Page 40 of The Riviera House Swap
‘It smells delicious. Thanks for doing this.’
‘Ah it is no problem – thank you for letting me stay.’ Sabine poured wine into a large glass and handed it to Nina. ‘Now sit! It is almost ready.’
It was seven o’clock and after a brief rest and catch up on her messages, Nina was more than ready to eat. Thanking Sabine again, she moved from the kitchen to the table and slid onto one of the benches. Taking a sip from her red wine, she felt it warm her mouth as it made its way to her stomach. Today had been a little derailed, sure, but it had been a success more than anything. She’d found Pierre and something about seeing him,the way he was still recognisably himself, had given her hope that maybe he’d remember her and there might be something still between them. Plus, she’d had another first – a ride on the back of a motorbike. Well, almost a motorbike. A hybrid. And that would do.
Sabine came through from the kitchen with two enormous plates, each with a chicken portion and red wine sauce served with green beans. Each plate had an enormous chunk of bread on the side, torn from a fresh loaf. She smiled as she placed Nina’s in front of her.
‘This looks delicious,’ Nina said, feeling her stomach growl and remembering she’d only managed a bowl of soup for lunch.
‘Thank you. It is my mother’s recipe,’ said Sabine. She lifted a piece of chicken to her mouth and chewed, her eyes momentarily closed. ‘Mmm,’ she sighed. ‘It is nice to have a meal cooked properly after eating in the van for so long.’
‘Don’t you have a stove in there?’ Nina asked.
‘Yes, but I cannot cook much – there is nowhere to store any leftovers. So really I eat mainly bread and drink coffee,’ said Sabine with a shrug. ‘Ah, and I go to buy food in restaurants of course, but it cannot be every day. Jewellery sells well, but it is not a fortune.’
Nina nodded. ‘You must make sure you eat properly now then, before you go out again.’
Sabine laughed – an infectious sound, slightly high-pitched. ‘You sound like my mother.’
Nina felt her cheeks get hot. ‘Oh,’ she said.
‘No, it is good. My mother is – well, was – wonderful. And she cared so much for people,’ Sabine said earnestly. ‘She died a few years ago. But I still hear her voice in my mind sometimes.’
Nina nodded. ‘Sorry,’ she said.
‘For what?’
‘For your loss.’
‘Oh,’ Sabine nodded. ‘But I do not think it was your fault, eh?’ she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief suddenly. ‘British people, they like to apologise!’
Nina laughed. ‘It does seem to be a bit of a habit, yes.’
‘It is OK. She was not young. She had a good life. But it does not stop me missing her,’ Sabine said, taking another mouthful.
Nina nodded, vowing to spend more time at her mum and dad’s when she got back.
‘So do you have many plans for your holiday?’ Sabine asked. ‘I hope I am not ruining anything for you?’
Nina shook her head. ‘You won’t be,’ she said. ‘I mean, it’s not strictly a holiday, in the usual sense…’ She found herself trailing off, unsure of how to finish her sentence.
Sabine looked at her. ‘Not a holiday? Does this mean you are here for work?’ she asked, her brow furrowed.
‘Well, not exactly.’
‘So then itisa holiday?’
Nina felt herself get red. ‘Well, yes, I suppose so.’
Sabine looked at her and took a sip of wine. ‘I do not understand,’ she said. ‘You say it is not a holiday, but next you say that it is?’
Nina had not planned on telling anyone about her Pierre mission. It was far too difficult to explain in English, let alone French, and if she was honest, far too embarrassing. But with Sabine’s confused eyes on her, she felt she ought to clarify.
‘I suppose what I mean is, while I’m not working. I am… well, I’m here to do something.’
‘Really?’
‘Sort of a personal mission, I suppose.’
