The French Gardener (29 page)

As they walked back to the house, Miranda tried to hide her anxiety by asking Blythe about herself and letting her rattle on, but she could not dispel the feeling that David was seeing someone else. She had become so involved in the garden and her children and her secret desire for Jean-Paul. But the more she thought about it, the more her suspicions were aroused.

They reached the hollow tree where Jean-Paul was playing with the children, pretending to be a crocodile. Gus was in his arms, wriggling about, trying to free himself, roaring with laughter. Miranda suddenly felt tearful. Jean-Paul was such a natural father. Her children adored him. He was full of inventiveness and enthusiasm. Why couldn’t she be married to him?

When Rafael saw his mother he clambered down from the tree house and ran up to her excitedly. “Mummy, J-P’s a
crocodile, quick, up the tree. You mustn’t be eaten.” Blythe thought how much she’d adore to be eaten, and lingered on the grass hoping the handsome Frenchman would play with her as well. She rather fancied being swept up into his arms. Jean-Paul put Gus down and laughed as he scampered back up the ladder, gloating happily that he had outwitted the crocodile.

Miranda went inside to make the children tea, leaving Blythe with Jean-Paul. She was relieved to be alone. If David was having an affair, what then? Was their marriage over? Was it worth saving? Did she still love him? She wasn’t sure. Could Jean-Paul ever love her?

David had originally planned to be away on business for Blythe’s weekend, but his desire to spend more time with Miranda and the children overrode his wish to distance himself from his mistress. When he arrived the children were watching a video in their pajamas. Madeleine, Joe and Fred had been taken home. The day had been a great success. Gus had played alongside his friends without picking a fight. He was proud of his home and wanted to show it off. Hartington House had given him a sense of security and belonging and a source of continual entertainment. Since Jean-Paul had arrived he had grown in confidence. Mr. Marlow had praised him for good behavior. He seemed to be enjoying school. Storm’s friends were no longer afraid of coming home and she had little girls with whom to share her playhouse. Miranda read them bedtime stories and helped them with their homework. She delighted in these quiet moments together. Life at Hartington had become a joy. Yet, David wasn’t part of it.

Miranda watched him greet Blythe with the scrutiny of a scientist observing an organism beneath a microscope. She didn’t miss a thing.

David met Miranda warmly, sliding a hand around her waist and kissing her affectionately on her cheek. Miranda flushed with pleasure and surprise. Blythe’s reaction to seeing him was not dissimilar to the way she had reacted to Jean-Paul. There was nothing in her body language to indicate she was intimate with him. Besides, she was a natural flirt. Despite having been irritated when Miranda had mentioned she had invited Blythe for the weekend, David seemed pleased enough to see her. He was tired from the week in the office and the train journey from London. He looked strained around the eyes. Miranda poured him a glass of wine and, after saying hello to the children in the playroom, he disappeared upstairs to have a bath.

Blythe sat with Miranda in the kitchen, watching her prepare the roast chicken for dinner. She sipped her wine and nibbled on a carrot. “David’s looking very tired,” she said. “Is he always this exhausted on a Friday night?”

“Every weekend it’s the same. By the time he’s recovered he’s back on that train to start the whole process again. A banker’s life isn’t a life. It’s just money. Frankly, I’d rather have a husband.”

“I didn’t know things weren’t good between you.” Blythe looked genuinely concerned. Her sympathy was reassuring and Miranda hastily dismissed her suspicions as irrational. After basting the chicken she picked up her wineglass and joined Blythe at the table.

“I just don’t see much of him, that’s all. It’s hard to have a marriage when you spend so little time together.”

“Perhaps this move out to the country wasn’t such a good idea. I mean, for Gus and Storm it’s been fantastic, anyone can see that. Gus especially. He’s a changed boy. He was once so angry. Now he’s charming.”

Miranda’s spirits rose at the compliment. “He has more of a relationship with Jean-Paul than he does with his own father,” Miranda confided.

“Doesn’t that sadden David?”

“I don’t think he’s noticed.” Miranda laughed bitterly. “I have more of a marriage with Jean-Paul than I do with him. And no, I’m not sleeping with him. But I spend more time with him. We share more than David and I do.”

“Can’t he work at home, at least a day or two a week?”

“You know he can’t.”

“Does he know how you feel?”

“We never have time to talk. I’ve changed, too. You know something, Blythe, I don’t think he knows me anymore.”

“Darling, this is so sad. You and David are two of my dearest friends. I thought you had the best marriage in London.” Blythe’s reaction to her troubled marriage dispelled any fears of duplicity; she seemed genuinely saddened. If not, she was playing the role of her life.

“What should I do?” Miranda asked.

“Talk to him. Work it out. I would hate for you two to have to go through what I’m going through. It’s hell. You’d lose this beautiful house for a start. You’re so happy here, I’d hate for it to be washed down the drain in those shitty divorce courts.”

Miranda and Blythe put the children to bed. Gus was sharing his room with Rafael, but they fell asleep immediately, exhausted by their games in the fresh country air. David came out of his bedroom, dressed in a pair of slacks and a clean, open-necked shirt. He saw the women hovering outside Gus’s room and went to join them. “Are they asleep?” he asked.

“Why don’t you go and kiss them good night,” said Miranda. “Even if they’re half asleep, they’ll like it.” David nodded and disappeared into Gus’s room. Blythe gave Miranda an empathetic look. Miranda turned away and began to walk downstairs.

Gus felt his father’s prickly face as he kissed him on his cheek. He opened his eyes.

“I wasn’t really asleep,” he hissed.

“Just pretending?” said his father.

“Yes.”

“Well, be a good boy and go to sleep.”

“Rafael’s asleep.”

“What did you do today?”

“We played pirates. Jean-Paul was the crocodile,” he said with a giggle.

“Was he?” David bristled with jealousy. “Didn’t Captain Hook kill the crocodile?”

“No! I was Captain Hook and the crocodile ate me.”

“You look in pretty good shape for someone who’s been in the belly of a crocodile.”

“I escaped.”

“Clever you!”

“Will you play with us tomorrow?”

“What, be a crocodile?”

“You can be Smee.”

David considered his proposal. “I’ll think of a more exciting game,” he said.

“Okay,” Gus replied. But he knew his father would forget and find something better to do. Gus rolled over and closed his eyes. It didn’t matter if his father didn’t play with him: he had Jean-Paul.

Miranda was carving the chicken when David came in. He had a strange look on his face, as if someone had put a hand in his stomach and twisted his gut. “Are you all right?” Miranda asked.

“I’m fine. Just need a glass of wine. It’s been a bad week.” Miranda handed him his glass.

“Was Gus asleep?”

David grinned and took a swig. “No, the little monkey was just pretending. Clever boy.”

“Like his father,” said Blythe. “Clever, I mean.”

David didn’t react. “Here, let me help you with that,” he said to Miranda. She handed over the knife and fork in surprise. “This looks delicious,” he exclaimed.

“It’s from the farmers’ market. Should taste good.”

“Let’s have a try.” He tore a piece off and popped it in his mouth. The color returned to his cheeks. “It’ll do,” he quipped, feeling better. “So, Blythe, how are things with you?”

“Rattling on. Same as usual. Should soon be a wrap, then I can move on. Find someone else, start again. God, I don’t feel up to it.”

“You won’t feel up to it for a while,” said Miranda. “Just take it a day at a time. Besides, Rafael needs you. He’s been in the thick of it. The last thing he needs is a strange man coming on the scene. He’s your man for the moment.”

“I agree. Anyhow, I don’t think marriage is for me.”

“Don’t rule it out. You’re young and attractive. There’s someone out there who’ll convince you to change your mind,” said Miranda.

“Perhaps,” she said, giving a little sniff.

“Right, Blythe, come and help yourself,” said David. He handed her a plate, then walked up to his wife, put his arm around her waist and planted a kiss on her temple. Miranda looked up at him. Perhaps their marriage wasn’t on the rocks after all, she thought, noticing a warmth in his eyes she hadn’t seen in a long time. The mystery engraving at Theo Fennell was probably a horrible misunderstanding. Must not have been David at all. They just needed to spend more time together. Get to know one another again. He worked hard to give them the life they enjoyed. She had been unfair to doubt him. “And how are you, darling?” he asked her.

“Well, the garden is looking stunning. I’d love to show it to you tomorrow. We’ve planted loads of vegetables. The children have invited friends home for tea. We wouldn’t have imagined that happening six months ago, would we?” In her enthusiasm she was about to tell him she had started writing a novel. However, something made her hold back. Her novel was linked to Ava Lightly’s scrapbook and her own, secret fantasies about Jean-Paul. She might try to publish it under a pseudonym. “Everything’s good,” she concluded.

David tucked into his chicken, drank half a bottle of wine and finally began to relax. It was extremely unsettling having Blythe in his house. Recently, he had begun to feel displaced in his own home. The sight of his wife and children in the vegetable garden with Jean-Paul had given him a painful jolt. They had looked like any ordinary happy family, laughing and playing in the sunshine. Miranda had treated him as if he were of little importance. She didn’t smile at him the way she smiled at Jean-Paul. He had noticed the way her eyes lit up when he looked at her. The way they seemed to communicate silently like two people who shared secrets. He regretted his affair with Blythe. It had meant nothing. Just a bit of fun. But now he felt Gus and Storm drifting away from him like bright helium balloons in a big blue sky, too
far away to reach. They had settled into Hartington with their mother. They all had a place there among the trees and flowers, but there didn’t seem to be a place for him.

He chatted to Blythe as any friend would, hoping to give nothing away. It had been reckless of her to accept the invitation. He’d get through the weekend without raising suspicion, then he’d tell her it was over. He had tried to let her down gently, seeing less of her, not taking her calls. But she was strong and persistent and he had made the error of weakening at the sight of her in suspenders and fur coat. She had to be told straight. Their affair had to stop. He watched her in the candlelight, her features distorted by the shadows that fell across her face, and realized that he had made a massive error of judgment. She wasn’t the type of woman to let go easily. In fact, if he didn’t handle it right, she could create a lot of trouble.

After dinner they remained at the table discussing Blythe’s divorce. There was nothing more gratifying for her than talking about herself, sweeping everyone into her drama. The more she drank, the less attractive she became. By contrast, Miranda looked serene, if a little detached.

Later, in bed, Miranda turned over onto her side, facing away from him. Her breathing was so quiet he could barely hear her. “Miranda,” he whispered. “Are you still awake?”

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“Come here.”

“I’m tired,” she replied without moving. She didn’t feel like making love. He put an arm around her waist and edged close behind her.

“I want to spend time with the children tomorrow,” he said.

“Good,” she mumbled sleepily.

“What would they like to do?”

“Pirates.”

“That’s not my game,” he retorted sharply.

“Then do something different. Take them up to the castle. I’ve never taken them there.”

“Would they like that?”

“I’m sure they would if you make it fun.” David thought about it a moment. He wanted to confess that he had forgotten how to make things fun.

“I’ll do my best,” he said with an awkward chuckle.

“You’re making me hot,” she said, not unkindly. He moved back to his side of the bed. The sheets were cold.

“What’s happening to us?” he said suddenly. “We used to laugh all the time. We used to share everything. Now we exist in the same world but apart. Is it my fault?”

Miranda turned over to face him. She could see his distraught face through the darkness. “I don’t feel very close to you anymore, David.”

“You mean you’re in love with someone else?”

“Of course not,” she replied, then laughed. “I love the children and the gardens and this house. I want you to be a part of it. Gus and Storm want their father to play with them, but they never see you. I don’t want to complain. You’re up there all week working your backside off for us. It would be ungrateful to complain.”

“I want to make it right between us. I want to go back to the way we were.” He reached out his hand and placed it on her hip. “I love you, Miranda. There’s no one in the world like you. The trouble is I get so caught up in work, travelling up and down from London, that I forget to tell you I love you. I don’t want to be cold or distant. I feel you drifting away. I don’t want to lose you.”

She ran her fingers down his face. “You’re not going to lose me, darling. But we have to work at this.”

“Then let’s work at it. My family is more important to me than work. I’d quit my job in a heartbeat if I felt it was driving a wedge between us.”

“You don’t have to go that far. Just watch less golf on weekends. Gus and Storm are such fun. They just want you to spend time with them. They want to feel valued.”

“You’re so right. I wish Blythe wasn’t here, then we could be alone together.” He drew her into his arms and kissed her forehead.
I wish I had never fooled around with her
, he thought to himself.
I’ll tell her it’s over and put the whole stupid mess behind me
.

Blythe lay in bed unable to sleep. The room spun. She stuck her foot out and planted it firmly on the floor to steady herself. It wasn’t much help. She seethed in fury. David hadn’t paid her any attention. He had kissed his wife in front of her—what an insult!—and not even given her a secret smile or knowing look. He hadn’t slipped her a note, arranging to meet in the pool house at four in the morning or in one of the spare rooms of the house. He had acted as if she were like any other guest. There was no fun in playing it so safe. So much for Miranda’s floundering marriage. They looked as smugly content as any happily married couple could look.

As the room slowed down she resolved to get him on his own the following day. She’d drag him into a bush if she had to.

Henrietta sat in Troy’s sitting room curled up on the sofa with a digestive biscuit and a mug of hot milk. “You know, Miranda’s going to take me up to London for a makeover,” she informed him. “We’re going to the personal shopping place at Selfridges.”

“Lucky you!” he breathed enviously. “You might even get Pandora.”

“She mentioned her.”

“Oh, she’s famous! Gorgeous, blond, as bubbly as a magnum of Moët and Chandon.”

“How on earth do you know that?”

“I make it my business to know important things.” He laughed. “
Grazia
magazine or
InStyle
, I can’t remember which one, but they gave her a whole feature. She takes care of the rich and famous. She’ll turn Cinderetta into a real princess at the ball.”

“You’re silly!” She grinned at him fondly. “I’m rather excited. It’s so generous of her.”

“She’s got a heart as big as her wallet and we love her for it!”

“She’s given me Trinny and Susannah’s book,” she said, pulling it out of her bag.

“Great! Let’s read it now.”

“Now? But it’s after midnight?”

“Well, you’re not a pumpkin, are you?”

“No.”

“You don’t have anyone to get back to?”

“Sadly not.”

“You can stay the night with me.”

“But I haven’t brought my toothbrush.”

“I have enough of everything for both of us. I’ll let you into my secret cupboard of cosmetics. It makes Selfridges look like the corner shop.”