“Okay, well, I’ll see you later.”
It was just a brief peck, and then he got Cherry and they were gone.
She felt guilty for fabricating the visit to Izzy, so she decided to try to make it the truth and drove down to Saint-Tropez. But unluckily for Laura, Isabella wasn’t in. She stood for a moment at her friend’s empty villa, wondering what to do with herself, and then thought she’d just go home again.
She packed her suitcase for the following morning, then decided to go outside and see if any of the peppers or tomatoes needed picking. She took a colander from the kitchen and managed to while away half an hour or so, even forgetting about Cherry for a bit, and then she heard voices from the kitchen. She considered staying outside for a bit longer, but she knew that would be churlish. So, with a sigh, she went in with a red and yellow pepper and four beef tomatoes.
“We’re getting quite a crop this year,” she started to say, and then she saw their faces. “What’s the matter?”
Daniel was holding his painting. It had a tear in the canvas, about an inch long, right across the center of Place des Lices.
Laura was horrified. “How on earth . . . Your beautiful painting. . .”
“It was on the broken glass,” said Daniel, “when we came in.”
On the worktop was the glass she’d broken earlier and had forgotten to wrap and put in the bin.
“But . . . what was it doing there?” She looked at them both, but Cherry wouldn’t meet her eye. Instead she gazed ruefully down.
It took a moment before it sank in; then she dismissed it, laughed. She stopped short, incredulous. “What?”
“Whatever happened, it was likely an accident,” Cherry said graciously.
Laura was dumbfounded. “You don’t really think . . . it was me?”
“No, Mum, I just don’t know how it happened. We came home and found it—lying on the broken glass.”
“I meant to clear it up earlier, but I forgot.” Laura stopped, realizing she was sounding guilty. “Paintings don’t just rip by lying on glass. They have to be torn, slashed.” Upset, she stopped. “I am very sorry about your painting,” she said to Daniel, “but I really have no idea how it came to be damaged.” She flicked her eyes across to Cherry, who was staring at the floor, crestfallen.
Dinner was quiet; no one mentioned the painting. Laura made her excuses early and went to bed.
* * *
The following morning, Daniel loaded her bags into the back of his car. Cherry stood in the open doorway and shook her hand. “Thank you very much for a lovely stay, Laura.”
That’s the first time she’s said it,thought Laura, and she tried to bury the irritation at being waved off from her own front step.
Daniel was quiet on the way to the airport and Laura felt a bout of sadness that they weren’t on the same good terms they usually were. She wanted to try to clear the air before she flew back home. “You do know I didn’t—wouldn’t—dream of doing something like that to your painting, don’t you?” she said, not quite believing she was having to say it.
“Yes, of course.”
“You don’t sound convinced.”
He took his eyes off the road for a second and smiled at her. “Hey, maybe it’s just one of those unexplained things.”
Such as what?Laura thought. But it was clear the subject was closed. And nothing would be gained by flogging it to death. She knew she hadn’t done it, and it was hardly likely Daniel had, which left either Cherry or a random accident. She couldn’t make sense of the latter, but she, equally, couldn’t understand why Cherrywould do it. It was hard to comprehend, but there was something else distracting her, a niggling disquiet: Cherry was still in her house.
* * *
Cherry watched the car pull away and disappear around the end of the drive. So she was gone. It was a huge relief. Laura knew things, she was certain of it. Cherry knew she’d not booked a return flight, maybe even knew Daniel had paid a tiny bit more than it had actually cost. She’d been in desperate need of some new swimwear, unable to afford it, and, anyway, it was for him; it was important to her to look nice for him.
So now the suffocating mother was gone. She could let her hair down; she could be free! Free to enjoy this magnificent house.
Cherry caressed the backs of chairs as she wandered through the living room. She straightened the tea towels in the kitchen and saw the painting lying ripped on the counter.Such a shame.All that money on her credit card that she still had to pay off; it made her feel sick and slightly panicky.But it had been necessary.
Cherry needed to untangle those motherly bindings Laura still kept wrapped tight. She needed Daniel on her side, now that Laura had been snooping.
She picked up an apple from the fruit bowl and went out onto the terrace. She ate it delicately as she gazed out at the Saint-Tropez peninsula and thought of Laura here and wondered whether she fully appreciated it and how often she bothered to come. From what Daniel had said of his mother’s job, she worked hard and put in long days. Cherry inwardly snorted, full of contempt for the waste of such a beautiful house. Months probably passed with no one enjoying it other than the spiders, which still managed to concoct webs every week before the cleaner got them and the birds who dipped their beaks at the edge of the pool. Cherry knew that if she owned this villa she’d be here for weeks or months at a time. She watched the famous distant harbor and felt a great sense of well-being, of belonging, as if all those yachts, the beaches, the sun-warmed streets, and the lavish lifestyle were within touching distance, there for the taking.
