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Chapter three

Shopping with Grant

‘First thing tomorrow, we drive to St-Andre-les-Alpes,’ Grant said. ‘From there we start a six-hour walk through the forest to Castellane,’ Grant told the group.

‘You’ll love Castellane,’ I added. ‘It’s so beautiful. There’s a lovely river, and mountains everywhere.’

Grant gave me a look. ‘Thank you, Tess,’ he said. ‘While we’re in Castellane you can climb up to the top of Robion mountain, which is one thousand, six hundred and sixty metres high.’

‘Or there are some nice restaurants with tables outside if you want to just look at Robion with some good food and a glass of wine,’ I said.

Grant’s voice sounded cross. ‘Next day it’s an early start as we climb above the Verdon river, where the mountains of Cadieres de Brandis are one thousand metres high.’

‘The colours are beautiful,’ I told the group. ‘The river is so blue through the trees, and the mountains seem to be looking down on us like people .’

Ellen started to laugh. ‘Are you two sure you’re talking about the same holiday?’ she asked.

Grant looked at me crossly. ‘Just what I was thinking, Ellen,’ he said.

‘We don’t have to carry our bags, do we?’ asked David worriedly.

‘No,’ I said quickly, before Grant could answer. ‘Your bags go by bus.’

‘Don’t worry; you won’t have much to carry,’ said Grant. ‘Just the things you need during the day - water, lunch, money; things like that. Everything else goes in the bus,’ Grant went on. ‘The tents you’ll be sleeping in, your sleeping bags, the cooking things - everything.’ Grant looked at his watch.

‘Right. The rest of today is free for you to look around Nice. Tess and I need to go shopping for food for the tour, so we’ll meet you back here tomorrow morning at eight o’clock to set off for St-Andre-les-Alpes.’

He stood up and began walking away, calling to me as if I were a dog. ‘Come on, Tess.’

I had no idea why Grant wanted me to go shopping with him, because half the time he was walking ahead of me. Even when I did catch up with him, he didn’t agree with anything I wanted to buy.

‘That cheese is no good, Tess,’ Grant said.

‘Why not? It tastes lovely,’ I replied.

‘True, but it’ll also smell horrible after a few days in the sun,’ Grant went on.

‘Not peaches, Tess,’ he said.

‘What’s wrong with peaches?’ I asked.

‘They’re too soft. Apples are better,’ he replied.

And so on. By the time we’d finished our shopping, I wasn’t feeling very happy at all. The fact that I secretly knew Grant was right about everything made it worse. I did like smelly cheese and soft peaches. But I really only wanted to buy them because he didn’t want me to.

‘Right,’ said Grant after we’d taken the shopping back to the hotel. ‘That’s me finished for the day. I’m meeting someone this afternoon.’

It was obvious from his smile that the ‘someone’ was a woman.

As if I was interested. ‘See you tomorrow then,’ I said and turned away.

‘Yes,’ said Grant. ‘At eight o’clock.’

He’d said the words ‘eight o’clock’ loudly, and I turned back. ‘I can tell the time, you know,’ I said, but I could see from his face he wasn’t sure that this was true.

‘Good,’ he said laughingly, but when I started to leave, he called after me again.

‘Look, Tess.’

I turned round again. ‘What is it now?’

‘I didn’t ask to work with you, and I know you didn’t ask to work with me. But here we are, so shall we at least try to get on with each other?’

I looked back at him crossly. He was the one who was doing everything he could to make me angry all the time. He was the one who was talking about my mistakes and laughing at me! ‘I’ll try if you try,’ I said, but I didn’t like the smile he gave me.

‘Of course I’ll try, Tess,’ he said. Then he gave me a little wave and walked off. Probably to meet his ‘someone’. Poor woman. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

As for me, I went back to my hotel room to work on a painting of the woman in the market. Or at least that was what I wanted to do, but I couldn’t keep my mind on my work. Grant and some of the things he’d said to me kept getting in the way. Why did he enjoy making me angry so much? It had always been the same, ever since we’d first met. He thought I only had my job because Wild Country was my father’s company.

I left my painting and took a glass of orange juice over to the window. The street below was busy with people enjoying the sunshine as they looked in shop windows at expensive fashions. But I didn’t really see them. I was still thinking about Grant.

The trouble was, he was right. I did still only have my job because Wild Country was Dad’s company. If it hadn’t been his company, I’d have been out after the wrong airport mistake, I was sure. And the truth was, I wasn’t very comfortable with that fact. Which was why Grant made me so angry when he talked about it.

I didn’t want to be a bad tour leader. In fact, I didn’t want to be a tour leader at all. I wanted to be an artist. But Dad wouldn’t hear of it. His father, my grandfather, had been an artist. But the family had been very poor because grandfather hadn’t sold many pictures.

Dad didn’t want me to be poor. He’d worked very hard all his life, and now he was rich and Wild Country was doing very well. I’m his only child, and since Mum died fifteen years ago Dad and I have always been very close. We may be very different, but we love each other very much.

I wanted to please him, but sometimes it was very hard. I wanted to be an artist so very much. I wanted to do something I was good at. And I just knew I would never be good at being the manager of Wild Country, which is what Dad wanted me to be.

Oh well. For now, at least, there was nothing I could do about it. So I went back to my painting of the woman in the market, and after a few minutes I forgot about Grant and Dad. I forgot about everything except colour and light and paint.