Page 27 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure

Move-in day came in November, just as the weather turned really wet and blustery.

Bruno had been put to work collecting dead wood from the gardens for the various stoves.

Luckily there was plenty of it, and it was now stacked under the veranda, ready for use.

Louis had also managed to find a radiator, which he connected to the boiler, and so the living room would be warm.

The walls had been painted a pristine white apart from the mural on the sitting room wall that Ellie couldn’t bear to part with.

Enough furniture had been restored that they had places to sit and eat.

The rest, that needed more work, had been shut away in the dining room, which they were not yet using.

Instead they ate in the warmth of the big kitchen, around the pine table.

Mavis had mastered the stove beautifully, and the larder was stocked with basics.

They had discussed what to do with the opera singer’s clothes that she had left in various wardrobes and drawers.

Ellie paid a visit to Monsieur Danton and asked him if the owner would like the clothing delivered to him.

The answer was that he had no need of the clothing, and they could do what they liked with it.

This gave the ladies a happy afternoon of going through the items, seeing if any of them could still be used and might fit them.

Unfortunately the opera singer was petite and slim, and the clothes were horribly dated.

But they did rescue some silk undergarments, wrapped between sheets of tissue, a fur stole, a jacket or two.

Mavis took some of the long dresses, saying she could use the fabric to make herself summer dresses and a maternity outfit for Yvette, who was now beginning to burst out of her own clothes.

The rest they packed into a trunk. In a drawer in Ellie’s bedroom, she found scarves, cosmetics and a tortoiseshell box of costume jewellery.

She opened it, sifting through brooches and hair combs and came upon a locket containing two photos.

She presumed that one was Jeannette and the other the duke.

He was handsome, older, with dark hair streaked with grey at the sides, but staring arrogantly at the camera.

Clearly a man of substance. The opera singer was looking winsome.

There was something about her. Ellie carried it over to the window to see better.

What was it? Then she realized. Jeannette looked a little like Ellie herself as a young woman.

Again she had the same strange feeling as when she first entered the villa—that she was somehow meant to be here.

“Rubbish,” she said and was putting the items back in the drawer when she came across another photo, this one not in a frame and lying between tissue paper and silk undies.

It was of a baby with dark curls and big eyes fringed with long lashes, staring solemnly at the camera.

So, she wondered, did Jeannette have a child, or was this the child of a relative?

Was this child now the elusive owner of the villa who lived in faraway Paris and had no interest in it?

Perhaps he or she had inherited more impressive properties from the duke, and this small villa was not worth thinking about. She wondered if she’d ever find out.

They ate a first meal, a simple stew, and toasted each other with wine.

“To our new home,” Dora said. “May it bring us health and happiness.”

“It don’t seem real,” Mavis said. “Imagine me here, in this lovely place, with you ladies. How did I get to be so blessed?”

Ellie looked from one face to the next. How happy they looked, except Yvette, who hadn’t understood and sat silently, spooning soup into her mouth.

Ellie had passed along the address for army headquarters.

“Would you like me to write for you?” she said.

“If you give me your young man’s name, I will see what I can do. ”

“No need, madame,” Yvette said, taking the address from her. “I will do it myself. But I do not know if it will do any good. If he is now stationed in Africa, they will not let him come home before his tour of duty is over. Perhaps he has no interest in a child.” She turned away.

“Let’s hope for the best, shall we?” Ellie put a tentative arm around her.

Yvette was still looking away and said nothing.

That first night Ellie stood at the window of her new room, looking out over the gardens.

The stormy weather of earlier in the day had passed, and the grounds were bathed in moonlight.

She had generously given Dora the best bedroom that faced the sea and taken the second-best one.

She had remembered Dora’s face as they had first toured the bedrooms. Dora had stared out of the big windows.

“Oh, what a perfect view,” she had sighed.

“I should die happy if that was the last thing I saw.”

And so Ellie had claimed she’d rather sleep at the front of the house, facing the gardens.

“I think the noise of the waves might keep me awake,” she said.

“I’m a light sleeper.” And seeing how happy Dora was, she knew she’d made a good sacrifice.

Who knew how many more months Dora had left?

She still seemed well and quite energetic.

Maybe the doctors had got it wrong, and this trip could turn out to be a miracle cure.

She found herself hoping this was true. She had become fond of the old lady.

Moonlight danced as palm trees rattled and trees swayed in the breeze at the far end of the garden.

Then she stiffened. Was that someone moving between the trees?

As she peered into the darkness, she thought she saw a figure, moving swiftly.

It vanished into shadow, and she lost sight of it.

She shook her head. She must have been mistaken.

The moonlight had been playing tricks. The gates were no longer locked as Bruno or Louis came and went, but who would want to be in the garden at night?

There was nothing worth stealing, and besides the figure was moving away, not towards, the villa.

Suggestions of the ghost did cross her mind, but she put them aside.

Ghosts only lingered where they had lived in life, didn’t they?

And the opera singer had died far away from here.

But what of the duke? Hadn’t he tired of her and moved on to another mistress?

So he wouldn’t have died here, either. And they took their servants with them.

So no ghost. Only a trick of the moonlight.

There were no curtains up yet as Mavis hadn’t had time to make them, so Ellie felt a little uncomfortable as she moved away from the window.

Was it possible the figure had been a peeping Tom, come to spy on the ladies?

It could have been one of the local lads, coming up on a dare, or something more sinister.

Bruno came into her head. Yvette had described him as creepy.

He seemed to Ellie completely harmless, but would he get a thrill from watching ladies take their clothes off?

She’d have to make sure she did not undress with the light on and warn the others just in case.

And help Mavis make those curtains as quickly as possible.

She climbed into bed, feeling the cold strangeness of new sheets and no longer feeling at ease.

They were, after all, four women, far from home.

Perhaps there were brigands and corsairs, as Yvette had suggested.

She lay for a while looking at the moon.

Then she put worrying thoughts aside and told herself not to be silly.

They had done it. They were here, and it was going to be perfect.

“My new life,” she said. If Lionel could see her now, would he even recognize the old Ellie?

“You know what I think,” Mavis said the next morning when they came down to tea and fresh bread. “I think we should have a party to celebrate.”

“A party?” Ellie asked. “And where did the bread come from?”

“Louis brought up a loaf when he arrived,” Mavis said.

“That was very good of him,” Ellie replied. “So he’s here already.”

“That’s right. He’s brought the hardware for the shutters and the windows.”

Ellie wondered how Mavis, speaking no French, seemed to know this.

“We’ve already spent a lot of money to get this place up and running,” Ellie said. “We don’t have unlimited funds, Mavis.”

“But people have done a lot for us,” Mavis said. “Louis has put in many more hours than he’s charged us for. He’s found us the new shutters and the radiator, and look at Mr Tommy and Clive. They’ve been up here all the time and haven’t wanted a penny.”

“That’s true,” Ellie said. “And we don’t have to pay any rent for another month or so. So we are living free, essentially. What do you think, Dora?” she asked as the older woman came in. “Do you think we should have a party?”

Dora nodded. “I think a party is a lovely idea. It doesn’t have to be too fancy, does it? Wine is so cheap here, and bread and cold meats, cheese and olives. Just a thank you gesture to those who have helped us.”

“Right you are, then,” Mavis said. “You choose a date, and I’ll get to work. It had better be all finger food because we don’t have enough plates to feed the multitude.”

“Multitude?” Ellie said. “I thought this was a little thank you to those who have helped us.”

“Mavis is right,” Dora said. “I suspect that once word gets out, the whole village will want to come up and see what we’ve done.”

“Get Yvette to help you, Mavis,” Ellie said. “You’re doing too much already.”

“Her?” Mavis rolled her eyes. “She’s about as much use as a bull in a dairy. She pretends to be helping, then she slips away. And I’ll tell you something else ... she smokes. She don’t let us see, but my Reggie smoked, and I can smell it on her clothes.”

“I don’t think we can hold that against her, Mavis,” Dora said. “She is expecting, after all. She may feel nauseous and worried, and smoking may calm her nerves.”

Mavis grunted as if she didn’t agree. “There’s something not right about that girl,” she said. It wasn’t the first time she had expressed such a thought. Mavis was no fool, but was she just prejudiced because the girl was foreign and she didn’t understand her?

When they announced the date for the party, they found that providing the feast would not be as hard as they had imagined.

Tommy and Clive said they would bring the wine.

Henri offered to bring a terrine and smoked fish.

When Ellie went to pay him, he shook his head.

“You have kept my little restaurant going at a time when there are usually no tourists,” he said.

“And you are such enchanting ladies. It is my pleasure.”

They ordered bread and pastries from the boulangerie, olives, cheese and cold meats from the charcuterie.

“Now we just have to see who comes,” Dora said. “We may have a lot of food left over.”

But everyone came. Louis, Tommy and Clive, Bruno and his mother, the priest, Monsieur Danton.

Ellie was a little surprised that the Adamses came.

Mrs Adams had ignored them since they moved out, hardly greeting them when they passed in the street, but clearly curiosity got the better of her, and Ellie noticed her snooping into every corner.

“You got yourself a nice place here,” she said.

“If I’d known it was as nice as this, I’d have snapped it up myself. We heard it was a ruin.”

“But it was,” Ellie said. “We’ve worked damned hard to repair and restore everything.”

“With lots of help,” Mrs Adams said. “Everyone in the village falling over backwards to help you.”

And Ellie realized she was jealous. She felt threatened. Ellie wanted to tell her she didn’t need to but couldn’t find the words.

Henri shut his bar, and two of the fishermen who had chatted with them came: Francois and Jacquot, but not the big man, Nico.

Ellie suspected he did not approve of the English ladies and the amount of attention they got from Henri and the other men.

He was a strange one, she decided. She remembered how rude he had been when they first met, but then he’d negotiated with Mrs Adams to get them a better rate at the pension.

Since then he had been pleasant enough when they encountered him at the bar, but more aloof than the other men. Anyway, he had chosen not to come.

Father André, the priest, introduced himself and offered to bless the house for them.

He knew that they were not of the faith, he said, but Anglicans, after all, were just misguided Catholics.

They had the same doctrine, the same form of service, but they just had forgotten about the pope.

Ellie had been rather alarmed about meeting a priest. The Catholic Church in England was viewed with much scepticism and even fear.

But Father André had a twinkle in his eye and had brought a bottle of blackcurrant brandy made by a local monastery.

“I hope to see you at Mass one day,” he said. “We may make good Catholics of you yet.”

The doctor and his wife also came. She was quite distinguished-looking and fashionable; he was hearty and older than her.

They brought the women a bottle of champagne and invited the ladies to the next musical soirée.

Everyone brought some sort of gift—cheeses, wine, cognac, tomato plants and a lemon tree for the garden, candles for when the electricity went out in the next storm.

Tommy and Clive had a special gift in a basket: a small orange striped kitten.

“Here is your mouser,” Tommy said.

Ellie picked him up and felt his purring as he lay quietly in her hands. She realized she’d always wanted a cat, but Lionel didn’t like them.

“How charming,” Dora said. “I’ve been missing my cat. And now we have our own little tiger.”

And so Tiger he was named.

Everyone stayed rather late. There was lots of toasting and wishes of good luck.

Lots of laughter. Ellie stood watching, feeling her heart so full it might burst. All those years in her village at home and she had never felt this warmth or joy.

She realized that she hadn’t felt much at all for years.

She had loved being a mother and looking after her little sons.

When they went away to school, there was no one to hug or care for, just Lionel and his damned three-and-a-half-minute eggs.

Always worrying that she was failing him, not pleasing him, and never stopping for a moment to think that nobody was concerned about pleasing her.