Marc, the photographer she’d been working with for months now, adjusted the strap of his large camera bag over his shoulder. ‘Not a problem. I’m good to go. Are they here?’
‘They’re having a pre-dinner cocktail at the Chèvre d’Or, where they’re going to be having dinner and staying the night. I’ve told Wyatt that the best light will be between eight fifteen and eight forty-five and he knows exactly where the summit terrace is. I sent him a map with an “X” marking the spot. The waiter’s primed to suggest they come up here to see the best of the sunset before they eat and he’ll get them out the door by eight, but I suspect Lucy knows it’s all a set-up.’
Tilly and Marc had begun walking up the hill towards the gates of what had once been a walled village.
‘Has she done the whole spa thing with the nails and hair?’
‘Yes.’
It wasn’t the first time today that Tilly had been reminded that this was exactly the programme she’d had planned for Moira before her proposal would have happened in this same village. Not quite in the same location, fortunately. Angus had chosen the castle ruins at the very highest point in Èze, with the most sweeping views of the village, coastline and sea. Today’s proposal was happening on a stairway that led up through the more lush part of the exotic garden covering the steep slopes of the clifftop – in a particular spot that had a clutch of impressively tall cacti.
‘So there’s no danger of her saying no, then?’
Marc was ahead of Tilly, his long legs covering the endless steps easily. They passed courtyards and fountains, a tall stone wall with a waterfall of blue plumbago blossoms, and crowded cafés that offered the clink of plates and glasses and cutlery, whiffs of garlic and thyme and tomatoes and the rich aroma of a seasoned steak searing in a pan of butter.
Steak and frites. Tilly would never be able to even think of that combination without feeling almost possessive. It was their signature meal, wasn’t it? Hers and Angus’s.
‘No chance,’ she responded to Marc. ‘They’re the sweetest couple – almost too good to be true. They met at school in Montana, when they were fourteen, and they’ve never even been out with anyone else. He’s a cowboy, she’s a kindergarten teacher. They’re only twenty-two but they want to get married and start a family.’
‘A cowboy?’ Marc looked back over his shoulder as he took a turn that was the most direct route to the exotic garden. ‘Fromthe Wild West? And he’s come all the way here to propose with cacti?’
‘I know.’ Tilly smiled. ‘But I get it. They wanted the romance of the South of France. But they want something familiar from home as well. I think it’s cute. He’s quite the romantic. He had the ring specially made from a blue sapphire that was mined in Montana. And be warned, he’s wearing his best cowboy attire, including his hat and boots.’
Marc blew out his cheeks. ‘That’ll be hot. But very picturesque.’
Oh… If Angus hadn’t made that last-minute decision to stay in Provence longer, reminders like the smell of steak and the word that had become their code for something romantic would have been daggers to Tilly’s heart. Instead, knowing that she was going to see him later tonight and climb that little staircase that led upstairs to the bedrooms of La Maisonette was feeding the hope she was holding close to her heart. Tightly but still gently enough to not let it break. And tomorrow, they would have the whole day together and she was hoping to persuade him to go with her to one of her special places – up to the cross on top of the Baou des Blancs.
She couldn’t wait. Having been so busy with Wyatt and Lucy’s proposal for the last couple of days they hadn’t spent any time together, but it was too soon to sink into that curl of delicious anticipation. Tilly couldn’t afford to drop the ball as this destination event she’d worked so hard to achieve was about reach its romantic climax.
Marc positioned himself out of sight above the chosen spot. Tilly stood as a marker, moving seamlessly out of the way as Wyatt paused, taking off his hat as he let Lucy climb a step or two above him, which gave the same perspective as going down on one knee. The big belt buckle he was wearing was gleaming and he had one of those odd ties around the collar of his whiteshirt that looked like a long shoelace. Lucy had a cowboy hat on top of her beautifully curled blonde hair and she was wearing a pretty floral dress with a full skirt, tight bodice and puffed sleeves. She even had pale suede cowboy boots on, which told Tilly that she’d known exactly what was going to happen this evening.
The sun was going down, bathing the couple facing each other with one of the best views of the French Riviera laid out below them in an unreal glow. Marc was moving, taking endless shots of Wyatt delivering his impassioned speech and heartfelt proposal, first from above and then on the same level as the ring slid onto Lucy’s finger, and there were tears and hugs and a very emotional first kiss as an engaged couple.
Tilly knew that the photographs would be just as romantic as everything else about this betrothal, but, for the first time, she found herself at enough of a distance in her mind that she could see this through Angus’s eyes.
A performance.
And yes, these two young adults totally believed in their love and the significance of this moment and it was gorgeous and they would treasure the photos but… was it whatreallymattered?
What if the glue that really kept two people together for a lifetime was simply the underlying love that made it acceptable to jump through these stylised romantic hoops? The cake beneath the icing? If that was there, this icing was undeniably magical, but why would you even think of putting it on if there was something vital missing from the ingredients of the cake? Or if, in fact, it had never been more that a hollow sham? Like those empty boxes that got wrapped to look like gifts and put under a Christmas tree in a shopping mall?
Thatwas why her parents’ marriage had faded into nothing. Not because there was no romance but because the love hadweakened and died, or maybe it hadn’t been there to begin with. And why would you want to create the sugar coating of romance if you didn’t have that love to put it on? Even if her parents had cared about each other, it couldn’t have been anything like what Tilly was feeling for Angus. And if romance was enough on its own, his father wouldn’t have suffered through heartbreak so distressing it made his son vow he would never go through it himself. As she’d told him during that picnic they’d had at the lake, the love had to be a balance on both sides and even then, in the end, you still had to take a leap of faith with all the risks that went with it.
Tilly knew she could be setting herself up for the most jarring crash of her life by reaching the end of a street she was desperately hoping might not turn out to be a dead end, but she was well past the point of no return. She was hopelessly in love with Angus. With a man she’d very recently considered to be the most unromantic man on the planet.
How wrong had she been?
Angus might have presented himself that way because he was so sure that anything deliberately romantic, too clichéd or used as emotional currency was not real or meaningful, but, by her own definition, he had given her more moments that could shine a light for the rest of her life than any man she’d ever met, or seen on screen for that matter – even the original Prince Charming, who’d made her sigh with longing, well before she was old enough to understand why.
That first kiss in the stream with the soundtrack of cicadas and the warmth of the summer sun.
The way he’d scooped her up in his arms to carry her to that four-poster bed in the olive-grove cottage when their physical connection crossed a boundary from sex to making love.
Every kiss, in fact. Every touch of his skin against hers could be a moment of its own. So many beats of eye contact, from nomore than a blink to acknowledge a private joke to being locked in for what felt like forever when neither of them had been able – or willing – to break it.
The grand gesture of buying her a dress that made her feel far closer to being a princess than the Cinderella dress she’d been given long ago for a childhood birthday. He’d only seen it as a farewell gift but, for Tilly, it was an unspoken but heartbreakingly romantic gesture.
He didn’t think he was capable of being ‘in love’, but maybe it was more that he was too afraid to acknowledge a depth like that to his feelings because he believed it had broken and perhaps even killed his father – the only family he’d ever known. He was clinging to safety but he’d been the one to break the rules, hadn’t he? He hadn’t gone home when he’d had the chance. He hadn’t ended what was only ever supposed to be temporary. A few days away from real life. Something that was only going to happen in Provence and then be abandoned to stay there forever.
