Free Katerina's Secret by Mary Jane Staples Page B

Brecht?’
    â€˜One’s imagination soars, madam.’
    â€˜Really? At what?’
    â€˜At such beauty,’ he said, observing thelaughing, splashing couple, the golden sands and the brilliant sea.
    Rosamund smiled. She was ahead of the colonel, for her imagination was far more comprehensive than his.

Chapter Six
    Lunch had been delicious. So much so that Edward felt he needed exercise.
    â€˜Celeste, I’m trying a walk to the village to get that pipe and tobacco for old Pierre.’
    â€˜Oh, you must wait,’ said Celeste from behind her reception desk. ‘I must ask Mama to let me go with you.’
    â€˜I think I can manage, my infant, and your mama has already given you time off for our visit to your countess tomorrow.’
    â€˜Please wait, m’sieur,’ said Celeste, quite set on the pleasure of walking with him. She flew to the little room which was her mother’s hotel office, with its escritoire and its pen and ink. She rejoined Edward a few minutes later, wearing an outdoor frock and a straw hat. ‘Mama has said everything must be done to accommodate you, even to the extent of parting with her valuable daughter for an hour.’
    â€˜Your mother is an institution of benevolence,’ said Edward. ‘We’ll bring her back a box of nougat.’
    â€˜We’re going to shower your money about?’ said Celeste, then spoke to Jacques, telling him she would be back in an hour and to refer any enquiries to her mother.
    â€˜No money will be wasted,’ said Edward as he and Celeste left the hotel. ‘I’m sure the pipe and tobacco are going to a deserving cause, and the box of nougat for your mother will be an investment. It will ensure favoured treatment for me. Favoured treatment from an hotel proprietor is a privilege much sought after by guests. More international crises have been caused by friction between hotel proprietors and guests than by the unsheathing of sabres.’
    â€˜That isn’t true,’ said Celeste. ‘Come, m’sieur, let me take your arm and ensure you don’t try to run.’ She slipped her arm through his and they began a measured walk along the verge of the road. Edward used a walking stick to pace himself. The village was not far, no more than twelve minutes for a brisk walker, but twenty to twenty-five minutes for Edward. Celeste did not mind a leisurely progress at all. She was always happy to be with him.
    From the window of her bedroom on thefirst floor, Rosamund saw them, Celeste in a pretty yellow frock arm in arm with him.
    â€˜The dear child,’ murmured Rosamund, then turned and took a bathing costume out of a drawer.
    Colonel Brecht had actually brought himself to suggest a dip, though not without coughing a bit.
    Edward took the ups and downs of the road in sensible style. He needed to stop only once, when he sat on a boulder and took a few deep breaths. Celeste was still concerned.
    â€˜We should have driven in your car,’ she said.
    â€˜No, I must do some walking,’ he said, ‘and it’s no great distance to the village.’
    He did not look distressed, nor was his colour that of a man struggling to breathe. He had his own way of taking in air, slowly and evenly. They reached La Roche in twenty-five minutes. Its sunny, dusty triangle was surrounded by dry, dusty trees. Timber seats under the trees offered shade. Elderly men were playing boules on the triangle. On a seat sat old Pierre, the hotel’s retired gardener, his shoulders bent and his face as wrinkled as a walnut. Celeste and Edward first went intothe shop which, though small and almost as dark as a cave, sold a great variety of goods, including pipes and tobacco. And nougat from Montelimar. Edward bought a handsome box of nougat, which Celeste assured him would make her mother’s eyes pop, then selected a briar pipe he knew Pierre would like. He also purchased 200 grammes of Pierre’s favourite