Read Online Biarritz Passion: A French Summer Novel by Laurette Long - Free Book Online Page B

her old bedroom. An ancient wardrobe stood in one corner, its carving matching that of the bed head. Underneath the window was the desk where she used to do her homework. It had always wobbled; her eyes travelled downwards to the piece of cardboard wedged under one of its legs to keep it steady. On the bookshelves were her old favourites, ‘Black Beauty’, ‘Anne of Green Gables’, ‘The Secret Garden’. As she basked in the warmth of the sun falling on her face she caught the smell of bacon frying. She turned her head to squint at the alarm clock. Half past ten! She had been asleep for hours. A good, relaxing, restorative sleep.
    ‘Titus. Bacon? Baacooon???’
    Titus stopped his flea murdering and came to attention, his melting brown eyes fixed on Caroline.
    ‘Breakfast old boy, go on, bacon!’
    Titus slithered off the side of the bed and hustled to the doorway, casting an enquiring glance over his shoulder.
    ‘Yes boy. I’m coming.’
    As she drew back the curtains a glorious morning greeted her. Lawns and flower beds basked in the sun. She pushed wide the casement windows and leaned out, breathing in the scent of grass, listening to the birdsong.
    ‘Willowdale, mon amour !’
    She’d always been interested in houses, seeing the way their owners had put their stamp on them, feeling their ambience . But nothing compared to Willowdale. On the terrace below, the white wrought iron table was set for breakfast. It was laid with her aunt’s morning china, blue and white. Someone, probably Birdie, had added a small vase of primroses. Pansies bloomed in the terracotta pots that edged the steps down to the garden.
    As if she’d read her thoughts, Birdie stepped outside carrying a tray with a silver toast rack, a dish full of marmalade and an elegant coffee pot. Caroline smiled. The coffee was for her.
    ‘Something smells good!’
    Birdie turned and squinted up towards the window.
    ‘Ah there you are! We were just getting ready to hack through the enchanted forest.’
    Caroline laughed.
    ‘No need. A prince came along. Hairy, with halitosis.’
    ‘Oh that dreadful creature. He knows he’s not allowed in your room. Send him downstairs.’
    ’It’s done. He’s probably in the kitchen hoping a sausage will jump off the counter into his jaws.’
    ‘Did you sleep well my dear? We thought we’d have breakfast outside, it’s such a lovely morning.’
    ‘I’ll be right down.’
    ‘Oh Caro, just a second!’
    Birdie tiptoed as best she could in her sturdy brogues over to the wall beneath Caroline’s window, pressing a finger to her lips and wiggling her eyebrows up and down. After a quick look over her shoulder she began to mouth an incomprehensible message. Finally, her face red with exertion she hissed with penetrating sibilance:
    ‘Don’t forget the Birthday!’
    ‘Right! Don’t worry Birdie! It’s here!’ Caroline mouthed the words ‘her present’ and the two of them exchanged a series of conspiratorial nods and winks, with Birdie finally backing away, giving a ‘thumbs up’ sign as she disappeared into the house.
    Caroline was still laughing to herself as she pulled on her dressing gown. It was like being in a play. An old-fashioned 1950s piece where all the actors articulated loudly and made sweeping gestures. Where the actresses wore tweeds and the actors smoked pipes. Where the audience clapped and booed and laughed and everyone went home happy.
    Margaret had just sat down and was trying to hang her stick on the edge of the table when Caroline crept up behind her and deposited a noisy kiss on the crown of silky grey hair.
    ‘Happy birthday!’
    She pirouetted round to stand in front of her aunt , clutching the bulky parcel she had wrapped the previous night.
    ‘Good heavens child! Don’t tell me you’ve been spending your money on presents for an old lady! There’s nothing I need and in any case I shan’t be around for much longer.’
    Her words were greeted with a chorus of groans from