CultOfTheBlackVirgin (35 page)

“I don’t give a shit. I’m going to write a letter of complaint to the tour company when I get home. I’m going to tell them how their guide let the tour descend into a mess.”

It was true. Yesterday Luc had withdrawn his leadership during the day, and left them alone most of the evening. Dinner last night was disastrous. What was supposed to be a celebration turned out to be an awkward and depressing affair. Peter had solaced himself by drinking the lion’s share of Luc’s wine. It was all he could do to get through the night, and Edward thought it probably helped him shut out the sound of his wife’s voice.

So now the Stewarts were heading to London, and after a few days they would fly home to Melbourne. This vacation would leave an unpleasant taste in Peter’s mouth, he’d informed the dinner guests last night.

“And it’s all that American woman’s fault! What a bitch! Cunt! She’s too good looking, and I knew she was trouble as soon as I saw her.”

Edward was shocked at the Australian’s vehemence, and glad Luc hadn’t been present to hear his foul words against Joanna. No doubt Luc would have pasted him one.

Peter was probably jealous of Luc, Edward suspected. Jo had never responded to his flirting, and he probably begrudged Luc what he couldn’t have for himself.

As Carol was eaten up with jealousy for Joanna.

Edward knew that Carol had been the main shit disturber over the last few days. Glenda had said Carol grew absolutely green when she learned Luc and Joanna were having an affair.

Edward watched her now, trying to shush her husband when she saw Luc approaching them.

Carol had seemed slightly depressed since yesterday, Edward thought. Was it clear, even to someone with her limited intelligence, that she and her gossip mongering were largely to blame for the events of the past few days? That Luc was in fact seriously affected by Joanna’s disappearance?

But she didn’t look particularly guilty as she walked up to Luc and gave him a bear hug. After he dutifully kissed her once on each cheek, Carol didn’t let go of his arms. She said loudly into his face that she would never forget him and that she hoped he would have a great summer season with his other tours. She invited him to come and visit if he ever found himself in Australia.

Edward smiled slightly as Luc disentangled himself, thanking her quickly for her kind words. Taking the business card she forced on him, he escaped to say goodbye to Peter, then turned to Edward and Glenda.

Edward and Glenda Evans had been Joanna’s friends, and were intelligent and empathetic enough to feel terribly concerned about the turn of events. They weren’t exactly sure what had happened, but they’d made some educated guesses. Unlike Ron, they didn’t really care that the holiday took a turn for the somber. Instead, they were genuinely concerned about everybody involved.

They, perhaps more than any of the others, suspected that nature was going to have its way. They’d talked it over and interfered once, the day they’d canoed. But they’d soon realized the pointlessness of such actions. Nothing could have stopped Luc and Joanna from coming together, it seemed. So they’d ultimately agreed to mind their own business and withhold judgment. They didn’t approve of Luc’s behavior, and they sympathized with Joanna because of her harsh treatment at the hands of the other women. But now they were worried for both parties.

What had happened to Joanna? Why had the boyfriend arrived out of the blue from the States? They were a little disappointed that they would never know. They were also disappointed they wouldn’t be able to visit Joanna when they went to the Pacific Coast next year. She’d left without saying goodbye.

As Luc walked towards them to wish them a
bon voyage
, Edward noted again the haggard expression on his face. He hadn’t shaved, and he looked like hell. Like he hadn’t slept. There were dark circles under his eyes, and he was wearing yesterday’s clothes, rumpled. There was a purple bruise and a small cut on his temple.

Edward grasped Luc’s outstretched hand firmly and thanked him sincerely for the tour. They made some light small talk for a few moments until Glenda stepped up to give Luc a hug. Edward saw her eyes grow moist as she wished him well. She’d told Edward that morning that Luc must have fallen in love with Joanna. Why else would he remove his wedding ring? He had to be suffering terribly, she’d said.

Edward tended to agree with his wife, and he thought he detected a tremor in Luc’s voice as he wished them a safe journey home.

It’s a sad, sad business, Edward thought as he helped Glenda onto the train.

Yesterday, Sunday, had been a dreadful day for everyone, Edward knew. Luc hadn’t returned to the
gîte
on Saturday night, so both he and Joanna had still been missing the next morning. The rest were left to entertain themselves as best they could. Eventually a harried Luc appeared after breakfast, apologizing for his absence, and asking everyone to have luggage ready for loading into the van. Then he’d disappeared again until it was time to go.

Edward sensed that everyone felt tense and confused as they waited in front of the
gîte
for him to lead them out of Martel.
Madame Guillmont
only added to their confusion, as she too had literally disappeared. There was no one to say goodbye to, no one to give them any information.

When Luc returned in the company van with Marc, who loaded the bags and set off, everyone noticed that for the first time that week he wasn’t wearing his bandana. His face was pale and haggard.

It was Marcie who first noticed his wedding ring was missing, and she wasted no time in sharing that information with the rest of the group.

This wasn’t the same Luc, that much was clear. He was polite, but strained, as he carefully apologized again for his absence the night before. In measured words he told them he had to attend to some unexpected personal business. As for Joanna and her visitor, he didn’t know the details, but
Madame
Guillmont
had informed him this morning that there was some sort of personal emergency, and they had to leave the tour early. He never mentioned Joanna’s name again.

So, it became a daylong game of pretending that nothing had changed. There were only eleven walkers now, and a very quiet leader. Conversation was stilted when Luc was within earshot. That didn’t stop Carol from gossiping, but she was astute enough to keep her words from reaching him. She walked most of the day with Iris and Marcie, but from time to time Edward could overhear the three of them inventing colorful and outrageous explanations for Luc’s solemnity and Joanna’s absence.

Their last picnic lunch was a self-conscious affair, finished quickly, and they were all relieved to see Souillac on the horizon early in the afternoon. The special farewell dinner had been much anticipated during the week, but no one felt like celebrating now. Luc had remembered to bring his homemade wine, but it did little to add cheer to the occasion. He drank almost nothing and the abrupt change in his personality left everyone feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious. Then he left immediately after dinner. No one knew where he went, and they all, except for Peter, went to bed early.

Once the Evans boarded the train and settled into their seats, Edward noticed Iris sitting alone in the front of the train car. He hadn’t seen her on the platform, and he hadn’t seen her say goodbye to anyone.

He watched her now, looking at Luc out on the platform. Safely tucked behind a partition in the car so Luc couldn’t see her, she was hiding.

Iris was an odd girl, Edward had thought as soon as he’d met her. And he wondered now if she was capable of feeling shame. If she’d just minded her own business, and loved Luc from afar like Glenda insisted she did, he wouldn’t look like he did now—wrecked, anxious, ill.

And he wondered if Iris thought she ruined Joanna’s relationship with the nice-looking American who had crossed the ocean to bring her home.

But she looked so sad. Glenda had hinted that perhaps the drama of the past few days brought it home to Iris that she would never experience the passion and joy she had seen in Luc and Joanna’s faces. And now she was as sad as if she’d just lost what they had lost. Never having had it in the first place would probably make her even sadder.

Glenda was an astute reader of her fellow human beings, and Edward concurred with her diagnosis of this particularly sad case.

He turned to his wife and gave her a hug as he felt the train begin to move.

* * * *

Finally, the train pulled away from the station, and Luc was left standing alone. A light rain began to fall. He was so tired he could barely think what to do next.

Throughout the good-byes he’d kept one eye on the watch for Joanna. Twice, a flash of red caused his heart to leap into his throat. He had it fixed in his mind that she would come to him with his red bandana still tied around her neck.

The first time he’d glimpsed red, it was only an umbrella being opened by a girl on the other side of the station.

The next splash of red was even more alarming. It turned out to be a dark-haired woman’s blouse. Another dark-haired woman. Not the woman he was waiting for. Not Joanna.

Two nights before, after a terrible confession to Simone, and a tearful goodbye to his son, Luc had returned to the hotel in Martel. But when he opened the door at just past midnight, he found the room empty. None of Joanna’s things were there. It appeared that she hadn’t used the room at all.

First he was frightened. Then he became angry.

He stormed back to the
gîte
and woke
Madame Guillmont.
She told him about James’ surprise arrival.

“The American man took her away, Lucien. They left in a taxi, about six-thirty.”

“And you don’t know where they went?”

“How could I? She didn’t talk to me at all. She wouldn’t even look at me when she left. What could I do? It’s none of my affair.”

“What about the man? Did he say anything?”

“When he arrived, yes. He told me there was a family emergency and that Mademoiselle Clifford must go home. That’s all I know,
Cherie.
They could be in Paris by now.
”

Luc went rigid with terror, which quickly turned into fury. He wanted to hit something. Or someone. Preferably an American male.

But what can I do? Putain de merde! Fuck!

Madame
swore to her friend that she knew nothing more, but they began to quarrel when Luc accused her of hiding something. In the end, he returned to the empty hotel room, to try to gather his wits. He decided the only thing to do was empty the mini-bar and crash into oblivion.

The next day he managed to finish the tour, but he knew he did a poor job, for he was present in body only. There was no point in trying to explain anything that had happened between himself and Joanna. And when he saw people looking at his naked ring finger he grew angry.

None of this is anybody’s business. Let them think what they want.

He gave away nothing.

How long should I stand there in the rain? Is there any point? Maybe she’s waiting for me at the hotel. Or back at the van. Why didn’t she call me? Has she lost my number? Maybe she left a message for me at either the hotel or the gîte. I’d better check right away.

But he couldn’t fool himself for long. As he began to walk slowly away from the station, hands thrust deep into his pockets, a sense of utter futility replaced his usual confidence. She wasn’t coming.

She wasn’t coming.

Epilogue

Four years later, in Nice.

Glenda and Edward Evans had always loved the south of France and were thrilled when their eldest daughter married a young Frenchman with excellent credentials and a secure job at a technical college in Nice. That meant they could holiday in France whenever they wanted, as they were now, for Easter.

The beach was crowded today, which was to be expected, given the warm weather and the holiday. But they found a space close to the shore and spread their rugs. Glenda opened her basket and laid out the lunch she had packed. Edward had his nose buried in a book.

As she was filling cups from a thermos of tea, she overheard the voice of a woman sitting on a blanket nearby. It sounded familiar.

She handed Edward a cup and looked at the attractive young woman, a young mother playing with a child who looked about two years old. The beautiful little girl had light brown curls and very dark eyes, and was busy filling a plastic bucket with stones. Her mother was handing her pebbles one at a time, teaching her to name the colors.

The mother spoke in French, but she wasn’t French. She had a strong foreign accent, and at first Glenda couldn’t place it.

She stared, confident the young woman was too engrossed to notice her rudeness. Glenda noted how pretty she looked in her straw hat and a lacy top worn over her chic swimsuit. She thought back to the days when she was a new mother, remembering her frumpy dresses and how she never had the time to look after herself properly. But then she didn’t live in France, did she? French women always looked so sophisticated, she thought. Even the immigrants.

She unwrapped her sandwich and began to eat, sneaking a look at the mother and child from time to time. The woman radiated femininity and sensuality. Glenda thought she looked happy.