The Orchid House (59 page)

‘Well, maybe it’ll be fun finding out,’ Julia suggested, ‘and perhaps, for a while, you should concentrate on putting
you
first, not everybody else.’

‘The problem is, I have to be needed,’ Alicia admitted. ‘If I let that go, what do I have left?’

‘Well, those that love you, love you for who you are, not what you do for them.’

‘Really? You mean, if I stopped ironing Max’s shirts and forgot to make the children’s supper, they’d still like me?’

Julia read the twinkle in Alicia’s eye. ‘You know they would. And, sorry to be blunt, but perhaps you’d get more respect from them if you didn’t pander to their every whim. And that includes me,’ Julia added. ‘You never know, we might even start pandering to you.’

‘Wow! What a thought,’ Alicia giggled. ‘Anyway, I’ve only got myself to blame. I’ve always projected this capable image and, of course, I
am
, Julia. It’s my strength. Most of the time anyway,’ she added.

‘Yes, but you’re also allowed to be vulnerable and needy sometimes too, like the rest of us human beings. And you shouldn’t be afraid of showing it.’

‘No.’ Alicia nodded. ‘You’re right. And the way that Max has been since this happened … You know, I used to think I married him just because he was “there”. I thought that maybe,’ she bit her lip, ‘I just needed “somebody” after you left and Dad was hardly at home. But this has really shown me what a good man he is. And how lucky I am to have him.’

‘There’s always a silver lining,’ said Julia. ‘And at least this has shown you that Max is far more capable than you’ve given him credit for in the past. I doubt any of the kids are currently wasting away under his care, are they?’

‘No. They’re not,’ Alicia agreed. ‘And just now, lying here in the sun, without anyone asking anything of me, I feel … wonderful!’

‘Good. Then you should do it more often.’

‘You know what?’ Alicia lay back on her lounger and closed her eyes. ‘I bloody well will!’

Later, over a lunch of fresh mozzarella and tomato, accompanied by a
pichet
of local rosé, Julia told Alicia what she had learnt about her own origins. As they drank
café au lait
, an intrigued Alicia mulled over the details of the story.

‘So, our mother was a Crawford?’

‘Yes. The illegitimate daughter of Lord Harry.’ Julia sighed. ‘Isn’t it ironic? She grew up right under her father’s nose, and yet she never knew.’

‘No wonder Dad felt he had to tell me. Otherwise I’d have thought I had Crawford blood running through my veins too. I might have started putting on airs and graces, worn a tiara to breakfast,
et al
.’ Alicia grinned. ‘What’s interesting is that surely your claim to Wharton Park is closer than Kit’s? I mean, you’re Harry’s direct bloodline, whereas Kit’s just some kind of cousin. If Mum had still been alive, wouldn’t the estate have come to her?’

‘Alicia,’ cautioned Julia, ‘Mum was born on the wrong side of the blankets, as Elsie so sweetly put it.’

‘It doesn’t matter any more. With DNA testing, it can be proved. I read of a case recently in
The Times.
’

‘You’re probably right but, as you know, it’s the closest male heir who inherits the
title
. Still, yes, I’m sure that if it had been known at the time, Mum would have been in line to inherit something.’

Alicia looked at Julia. ‘Well then, the question is, now I’m out of the equation, are you entitled to a share of the estate?’

‘Perhaps,’ said Julia, taking a sip of coffee. ‘But it’s not something I’ve had the time or inclination to investigate. And I certainly don’t need the money.’

‘No. You and Kit are, what … ?’ She scratched her nose as she thought about it. ‘Third cousins?’

Julia’s face darkened. ‘Something like that, yes,’ she agreed. ‘But it’s hardly relevant now, is it?’

‘Isn’t it?’ Alicia probed.

‘Why should it be?’ Julia answered abruptly.

‘Well,’ Alicia trod carefully, ‘little more than a few days ago, you and Kit were together, for want of a better phrase. You looked very happy and –’

‘Alicia, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer not to talk about it.’ Julia stopped the thread of the conversation in its tracks. ‘Xavier has come back so I’m still a married woman. Whatever Kit and I
were
, is now irrelevant.’

‘Have you spoken to Kit?’

‘As I said, I’d prefer not to talk about it, okay?’

Alicia took the hint and the subject was closed.

56

The following afternoon, Julia drove Alicia to the airport.

‘It’s been wonderful,’ said Alicia warmly as they stood by the departure gate. ‘Just what I needed. I must admit,’ she wrinkled her newly freckled nose, ‘I don’t want to go home.’

‘Well, come back any time. With or without the family,’ Julia added. ‘And remember, just occasionally, it’s okay to think about just you.’

‘I will.’ Alicia nodded. ‘Thanks, Julia. I’ve learnt a lot.’

‘Have you?’

‘Yes.’ Alicia was on the verge of tears. She pulled Julia close and embraced her. ‘It’s a new beginning for me, isn’t it? For us too?’

‘Yes, it is,’ Julia smiled. ‘Take care, Alicia.’

‘And you.’

Julia drove home slowly, thinking about Alicia and how she hoped the sudden new understanding and equality in their relationship would continue. And how much she had longed to board that plane to England with her.

She, too, didn’t want to return home. Even though she accepted Xavier was doing his best, and she must continue to give their relationship time, there was a tension, a discomfort and an irritation with him which she couldn’t control.

And worst of all, where once she had felt so much love for him, there was nothing.

Julia parked the car and walked towards the house, taking a deep breath and telling herself that tonight she would do whatever it took to try and make it better. What choice did she have?

She opened the front door to a delicious aroma of fresh meat, fried butter and herbs. Xavier was in the kitchen, standing over the stove, turning two steaks around the pan.

‘
Voilà!
You are home. I decide tonight I cook you supper, and dismiss Agnes. Go on to the terrace and sit down,
chérie
, and I will be out with our drinks.’

Surprised and bewildered, Julia did so. She had never seen Xavier cook in their entire married life. He came out with a bottle of champagne and poured it into glasses.

‘To us,’ he said.

‘Yes, to us,’ she toasted back, and they drank.

He came to sit next to her, and took her hand and kissed it. ‘I could not wait for your sister to go, so that we could be alone. I want to tell you I understand how hard it is for you to accept that I am back and forgive me for my part in Gabriel’s death. But I swear, if you trust me, I can make it up to you. Do you believe me?’

‘I believe it’s what you want, Xavier.’ Julia felt guilty that nothing he could do or say would remove the numbness inside her. But she had to keep trying. There was simply no alternative.

‘There’s somewhere I want to take you.’

‘Anywhere,
chérie
, you know that,’ he answered eagerly.

‘I want you to come to the place where Gabriel died. Only the day before you reappeared, I planted two cypress trees: one for him and one for you. I’d like you to come with me to see them.’

There was a pause before he said, ‘Of course, anything you say.’

‘I’d like to go tomorrow morning.’

‘
Bien sur
,
chérie
. We will go.’

‘Thank you, Xavier.’

For the first time since his return, Julia fell asleep that night with her head resting on her husband’s shoulder.

As always, when they were at home together with no commitments, Julia was up first the following morning. Xavier rarely rose before ten thirty, which she used to full advantage as practice time.

At eleven o’clock, Xavier finally staggered into the kitchen. Julia was making coffee.

‘
Bonjour
, my Julia.’ Xavier wrapped his arms round her. ‘Mmnn, that coffee, it smells so good.’

Julia handed him a cup. ‘Why don’t you go and take a shower? I’d like to leave as soon as possible.’

Xavier furrowed his eyebrows. ‘Where to, remind me?’

‘To the place where Gabriel died, where I planted the trees, remember?’

‘Yes, yes, of course. I will not be long.’

Julia buried her irritation as Xavier left the room. She understood his reluctance to return. It would be as hard for him as it had been for her. But … she needed to see him grieve.

Twenty minutes later, Xavier reappeared in the kitchen, fully dressed.

‘
Alors!
Let us go.’

Julia drove, as she usually had, with Xavier sitting passively beside her.

‘I will go to Paris tomorrow to complete the round of interviews, and then it will all be at an end,’ he offered.

Julia said nothing. She would not let herself react.

‘And Olav said yesterday that the publisher will call to try and tempt me into writing a book. It seems I have never been so busy.’

Again Julia did not respond.

She parked the car in the bay on the side of the road and they silently picked their way down the hill until they arrived at the two cypress saplings, standing side by side. Julia had brought some water with her, and poured it over the saplings.

Half her thoughts were with Gabriel, the other half with Xavier, as she watched him standing uncomfortably next to her. Eventually, he reached for her hand.

‘What you have done is something beautiful. It is a place of peace, out of tragedy. Should we, do you think, tear the other one from the ground, as I assume it represents me?’

‘Maybe. I –’

Xavier’s mobile rang. Julia watched as he took it from his trouser pocket and studied the number.

‘
Pardon
,
chérie
, it is the publisher from London. I must speak to him.’

Julia watched as Xavier walked off to take the call.

She looked at the two cypress saplings, then tore the taller one from the ground and threw it as far as she could. Away from the place that marked the death of her beloved son. And her love for Xavier.

The summer wore on. Julia was well aware of the irony that she finally had the time she’d always wanted to spend with Xavier, but now only longed for the moments when he left the house.

They fell into a routine: Julia practised in the morning before Xavier woke, then he took over in the afternoon whilst Julia went to the beach to escape the house and tried to relax. Try as she might, she often found her thoughts drifting involuntarily back to Kit, wondering where he was, what he was doing – wishing fervently she could pour out her troubled heart to him and listen to his calm, wise words of advice.

One evening in late August, Julia arrived home to find Xavier in the kitchen, making a list.

‘I think we should have a party,
chérie
. What do you think?’

Julia raised her eyebrows. ‘What kind of party?’

‘A celebration that I am back from the dead, to let everyone know how happy we are. I am writing a list of all the people I want to invite.’

‘If that’s what you want.’ Julia found the whole notion crass and inappropriate, but she was too worn down for an argument. ‘When are you thinking of having it?’

‘As soon as possible. Many people will be leaving the Riviera soon; I was thinking next Saturday would be perfect.’

‘As you wish,’ Julia answered. She took a glass, filled it with water and went to her study to answer her emails.

Saturday night was soon upon them and Agnes had helped prepare everything in the short space of time. Xavier behaved like an excited little boy in the run-up to his birthday, and tried on three different shirts for Julia’s approval.

As Julia dressed and applied her mascara, she felt no such anticipation. Xavier had invited over a hundred people, some of whom she hardly knew. She had confided her misgivings about the party to Alicia.

‘But Xavier’s making an effort, Julia,’ Alicia had countered. ‘There’s been so much pain for both of you, why is it wrong for him to celebrate? Granted, there isn’t a completely happy ending, but a better one than you had this time last year.’ Then there had been a pause on the line, before Alicia added: ‘Sorry, darling, but when are you going to forgive Xavier for the fact he lived, when Gabriel died?’

That was two days ago and, even though Julia had found the words difficult to hear, she knew Alicia was right. And she promised herself that tonight, even though she knew her heart was closed to Xavier forever, she would make an effort to celebrate with him.

She took one last look at herself and went downstairs for a glass of champagne with him before their guests arrived.

‘
Chérie
, you look very beautiful tonight.’

Julia let him embrace her.

He took two glasses of champagne from a waiter, standing sentry in the hall with his tray, awaiting the guests.

‘To us,’ Xavier clinked her glass, ‘and to new beginnings.’

As he kissed her, the first guests rang the doorbell and Xavier went to greet them. Soon the house and garden were full of people, most congregating near a jazz trio playing in the corner of the terrace.

Julia did her utmost to play the happy wife of the newly returned husband. Xavier made an emotional speech at midnight, praising his wonderful wife and the love they shared. He said how devastated they were to have lost their beloved son, but assured everyone there would be plenty more children in the future.

By one o’clock, the party was in full swing and the champagne still flowing. Julia spied Madelaine, who had held the fateful barbecue, tottering over to her, clearly the worse for wear.

‘Honey!’ Madelaine held out her arms and pulled Julia to her ample bosom. ‘It’s so wonderful to see the two of you reunited,’ she slurred in her Texan accent. ‘It was a day I thought I’d never see.’

‘I certainly didn’t,’ Julia smiled wryly.

‘And we felt so guilty, I mean, it was our party they’d been to before the … accident.’