Biarritz Passion: A French Summer Novel (8 page)

‘To Aunt Margaret with dearest love Annabel and Julian.’

‘It’s wonderful,’ breathed Margaret holding the figure reverently. ‘Meissen. It will go beautifully with the others.’

Aunt Margaret was a collector of porcelain. But in recent years, with antiques programmes on television every day, and everyone trying to find a hidden bargain, she had been unable to keep up with the prices. Caroline hazarded a shocked guess at what the figure must have cost. She too watched the antiques programmes. Julian’s face wore a look of beaming satisfaction. Well, if that wasn’t a proof of love... There was no way Annabel could have afforded to buy such a piece. In any case she spent nearly everything she earned on her wardrobe.

‘Do you really like it?’
Annabel purred with satisfaction. ‘I spotted it the other week in Sampson’s. I knew I had to have it, but he already had a buyer. But we got it in the end darling didn’t we?’ She cast a look of triumph at Julian and squeezed his arm.

Margaret showed them her other gifts, which were dutifully admired, and the conversation turned to the programme for the weekend. The village of Ravensfield had a little organic market
on Saturday mornings. Annabel said she’d like to buy some local cheese to take back to London.

‘I hope you don’t mind Auntie Mags,’ she added, ‘but I’ve invited a friend for tea tomorrow.’

‘Of course not my dear.’ Margaret sounded slightly surprised. ‘A friend from London you mean?’

‘Well yes and no. He’s a friend of Julian’s actually
. Edward Rayburn. But his parents live right next door, at The Limes, maybe you’ve met?’

Caroline
came to attention. Edward Rayburn? Wasn’t that the person Annabel had mentioned on the phone, the one whose family owned the villa in France? For the first time since she’d arrived the ramifications of Wednesday’s conversation hit her full force. She had more or less given her word to Annabel that she would join in with her ridiculous scheme. Of course her sister had fought dirty to get what she wanted. What had she said exactly? Two weeks? Two weeks cooped in a villa with her darling sister and a bunch of people she’d never met? Annabel’s London friends were all young and trendy, terribly self-assured and knowing, twittering non-stop like a flock of starlings about the latest must-have handbag and who was cheating on who and did you know so-and-so had had Botox injections, yes really! She could hardly stand one evening with them, let alone two weeks. A nightmare. She’d be like a fish out of water. And why had her sister been so insistent on her presence? Something was going on. She would have to find a way to get out of it before it was too late. She suddenly realised what her aunt was saying.

‘…as I said we know the younger son very well, he’s often with his parents at the village shows, but we’ve never met Edward.’

‘He was at Cambridge with Julian,’ said Annabel.

Julian nodded.

‘Different subjects, but we rowed in the same team.’

‘
Rowed?’ asked Birdie.

‘They were both selected to row against Oxford in the Boat Race.’

Annabel had a smug little smile on her face.

‘Good heavens! How exciting!’

Julian laughed.

‘It would have been more exciting if we’d won
, Miss Bird. Afraid Oxford beat us, as usual.’

‘Well I think it’s simply marvellous, even if you did come second,’ said Birdie. ‘Just think, Margaret, we probably saw it on television.’

‘And do you still row, Julian?’ asked Margaret.

‘I’m afraid not. Never seem to get the time these days.’

‘Well of course you have such a responsible position. What about your friend Edward? Does he work in the City too?’

‘Oh no,’ said Annabel. ‘He works in France, doesn’t he darling?
He builds aeroplanes. In Toulon.’

‘Toulouse darling,’ said Julian. ‘He works for Airbus Industry,’ he explained to Birdie and Margaret. ‘They’re the European success story, big rivals of Boeing.
You may remember the famous Concorde, the world’s first supersonic plane? Yes? Well Concorde was built in Toulouse, at what is now the Airbus site.’

‘I always wanted to travel on that plane,’ said Margaret. ‘Imagine, leaving London and arriving in New York three and a half hours later! And champagne all the way!’

‘We met up with Edward a few weeks ago,’ Annabel continued, ‘he comes over to Bristol from time to time. Such a sweet man! He was so surprised to find out that we were neighbours!’

‘Now let me see,’ said Birdie, putting on her spectacles to help her think. ‘How long have the Rayburns lived at The Limes? Mr Fortescue died
five years ago. Or was it six? The Rayburns moved in afterwards, such a terrible expense you know getting it all shipshape. Poor old Mr Fortescue just didn’t have the means to keep it all up. We know Antony quite well, don’t we Margaret? That’s the younger son. Now I think of it he did mention something about an older brother, in France. A very nice boy, Antony. He came over to shovel the snow off our drive last winter. I suppose his mother sent him, but still, it was a very thoughtful gesture.’

‘Their mother’s French,
of course you’ll know that Julian,’ said Margaret. ‘I’m not surprised the other son went off to work in France. He’s probably bi-lingual. The mother speaks excellent English. A charming person. The Vicar introduced us at the Flower Show. It’s a pity she’s lost most of her accent, I always think a French accent is such an asset.’

Everyone laughed except Caroline, whose stomach was beginning to knot with tension.

‘Oh but I mean it,’ continued Margaret. ‘Do you remember Birdie when we were in Lahore we had a most wonderful French ambassador? Distinguished, grey-haired and with the most ravishing accent! The things that man smoothed out! I’m sure it was all to do with his accent.’

‘Just like Maurice Chevalier!’ said Birdie, nodding.

‘I shall be interested to meet Edward. His brother Antony is very good-looking.’

‘Oh!’ Birdie sprang from her chair, struck by a sudden thought. ‘Did you say he was coming for tea?’

‘Tomorrow, Birdie dear, don’t get in a flap,’ said Annabel.

‘Oh really,’ said Margaret, ‘she’s been baking all week. There’s enough in the larder to feed an army.’

‘But Margaret I must do him a Victoria sponge. We always used to serve a Victoria sponge for the cricket teas. I suppose a rowing tea must be the same, only with oars. And remind me to get a fresh cucumber tomorrow, Annabel, at the market. We have some smoked salmon in the fridge but we need some cucumber. And perhaps some more tomatoes.’

‘Oh don’t fuss Birdie, he’s probably expecting tea and biscuits.’

Ignoring the scandalised look on Birdie’s face, Annabel got to her feet.

‘I think I’ll go and freshen up. Darling, could you bring up the cases? Oh Caro, talking of the Rayburns, have you told Aunt Mags yet? About the holiday?’

The blood rushed to Caroline’s face. The knot in her stomach tightened. She locked eyes with her sister. Annabel smiling brightly, spun round to face Margaret.

‘Guess what Auntie! Caro’s coming on holiday with us this summer!’

Margaret looked from one sister to the other in surprise.

‘But...
that’s wonderful my dears. You haven’t had a family holiday for years.’

‘Edward Rayburn has invited us
, to their villa in Biarritz! Right next to the sea! It’s going to be heavenly!’

Margaret’s surprise turned to approval and she nodded vigorously.

‘Oh, Biarritz! What a wonderful place! At least it used to be in the old days. Of course I’m not talking about the really old days, when Queen Victoria used to go. And Edward VII. And the Czar of Russia. That was in the 19
th
century. We used to go on holiday there in the sixties, didn’t we Birdie?’ She shot a look at Annabel. ‘That’s the 1960s, dear. Such a romantic coastline, jagged black rocks rising out of the sea, pounding waves! Very Daphne DuMaurier. Just your cup of tea, Caroline, you’ve always loved the Cornish coast.’

‘Actually Aunt Margar
et—’

Caroline was cut off by her aunt.

‘I am so pleased, Annabel, that’s an excellent idea. Very thoughtful of you. Well done. Your sister could really do with a holiday. I suppose you’ve noticed how pale she is?’

‘Pale? Oh yes.’ Annabel
, who had turned slightly pink under her tan, nodded vigorously. ‘And she works so hard. I mean we managed to get off to Greece, which did us a world of good, but poor old Caro, you haven’t had a real holiday since—’

She
broke off.

Caroline cleared her throat.

‘The thing is, Annabel, you really rushed me into it the other day, and actually there’s a problem, rather a big problem—’

‘Caroline!’ Annabel’s voice was full of shock
and injury. ‘You can’t change your mind now! You promised! And it’s all arranged! That’s why Edward’s coming over, especially to meet you! And to wish Auntie Mags a happy birthday of course. All the plans have been made. And you heard what Auntie said, she thinks it’s a great idea, don’t you? I’m sure you can sort out your problem. Whatever it is. It can’t be important enough to disrupt your holiday plans, now that everything’s been fixed. Now I really must get changed.’

She headed off towards the house.

Julian turned to Caroline.

‘Your Aunt’s right, you know,’ he said with unexpected warmth. ‘You do look tired Caro. You’ll feel so much better for some sea air.
It’s very bracing down there. The old Atlantic breakers and all that. And, personally, I was delighted to hear my future sister-in-law would be joining us. I hope you don’t mind me saying that.’

He was smiling at her, shyly.
Caroline was surprised and touched. She floundered for an excuse.

‘You know my dear,’ this time it was Birdie
chipping in, ‘you deserve a holiday. You work too hard, then you come down here to see us two old codgers, with never a complaint, you do the gardening, you painted the kitchen at Easter. You simply deserve to go off, lie in the sun and relax.’

‘Well I don’t know about the old codgers,’ said Margaret. ‘But Birdie’s right. You go and enjoy yourself.
Forget about that dreary office. If I were young I’d come with you. And that old codger over there too. Biarritz! Heaven!’

Caroline opened her mouth.

‘And,’ said Margaret with a meaningful look, ‘remember what we were talking about yesterday? Opportunities? Seizing them?’

C
aroline closed her mouth. Then opened it again. She really had to put her foot down, they were all ganging up on her. She met Margaret’s eye and said weakly:

‘
Well, I suppose if everything is arranged...’

‘So that’s all fixed then? Excellent,’ said Julian, getting up. ‘I’d better
get the cases before my beloved starts to nag.’

Julian headed for the car.
Birdie started for the kitchen ‘to see how the pheasant was getting on’. Caroline, muttering something about helping Birdie, left her aunt alone on the terrace with her book. Once inside the house, she headed straight up to her room and flung herself on the bed, trying to collect her thoughts. She’d been out-manoeuvred. Again. Manipulated like an idiot.

Two days ago she’d been looking forward to a nice summer break. Well
, if she was honest, not exactly looking forward to it. But at least she would have three weeks when she was free to do what she wanted, if she could only figure out what that was. Now two of those weeks of freedom had been whisked from under her nose and turned into a package holiday. Why couldn’t she just say ‘no’?

A knock on her bedroom door made her sit up hastily.

‘It’s only me.’ Annabel’s face, wearing a look of mingled penitence and apprehension appeared round the door. ‘May I come in for a minute?’

Annabel approached the bed cautiously, sat down and put a tentative arm round her sister’s shoulders.

‘Oh Caro, you’re not cross with me are you? I hate it when you’re cross. I know I did rather force your hand, but, come on, a villa in Biarritz? I mean I could understand it if I’d said two weeks in Siberia. Just think, hot sun, the beach, and there’s a marvellous pool in the grounds, I’ve seen the pictures. Not the sort of thing most people would be cross about, is it?’

Caroline was silent.

‘What’s the matter?’ persisted Annabel. ‘Did you really have something else planned? Or is it...’ she briefly contemplated the possibility that her sister may not want to spend two weeks in her company before rejecting such a patently ridiculous idea.

Caroline
stood up and looked down at Annabel.

‘Just tell me one thing, truthfully
. Why me?’

‘Darling! What a defensive question!’

Caroline stared down at her sister’s upturned face. How beautiful it was. She was silent for a moment, admiring the perfect curve of her cheek, the ever-changing blue of those enormous eyes. Again, another face sprang into her memory, bending over her at bedtime, those same wonderful eyes smiling down at her, a cool hand stroking her cheek as she lay listening to her mother’s voice telling her about Cinderella and her sisters.