Escape to the Riviera: The perfect summer romance!. Jules Wake

Чтение книги онлайн.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      Sumptuous didn’t begin to describe the bedrooms. They were all decorated in the same subdued colours which Carrie imagined would be very cool during the hot summer days, with pure-white cotton, plumped-up bedding.

      Jade darted from room to room, now wired for comms, snap-chatting her friends asking their opinion as to which she should choose. While she was doing that, Carrie fell in love with the bedroom at the furthest corner of the building.

      Like the rest of the house, it featured the same stripped- wooden beams, cool neutral colours and light airy feel, but what swung her decision were sets of French windows on two walls which met at the corner of the room. Opening one set, she stepped out onto a balcony and it felt as if she were stepping right out into the night air as the hill fell away beneath her. Someone had cleverly built this house to maximise the contours of the hill.

      She unpacked quickly, laying claim to the room, although she couldn’t believe that either Angela or Jade would be that fussed about this one. It was easily the smallest but it felt right, down to the little dressing table, which would double perfectly as a desk, although she suspected the view might be rather distracting.

      Lavender perfumed the air when she opened up the painted-wood wardrobe, filled with fancy, silk-padded hangers and lace sachets of herbs. It seemed almost sacrilege to bother it with her meagre collection of clothes. She didn’t do quantity but where quality was concerned, she had an aptitude for mixing expensive with dirt cheap and making it look good. Most of the things she’d brought with her, T-shirts, strappy vest tops and flippy skirts didn’t need hanging up and certainly not on hangers as posh as these.

      The tiled floors were cool to her hot feet when she slipped off her beloved converses and yanked down her jeans, which now clung to her legs. Folding them up, she consigned them to the back of the wardrobe. They could stay there until it came to going home. Just think – she could wear dresses and skirts every day without once having to worry about being cold or taking a coat or an umbrella everywhere with her. If it did rain here, it would be the sort of rain that you didn’t mind getting wet in.

      Slipping her feet into her well-worn flip-flops, she cast a quick, longing glance at the en-suite bathroom and its walk- in shower that she didn’t have to share with anyone. Absolute bliss.

      The beep of her phone with yet another text welcoming her to France providing details of how much it cost to send a text or make a call, reminded her that she ought to let Alan know they’d arrived safely and alleviate his fears that their free accommodation wasn’t a shanty house after all.

      A quick flurry of texts between them confirmed he’d had a great day’s cycling and that he was pleased that the house wasn’t falling down around her ears.

      All that was needed now, to finish the day off in perfect style, was a long, cool glass of wine. But first she wanted to look up where the village of Ramatuelle was and when market day was.

      Angela had wasted no time. With the instincts of a born nester, she’d unearthed a table cloth, pretty napkins and china to lay the table in the bay window. To Carrie’s delight a condensation-coated bottle of white wine wedged into a terracotta cooler took up prime position in the middle of the table flanked by a pair of large wine glasses.

      With picture-perfect design, a basket of rustic bread waited alongside a wooden board of cheeses, some of which already scented the air with their pungency, a platter of sliced meats and two round dishes of pâté.

      ‘Can I do anything?’ asked Carrie, with a raised eyebrow, knowing that Angela was in her absolute element.

      ‘Nothing. Apart from getting that bottle open and pouring us both a glass. Oh and you can put these olives on the table.’

      ‘When are the others arriving?’ asked Carrie. ‘Did you put everything in the fridge out?’

      Angela laughed gaily and threw open the fridge doors. ‘You’ve got to be kidding. There’s enough food here to withstand a siege. It’s heaven.’

      Every shelf was packed with unfamiliar branded bottles, unusual-shaped jars and beguiling paper-bag-wrapped parcels.

      ‘There’s gallons of stuff in here. Merguez sausages, compôtes, duck confit, Cassis and myrtle jam, a million different cheeses and meats.’ Angela threw open a cupboard, almost skipping with joy. ‘Here, look. There are stacks of tins, every kind of bean you can imagine, haricot, flageolet and green beans, cassoulet, Tartiflette and even tinned Dauphinoise potato!’

      Carrie opened the bottle and poured two glasses, sticking her nose deep in the first glass before sampling it. The clean fresh straw-coloured wine tasted every bit as good as its heavenly smell.

      ‘I’m going to have so much fun in this kitchen.’

      ‘It’s СКАЧАТЬ