LITMIR.BIZ

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see what I can do,’ Anna promised. ‘I’m having supper with Poppy this evening, I’ll ask her if there is anywhere special she can recommend.’

      ‘Anna my darling, I’ve got to go. Alison wants my opinion on a cradle she’s keen to buy – not that I really have any idea on such things. I’ll ring you tomorrow. Love you.’

      Anna smiled fondly at the thought of Alison and the expected baby. She could tell that Leo was already relishing his role of grandfather-to-be.

      Half an hour later, taking a bottle of rosé out of the fridge, Anna made her way across the garden to the loggia attached to the cottage where Poppy had said they’d be eating supper.

      Tom was busy putting cutlery and glasses on the gaily patterned Provençal tablecloth, before folding the matching napkins and placing them carefully on plates. Oscar the cat was curled up on one of the cushioned terrace chairs and Daisy was typing away at her laptop on a corner of the table. She raised a hand in greeting as she mouthed ‘Hi’ in Anna’s direction.

      Poppy came out of the kitchen carrying bowls of salad and a quiche, which she placed on the table. ‘Hi – oh, thank you, but really there was no need,’ she said as Anna handed her the bottle. ‘Daisy will be finished soon and we’ll eat. I must just light some candles before the midges decide to descend en masse. Grab a chair. I’ll pour you a drink in a moment,’ and Poppy took a match to several citronella candles that were dotted around the terrace.

      Daisy closed the lid of her laptop with a flourish. ‘Finished. Today’s report sent and my short piece about Philippe Cambone just needs the photo Marcus promised to take of the floral tributes being laid on Chez Cambone’s restaurant doorstep.’

      ‘Did you manage to uncover much information?’ Anna asked curiously.

      ‘Not a lot. I did find a film biography site that mentioned his love of sailing, so I put that in, and the fact that his twin brother still runs the family restaurant here in Cannes – not that he’ll talk to me. I decided not to mention the rumours that are floating around. I can keep that snippet for another feature if my editor wants more.’

      ‘What rumours are those?’ Anna asked, but before Daisy could answer, Poppy returned and the question was forgotten.

      ‘Let’s eat,’ Poppy said, placing a bowl of buttered asparagus and new potatoes on the table. ‘Bon appétit.’

      ‘How are you enjoying the festival?’ Daisy asked, looking at Anna. ‘Have to say I’m already feeling exhausted at the sheer pace of things. Goodness knows how you people actually in the industry cope with the frantic networking and partying that is going on.’

      ‘Haven’t really seen a great deal of it yet,’ Anna replied. ‘It’s certainly different to the first time I was here.’

      Daisy looked at her in surprise. ‘I thought—’

      Anna looked at her. ‘I think I owe you an apology, Daisy. The trade-paper bio you read got it wrong. Mind you, it was a very different festival in those days, so it does feel a lot like coming for the first time.’ Anna swirled the wine in her glass reflectively before looking up and saying, ‘I was here in ’68, the year the festival was closed early. I was seventeen, in my first year at Art College and had managed to get a low paid job as a messenger for the duration of the festival for a small UK film company.’ She smiled at Daisy. ‘Unfortunately it didn’t work out as planned. I’ve discovered since that that is true of life in general.’

      ‘That’s true,’ Poppy said. ‘I never expected to be living in France, but here I am. May I give you some quiche, Anna?’

      Anna held her plate out. ‘Please. And you, Daisy? Is life working out for you so far?’

      Daisy considered the question. ‘Well, my love life hasn’t lived up to expectations, that’s for sure. I guess I’m lucky with my career going very much the way I wanted since I left university. Lots of changes at my newspaper are beginning to happen, though, and I’m toying with the idea of finally going freelance, whether that will mess things up remains to be seen.’

      ‘What sort of freelance writing?’ Anna asked.

      ‘Lifestyle features. Property. Anything but hard-nosed reporting,’ Daisy answered. ‘I’m finding it difficult to justify the kind of intrusive journalism that seems to be the norm these days. I guess I’m just not hard enough. I think people are entitled to their privacy – unless they’ve done something criminally wrong, of course, and it needs exposing “in the public interest”, as they say.’ She looked at Anna, ‘How long did it take you to establish your business? Did you have many contacts before you went independent?’

      ‘Oh, it was years before I felt brave enough to go solo. Meeting Rick – my business partner – was the catalyst,’ Anna said. ‘With hindsight there are lots of things I would do differently, but, in general, I suppose my working life has turned out fine.’ She turned to Poppy. ‘Talking of work, I need to host a small party for my company during the festival. Can you help me organise one here at the villa next week? Or tell me where I can get help? Now I know Leo will definitely be here, I think Tuesday evening will be best.’

      ‘No problem,’ Poppy answered. ‘Glad to help. We’ll get together in the next couple of days and work things out. Tom, no dessert until you’ve eaten your salad.’

      ‘The other thing is, Leo suggested I booked a table for dinner the evening he arrives, any ideas? He mentioned a restaurant called Le Moulin De Mougins.’ Anna said.

      Poppy pulled a face. ‘Difficult. I suspect that particular restaurant will already be fully booked. It’s expensive and a favourite with the celebrities. Everywhere gets so busy this fortnight. You might have to go to Antibes or even Cagnes-sur-mer.’

      ‘I can always do something here. I saw a couple of delicatessens with some mouth-watering food this morning when I was shopping,’ Anna said. ‘In fact, I think I’ll do that. The villa’s garden is so lovely, I’m sure Leo will enjoy supper al fresco here for his first evening on Saturday. I’m certainly enjoying eating out here this evening, thank you.’

      The four of them ate in companionable silence for several moments before Poppy stood up. ‘Come on, Tom. Time for that video call Dad promised you tonight and then it’s bed for you. Say goodnight to Daisy and Anna. Daisy, help Anna to some more dessert and wine.’

      ‘How many people are you inviting for your party next week?’ Daisy asked as she offered Anna the bowl of fruit salad and some meringues.

      ‘Thirty-five – maybe forty. I doubt everyone will come. Depends on what else is on the same evening. These meringues are delicious.’

      A loud croak from a frog somewhere in the garden made them both smile.

      ‘Now that’s something I remember from my first visit down here,’ Anna said. ‘There were a lot of croaking frogs. I was staying in a run-down guest house with a stagnant pond in the overgrown garden; the noise was unbelievable.’

      ‘It gets quite noisy in this garden too sometimes,’ Daisy said absently. ‘Anna, please may I ask you something? You can say no obviously, if you hate the idea. Would you talk to me about the differences you find in the festival this time around? The way it’s developed from those early days? Maybe we could walk around Cannes together – a nostalgic walk for you, a history lesson for me.’

      ‘Oh, Daisy, I don’t know. I’m not sure that…’ Anna shook her head, thinking about her memory lane incidents earlier in the day.

      ‘So much must have changed in the last forty years – not just buildings being pulled down and rebuilt, but people’s everyday lives have altered too. You could always remain anonymous if you want, but I think the comparison between then and now would be of interest to lots of people.’ Daisy looked at Anna hopefully.

      ‘I’m not sure I remember enough to highlight the differences,’ Anna said slowly. ‘I was barely seventeen. Of course I remember the atmosphere, the students

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