Page 49 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure
Louis produced two men who came to repair the roof and replace the missing tiles, the damaged shutters and the leaking ceiling. They worked happily on the roof, swiftly putting on new tiles, but they seemed uneasy to be working inside the house.
“It’s because of the ghost,” Louis said. “They think the place is haunted.”
“Do you?” Ellie asked.
He shrugged. “I’d like to see a ghost take me on,” he said. “I reckon I’ve got enough solid flesh to win any fight against a spectre, don’t you?”
There was a tense moment when they tried to turn on the water. Louis was sceptical that the villa would be connected to the water mains that supplied the village. He went hunting and discovered there was a well outside. After much grunting and quite a lot of swearing, he got the well cleaned out and the pump working again and declared the water was good.
It was an exciting moment when they first lit the stove. The delightful smell of burning wood came from the kitchen.
“Now if only we had tea things here, I’d make us all a cuppa,” Mavis said. She had been working tirelessly, taking on the hard jobs and remaining cheerful.
“We’ll bring up tea and milk next time we come,” Ellie said.
This did not prove to be easy. French people do not drink English tea. In the small tabac, there were herb teas, rose hip tea and chamomile tea, but no black tea at all.
“You may find it where the English people stay,” the shopkeeper said. “In Hyères, perhaps.”
Ellie asked Mrs Adams and was given the name of a shop in Marseille where she usually managed to find hers. “Also I have parcels sent out from England,” she said. “You want to ask your family at home to send you out what you need.”
“Unfortunately I’ve no family at home,” Ellie said. “My sons are abroad. My parents are dead. So it better be the shop in Marseille. We have to go there anyway to get all the supplies we need. I’ve been making a list, and Tommy’s been adding to it.” She turned to Dora. “Goodness, I hope it’s not all too expensive. I might have to telegraph my bank and ask for some kind of advance.”
“Don’t worry, my dear,” Dora said. “I told you I have funds, and I’m quite happy to use them. I’ve had nothing to spend money on for a long time. Let’s go into Marseille and enjoy ourselves. I shall be looking for some sensible clothing, and you should, too. And you need a bathing suit!”
When Tommy heard about the expedition, he insisted on coming with them.
“You’ll need Clive’s good eye if you’re choosing fabrics and paint,” Tommy said.
“I’m not sure we’ll all fit in the car.”
But then Yvette said she did not want to come with them. “You do not need me,” she said. “I have no money and no interest in your plans for the villa.”
Ellie frowned as she walked away. She was glad they’d have enough room to take everyone, but what young girl would not want to look at shops in the big city? Unless her pregnancy was making her feel unwell all the time. Ellie remembered her own sickness and felt sympathy for Yvette. She was essentially alone in the world. She didn’t know what would happen next. No wonder she was withdrawn and scared. She had nobody to tell how she was feeling. Ellie resolved to do her best to help Yvette find her beloved and see her happily reunited with him.
So the five of them crammed into the Bentley, and they set off, Ellie holding her breath that the Bentley had been well and truly mended. It purred along beautifully, negotiating the windy mountainous road, and they reached Marseille quickly. Luckily Tommy and Clive knew the layout of the city and directed them through complicated suburbs, and they parked on a busy shopping street near the old port and Galleries Lafayette department store. Mavis went off to the kitchen department. Ellie had to restrain Tommy and Clive from buying expensive fabrics, but they settled on good material for curtains and reupholstering. She gave in to Clive’s desire for bright cushions after he insisted on buying the fabric as a present. There were new bed linens and towels to buy. Luckily some of the linens they had found in the linen closet were miraculously still good, but the eiderdowns were beyond saving, as the mice had enjoyed them over the years. Tommy arranged for the shop to deliver the large items that wouldn’t fit in the car.
Meanwhile Dora had been shopping for clothing. Ellie joined her and was persuaded to get simple skirts, trousers and sandals, as well as that bathing suit.
“How ridiculous, when you think of it,” Dora said, with what sounded like a giggle. “Buying clothes at my age and in my condition. So frivolous of me. I certainly won’t ever have the chance to get good use from them.”
Ellie turned to stare at her. Sometimes she forgot that Dora had only been given a short time to live. And here she now was, making ajoke about it. Impulsively she took Dora’s hand. “Let’s hope they were all wrong and you wear those clothes out,” she said.
Then it was on to a hardware store for paint—white for the interior, blue for shutters, pink for the exterior walls. Ellie was glad of Clive’s good eye. She would have had no idea which shade of blue to use. They stowed their packages in the boot of the car, then had lunch at a little café—a delightful grilled cheese, called croque monsieur, and a sparkling water. Then Tommy and Clive went off to do a bit of shopping of their own. Dora said she was tired and would sit on a bench outside a church. Mavis volunteered to stay with her, not liking the look of some of the sailors who passed them on the street. Ellie went off alone, asking directions to the public library. There she found the address of the War Department for Yvette, then, on a whim, she asked a librarian to search the archives for information on the villa’s mysterious owner, Jeannette Hétreau.
After quite a long wait, the librarian returned. “Not very much, madame,” she said. “You should write to Paris, maybe. I’m sure they will have more.” There were several articles on Jeannette performing, once in Marseille, once in Nice. Her lovely voice as Violetta inLa Traviata. But not a single mention of her living in Saint-Benet. So it seemed she had kept it a secret, a private love nest for her and the duke.
The last call was to the grocery where the Adamses shopped. There they found their English tea, as well as tins of baked beans, favourite biscuits and chocolate bars. They were in a triumphant mood as they drove home, everyone with packages on their laps and the car boot fully laden. Tommy started singing, and they joined in all the old music hall songs they could remember. Ellie saw for Tommy and Clive it was a time of great nostalgia, a reminder of the life they once knew and had given up. She’d probably feel the same way if she stayed long enough, she thought. This made her consider ... How long did she intend to stay away? Just for the winter? For a year? And if less, then why all this effort and expense on the villa?
Until I’m ready to go home,she decided. In the library there had been English newspapers. She had read them while she waited for the librarian. The news of Hitler and the possibility of war looked more like a real threat. Mr Chamberlain had been to Munich and had returned declaring “peace in our time.” So perhaps Hitler had been appeased and would be content to occupy Czechoslovakia. And she could go on happily living in Saint-Benet.
Chapter 19
Move-in day came in November, just as the weather turned really wet and blustery. Bruno had been put to work collecting dead wood from the gardens for the various stoves. Luckily there was plenty of it, and it was now stacked under the veranda, ready for use. Louis had also managed to find a radiator, which he connected to the boiler, and so the living room would be warm. The walls had been painted a pristine white apart from the mural on the sitting room wall that Ellie couldn’t bear to part with. Enough furniture had been restored that they had places to sit and eat. The rest, that needed more work, had been shut away in the dining room, which they were not yet using. Instead they ate in the warmth of the big kitchen, around the pine table. Mavis had mastered the stove beautifully, and the larder was stocked with basics.
They had discussed what to do with the opera singer’s clothes that she had left in various wardrobes and drawers. Ellie paid a visit to Monsieur Danton and asked him if the owner would like the clothing delivered to him. The answer was that he had no need of the clothing, and they could do what they liked with it. This gave the ladies a happy afternoon of going through the items, seeing if any of them could still be used and might fit them. Unfortunately the opera singer was petite and slim, and the clothes were horribly dated. But they did rescue some silk undergarments, wrapped between sheets of tissue, a fur stole, a jacket or two. Mavis took some of the long dresses, saying she could use the fabric to make herself summer dresses and a maternity outfit forYvette, who was now beginning to burst out of her own clothes. The rest they packed into a trunk. In a drawer in Ellie’s bedroom, she found scarves, cosmetics and a tortoiseshell box of costume jewellery. She opened it, sifting through brooches and hair combs and came upon a locket containing two photos. She presumed that one was Jeannette and the other the duke. He was handsome, older, with dark hair streaked with grey at the sides, but staring arrogantly at the camera. Clearly a man of substance. The opera singer was looking winsome. There was something about her. Ellie carried it over to the window to see better. What was it? Then she realized. Jeannette looked a little like Ellie herself as a young woman. Again she had the same strange feeling as when she first entered the villa—that she was somehow meant to be here.
“Rubbish,” she said and was putting the items back in the drawer when she came across another photo, this one not in a frame and lying between tissue paper and silk undies. It was of a baby with dark curls and big eyes fringed with long lashes, staring solemnly at the camera. So, she wondered, did Jeannette have a child, or was this the child of a relative? Was this child now the elusive owner of the villa who lived in faraway Paris and had no interest in it? Perhaps he or she had inherited more impressive properties from the duke, and this small villa was not worth thinking about. She wondered if she’d ever find out.
