A Riviera Retreat. Jennifer Bohnet

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      In the ‘Edith Piaf’ room next door, Vicky had taken one look at the en-suite marble bathroom, the deep claw-footed bath with its gold taps, an array of fragrant toiletries on a shelf, and started to run a bath. Her unpacking could wait. At Anthony’s insistence, it was showers all the way at home and as much as she loved being pounded by the hot water of a power jet shower, she did sometimes long to immerse herself in litres of perfumed water for a rejuvenating soak.

      Vicky glanced at the book on the bedside table – The Life of Edith Piaf. She smiled. When Amy had told them the rooms at Belle Vue were named after people who had a connection with the South of France, she’d hoped for the Fitzgerald room. Instead, Amy had given her this particular room. How could Amy have known? Vicky’s mother was a great Piaf fan. She’d even travelled to Paris back in the sixties to go to the funeral with thousands of adoring fans. When Vicky had asked, ‘What was so special about her?’ her mum had shaken her head, ‘I’m not sure. She didn’t have an easy life, but her voice and songs spoke to millions. Still do.’

      Ten minutes later, happily soaking in the scented water with her eyes closed, her mother’s favourite Piaf song, ‘Non, je ne regrette rien’, floated unbidden into Vicky’s conscience.

      I have no regrets, the song went. How many people could honestly say that? The life Vicky was currently living certainly wasn’t the one she’d envisaged as a teenager. Back then she’d planned to go to university, obtain a good degree and then travel the world, possibly as a travel writer, earn enough money to buy her own home and be independent, marry in her early thirties and settle down to family life with two children. In her mind, it had all been mapped out.

      Only family life with two children had come to fruition. Meeting Anthony when she was eighteen, falling pregnant with Tom within weeks of starting her first job, had derailed the rest of her life plans. She certainly didn’t regret having the children. Or marrying Anthony. She’d loved him from the beginning and she still did. Only she hadn’t reckoned on him changing course from IT consultancy and becoming a politician. Of course, they’d discussed it, but with hindsight Vicky realised neither of them had really anticipated the changes it would bring into their lives. The biggest for Vicky being the loss of privacy.

      As far as other regrets went, although she didn’t regret any of the past twenty-odd years, she knew that if she wasn’t careful, didn’t do something with her own life from here on in… well, that she would regret. But standing up to Anthony was hard. Not because he was unkind or difficult but simply because she felt guilty for wanting to do other things. Winning this holiday had caused the first major row they’d had for years.

      She had been on Facebook looking at the holiday details and starting to make a list of all the things she’d need. List making was in her DNA and for a long time Vicky had tried to fight the habit, but in the end, realising how satisfying it was ticking things off as they were accomplished, she gave in. As she’d made a note to check her passport, find a suitable case in the attic and look out some summer clothes, Anthony had walked in and looked at the computer screen.

      ‘Facebook? Surely you’ve got better things to do than waste time with that? I could certainly do with some more help in the office.’

      Vicky had bitten her tongue to stop herself protesting that she’d only been on there five minutes, saying instead, ‘Guess what? I’ve won a holiday to the South of France.’

      ‘When for? I can’t see me getting away until the recess,’ Anthony had replied. ‘And even then, anything longer than a week will be difficult.’

      Vicky had taken a deep breath. ‘It’s only for one person.’

      ‘You mean you’re going on your own?’

      Vicky had nodded. ‘It’ll be some me time and give me a chance to work out what I’m going to do for the next few years. I was thinking of asking your mum to come and stay?’

      Anthony had stared at her, ignoring the question about his mother. ‘It is a legitimate competition, isn’t it? It’s not some sort of backhander from someone hoping you can influence me in some way?’

      Vicky had gazed at him, exasperated, wondering when he’d become so selfish. ‘There are three winners and I’m one of them. I do not know the person who has organised the competition or any of the other people. Okay?’

      ‘You’ll have to give me the details and I’ll register it with the Members’ Interests committee. I don’t want any backlash over my wife accepting freebies.’ Anthony had looked at her. ‘And you should know that I’d really rather you didn’t accept this holiday.’

      ‘And you should know, I need this holiday. I want some me time,’ Vicky had said. ‘Ten days where someone else does the work not me. Days to relax, read a book, go for a walk, think about the future, all without an agenda or having to watch the clock.’

      ‘D’you think I don’t often long for that too?’

      Vicky СКАЧАТЬ