Page 6 of Mrs. Endicott's Splendid Adventure
“Mercifully no,” Ellie replied. “And if they were, that would be the last place I’d run to. They both enjoyed being negative and critical. And I have no more close family. So I’m not sure where I’ll go. I don’t like London or big cities.”
“What about the seaside?”
Ellie nodded. “You suggested that yesterday, and it might be nice. Although my recent experience of seaside holidays is always the same. We go to a big hotel in Bournemouth or Torquay or Eastbourne, and we take a walk along the promenade, then we have coffee on the glassed-in veranda while Lionel reads the paper or does the crossword. Utterly boring. My idea of the seaside is ...” She paused.
“Yes?”
A wistful smile came over her face. “When I was eighteen, my great-aunt Louisa took me to the Continent. She was Mummy’s aunt, and she’d led a colourful life with various lovers. A sort of black sheep of the family, I understand now.” She looked up. “Oh Mavis, we had such fun. We went to Rome and Venice and Florence and Vienna and the French Riviera. Gosh, it was wonderful. We ate fish stew with lots of garlic, and she taught me about wines. And those colours—that deep-blue sea and the pastel buildings and the mountains. It took my breath away.”
“But you never went back since?”
“Aunt Louisa had a heart attack and died the next year,” she said. “And then I married Lionel, and he hates ‘abroad,’ as he puts it. A lot of bloody foreigners wanting money, and dirt and fleas and garlic. That’s how he sees it.”
“You could go back,” Mavis said. “Give yourself a nice long holiday before you decide where you want to live.”
“Back to France?” She toyed with the word, letting it conjure up images—palm trees and cold drinks on a terrace overlooking a blue sea.
“Yeah. Why not? Only yourself to please now, ain’t there? About time you did something nice for yourself.”
“I suppose I could.” Ellie stared at her, her eyes bright with excitement now. “I really could, couldn’t I?”
“You could take one of them tours.”
“No.” She shook her head. “Not a tour. I think I’d like to find a little pension or something and stay put for a while. Just being, you know. Not having to do anything or go anywhere or make anyone’s blasted boiled eggs or fetch slippers. Just learning to be me and finding out what I want.”
Mavis nodded. “Good idea,” she said. “But how are you going to manage with the lingo? Do you parley-voos a bit?”
“More than a bit,” Ellie said. “Of course I’m rusty right now, but my mother was of the old school who thought French was the language of diplomacy and that well-bred ladies throughout the world should converse in French. Although I had little chance of marrying a foreign count, she drilled me mercilessly until I was fluent at an early age. So I’m sure it would come back to me quickly if I wanted.”
“How will you get there?” Mavis asked.
“There are plenty of trains. Golden Arrow to Paris and then a train south.”
“What, on your own? With them all speaking a foreign language and all them foreign men around? I’ve heard what they’re like. Are you sure that’s wise?” Mavis was staring in wonder, having never been further than a day trip to Brighton herself. “They pinch bottoms, don’t they?”
Ellie laughed. “It’s been years since I’ve had my bottom pinched. I think I’m a little too old for that. But I might even enjoy it.” She gave Mavis a wicked grin. “I’m sure I’d be fine.”
“So it’s France you’d go to, not Italy or any of them other heathen places?”
Ellie considered. “I did like Italy, too, but I loved that Riviera coast. It felt like the most magical place on earth. So I think I’d start off there. Maybe travel more later if I wanted to. But it would make sense to go somewhere where I could communicate when I got my bearings ... got my feet wet, so to speak.”
“Well, good luck to you. That’s what I say, Mrs E.”
“How funny,” Ellie said, her face now serious again. “I won’t be Mrs E. for much longer, will I?”
“I must say I’m going to miss you,” Mavis said. “Not just the money from the job, but coming here every day and having you to chat to. You’ve always been a good sort to me. Never treated me like a servant like some of them ladies do.”
Ellie stared at the other woman’s gaunt face, her sharp features, her bony body, and realized how much she had taken for granted hearing her cheerful greeting every morning. It came to her with a jolt that Mavis would be losing a lot of work when she went. “I’m so sorry, Mavis. I realize this will be making things difficult for you. How will you manage for money? I’ll try to make it up to you.”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, Mrs E.,” Mavis said. “I’ve got more ladies asking me to do for them than I have time. And the vicar, he wants me to take care of the church, so I’ll be fine.”
“I do hope so,” Ellie said. “I feel badly about this. You’ve been a good friend. I’ve really appreciated you, Mavis,” she said. “I will miss you, too.”
Suddenly Mavis laughed and gave her a playful shove. “Go on. Look at us, all mournful like a couple of ninnies. You’re about to have the time of your life. We should be celebrating.”
“You’re right,” Ellie said. “Tell you what—I’ll go and see if the fishmonger has any crab today. We’ll have a crab salad and wine with it for lunch. And I’ll pick up a sinful pastry at the baker’s.”
“Well, blow me down,” Mavis said, looking pleased. “That’s what I call a good send-off.” She paused. “So when do you think you’ll want to leave?”
