Page 42 of The Riviera House Swap
And then he was there too, with a group of friends, throwing a ball and splashing in the water. With her sunglasses on, she was able to watch him undetected.
Eventually, he came over. ‘Swim?’ he asked, looking at them both but glancing mostly at Nina – or at least it felt that way.
‘Oui,’ she said, self-conscious as she slipped off her beach dress to reveal her bikini, but feeling awfully grown-up at the same time.
22
NOW
The following morning at 6a.m., Nina found herself sitting abruptly up in bed, her heart racing. She took a moment to adjust to her surroundings, steady her breathing, before leaning back again against the soft, feather pillows. Whether it was the dream or the fact that she’d had rather too much wine last night, she wasn’t sure. But she was definitely awake and with so much adrenaline coursing through her veins, seemingly unlikely to go back to sleep.
She’d left her shutters open last night, choosing just to pull the curtains across and tumble into bed after staying up later than planned, putting the world to rights with Sabine. She’d learned that her new friend had been travelling for almost a year – that she was determined to see the world selling her jewellery before she settled down to a regular job (if she ever did). Nina had shared anecdotes about her own life, but they’d seemed quite dull in comparison. That she’d ‘almost’ gone travelling. That she’d got a sensible job and married instead. That life had spat her out at the age of forty, suddenly directionless and full of regret.
They’d talked about her French exchange from so many years ago – how she and Pierre had had what had seemed like an instant connection. How she’d kept his letters in a box, along with a necklace he gave her, despite having decided not to stay in touch. How this whole adventure had come around. Sabine had listened, rapt, as if Nina had been telling a story of far-flung places and out-of-this-world adventures. Perhaps that had also been the wine.
Sabine had shared her own stories: about taking a gap year after university and never really settling down. ‘I lived in New Zealand, Australia, South America,’ she said. ‘I worked for maybe six months, maybe eight. And sometimes, I thought – yes, this is it! This is where I wish to settle. But then my feet got restless and I knew I needed to get back on the road.’
The conversation had been so consuming, so entertaining, that Nina had barely noticed the hours go by. It was only when Sabine received a phone call from Antoine – who’d excitedly told her that although none of his friends knew Pierre, one of them worked in the same building – that Nina had realised it was gone midnight and suddenly felt the tiredness in her limbs.
She listened on speakerphone as Pierre told Sabine how his friend had often seen Pierre at Café de la Place not far from their offices. ‘Perhaps I will go there tomorrow,’ he’d told Sabine.
‘Tell him not to speak to him!’ Nina had mouthed desperately.
Sabine, her eyes sparkling with mischief, had told her brother to be discreet. ‘Just follow him, don’t speak to him. You are not Jules Maigret, remember? You will blow our cover.’ She’d seemed delighted with the idea of her brother in the role of TV detective and once she’d hung up, had clapped her hands together excitedly again. ‘This is fantastic!’ she’d said. ‘We will soon know where he goes, and we can arrange for you to bump into him. And voila! The rest will be history!’
Last night, Nina couldn’t help but smile, despite her anxiety. But today, she felt a little less sure of things. This was meant to be an undercover mission – something she could do without humiliating herself if it all went wrong. Now, it seemed, there were others on the case. Not only did this mean she couldn’t get out of it; it also meant that if Pierre didn’t remember her, or rejected her, or saw through any flimsy ‘Meet-Cute Plan’ they might concoct, she’d have witnesses to her embarrassment.
Feeling nervous, she tossed the covers back, stepped out of bed and into her dressing gown. Opening the curtains to let the dull, early-morning half-light into the room, she looked out over the dotted rooftops, nestled in greenery, and beyond to the horizon. She couldn’t see the sea from here, but she’d definitely walk down later and have a promenade. Perhaps with more comfortable shoes this time, she thought.
She’d steer well away from the Café de la Place – she’d looked it up on Google Earth last night: a small brasserie located on a street corner a few roads away from Pierre’s office. It was tempting to head down there herself, but she’d die of embarrassment if she bumped into Antoine or Pierre at this point. Better to let things work themselves out and take some advice from her new friends. Probably.
Downstairs, all was quiet. Sabine wasn’t yet up, so Nina made herself a cup of coffee and leaned against the kitchen counter, looking out over the garden. It was clearly well loved – the grass was neat and the little line of trees at its edge was obviously recently pruned. She imagined the space in the sunshine, the pool uncovered and invitingly warm; pictured a far-fetched scenario where she ended up living in a house like this with Pierre – her happy ever after. Would it be as wonderful as she imagined? Or would she, like Sabine, get itchy feet after a while?
She picked her phone up from the kitchen counter and scrolled through social media, then went onto WhatsApp – Sal had sent a picture of herself outside Nina’s house in St Albans, grinning.
Looking after things for you!
It said, with a winking face.
Thank you
She replied, with a smiling emoji.
Later, after a day of exploring the town, and an afternoon walk on the beach, Nina was more than ready for a meal. But this time, she rejected Sabine’s offer to cook. ‘I’ll take you out,’ she said. ‘My treat.’
Sabine had asked if it was OK to invite Antoine, and she hadn’t been able to say no – even though she was a little embarrassed now that he was in on the ‘plan.’ ‘Thank you,’ Sabine had said when she’d agreed. ‘Antoine he is divorced, like you, and sometimes I worry he gets lonely.’
‘Oh, that’s sad,’ Nina said, wondering if a similar fate awaited her. ‘Do you ever think of inviting him on your travels?’
Sabine found this suggestion hilarious. ‘I am sorry,’ she gasped, ‘but I cannot imagine Antoine in the van. And of course, he has his job. And his son too – Theo. He is thirteen now and I do not think Antoine would leave him.’
‘Oh, he’s a dad?’
‘Yes, but Theo he lives with his mother. Antoine sees him at the weekends only. It is quite sad.’
By seven o’clock, they were walking, in a strange trio, to the seafront, Antoine pushing his bike alongside him after deciding to walk with them. ‘He is crazy to ride such a bike,’ Sabine said. ‘I went on that thing once, and once is enough.’
‘Oh, it’s not that bad,’ Nina had said, feeling desperately embarrassed. ‘But, if you’re walking… well, it’d be nice to chat,’ she’d added hurriedly before Antoine thought to offer her his spare seat.
