When I was much younger and the Riviera in summer was already cheek to jowl with burning people in bikinis who were so slim they made me self-conscious, there were still areas of the shore unbuilt with large luxurious houses. My friend Jeanette Leroy’s boyfriend of the era was an ancien combatant de guerre (veteran). He had been injured in World War II. The government offered him as recompense the boon of a holiday stay in a government property. He chose a tiny lighthouse at the end of the point of land that juts into the sea between Cannes and Nice, the Cap d’Antibes.
