline for Charlie and is now worshipping at his feet,’ Tansy said. ‘You going to take this out to him?’

Rosie nodded. ‘Okay.’ She couldn’t hide in the kitchen for ever, and now Charlie had had his say about the Café Fleur, maybe they could at least be civil to each other.

Have I ever told you, you make the best tiramisu?’ Charlie said.

‘Once or twice,’ Rosie said, determined to keep the conversation on an even keel.

‘I think I might have overreacted last night,’ she said, bending down to stroke Lucky. ‘Tell James if he wants to come back – ten o’clock Tuesday morning.’

‘Will do,’ Charlie said as he spooned the last vestiges of cream from the bowl. ‘Have you still got that beaten-up mini you call a car?’

Surprised by the question, Rosie shook her head. ‘No.’ The car had gone for a few hundred euros to add to her pot of money for the Café Fleur.

‘I figured I could live without one for a while. Working here seven days a week in summer, I’m not going to be going anywhere.’ She was blowed if she was going to tell Charlie the truth – that she couldn’t afford a car until the restaurant was a success.

His eyes narrowed. ‘How about getting home at night?’

‘I walk.’

‘I don’t like the thought of that.’

‘I’ve got Lucky now,’ Rosie said. ‘And it’s not far.’

‘Well, that’s something, I suppose, but it’s a bloody good fifteen-minute walk,’ Charlie said. ‘I’d prefer it if you took a taxi.’

‘And I’d prefer it if you minded your own business. How I get home is nothing to do with you – besides, it’s not fifteen minutes away. It’s five. I’ll get your bill,’ Rosie said forgetting that Charlie was unaware of the fact that she’d moved. Another economic necessity. The rent for the apartment in one of the new gated blocks overlooking the sea had been an expensive luxury even when she was working on A Sure Thing.

To Rosie’s relief, Charlie paid his bill, included a generous tip, and kissed Tansy goodbye. ‘Any time you want a job, you know what to do,’ he told her. ‘Ciao. I’ll be seeing you both.’

Rosie, safe behind the bar and out of Charlie’s kissing reach, muttered ‘Ciao’ and held her breath until the door closed behind him.

‘Thank God he’s going to Sardinia tomorrow out of the way,’ she said. ‘Right. That’s the door locked. I’ve had enough for today.’

She glanced at Tansy. ‘I did ask him to tell James he could come back if he wants to. I can’t believe he said that to you about wanting a job. Cheek. He seems to think this place is doomed because I’m English.’

‘He’s worried about you losing all your money, that’s all,’ Tansy said.

‘So am I – that’s why I intend to work flat out to make sure this place is a success,’ Rosie said. ‘Here’s the tip he left for you.’

‘Half each?’ Tansy said.

Rosie shook her head. ‘No, you take it. I’m sure Charlie meant it for you, anyway.’

‘Thanks – generous as ever,’ Tansy said, taking the euros. ‘Right, I’ll see you on Tuesday morning, bright and early. Don’t work too hard tomorrow. Remember it’s supposed to be your day off as well. If nothing else, take Lucky-dog for a walk.’

***

Rosie pottered around after Tansy left, tidying up and putting some leftover food in her basket to take home. The bottle of wine she’d opened for Charlie was still half full so she stuck the cork back in and put that in her basket, too. She’d enjoy a glass tonight while she did the week’s accounts and worked on her laptop.

‘Right, Lucky, time to go home,’ she said, looping a piece of thin rope around the dog’s neck. ‘Tomorrow we’ll buy you a collar and a proper lead but this will have to do again for now.’

Satisfied the door was securely locked and the security grill down, Rosie turned to walk through the car park and out onto the main road, where she came face to face with Charlie.

As the basket was taken out of her hand and he fell into step alongside her Rosie said, ‘What d’you think you’re doing?’

‘Seeing you get home safely.’

‘It’s not dark. It’s Sunday afternoon and I don’t need an escort.’

‘Maybe not, but I want to see where you’re living now.’

Ah, so he had picked up on her ‘five minutes away’ remark.

‘Well, we turn left here and it’s at the end of this street. The converted villa. See, literally five minutes.’