The Vineyard. Karen Aldous

that she was wasting her breath, Lizzie stayed in the zone with her friend. ‘He didn’t make a play for you Sophie, maybe that’s what gives you a buzz; you like the chase? From what I could see, boy you were intent on getting on his radar.’

      ‘Oh dear, was it that obvious? Note to self – must be more cool.’ They both laughed.

      As the car neared the descent from the hills, Sophie became increasingly distracted and as Lizzie turned the wheel on Sophie’s instruction, they came to a junction.

      ‘This is beautiful,’ Sophie said, admiring ancient buildings and narrow streets as they approached the village of Bonnieux. ‘It really is as pretty as the brochures.’

      ‘Yes, I thought you’d like it.’ Lizzie jiggled smugly in her seat. She swung the car into a narrow opening and into a shady spot in the car park. ‘Nous arrive.’

      The hotel in Bonnieux was quite possibly where Thierry was conceived. It was one of those romantic hideaways you could never forget. A luxury room in an exquisite setting, overlooking the Provencal landscape. A haven to enjoy stunning sunsets as droplets of light danced and dowsed its guests in a light shower of seduction. When Lizzie stayed there with Anton she fell in love with – the hotel. It was an amazing place to savour a romantic ambience. Rather too romantic for a family holiday but she so wanted to relax and show its beauty to Sophie. They managed to check in early. Unpacking was simple as Lizzie had kept clothes to a minimum. She waited in anticipation as Sophie pulled back the heavy drapes to allow in more light. As she did so, she saw her gasp at the captivating vista.

      ‘Oh Lizzie, this is divine.’ The late morning sun shone blissfully over lavender fields to one side in the distance, with sweetening leaves on the vines down the other. ‘I can’t wait to explore the area.’

      ‘And I can’t wait to show it off.’ Lizzie tied her hair back and donned a light straw hat before gathering a bag and a hat for her little one. ‘Let’s go.’

      For the first two days they took advantage of the early cooler hillside temperature and the freedom of just rambling along at a child’s pace through the vineyards, the hilly paths and the forest of cedars, taking it in turns to carry Thierry when his little legs tired. After lunch and his afternoon nap, they swam in the hotel pool and relaxed in the late sun.

      Lizzie was just beginning to forget her troubles with Anton when, on their second evening as they were sitting on their sunbeds playing with Thierry, her mobile rang. Marie-Claire, Lizzie’s nanny, sounded harassed.

      ‘Lizzie, I should warn you. Anton is in hysterics. He rang the apartment to speak to you. I told him you and Thierry are on holiday but for some reason he thinks you have taken Thierry to England with the Englishman,’ she said. ‘I’ve done my best to reassure him you are in France and away just for a few days but he don’t believe me I know.’

      Lizzie took a deep breath. ‘Calm down Marie-Claire. I will call him. I should have given him my mobile number.’

      ‘I don’t know why he say England?’

      ‘No, neither do I. Just take the telephone off the hook Marie-Claire. I will ring him ok?’

      ‘Yes, please ring him,’ said Marie-Claire, ‘he is a mad pig.’

      Lizzie nodded to herself, her au-pair had summed him up quite quickly. ‘Oh, and Marie-Claire, did you tell him exactly where we are?’ she said quickly before she put the phone down.

      ‘No. I said you are in France on a vacation,’ she said.

      ‘Good. Ok. I’ll speak to him. Don’t worry.’

      ‘Lizzie. For goodness sake!’ Sophie cried. ‘What the hell is wrong with that man? It sounds like he is trying to control you again.’ Pointing to her arm she continued, ‘Look, I’ve gone all cold with goose bumps. Poor Marie-Claire!’

      ‘Who knows? I hope Marie-Claire is ok though. It’s all so urgent since he saw me that day with Cal.’

      ‘Cal does seem keen on you, Lizzie,’ Sophie teased. ‘Would you?’

      ‘No. No. No way,’ Lizzie frowned, looking sternly in to Sophie’s eyes, ‘I don’t believe you just asked me that. And anyway, I wouldn’t go there! He obviously likes a more mature woman.’

      ‘That was defensive,’ Sophie laughed. ‘There was quite a noticeable spark between you two the other night. Anyway, so what if you were with someone, anyone. It’s really none of Anton’s business, or mine, for that matter, who you date.’

      ‘Shall I continue?’

      ‘Sorry, carry on,’ said Sophie.

      ‘As for Anton, I think he’s just being his scheming self, unable to accept that he cannot control me.’

      ‘That sounds plausible.’

      ‘But, he’s also mentioned the Englishman again to Marie-Claire, which makes me think he’s more fixated on Cal rather than Thierry. I hadn’t heard from him for weeks before that.’ Lizzie filled Sophie in about her meeting with Anton at his hotel.

      ‘That’s so hilarious,’ Sophie roared. ‘He’s decided he wants to fulfil his role as a daddy and he thinks you’ll just drop everything and depend totally on him.’

      ‘So, he knows the score, there is no future for us, so, he’s being contrary. Wants me dancing to his tune I imagine.

      Anyway, Dr Pitou, I’m rather shocked you saw anything other than Cal’s friend, erm, Charles?’

      ‘God, yes, he’s gorgeous. So unpretentious and rather endearingly shy.’ Sophie fluttered her eyes.

      Thierry was now getting fidgety and increasingly aware he wasn’t the girls’ centre of attention.

      ‘Swimming pool Mummy?’

      ‘No it’s late darling. We will be going up to get showered for dinner soon.’

      ‘Swim,’ he repeated, then he moaned, rubbing his belly. Lizzie, glancing at her watch reached into his buggy.

      ‘A little early for dinner T but Mummy has your juice here,’ and she passed him his beaker of water with just enough orange juice to pacify a sweet taste. Thierry’s eyes lit up at the sight of his refreshment and his chubby little hand rose up to take the cup. ‘What do you say T?’ Lizzie prompted.

      ‘Thank you.’ He raised the beaker to his mouth.

      Smiling tenderly down at her son she said proudly. ‘Good boy.’

      Inside her head though, her thoughts were churning over. Was Sophie close to what was going on inside it? Would she want Cal if he wasn’t her mother’s lover? Sophie had struck a nerve and it was a question she couldn’t answer. It seemed he wasn’t one to trust though. She could swear he was flirting the other night.

      Placing her son in his shaded pushchair with his drink, Lizzie returned her attention to Thierry and his father and the immediate situation. The thought of phoning Anton and answering his pathetic childish questions was unbearable. Frowning, she turned to Sophie.

      ‘I really don’t want Anton to know my whereabouts Sophie. I really couldn’t cope with him right now.’

      Sophie lay back sinking into her bed closing heavy eyes and mellowing in the soothing warmth of the afternoon. ‘Quelle surprise! Why tell him. It has nothing to do with him anyway what you do. If he is beating himself up so much that you’re in England then text him and tell him to ring your phone. The ring tone would be different if he was ringing England.’

      ‘Genius Sophie,’ stated Lizzie ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’

      ‘Because you are too pre-occupied with him finding you and giving you unwarranted grief and goodness knows what. That’s why,’ relayed Sophie, her eyelids still hiding her eyes. ‘If he really insists on knowing where you are, tell him the Alps. That’ll keep him busy for