‘Drink, Mummy?’ Charlotte cried from the sofa in the living area at the other end of the kitchen.
‘Oh sorry, cherub, did Mummy and Auntie Cally wake you?’ Evie threw the magazine onto an armchair as she dashed to the coffee table to retrieve the beaker of water for her daughter, settling her again with the drink and one of her picture books.
Cally entered the room directly from the hall by the sofa and immediately opened her arms, reaching out for Charlotte.
‘Oh, my goodness, haven’t you grown, you little beauty.’ She sat down beside her niece, who eyed her with suspicion.
‘Charlotte, this is Auntie Cally, do you remember when she came to your last birthday?’ Of course she didn’t, Evie didn’t know why she felt it necessary to humour her sister.
Charlotte’s eyes narrowed even further.
Cally gave Charlotte her sweetest smile. ‘I think I’ve just made her cross.’
‘She’s just woken up and isn’t sure who you are yet. Give her half an hour and she’ll be all over you.’
Poor Cally, Evie thought, but it was weird to think that, for once, she had more knowledge about something than her big sister.
‘Show Auntie Cally the picture of the ball.’
Charlotte sucked her bottom lip and shook her blonde curls.
‘Ok Auntie Cally. Come with me and we’ll get a drink. Charlotte, you can come and see us when you want to say hello.’
‘Mummy.’
‘I’m going to get Auntie Cally a drink. You can come too if you want.’
They left Charlotte on the sofa pondering and observing them with caution, book on her lap and cup in hand.
‘She’s so gorgeous.’ Cally clutched her heart as she followed Evie back to the kitchen.
‘Thank you. Have you heard from Mum?’
‘Oh, yes. I was going to text you yesterday, she’s fine. Probably drugged up to the eyeballs, but sounding so much better.’ Cally picked up the in-flight magazine from the chair, her mane of chocolate-brown hair tumbled to one side. ‘I’ve got one of these in my bag,’ she said holding up the magazine as Evie uncorked a bottle of white wine.
Evie glanced over. ‘It is yours. It fell onto the floor. I was reading… well, I started the article about the Canal du Midi. There’s barely anything interesting about the history or the local people who live and work around the canal, more about the village restaurants and cafes they can stroll to from their boat. I’ve learned so much about it since I’ve been living here, it’s fascinating.’
Cally heaved herself up on a stool at the shiny granite breakfast bar, watching her sister pour the cool golden liquid into two glasses. ‘I suspect that’s about it. Keeping the advertisers happy – they’ll want people to be off their boats and spending money in the villages rather than digging into its past.’
Evie placed the bottle back in the fridge and handed her sister a glass. ‘Unfortunately, you’re probably right. It would have been better to have added something of historical interest too. I mean, I’ve been delving deeper into the canal’s history and, flicking through this, there’s lots of potential for travel articles. Maybe I should submit something.’ Evie gasped, quite stunned at herself.
‘Go for it.’
‘Oh… I think I’m dreaming,’ she said whisking her hand to her mouth and chewing her nails. Could she really? She would certainly give it some thought. Though without a computer, she doubted it.
‘I’m surprised you haven’t been continuing with your writing.’
‘I’d like to, food for thought anyway. Thanks for coming.’ She raised her glass. ‘And here’s to us and a fresh start. Cheers.’
They chinked glasses.
‘Cheers.’
The oven buzzer sounded and Evie slammed down her glass and dashed for her oven gloves.
Cally sipped her wine. ‘Mmm, lovely, thanks. Well, perhaps that’s what you should be doing, sending out travel pieces on the area. Using those skills you got while you were at college, seems a waste not to. I’ve been thinking about re-training.’
‘What, give up DJ-ing?’ Evie said opening the oven door.
‘Well I can’t do it forever. I’ve been mixing and producing some stuff, but I don’t know. I think I should start planning a more solid future. Maybe go and teach Maths, or become an accountant. Get a real life. A bit like you and your writing; we’ve done the graft and the qualifications. What is it they say? Use it or lose it.’
‘The trouble is, I never really built up many contacts. I don’t know that I could start again.’
‘Well you’ve nothing to lose,’ Cally insisted.
As Evie took the cake and eased it gently out of the tin onto the cooling tray, she explained to her sister her new challenge.
‘Actually, I’m really excited. I’ve begun doing some research for a film about Pierre-Paul Riquet, the man who built the Canal du Midi.’
‘Really. How fascinating. How did that come about?’
After she told her about the accident at the bridge and the subsequent conversations with Ben, Cally looked horrified. ‘Jesus, Evie.’
Clutching her chest, Evie had to laugh. ‘But I am alive and grateful. In fact, it has been the wake-up call I needed.’ Evie then peeled greaseproof paper off the two sponges. It really had made her re-evaluate what was important, she realised.
‘What a relief you are ok. Bloody hell, Evie, what would you have done if you’d been killed? Charlotte would have been without a mother. I hope you have me down as your next-of-kin. Would Seb look after her? Don’t ever think Charlotte would be alone in this world, I’ll always be there for her. Jesus, that’s given me goosebumps.’
‘Well, thankfully it’s passed, but thank you. It’s something I need to discuss with Seb in more detail. Being nearby, I’ve asked my neighbour Suzanne to help if there was ever any such emergency. I’m sure she would let Seb know.’
‘It never struck my mind before now. God, I feel awful, Evie. I never imagined anything happening to you. But, you’re right, someone would need to get in touch with him. Of course, I’d be happy to help too if he needed someone to look after her. Ooh, it’s a horrible thought. Let’s change the subject.’
‘Well, I could give Suzanne your number too. Anyway, one good thing that came out of it is – I got to meet this guy Ben, and he’s keen for me to do his research… and pay me! Well, if he’s happy with it. It’s right up my street.’
‘Evie that’s great. I’m really happy for you. You’ll be thorough, I’ve no doubt about that. So how does it all fit exactly?’
‘Well, I’d read that a number of peasant women had been involved in the building of the canal because of their indigenous skills – so I told him, and he has asked me to explore that side of things to make his script more interesting.’ She licked her lips, ‘I haven’t told him it will be handwritten yet, but basically, if they helped design parts of the canal, he can’t completely overlook them in the film, can he? I don’t know much about his script. Maybe he’s making it high action, you know, all the macho-type of brawls in bars or fights on the land or holding back water, I don’t know.’ Evie threw the greasy wrappings into the steel bin in the corner by the French doors. Then thinking aloud she added, ‘Actually, I could type it up in the library and print it off. It’s just a one-off.
‘As a short-term measure,