mother was no different.
She drank it in. Thirstily, she painted like she had never before. Never had she been so happy in life. She told me she felt as if she had come home.
One afternoon, while sitting at a cafe in a little square in the town of Vence, enjoying a splendid cup of coffee, the most beautiful man she had ever laid eyes on strode around the corner.
‘He was dressed in a terribly elegant grey suit,’ she told me. ‘His hair was rather long, he had a glass of wine in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He lifted his glass to toast me and I was a goner. You know when you see a handsome man and you go weak at the knees or feel your heart race?’ I nodded and she continued, ‘Well this was that – 10,000 times over. I swear to God, it was one of those moments where you know this person will play a role in your life. He was 40 years old, had huge brown eyes and a divine body, perhaps slightly shorter than I was used to, although that didn’t stop me. I fell into a passive state of contented bliss. He was so damn gorgeous.’
Anyway, the short story of it was, he was an antique dealer and his family chateau was close by. He was the only son, therefore the chateau belonged to him, although his mother still lived there with him. He had been in a relationship with a woman called Sophie for the previous 13 years before meeting my mother. Not much was said about her. When my mother came on the scene, Sophie was forgotten about, and within eight weeks my parents married. I was born eight months later.
My mother told me that Alexandre chose my name. He said that I looked like a beautiful Peach. She said initially they were very happy. Nothing could have burst her bubble. However from the start, Alexandre’s mother Helene, the doyenne of the chateau, had not warmed to my mother. Later, things became a lot worse when my mother realised that Alexandre was still seeing Sophie with the encouragement of his mother. He didn’t see it as much as a problem as my mother did, explaining simply that he was French.
My mother, living at the chateau in the countryside, and married to a man who was not about to change his womanising ways, fled to London with an 18 month old me in tow. There she met up with a friend of a friend. You guessed it… Johnny! He was bowled over by my mother’s beauty.
Only in London briefly, Johnny was looking at clubs and was soon heading back to Australia to open his own in Brisbane. Weighing it up at the time, it seemed like a good option for my mother. Brisbane was by no means the big city of Sydney or Melbourne, however, it sure as hell beat Tasmania. It was a place she could be a big fish in a small pond.
Her catholic parents were already upset with her. Firstly, for marrying in a hurry to a man she barely knew, and secondly, for leaving her husband with the same speed.
My mother and Johnny came back to Brisbane with me in tow. Before long Alexandre attempted to woo her back. She once confided in me that she had decided to pack us both up and return to France. However on that very day she found out she was pregnant with Lou, so she did the only thing she could. She stayed. She said it was a good decision. I was grateful that she said that.
But you see, Alexandre really had a hold on her. Although she did love Johnny, Alexandre was like a magnetic force that drew her to him.
After that initial visit with him when I was only six, I didn’t see him again for years. Although I did at some stage realise that he sent generous cheques to my mother, cheques that paid for my private schooling. In turn, I was encouraged to write letters about my life to him.
One day, not long after my mother had found her own house to live in, I popped around after school to see if I’d left a particular book there. I had taken the ferry across the river and then walked. Surprisingly, Alexandre was there. He and my mother were both at the kitchen table, dressed in robes, wine glass in hand, sharing the same cigarette. It was only three-thirty in the afternoon. You see where I’m coming from.
This was the second time I had ever seen the man. Although there had been many generous offers for me to visit France, I had never really wished to. I kind of thought it would upset Johnny, so I had declined every one of them.
Well, for a 17 year old girl it was embarrassing to say the least. Alexandre didn’t stay long and returned to France not long after that. I didn’t see him again. However, I had promised that when my studies were over, I would finally go and spend time in Provence at the chateau.
For the next few years my mother went to France annually and stayed a couple of months each time. It was now easier for her to do so, since Papa’s mother had passed on. Of course, there was always a valid reason why I could not join her.
When I was in the middle of my exams during my final year at university, my mother told me Alexandre was unwell and wished us both to visit. I should have gone with her, but I didn’t want to have to re-sit my exams. It was too important to me. I told her I would go later.
Alexandre passed away from lung cancer. Not for one minute had I understood that he was so ill. I never saw my mother smoke again.
*
I checked my watch. The loaded trolleys and little family of three long gone. Exhaling heavily, I leant back in the chair and looked around, hoping that Marty would not be too much longer. I watched, as a woman from the next table excused herself, taking a packet of cigarettes from her pocket. Standing over beyond the post boxes, she took one out of the packet, lit it and inhaled. Something about the way she did it reminded me of my mother all those years ago.
The entire time, I watched her face, and realised for the very first time, that there seemed to be nothing else in the world that could bring you down that quick, and give you that look of absolute satisfaction in such a short time. It was a look of satisfaction I had seen time and time again on my mother’s face. Enviously, I wish that I had something that could give me that satisfaction right now, if only briefly.
I had smoked momentarily. Like most teenagers, I had started up because everyone else did. The super popular girls made a point of getting caught in the school toilets, upping their schoolyard cred. I persisted long enough to know I hated it. I was never one of the cool girls at school. And the way I felt right now, it seemed as if some things never change.
From the passenger seat I glanced across at Marty. ‘Apparently the house is hidden from the road. Turn right at the roundabout. It still doesn’t make sense why the lawyer called me.’
‘Tell me what he said again?’ he asked, his tone as intrigued as mine.
‘His name is John Scott. He said poor old Mr Carmody had passed away. There doesn’t appear to be any children. Mr Carmody had a recent will drawn up where it was stated that I must have first option on the house. It’s totally baffled me. Anyway, I explained that although I had been in the real estate industry for some years, I was taking a break from it for now. However, John Scott said that he had strict instructions I was to look at it first and then get back to him.’ Pointing, I indicated for Marty to turn left. ‘To be honest, my curiosity has gotten the better of me. So thanks for coming with me.’
‘Thanks for thinking of me. I’m keen to list it.’ He looked sideways at me. ‘Davis will be on the warpath when he knows you gave the listing to me.’
‘He would have to be bloody kidding wouldn’t he?’ The anger was strong in my voice. My face turned to the window. I tucked a long dark curl behind one ear.
I felt Marty’s glance. ‘Who would have thought?’ was all he said, his tone full of irony.
I
