A French Affair (53 page)

‘Mm,' he responded, not really seeming to pick up on that. ‘When I get there,' he continued, apparently still in his own train of thought, ‘well, is Natalie going to be there? I mean, I know she's not, not for real or anything, but is she like a ghost now? Will I see her?'

Feeling her heart twist, while wondering at the workings of his little mind, she said, ‘No, darling, you won't see her.'

He gave that some deliberation, then said, ‘I think it would frightenme a bit if I did.'

Smiling, Jessica said, ‘She wouldn't do anything to frighten you.'

At that his eyes rounded with indignation. ‘Oh yes she would. She was always doing stuff to frighten me.'

In spite of the emotion, Jessica had to laugh. ‘Not like this, though. She's gone to Jesus now, sweetheart, but there's a little dove called Solange who comes to visit, and sometimes I like to think . . . Well, not that it's Natalie exactly, but that maybe Natalie's telling her to come.'

‘That would be so like her,' Harry declared earnestly. ‘She was always really bossy, telling everyone what to do.' Then, with a little sadness in his voice, ‘I wish she was still here telling me what to do. I didn't mind it very much really.'

‘I know,' Jessica whispered, wishing they were alone and she wasn't driving, ‘but you're going to have a lovely time with Antoine and Elodie – and Rousseau, of course. I just hope I'm going to see something of you.'

‘Oh you will,' he assured her, suddenly brightening. ‘I'll be driving you nuts soon enough, the way I always do because I don't know how to be quiet, or sit still, or tidy up after myself, but you love me more than anyone else in the world, except Dad and Nikki who you love the same – and Nat, who we all love a little bit more now she's not here any more.' With that he sat back to check on Antoine, leaving Jessica to laugh at the very close recital of her own words, with the exception of those about Natalie, which he'd so lovably tacked on himself.

Lilian was at her desk in the office, staring blankly at the emails in front of her. Since telling Luc about the baby it was as though she'd slipped into some kind of parallel existence, where she'd begun watching the
world as though no longer quite a part of it. She was aware of feeling and thinking and speaking, but no matter how lovingly and attentively Luc responded, she was unable to make herself believe it was real. Perhaps if her conscience weren't so burdened she might not be doubting him, or herself, this way, but there was no escaping it, and even though he had no idea of the truth, she couldn't help feeling she was finally being punished for the terrible decisions she had made. She had her wish, she was pregnant again, but now she had to live with Luc no longer wanting her, or their child.

Knowing it was a dangerous mix of guilt and hormones making her think this way rather than anything Luc had said, or done, she tried to push it from her mind, but it wasn't easy. Even if she managed it, she was left with so many images of him with Jessica that her suffering only became worse.

She knew, because Daniella had told her, that Harry had arrived safely the day before and that he and Jessica had spent most of yesterday at the château, going for a picnic with a couple of other families in the evening, before Jessica had returned to the cottage alone. As far as Lilian knew Jessica was still alone, and the very idea that she couldn't go to her, that they couldn't give one another the support they both needed right now, felt almost as bewildering as being the cause of one another's pain. Nothing like this had ever happened between them before. Though she knew how easily love could turn to hate when there was so much jealousy involved, and that maybe she should be seeking all kinds of revenge, when she thought of Jessica's own suffering, and what she still might go through, she could summon no hate towards
her, nor anger. She could only feel sorrier than she ever had in her life that any of it had happened.

Hearing footsteps outside, she turned away from her computer and looked up as Luc came in.

‘I thought I'd find you here,' he said, stopping on the way to his own computer to kiss her. ‘Daniella's just brought the children over, and a message from Claude to remind you about the chairs for the concert on Saturday. You were going to ask Madame Bouvier if she had any suggestions.'

‘Of course, I'll bring it up at the meeting tonight,' she said, and wondered how they were able to behave so normally when she knew he must be thinking about Jessica possibly even more than she was. ‘Is Daniella staying for lunch?' she asked.

‘I don't think so. She seemed about to get back in the car when I came over here.'

At the sound of running feet outside he turned round, and an instant later his niece, nephew and Harry came bursting in through the door with the dog in tow.

‘Found you!' Harry cried delightedly, and bounded straight up to Lilian, arms outstretched.

Lilian's eyes shone with love as she hugged him to her. ‘How are you, my darling?' she said. ‘I heard you were here.'

‘I came yesterday, and I've been staying at the château, but we're staying with Mum tonight, at the cottage. I asked her if Natalie was there, you know, like a ghost or something, but she said no, and anyway I wouldn't have minded really, except it might have been a bit scary. Dad's coming tomorrow.'

Smiling in spite of the ache in her heart, Lilian said, ‘So I believe. What do you have planned, all of you?'

Harry shrugged, then looked up at Luc. ‘I'm going to ask Mum and Dad if I can have a dog like Rousseau, so can you tell me where you got him, please, and what kind of make he is.'

‘I told you, he's a retriever,' Antoine piped up.

‘A flat-coat retriever,' Luc added.

Satisfied, Harry shouted, ‘Come on! Let's go and ask Mum now. We might be able to get her on our side before Dad arrives.'

‘Yes, and we've got our secret to show you,' Elodie was saying, as they started running out. ‘Antoine only told me about it last week, so even I haven't seen it yet.'

As they disappeared, Lilian got up from her chair and walked over to the door to watch them charging down through the vineyard. How wonderful to be their age, she was thinking, so innocent and pure, no fears, no crimes, no guilt, only secrets they were bursting to tell. She thought of Natalie, and how she'd tried to tell Jessica her secret but hadn't been able to – and as the darkness of it all began filling her up again she closed her eyes and tried not to think any more.

Charlie's mouth was set in a grim line, and his eyes looked tired and strained as he listened to Veronica at the end of the line, telling him that she understood, of course, why he hadn't shown her letter to Jessica yet, but he must surely understand why she wanted him to now.

‘I know my relationship with Jessica can't be considered as important as yours,' she was saying, her normally flighty tones still trying to make it through the tiredness and slurring, ‘but I always was a teensy bit selfish, as you know, and though these little turns I've had aren't supposed to be serious, I really don't
want to pop off without seeing her. And Maurice is adamant she can't come unless she knows the truth, or she'll start shouting at me and upsetting me and who knows, I might end up having another little turn. You do see that, darling, don't you? Please try to understand. I know she'll never forgive us, but I can't go on hiding things from her. Not any longer, and if she's going to shout at me, at least I won't have to keep worrying about what I'm saying if I'm not having to hide anything any more.'

‘She's going to be very worried once she knows you've had a stroke,' Charlie told her, feeling he'd rather deal with that for now than anything else.

‘Two strokes,' she corrected, ‘but only little ones. Hardly anything to worry about at all, though I'm having a bit of a problem seeing at the moment. Everything's a bit blurred, but they say that will probably get better. And they might operate, apparently, because there are things they can do these days to stop the embolism . . . I think that's what it's called. Is that right, Maurice?'

‘Yes, that's what it's called,' Charlie told her.

‘Anyway, we're waiting to find out. I go back again next week for more tests . . . But you don't want to hear any more about that. I know how upset and worried you must be. Is Jessica still in France?'

‘Yes, I'm going there myself tomorrow.'

‘Oh dear. That'll probably be difficult for you. I was going to go back myself, but then I couldn't face it. How has she managed while she's been there? She must have found it very hard.'

‘Yes, I think she has, but she felt it was something she had to do.' Then, after a pause, ‘She's spoken to the paramedic.'

There was a moment's silence, until understanding the significance of what he'd just told her, Veronica said, very gently, ‘Then it would seem to me, darling, that you don't have very much choice but to tell her now.'

‘No,' Charlie responded bleakly, ‘no, I don't suppose I do.'

‘
Oh là là
, brace yourself,' Daniella warned as the sound of thundering feet coming down through the vines reached them. ‘I'm just dropping off Antoine's toothbrush and pyjamas for tonight,' she told Jessica. ‘I'll come back later for Elodie – she's going to stay with her friend who has a pool. The boys are invited to join them tomorrow, so you can drop them off on your way to collect Charlie from the airport, if you like.'

‘Of course,' Jessica replied, a smile appearing in her eyes as the children came charging across the patio and in through the door.

‘Hey Mum,' Harry cried, going to throw his arms around her waist. ‘I just saw Lilian and Luc, and Rousseau is a flat-coat retriever.'

‘Really?' Jessica responded, wanting only to go on holding him.

‘Yes, so can we have one, please, because he's a really nice dog and I promise I'll take care of him myself. You won't have to walk him, or feed him, or anything, because I'll do it . . .'

‘Darling, we're in the middle of London and look how big Rousseau is.'

‘But other people have big dogs in London.'

‘I'll wish you good luck with that one,' Daniella interrupted with no little irony. ‘I'd better be off, Claude's waiting. I'll be back for Elodie around four.'

Letting Harry go and walking out to the car with her, Jessica said, ‘Are you sure you don't mind Harry staying for a few days if Charlie and I go off to Provence?'

‘Absolutely not,' Daniella assured her.

‘There's always a chance he might want to come with us . . .'

‘Mum! Can we go and play in the attic?' Harry shouted from inside.

Jessica turned incredulously. ‘Do you have any idea how hot it'll be up there?' she said.

‘We don't care. We're going, OK?'

Shrugging, Jessica turned back to Daniella. ‘I'll see you at four,' she said, giving her a hug.

‘Before I go,' Daniella said softly, ‘I take it you know Lilian's going to have a baby.'

Jessica smiled as her heart contracted. ‘Yes,' she said. ‘Is Luc pleased?' Then, before Daniella could answer, ‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that. Of course he is.'

Daniella's sympathy showed. ‘I don't know how he feels. He didn't say.'

As Jessica went back inside her heart was aching for Lilian and how hard she must be finding this, and knowing she was the cause of Lilian's pain was making it so much worse. She wondered how they were ever going to get past this, or if they even could, for Lilian would always be watching them and wondering if her husband and best friend still had feelings for one another. No friendship could withstand that kind of pressure and suspicion, not even theirs, and Jessica could hardly bear to think of how much she was going to miss her.

Becoming aware of Rousseau whining upstairs, she decided to go up and investigate, but had got only as
far as her own bedroom door when the children started sliding down the attic ladder, bumping into one another and the dog who'd been crying because he couldn't climb up.

‘Mum!' Harry cried breathlessly, the last to come down. ‘Mum, look what we found.'

His face was pale and worried, and as Jessica looked down at what he was holding she felt her heartbeat starting to slow. Then the world outside seemed to quieten and recede, like a sea being sucked away from the shore.

‘It's Natalie's,' he said.

Jessica could still only look at it. Somewhere in her mind was the memory of how determined she'd been to come here, how she'd known she should stay, and how she'd even felt Natalie's fear as though it were still in the house, but nothing was fully in focus yet, that would come later. All she could see now was a small pink book with a fake brass lock and odd little doodles scribbled into the flowers on the front. Natalie's diary.

A moment later it was in her hands, and the children were running off down the stairs, and out into the vines. She listened to their voices fading in the distance, then holding the book to her she went to the window to watch them.

Later she was unable to say how long it took her to open the diary and read it, because from the moment Harry put it into her hands – brother delivering message from sister – it was as though time itself slipped out of kilter. All she knew was that she was in the kitchen when she read the final entry, and as she stared down at the words blurring and slanting in front of her, and felt the horror of them gathering in her heart, she realised there was no longer any doubt
about who had carried Natalie to the sofa that day.

Someone's just arrived. Think it's supposed to be a surprise so will pretend – but it's Dad cuz can hear his voice. Someone's with himIthink, or maybe it's just Grandma. More later . . . (Need to have bigger mysteries in life, am determined to be exciting.)