Page 5 of Falling for Provence

‘Shall we leave the car here and walk down to the old part of St Paul de Vence?’ Ellie suggested.

‘Good idea. I could do with a bit of fresh air. That office reeked of cigarette smoke. And red wine.’

They reached a tiny chapel on a bend in the road which gave them a clear view of the old town, and, by tacit consent, they paused to look at the jumble of ancient stone buildings piled inside the impressively high walls. A square tower that stood out against lower rooflines had to be a church.

Laura didn’t seem to be focused on the view, however. ‘It could be a year or more before the place sells by the sound of how slowly things are likely to happen. Unless we do something to speed the process up…’

Ellie could feel her sister’s gaze shift to settle on her rather than the view.

‘Are you sure you don’t want to stay and do some of the cleaning and tidy up the garden and make sure things likethe broken shutter is fixed? It would probably only take a few weeks.’

‘No.’ The word came out more sharply than Ellie had intended. ‘I don’t even want to see the place again, let alone stay in it.’ She shook her head to emphasise her negative response. ‘I don’t speak French, Laura. I wouldn’t even know where to go to buy a broom or cleaning products. I don’t want to drive on the wrong side of the road. I… just don’t want to…’

… to be even more alone than she already was?

In a house that had a baby’s cot in one of the bedrooms?

‘Fine.’ Laura gave up with a shrug. ‘Let’s go and see if we can find a wee gift to take home for Mam, shall we?’

They crossed the main road, walked past another large, gravelled square with another game of boules happening in one corner and then started the climb up to the gap in the medieval ramparts to enter the old town. Stone walls crowded in on either side. Shop signs hung on metal brackets. Vines with their roots in huge terracotta urns scrambled up to reach wooden shutters. The contents of tourist-type shops, with racks of tee shirts and baskets of lavender- or violet-scented soap, edged onto the walkway and every second space seemed to house an art gallery.

But Ellie was looking down at her feet.

Not because she wasn’t interested in what was around her. Or because she didn’t want to talk to her sister.

It was because she’d never seen cobbled streets quite like this.

Between edges of larger cobbles, small, flat stones had been used – the kind you might find on a beach or riverbed. Some were set deep into the grey cement on their sides and others were lying flat to make patterns of flowers.

It was a simple but very effective technique, and, with every turn, a new twist appeared. A flower with a terracotta centre was amongst flowers with pale centres and a larger circle enclosedthe whole bouquet. Around another corner, darker stones had been placed to form a flowerpot that held a trio of blooms on long stalks. Some flowers had sparse petals that made them look like daisies, but others had so many petals it made her think of the kind of flowers her grandmother had loved, like dahlias and chrysanthemums.

Completely unexpectedly, it stirred something in Ellie.

Interest.

Inspiration, even? How long had it been since she’d felt even a flicker like this?

‘I’d like to try that,’ she said aloud.

‘What… these chocolates?’ Laura was peering into a window display. ‘They look amazing, don’t they? You’d think they were olives, but it says they’re almonds. And those ones look like little pebbles. Let’s get these for Mam. Chocolate-covered almonds are her favourites.’

‘You get them. I’m going to sit here for a minute.’

Ellie perched on the edge of a large, deeply pitted stone step. She was close enough to the ground to reach down and trace the outlines of the cobbled flowers nearest to her feet. They’d been so carefully set that the surface was smooth enough to be easy to walk on, and there were people walking past who seemed oblivious to the artwork beneath their feet.

Who had laboured over the placement of thousands of small stones so long ago? Ellie could imagine herself doing it. Selecting shades of grey that would accentuate the design. Placing a pale stone in the centre and then darker ones for the petals. There was a surprising variety of colours when you looked more closely. Shades of red to orange and yellow fading to cream, but the effect was as harmonious as the myriad colour combinations you’d find in a cottage garden like the one her mother took such pride in.

‘Hullo? Earth to Ellie?’

‘What?’ Ellie blinked as she looked up.

‘You were away with the fairies. You didn’t even hear me, did you?’

She scrambled to her feet. ‘What did you say?’

‘That maybe we should head back.’ Laura was already leading the way back to the gap in the ramparts. ‘I’d like to see if the tourist office in Vence is still open, so I can get some information. I’m planning to write the copy for the advertising myself. Noah’s English is excellent, but I know the market at home and how to pitch something like that house.’

That house.

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