Page 19 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure

“Well, anyway, welcome to our humble abode. Come on in and have a glass of wine.” He went ahead down the hall and into a large room on their right.

It proved to be a kitchen with blue and white tiles around an ancient stove and sink.

A rack of copper pans hung above it, and to one side there was a string of onions and another of bright-red dried peppers.

A large window was open, and a breeze stirred white net curtains.

A window box was full of herbs. In front of the window there was a plain wooden table and ladder-backed chairs.

The chairs had blue and yellow cushions on them.

On the table were simple raffia mats and earthenware plates with a blue-and-yellow pattern.

A carafe of rosé stood in the middle. On the walls were several bright and modern paintings of the harbour, the coast and ships.

It was a simple room but had a welcoming feel to it.

Ellie compared it mentally to her kitchen.

It had been well appointed, efficient but certainly not welcoming.

Nobody was allowed in her kitchen when she held dinner parties.

It was a solitary haven where Lionel never ventured.

Mr Tommy turned at the sound of footsteps. “And let me introduce you to my friend Clive,” he said. “Clive Webster—three lovely English ladies. What more could you want?”

The second man came into the room. He was younger, good-looking with finely sculpted cheekbones and dark-blond hair that flopped boyishly across his forehead. He wore a blue peasant shirt over baggy trousers, and his eyes darted nervously, as if he wasn’t sure of the reception he’d get.

“How do you do, Mr Webster.” It was Dora who extended a hand first. “It was so kind of you both to invite us.”

Clive’s face relaxed. He smiled, extending a slim and elegant hand.

“Not at all. Our pleasure to meet fellow English people. One grows a little tired of having to speak French each and every day. I’ll pour the wine, shall I, Tommy, while you put out the hors d’oeuvres.

” He indicated the table. “Do take a seat. Enjoy our view. We do.”

As they approached the table, they saw that the window looked out over the whole harbour area with the cliffs, jutting one after the other down the coastline until they faded into the blue distance.

“It’s lovely,” Ellie said.

“We can see everything that goes on from up here,” Mr Tommy said with a chuckle. “We can be really nosy.”

“We’d probably make a good living at blackmail if we wanted to.” Clive was pouring wine as they took their places. “This is a local rosé,” he said. “The region is known for it.”

Mr Tommy put small plates in front of them. They contained slices of a bright orange fruit with little mounds of white cheese.

“What are these?” Dora asked.

“Persimmons and goat cheese,” Mr Tommy replied. “Our persimmon tree. The cheese is from our own goats.”

“You keep goats?” Ellie asked.

“Two of them,” Mr Tommy replied. “Ursula and Hortense. Clive named them because they look like two dowagers with their haughty expressions. Absolutely affronted at the thought of us touching their lady parts to milk them. They rule the roost outside, along with our chickens, while the cat dominates our inside space.”

As if hearing its name, a white cat appeared, pausing to rub against Clive’s leg.

Clive bent to pick it up. “This is Minou,” he said.

“We rescued her. You’ve probably noticed all the stray cats around here.

The local inhabitants are not exactly kind to their animals.

We found her as a kitten when someone tried to drown her in the harbour.

” He planted a kiss on Minou’s forehead, then placed her back on the floor.

She walked a few steps away, then sat with her back to them and began washing herself.

“Standoffish,” Mr Tommy said. “Affectionate when she feels like it.”

They joined the women at the table, and Mr Tommy lifted a glass. “Cheers, then.”

“Cheers, and thank you for inviting us,” Ellie said.

“We weren’t sure you’d come. We thought that the witch at the pension would have gone out of her way to make our home sound like the house of the devil.

The irony is that she and her husband never set foot inside a church, while we attend every week.

Father André is remarkably broad-minded in his version of Catholicism.

He happily baptizes babies of unwed mothers and makes people like us feel welcome. ”

“So how long have you been here?” Dora asked.

Mr Tommy looked at Clive for confirmation. “Seventeen years, is it?”

“We came in twenty-two,” Clive said. “So almost seventeen.”

“Goodness. That’s quite a while,” Dora said. “What brought you here?”

“The question is rather what drove us away,” Clive said.

Mr Tommy nodded. “Clive and I met during the Great War. I registered as a conscientious objector. I thought it was quite wrong to kill other human beings. So I was sent straight to the front as a medical orderly. My job was to go out on to the battlefield and retrieve the dying and the bodies.”

“Naturally they picked the worst job possible to teach people like Tommy a lesson,” Clive said with bitterness in his voice.

“I was young and na?ve enough to do my duty and enlist at eighteen, and I was sent straight to the front. Absolute hell. It’s no wonder men’s minds snapped.

Anyway, I was one of the bodies that Tommy retrieved.

Just about alive. Horribly wounded. He brought me to safety, and he came to check on me all the time while I hovered between life and death.

When they were convinced I’d live, I was sent to a convalescent hospital.

Tommy came to visit me once he was back home.

Without his care and encouragement, I don’t think I’d have made it. ”

He and Tommy exchanged a smile.

“Anyway, our relationship grew during that trying time.” Tommy glanced across at Clive as he said this, as if assessing if he was saying too much.

“I went back to my old job as a teacher at a private school, and when Clive was discharged from the convalescent home, I realized he wasn’t ready to live alone, so I brought him to live with me.

And all went well until a meddling female teacher found out about us and alerted the authorities.

We learned they were coming to arrest us, so we made a rapid exit.

Clive is a painter, so we came to the South, where the light is so marvellous.

Found this place. Loved it. Sold my house in England, inherited a small amount from my parents and here we are. ”

They had finished the first course, and Tommy got up to clear away the dishes.

Then he brought out a large pie from the oven and put it on a mat in the middle of the table.

“Mushroom tart,” he said. “It’s the time of year for mushrooms. And don’t worry, we gather them all the time. We’re not going to poison you.”

The pastry was light and flaky, the mushroom filling rich and almost meaty, and it was accompanied with a salad of mixed greens, including what Ellie assumed to be dandelions. Silence fell as the women ate.

“I’d love the recipe for this,” Ellie said. “It’s delicious.”

“You like to cook?” Tommy asked.

“I do. At home we gave frequent dinner parties, so I had to do a lot of cooking.”

“We?” Tommy asked. “You’re a widow, then?”

“Divorced,” Ellie said. “My husband suddenly decided he wanted to marry a younger woman, so I was cast aside.”

“Stupid man,” Tommy said. “He wants his head examined.”

“It’s probably the best thing that ever happened to me,” Ellie said. “For the first time I feel free to make my own decisions, live my own life. I have no idea where we’ll be tomorrow, and I don’t find that frightening at all.”

“Good for you,” Clive said. “What about you, then?” He turned to Mavis, who went red.

“I’m just having a bit of a holiday, I suppose,” she said.

“Mavis used to help me with the housework,” Ellie said. “She had a violent bully of a husband, so I persuaded her to come with us. It will give her time to decide what she wants to do next.”

“And this lady is a relative?” Clive turned to Dora.

“Just a good friend who had a longing to see the South of France again,” Ellie said for her. “So we escaped together, three of us on an adventure, only now we are four. We rescued a young French girl who finds herself pregnant and abandoned.”

“You’re as bad as us and our cats,” Clive said, making them laugh.

“So you’re a painter,” Dora said, changing the subject. “Are these your work?” She pointed at the walls.

Clive nodded. “What do you think?”

“So fresh. So vibrant,” Dora said. “I always regret that I never learned to paint. I think I would have enjoyed it.”

“It’s never too late, dear lady,” Clive said. “If you stay on here, I’ll be happy to give you some lessons. I do for the English winter visitors, you know.”

“Oh, how kind.” Dora looked quite pink with excitement. “Alas, we are only staying until the motor car is mended.”

“If we did want to stay longer,” Ellie said hesitantly, “is there anywhere one could rent?”

“Various people rent out rooms during the season,” Tommy said, looking at Clive. “But all pretty basic and nowhere where you could cook for yourself. Nowhere you’d want to stay long-term.”

“There’s always the villa,” Clive said with a wicked smile on his face.

“Villa?” Ellie was instantly alert.

“The Villa Gloriosa,” Clive repeated, still smiling.

“There’s a villa for rent?” Ellie asked excitedly.

“He’s just joking,” Tommy said. “There is a villa on the cliffs just above the village, but it’s abandoned, deserted. It hasn’t been occupied for maybe thirty years.”

“Who owns it, then?” Ellie asked.

“I believe it was a famous opera singer. She was the mistress of a Parisian duke, who gave her the villa as a present. But she lost interest in coming here, or she lost the duke as a patron. Anyway, she stopped coming, and then we heard that she had died. So presumably she has a next of kin somewhere who still owns it but doesn’t want to live in it.

It’s in bad shape, anyway. The locals think it’s haunted. ”

“How interesting,” Ellie said. “I’d love to see it. Who would know how we’d get in touch with the current owners?”

“I believe Monsieur Danton, the local notaire, keeps an eye on it, pays the taxes and things like that. He’d know, anyway. But I think it would be quite sad. We saw it once, long ago. Already falling into ruin then, unlike the other villa nearby,” Tommy said.

“Other villa?”

“Very grand. Alas, not for rent,” Clive said. “Owned by a reclusive viscount. He spends half his year in Paris, then retreats here when it gets too hot or too cold. Not exactly the most friendly of chaps, or so we’ve found. Très snobbish.”

“But his villa is magnificent,” Tommy added. “More like a chateau. Perfectly manicured grounds, a swimming pool. Just divine.” He got up again. “Would you like coffee? And macarons?”

“Oh yes, please,” Dora said before Ellie could answer.

Clive cleared plates away while Tommy brewed coffee. The macarons were heavenly, so light they melted in the mouth.

“Did you bake these?” Ellie asked.

“I’m afraid I can’t take credit.” He gave an embarrassed little shrug. “Madame Blanchet at the boulangerie bakes them. She has a great flair for pastries, so her shop is really a patisserie, too.”

“We did see pastries in the window when we went to buy bread yesterday,” Ellie said. “That’s good to know. I’m afraid I have a sweet tooth.”

“So what exactly do you do here?” Dora asked with her usual forthrightness. “Do you have a job?”

“This and that,” Tommy said. “I help out teaching at the school. I help Henri at the bar when it gets really busy. Clive paints.”

“Then how do you survive?” she asked. “You must have private money, one supposes.”

“I wish that were true,” Tommy said. “Actually Clive’s paintings are quite popular.

Whenever we need a little extra, he sells another painting.

And we are practically self-sufficient here with our goats and chickens.

Our needs are few, apart from the occasional trip to Marseille and a shopping spree. ”

Ellie felt they were becoming too intrusive. “I think we should be going,” she said. “We don’t want to outstay our welcome.”

“You’d always be welcome here,” Tommy said. “As I said, we get few English guests, and one does miss the homeland in certain ways. Next time you can tell us all about what life is like there now. What is in the shops on Oxford Street.”

“I’m afraid none of us is actually a woman about town with the latest wardrobe,” Dora said. “Like you, we manage to get by.”

“Before you go, would you like to see our goats?” Clive asked, standing up.

They followed him out of a back door. On a small flat patch against the hillside there was a pen with the goats in it, a chicken run beside it and a raised vegetable garden.

The last tomatoes were turning red on dying plants.

“Oh blimey. Aren’t they big and fierce-looking?” Mavis exclaimed. “Look at them horns. Do you really milk them?”

“We do,” Clive said. “Of course I have to sing to them while I do the milking. They like the sound of my voice.” He grinned. Ellie couldn’t tell if he was pulling their legs. He seemed to enjoy a good joke.

“One thing we would like is actually more land,” Tommy said, “but we do love this little house, and there is nowhere else to expand our garden.”

The guests were escorted round to the front of the house. The cat appeared, sensing they were leaving and probably glad that her masters’ attention could now be fully on her again.

“Come and see us any time,” Tommy said. “We love unexpected visitors.”

“What interesting men,” Dora commented as they made their way down the hill. “And how sensible of them to live here. Can you imagine what a scandal there would have been if they’d lived in our village? Gossip all the time. And I did like his paintings.”

Ellie studied Dora as she went ahead, holding on to Mavis’s arm. It was as if Dora had already shed the strict and haughty exterior of her previous life. Maybe it had been a shield, Ellie thought. Maybe we all build up walls around us as a defense, so we can’t be hurt.