The Vineyard. Karen Aldous

reception desk faced them with several staff busily greeting hotel guests clutching cases wheeled behind or stashed by marble columns. She’d only agreed to meet him in the reception area, public enough hopefully to keep Anton’s behaviour in check but Lizzie refused to sit down as she watched him pace.

      ‘Well you should have rung me. You have my number. I ring the salon and you are not there anyway.’ Anton marched back and forth by a long glass-topped coffee table.

      ‘That’s because I am at home with my little boy.’ Here’s my home number,’ she sat and pulled out a pen and a scrap of paper from her handbag and scribbled down her number. ‘Thierry’s nanny can get hold of me at any time. If I’m not there, leave a message with Marie-Claire and I will call you back. Anyway, what…?’

      ‘You know what it’s about. I want to meet my son. You bring Thierry to me. I want to get to know him.’ Anton’s dark brows knitted as he pleaded. ‘You had no right to hide him from me. You should have let me know. Why didn’t you?’

      ‘Anton, seriously? You would not have been interested, you weren’t… in the right place, I’m not sure if you are now. And, to be honest, since you’ve known for about eight or nine weeks, you’ve only come to see me once! Why is it suddenly more important?’

      ‘He is my son and I want to be part of his life. And,’ his face twitched, ‘I don’t want him brought up by another man. I want custody?’

      ‘What? You weren’t going to bother with your son until you thought I was with somebody else?!’ Lizzie’s frowned, ‘which I’m not anyway.’

      Anton stood silent for a moment, his eyes searching hers. ‘No, I wanted him anyway. I would have wanted him years ago.’

      ‘I can’t believe that. Our relationship was over and I was going away. You would have made me terminate the pregnancy.’

      ‘I am his father. I have a right to decide in the matter.’ His glare swiped her face.

      ‘Ok, tell me what you would have said three years ago if I had come and told you?’

      ‘We could have been married.’

      ‘Are you mad? Anton we couldn’t last six weeks so we would never survive six decades. And anyway, surely you can guess why I chose not to tell you? She paused, waiting for his answer. ‘I’m talking about your drug habit. Anton.’

      ‘I…I didn’t...wasn’t…’ Anton stammered but Lizzie cut in.

      ‘Don’t lie to me. You clearly were and you had serious paranoia. You were controlling. If you didn’t deny it was your child, you would have forced me to get rid of it. There is no way you would have wanted a child. So it surprises me that you are suddenly so interested in being a father, even now.’

      He stopped pacing and faced her, creasing his forehead. Her knees were close to buckling as his anger pulsated from his eyes. Passers-by began to stare.

      ‘You don’t know what I would have said but I liked you very much Lizzie and I could have made it work but I did not get to choose,’ he hurled in her face, his hands on his hips.

      ‘You? Wasn’t that the problem Anton? Shouldn’t that have been we?’ Stepping back she glanced past him and out at the bright sky, unable to stop her body trembling and eyes welling up. She really couldn’t deal with this. Shifting her head slightly to avoid his eye, she settled her eyes beyond the hotel, and on the world outside. Avoiding him, she kept her focus on the carefree visitors delighting themselves as they promenaded on the Mediterranean shore, relishing the view, the warm sunshine and its persistent light reflecting on the sea. It was after all, she realised pensively, a major reason why she fell in love with Cannes. Now she was in another place; faced with an uncompromising Anton, the once loveable charmer, still in his expensive designer attire and ultra-polished grooming, giving her his bullshit. He hadn’t changed.

      He had no right to control her life. Now nor then. How could she answer? Why should she even listen? She tilted her head to be met with his now softer, velvety brown eyes; the eyes that once intrigued and seduced her. He appeared to now be calm. She cleared her throat and swallowed, taking control.

      ‘If you’re serious about having contact with Thierry, we need to get a custody agreement drawn up I presume. I’ll look into it. There will be a proper procedure, I’m sure, and I need to be able to trust you. We have built a life together, Thierry and I, and the transition will need to be handled correctly. You can’t have all the control and be possessive like you were when we were together.’

      ‘But that is only because I really liked you,’ Anton declared. ‘I cared and you should have told me about my baby.’

      He never cared. She recalled the time she chatted to his friend Pascal, on the quayside, a group of them were at a party. She laughed at Pascal’s joke and Pascal touched her arm as he made another quip. An innocent brush with his hand, but Anton, just a few feet away, must have seen it and completely overreacted, nearly pushing her into the Med. Accusing her of flirting. Luckily Pascal caught her. Anton marched off. That wasn’t caring. That was paranoid. He’d also humiliated her, mocking her for living in a caravan and when they’d argued once he’d slapped her round the head. On a few occasions he’d even made her go home and change because he disliked her outfits. He’d been a complete control freak. She didn’t stay around to hope he’d get better.

      ‘That’s not how you treat someone you like. We weren’t even together that long and you were taking over my life. I couldn’t deal with it. It was like living in a cage.’

      ‘But it’s ok for my son to be exposed to your lovers?’

      ‘I don’t have time for lovers, Anton.’

      ‘You are lying to me now. I saw you remember?’

      ‘You saw my mother’s lov… partner.’ She hadn’t got to grips with the term.

      ‘Holding your hand?’

      ‘As a friend, Anton,’ her voice quivered slightly, ‘I’d been upset. Not that it’s any of your business. You can’t argue this point Anton, you date women.’

      ‘Well I wouldn’t be out all the time. No, I’m determined,’ he said. ‘I shall be a good father.’

      Lizzie’s confidence collapsed. Exhausted by him, she shook her head in despair. ‘I have to go. I need to have a serious think about what’s involved in this Anton and find out what we need to do.’

      ‘I will get my son. That I promise.’

      ‘Au revoir, Anton.’ She walked briskly but as gracefully as she could to the entrance of just one of his family’s opulent collection of hotels and out into the brilliant sunshine. She headed for the promenade in the hope the walk may give her some escape.

      Usually, she loved the unrivalled light Cannes showered on her but her mood was too dark to absorb any. Anton had certainly seen to that. It was hard to comprehend now that it was him, as well as the brilliance of the sky, which drew her to this magical place. She’d been bewitched by his elegance, his charm, his come-to-bed eyes and, of course, his wealth. She was so naïve then. It was a million eons away from her life in England or the utilitarian style of the French campsites she worked on before this town seduced her. Poolside cafes were nothing compared with the glitzy, stylish bistro bars and fine restaurants she frequented with Anton and his friends. Her world transformed from the moment she stepped onto his private yacht. It was an opportunity to help someone out and fill a gap before a season in Verbier. That’s all, just an eight-week job.

      How fast and dramatically her plans had changed. From day one, she had felt like she belonged in Cannes even though, Sophie, her greatest friend, wasn’t with her. And, when faced with her predicament it was natural to settle here. It was easy not to mix in his circles. And, even if Anton ever saw her with a child, he would never guess. What a fool she was. It was unfortunate that his sister had spotted the likeness at the salon that day, a couple of months ago, but today, he’d freaked her out; talked about