A Spell in France by M. S. Clary

Author:M. S. Clary
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Troubador Publishing Ltd
Published: 2017-01-03T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 8

Arriving back at the hotel in the early evening, Sylvie was handed a short message from Caroline. She would be at the cafe des Sports in the rue St. Jean at 11 am the following morning. Sylvie was slightly disappointed that Caroline hadn’t invited her up to her apartment, which she saw from the map was only a few yards from the cafe. She set out early, but despite giving herself plenty of time, took a wrong turn more than once in the maze of twisting streets and alleys that made up the Old Town. With relief, she almost stumbled across Caroline, who was sitting outside the cafe waiting for her. She recognised her immediately from photographs.

Sylvie reached out her hand which Caroline didn’t appear to notice. “I’m sorry if I’m a bit late,” she said.

“How long are you here for?”

“Just the weekend. It was an impulse really. If I’d had too long to think about it, I probably wouldn’t have come at all.”

Sylvie thought how striking Caroline looked, but how her red sun-dress emphasised her too thin arms and shoulders. She was tanned, as would be expected, but also prematurely lined, and a little streak of grey ran through her dark hair. She hadn’t offered her cheek in greeting.

“Do you still live here in the Old Town?”

“Not any more.”

Briefly, Caroline informed her that after she and Tom had split up, she left the apartment where they had lived together and she was now sharing a friend’s house in the Musiciens district. Sylvie wondered whether it was with a new partner, but she did not say. Caroline called the waiter over and ordered a carafe of red wine. It was brought to their table straight away, with a jug of water. “What made you decide to come here?” She asked.

“Well, it had to be faced sometime. Now I’m here, I admit I’ve got rather mixed feelings.”

It was only when she began to articulate her thoughts, that Sylvie realised just how ambivalent her feelings were. The exhilaration she had experienced on arriving in Nice the previous day was in sharp contrast to the mood that seemed to have descended upon her since.

“Bruno gave you some time off then, did he?”

“Yes, I didn’t realise you knew him.”

“We met once or twice in England, that’s all.” Caroline appeared off-hand. She made little eye contact and kept looking past her, as though looking out for somebody.

“I am sorry to hear about you and Tom.” Caroline made no reply.

“Does he still live in Nice?”

Caroline shrugged. “I’d rather not talk about it really, Sylvie.”

Sylvie coloured. “Of course not. Sorry. It was tactless of me.”

This was heavy going, heavier than Sylvie ever could have imagined. Of course Caroline didn’t want to talk about Tom and the break-down of their relationship, that was quite understandable. After all, apart from one or two telephone calls early on after Trevor died, she and Caroline were virtually strangers to one another. But it seemed strange that she had not yet made any mention of Trevor.

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