CHAPTER1
FOUR WEEKS UNTIL RACE DAY
“We’re going to be mixing with the rich and famous.” Beth giggled in excitement. “Look at this.”
She and her brother sat at the dining table. They scrolled through their mobiles while their mother, Hannah, tidied up the kitchen around them.
Beth held up her phone screen. “It’s a list of who’s who with villas near ours.”
Archie’s eyes widened as he read. “Imagine walking down the road and coming face to face with loads of celebrities. That’s mad.”
“Beats missing Danny for.”
Hannah’s head jerked in her daughter’s direction. Either that was one hell of a name check Beth and Archie were looking at, or Hannah had slipped over into the twilight zone. Danny Parkes was one of those singers who appealed to teenagers, mothers and grandmothers alike and along with most of the female population, Hannah’s daughter idolised him.
Anyone would have thought Beth’s life had ended when she realised their trip overlapped with one of his concerts. Try as she might, there was no budging on the holiday dates. The relief Beth felt when she learned the whole event had sold out and, France or no France, she wouldn’t be seeing Danny anyway.
“Unless…” Beth’s eyes widened, and she frantically tapped on her phone screen. “I’m sure I read somewhere that he was looking at houses down where we’re going.”
“Earth to children,” Hannah said, bringing them back to reality. “Time to use the bathroom. Your dad and whatshername will be here soon.”
Beth frowned. “Point one, you mean Monica.”
“Do I?” Hannah replied. “In my defence, it’s hard to keep up.”
Hannah’s children looked up from their phones and stared at Hannah in astonishment.
“Bitchy or what!” Archie said, trying not to snigger.
Hannah blushed, knowing Archie was right to call her out. As she emptied a stack of plates from the dishwasher, even she couldn’t believe she’d just said that. In all the years following the divorce, Hannah had made sure never to say a bad word about Carl to the children, even when bad words were warranted. Plus, what her ex-husband did, with whom, and for what period was none of Hannah’s business.
“I’m sorry,” Hannah said. “That wasn’t nice.” Being fair to Monica, she hadn’t just been on the scene longer than most in Carl’s umpteen girlfriends, Monica obviously didn’t begrudge spending time with the kids, and more importantly they seemed to like her.
“Point two,” Beth continued, getting back to why she was affronted. “We’re not babies.”
Hannah scoffed. Didn’t she know it. Unlike fifteen-year-olds, babies didn’t backchat. “No, but you do have a long drive ahead of you.”
Beth rolled her eyes. “Like we can’t control our bladders.”
Recalling the number of occasions the three of them had set out in the car, only to find that twenty minutes into the drive one of them needed a pit stop, Hannah wasn’t about to back down. For their own good, as opposed to hers. Having had plenty of practice, patience might have been Hannah’s strong point, but it certainly wasn’t their father’s. “And like I can’t control these,” Hannah said, imitating her daughter’s voice. Reaching for their passports, Hannah stared at Beth and Archie, eyebrows raised, daring them to try her.
Realising the matter wasn’t up for discussion, Hannah’s children groaned in protest. Their chairs scraped against the floor tiles as they got up and trudged out into the hallway, muttering to themselves as they went.
“I’m so not going to miss her,” Beth said.
“Bet she’ll miss us though,” Archie said.
“She’s probably just jealous because while we’re off having fun she’s stuck here.”
Hannah sniggered as she got back to her domestic duties. Beth wasn’t wrong. Who wouldn’t want to spend a month in Provence. With its swathes of golden beaches and crystalline azure seas, not to mention its provincial towns and bustling market squares, Hannah easily envisaged herself watching the world go by over a lingering lunch and glass of Cantoiseau Blanc. Except unlike Beth and Archie’s hotshot lawyer of a dad, Hannah couldn’t afford it.
As for Archie’s snidey comment, as much as Hannah loved her children, she was sure she’d cope with the lack of hormonal bickering, let alone not having to cook multiple meals at once because one of them had turned vegan for a week while the other most definitely hadn’t. In fact, the thought of cleaning the house and it staying that way made Hannah positively giddy.
From the 17th century vase she’d picked up for £10 at a car boot sale, to the rare elm wicker chair she’d found in a junk shop, to the Chinese bamboo pot she’d got for a fiver, with Beth and Archie away, Hannah relished the prospect of delighting in all her treasures instead of focusing on schoolbags and shoes left in the middle of the floor.
Bought cheap with her divorce settlement because it was so run down, Hannah had worked hard over the years to get her home just the way she wanted. She couldn’t count the number of YouTube DIY videos she’d watched and hours of graft she’d put in to save money on labour costs. Everything about her house was budget minded.
Hannah looked over at the Welsh dresser she’d previously transformed. All set to go to the tip, she’d rescued it from a neighbour. It was surprising what could be done with a bit of creativity, a sander and a pot of Farrow and Ball flat matt paint. She’d thoroughly enjoyed transforming it into the beauty it had become and finding herself with the time, Hannah wondered if she might use the next few weeks to pick up some more trash that she could turn into treasure.
