Rendezvous in Cannes (16 page)

Chapter Thirty-Seven

‘I’m afraid the children’s escapade this afternoon was my fault,’ Teddy said. ‘I thought Verity and I were managing to have our arguments out of earshot of Cindy but apparently not.’

‘I guess children don’t miss much,’ Anna said, not looking at him and continuing to unwrap her present. ‘Oh how sweet of Cindy. Look,’ and she held up the snow-globe to show Teddy. ‘So, why was Cindy so desperate to be here when I got back?’

‘She’d overheard me telling Verity not to come here before we leave on Monday and was afraid she wouldn’t be allowed to see you again. For some reason she was determined to give you that to remember her by.’ Teddy shook his head as he looked the snow scene.

Anna shook the globe and watched the snow falling around the bright pink whale on his blue island before quietly asking, ‘Does she know I’m her grandmother?’

‘No.’ Teddy turned away from her and began to pace around the room.

There was no reply to her quiet, ‘Are you going to tell her?’ and watching an unresponsive Teddy, Anna nervously shook the globe again.

Finally as the silence between them lengthened Anna put the globe down on the table and waited. Since their encounter in the cottage when Teddy had made plain his feelings towards her, she’d tried so hard to accept his attitude, to convince herself that she was happy to wait for him to come round; that it was pointless to contact him to try to persuade him to listen to her side of the story.

But now he was standing in front of her, clearly unhappy, maybe she should try to break the ice – explain a few things?

‘Is this your first visit to Cannes?’ she asked as he stopped to stare out of the window, his back to her.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s ironic isn’t it, that both you and I chose this particular year to come to the festival. Me, to make my peace with Philippe and you to meet your father. Instead, Philippe died and I found myself tormented by the rumours that mine and Philippe’s son whom I gave away, was in town. And now you’re having to deal with meeting the mother you believe didn’t care about you.’

Anna sighed when Teddy made no response. ‘So what did you want to talk about?’

Teddy turned to face her. ‘Tell me about the man who was my father.’

Anna shook her head. ‘I’m sorry I can’t. I only knew him for six days. Other people can tell you more than I can. You need to talk to Jacques, to Bruno. They knew him far better than I ever did.’

She paused and tidied up the discarded wrapping paper. ‘I can tell you about the boy I loved though. He was one of the most kind, tender and humane people I have ever met.’

‘OK, tell me about your affair then,’ Teddy said.

Anna stared at him. ‘It was far, far more than an affair. Philippe was my first, and until I met Leo, my only love.’ She fingered the pendant around her neck, wondering where to begin, how to try to make Teddy understand the events of forty years ago.

‘For six days we lived only for each other. The in-phrase that year was ‘life without limits’ and it become our mantra. We knew without question that we were destined to be together for ever, living our lives to the full. I had no reason to suspect when I kissed Philippe goodbye at Cannes station after the Festival was closed, we would never be together again. We’d made so many plans for the future.’ Anna bit her lip and swallowed at the memory of her farewell with Philippe before continuing.

‘I went back home ready to work my way through the summer to fund my college course and to wait for Philippe to return from the States. I was so looking forward to introducing him to my parents as the man I was going to marry. Six weeks later I realised I was pregnant.’

‘Did you tell Philippe?’

‘Of course. I wrote and told him. It wasn’t until this week that I learned how pleased he was at the idea of becoming a father and realised how much he cared about me – and you,’ Anna said.

‘This week?’

Anna nodded. ‘Once my parents knew I was expecting they took control of my life. Which included intercepting my letters. Forty years ago I was led to believe that Philippe had rejected me and you, our baby. I now know that was a lie.’

‘Why didn’t you keep me, bring me up on your own – especially if you loved my father as much as you say you did?’

Anna sighed. ‘You have to remember,’ she said, ‘the world was a very different place then. I was just seventeen – still a minor in the eyes of the law and living at home. Legally I couldn’t do anything without my parents’ consent until I was twenty-one. I couldn’t have a bank account in my own name, I couldn’t rent anywhere without them standing as guarantors and I had no money to pay rent with anyway. I was also unemployable. It was a world totally alien to the way things are today.’ Anna reached for a tissue from the box on the table.

‘Your grand-parents refused to even entertain the possibility that Philippe would marry me. They said he had used me and that I was stupid to believe he would “make an honest woman of me” to use their old-fashioned phrase. They promised they would stand by me, let me live at home and finish my education provided I agreed to do as they said.’

Anna was silent as she remembered the harsh terms her parents had imposed. ‘I had to go away to an unmarried mother’s home, the baby would be adopted and I was never again to mention the subject to them. I fought against having the baby adopted – tried to make them feel guilty about giving away their grandchild. When I didn’t hear from Philippe again I had very little choice but to agree to their terms.’

Carefully Anna undid the chain around her neck, opened the pendant and held it out to Teddy. ‘This – until three days ago – was all I had left to remind me of you and Philippe.’

Silently Teddy looked at the two pictures in the locket.

‘There hasn’t been a day when I haven’t thought about you; wondered where you were, what you were doing, how you’d turned out,’ Anna said quietly. ‘If I could have kept you, brought you up, believe me, I would have done. I hate the fact that I had to give you away and Philippe never knew you but I don’t for one minute regret loving him and having his baby.’

‘No, the regrets are all on my side,’ Teddy said, a bitter edge to his voice, as he snapped the locket shut. ‘And missing my father by just a few days is the biggest one of all.’ He held the jewellery out to Anna and dropped it into her out stretched hand before turning away from her.

‘I suspect not knowing you was one of Philippe’s greatest regrets throughout his life,’ Anna said, replacing the pendant around her neck. ‘But I’ve come to believe harbouring regrets about the past is a futile exercise. They will poison and ruin the present – and our new relationship – if you give in to them. We have to move on – get to know one another as the people our lives have made of us.’

Teddy turned and stared at her as Anna struggled to express herself. ‘For years I have listened to friends talk about their families, their children, unable to mention my own, unknown son, to anyone. I can’t tell you how happy I am now it’s possible for me to get to know you. For us to be finally involved in each other’s life, to befriends...’

Teddy held up his hand. ‘Stop. I’m not sure I’m ready to be involved with you. It’s too late for us to play happy families. As for being friends,’ Teddy shrugged his shoulders, ‘I don’t think we can ever be just “friends”.’

‘We could at least try getting to know each other,’ Anna said.

‘I have to think about what you’ve told me. I also need to try to forgive you for giving me away, but I’m not sure I can yet.’

‘Are you at least going to tell people that you’re Philippe Cambone’s son? Lay the rumours that are circulating.’

‘I’m not sure.’ Teddy said. ‘If he was still alive, yes, but it seems a bit pointless as he’ll never know.’

‘If he was still alive, he’d have been shouting about your existence from the top of the Palais des Festivals,’ Anna said. ‘I know he would have been so proud to have called you his son – as I am. Why should you feel diffident about telling the world he was your father? That I’m your mother,’ Anna paused.

‘Besides, it’s not just about you and me any longer is it? There’s Cindy. Are you going to tell her she’s got a new grandmother? A grandmother who would very much like to be a part of her life.’

Anna looked at Teddy, inwardly praying that he would respond to her, that he would forgive her and let her into his life.

‘Wait here,’ she said. ‘I have to fetch something I want you to read.’

When she returned, Teddy was just closing his mobile.

‘Bruno,’ he said. ‘He wants to know if I’ll consider reading a piece at the memorial service on Monday.’

‘Are you going to?’

Teddy shrugged. ‘I told him I’d think about it.’ Teddy glanced at his watch. ‘I have to go. I’m due at the final screening in an hour.’

‘Here, take these with you then, but please look after them,’ Anna said, holding out the large envelope.

‘It’s a letter and part of a journal written by Philippe. I think you need to read them. It goes without saying I want them back. They may have only came into my possession a few days ago but they are already treasured. I couldn’t bear to lose them.’

‘You trust me with them? Aren’t you afraid to let them out of your sight?’

‘Why wouldn’t I trust you with them? You’re my son. They were written by your father. They concern you. Hopefully once you’ve read the envelope’s contents you’ll feel able to publicly acknowledge Philippe Cambone as your father – and me as your mother.’

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Daisy found an empty seat at one of the cafés in front of the rue Felix Faure. Once she’d ordered her cappuccino she opened her notebook and began to write her last Festival report.

‘I can barely believe it’s nearly a fortnight since I first sat here soaking up the atmosphere as the Film Festival began and now it’s virtually over.

It’s Sunday afternoon and the closing ceremony is early this evening. While the last twelve days have been filled with a spectacular amount of glitz and glamour there is now a general feeling of things closing down all around, an air of tiredness hanging about.

The crowds on the Croisette have definitely thinned out and bar staff and waiters are beginning to smile again. The hype is almost over for another year.

Locals are playing boules in front of the restaurants and the usual Sunday afternoon craft fair has assembled around the ornate bandstand. Easels full of paintings by local amateurs, bric-a-brac stalls and tables covered with small antiques are crowded together displaying their offerings, hoping for some celebrity customers before the festival is finally over.

Italian, Japanese, English, and of course French voices, are everywhere but few people are still wearing their Festival identity badges and I suspect many journalists and others on the fringe of the film industry have already left. Many of the stars who have stayed on for the presentation of the Palm d’Or tonight, are spending the day in Monaco, being entertained and no doubt drinking vast amounts of champagne as they watch the Grand Prix.

Another hour and Cannes will be humming again with one last official blast from the Festival organisers. The posh frocks and Jimmy Choos will be being slipped into and on, for the last “walking the walk” up the famous red carpet to hear the announcements and watch the presentation of the ultimate accolade from a film festival.

Speculation is rife as to who will win the Palme d’Or this year, as a clear favourite has failed to emerge during the Festival. Whoever wins though, is sure of at least one evening of maximum publicity and success at the box office – although that is not always guaranteed if the winning film is deemed to be too arty by the general public.’

Daisy pressed the save button as her mobile rang.

‘Hi Nat. Was beginning to wonder where you were. Are you on you way down to meet me?’

‘Afraid not. I’m over on St. Honorate. It’s a long story but Verity decided Cindy and I should spend the afternoon over here, out of earshot of the discussion she was planning to have with Teddy.’

‘About Anna?’

‘Yes. Look I’ll see you sometime this evening. Shall I come to the villa or will you be in town for the closing ceremony?’

‘Come to the villa. I’m planning to watch the Palm d’Or presentation on television. I’ve promised Poppy I’ll cook lasagne for supper tonight so I’ll do enough for you.’

‘See you there then. Oh gotta go. Cindy’s fallen over. Love you,’ and Nat was gone.

Daisy smiled as she switched off her phone, happy at hearing the genuine love in Nat’s voice. Opening her notebook again, she read through her report and started to write the last paragraphs.

‘As I write this, five or six helicopters are buzzing across the bay, bringing the stars back from Monte Carlo. The paparazzi still in town, are forming their normal scrum at the foot of the Palais des Festival’s red carpeted steps. Fans are taking their places behind barriers, hoping for one last close-up glimpse of a favourite star.

Once the presentation of the Palm d’Or has been made, the Festival is officially over. Within hours, Cannes will start the process of re-claiming the streets and returning the town to its normal everyday life.

By midday tomorrow as the marquees are taken down and the huge transporter lorries trundle in and out of town, Festival organisers will already be talking about plans for next year’s event. C’est la vie!’

Daisy checked she’d saved the report ready for e-mailing later with details of the winning Palm d’Or film entered and switched off her notebook as a shadow fell across the table.

‘Seen the photos of the party I e-mailed over? They should have arrived on your computer by now,’ Marcus asked as he placed his cameras on the table and sat down. ‘Join me in a glass of wine to celebrate?’

‘Celebrate?’

‘The end of the Festival and,’ he hesitated. ‘I’ve taken a photo of a couple of stars “in flagrante” that should earn me lots of money.’ He shook his head as Daisy looked at him.

‘Can’t tell you. Top secret I’m afraid for the next couple of days.’

‘Oh, OK,’ Daisy said. ‘I’ll look at the photos when I get back to the villa.’

‘I’ve mailed the rest over to Leo and Anna. Just thought you’d like to see the ones of you and Nat.’

‘Thanks. Any idea what you’re going to do when you get home? Got feelers out for a new job?’

‘Got a couple of short-term contracts for some glossy magazine shoots. I’ll see what happens after that.’ He patted his camera. ‘If this photo is the winner I think it’s going to be, I won’t have to worry for a few months anyway. So, how did you enjoy your first Festival?’ Marcus asked.

‘It’s been great,’ Daisy said. ‘A real insight into another world. Not a world I’d like to live in permanently but fun to learn about.’

‘And of course you’ve met Nat.’

Daisy smiled. ‘Yes – I suppose I have you to thank for that.’

Marcus shrugged. ‘He’s a nice guy.’ He glanced at her. ‘If you feel you owe me for the introduction you could—’

‘Marcus! Why should I “owe” you anything for introducing me to Nat? You almost derailed things at one point if you remember.’

‘Yeah, sorry about that. Just thought you might be willing to share some information.’

‘Like?’

‘How much did you find out about Philippe Cambone’s long lost son in the end?’

‘Not much.’

‘Did you find out his name?’

Daisy didn’t answer as Marcus looked at her speculatively.

‘Rumour has it that it’s Verity Raymond’s husband, Teddy Wickham. Rumour also has it that his mother is in town,’ Marcus said.

‘I’ve heard those rumours too,’ Daisy said, beginning to gather her things. There was no way she was going to discuss Anna’s business with Marcus.

‘The mother wouldn’t be the woman I photographed placing a flower outside the restaurant, would it? And whose engagement party I covered at the villa, Anna Carsons?’

‘I’m sure the truth will leak out eventually,’ Daisy said. ‘But really, is it anybody’s business but the people concerned? The emotional shock for both of them must be huge. I think they have the right to privacy for as long as they want.’

Marcus shook his head at her. ‘You had a scoop right on your doorstep, Daisy, and you ignored it. You’re really not cut out for investigative journalism are you?’

‘No,’ Daisy said. ‘I don’t think I am. I have to go. See you around, Marcus.’