A French Affair (19 page)

After pressinghis lips to her forehead, he left the room, closing the door quietly behind him, and a few minutes later she heard the sound of his car reversing out of the drive. In her mind she travelled with him to the end of the street, out onto Ladbroke Grove, and was almost able to feel the heaviness in his heart. But then she let him go and returned to her decision to go to France, and what she really hoped to achieve there. The obvious answer was to prove that her mother had been lying, though she knew already how difficult that was going to be unless she could persuade her mother to go with her – and even then there were no guarantees of getting her to change her story. So for now, at least, she was happy to go alone.

It wasn't until late morning that she finally got around to calling Lilian, and as usual she had to leave a message, since Lilian was in the saleroom and not due out until one. A while later Charlie called, just to make sure she was all right, and no sooner had she put the phone down to him than it rang again.

‘Jessica, it's Melissa.'

Jessica could only wonder why she hadn't expected this.

‘I don't think either of us wants to get into a discussion about yesterday,' Melissa said, ‘I'm just calling to ask if it's going to remain between us.'

Realising she was asking if Jessica had any intention of telling Paul, Jessica said, ‘It's not something I anticipate coming up in conversation, but tell me, does your husband know about the affair you had with mine six years ago?'

Melissa took a moment to respond. ‘No, he doesn't,' she replied evenly, ‘but clearly you do.'

‘Clearly. One more question, are you and Charlie having an affair now, or am I being painfully naive in asking, considering your state of undress when I walked in on you yesterday?'

‘I was there at Charlie's invitation.'

‘That's not really answering my question.'

‘OK. Then let's just say I might have got my wires crossed.'

Willing to take that as a possibility Charlie might have been telling the truth, Jessica said, ‘I'd appreciate it if, the next time you go into his dressing room, or anywhere else you might be alone with him, you'd endeavour to keep your clothes on.'

‘Well, I guess I deserved that,' Melissa replied
crisply. ‘I'd like to say I hope this doesn't affect our friendship, but . . .'

‘. . . it will,' Jessica finished for her.

When the call was over she decided to put it out of her mind by taking herself off to Tate Modern for a while. Once there she browsed through the bookshop searching out useful publications on Modigliani and his even more famous peers, before going upstairs to stroll around an uplifting exhibition of Pierre Huyghe's works. On the way home she made a stop at the London Library, where she spent some time photocopying and making notes about the great artist and early twentieth-century Paris, for if she did go to France, it could provide the perfect opportunity to make a start on her book, and even if she didn't, she still needed to gather as much research material as she could find.

‘Hi, Jessica? Are you there?' Lilian's voice was coming from the answerphone as Jessica walked back in through the door.

‘Yes, I'm here,' Jessica said, grabbing the phone.

‘What's been happening?' Lilian asked. ‘Did you and Charlie manage to talk last night?'

‘Yes, we did. I can't say we've resolved anything particularly, but it's why I called you. I've decided I'd like to go back to the cottage – if it's free. Harry goes away with a friend at the end of next week . . .'

‘Jessica, are you sure?' Lilian interrupted. ‘I mean, you know how much I'd love you to come, but is it a good idea to stay there? Why don't you stay with us?'

‘If I find I can't be in the cottage then I'll take you up on your offer,' Jessica replied, already feeling certain she wouldn't.

‘What does Charlie say? Is he coming too?'

‘No, and he's not keen on the idea, as you can probably imagine.' Then before Lilian could protest any further, ‘Please don't fight me on this. I want to do it – no, I need to do it.'

Still sounding dubious Lilian said, ‘OK, I'll call Luc to make sure it's still free. If it is I'll try to take some time off so I can be there with you.'

With a smile Jessica said, ‘Thank you. I'd like that.'

Jessica was in Harry's room when the phone rang with what she hoped would be a call back from Lilian. It had been several hours since they'd spoken, but she guessed that was because Lilian had been busy with a sale, or maybe Luc hadn't been readily contactable. The reasons didn't matter, all that did was that the cottage should be free.

‘Hello,' she said into the receiver. ‘Jessica Moore speaking.'

‘Jessica, it's Luc,' he said. ‘Lilian tells me you'd like to stay at the cottage.'

For a moment she felt strangely unsteadied by his voice, as once again it seemed to carry her into the very heart of the vineyard where Natalie had charged and yelped about like any normal ten-year-old girl. ‘Yes, please,' she answered. ‘If it's possible.'

‘
Mais bien sûr
,' he responded. ‘It is free for all of the summer, so you can have it for as long as you like. Will your family be joining you?'

‘No. Well, not at first. Maybe later.' Then, remembering his father's tests, ‘How is Fernand?'

With a note of irony he said, ‘He is going to live, and already he's looking forward to seeing you.'

Jessica smiled as she realised she was looking forward to seeing the old man too.

‘I will owe you a big favour,' Luc continued, ‘because I believe Lilian is going to take some time off to be here too.'

‘So she tells me. If she can.'

‘Then we shall remain hopeful. Now, will you need one of us to pick you up at the airport, or will you drive?'

‘I'll drive,' she told him, still feeling the pull of the link he provided to Natalie. She mustn't let it confuse her though, or embarrass him or his family, for she couldn't imagine any of them being comfortable in such a role. She just hoped that they really didn't mind her coming, for it was quite likely they were worried about how awkward it might be having her around, but were too polite to say so.

‘Then let us know when to expect you,' he said, ‘and if there's anything we can do for you in the meantime, just call.'

As she put the phone down Jessica could feel her senses swimming. Only now, after speaking to Luc, was she starting to realise what a big step she was about to take. Yet, in spite of the nerves, she felt a surprising calmness spreading deep inside her, a sense of purpose, even, that seemed to be telling her that she was making the right decision. She only needed to get through the next week with Charlie now, explain as much as she could to Nikki, then after seeing Harry off to Devon she would be on her way . . . she took a breath . . . to Natalie, for that was exactly how it was starting to feel.

THE VINE-COVERED VALLEY
of Valennes was basking quietly in the mid-afternoon sun as Jessica drove past the old farm gates that marked the start of the hamlet, to the staggered T-junction at its heart. On this top road, that came winding in from the nearest village, there were only a few squat cottages sitting like time-forgotten sentinels on the beautifully remote hillock, with a long-abandoned
boulangerie
whose faded sign was still visible on the crumbling side wall, and a single petrol pump with prices still displayed in francs. The rest of Valennes, which consisted of only four more cottages, a couple of derelict barns, the
manoir
and rows upon rows of abundantly fruiting vines, all lay in the magnificent
combe
below.

Before turning left to descend into the heart of it Jessica pulled over for a moment to absorb the seductive vista before her. At any time of year it was breathtaking, but now, at the height of summer, it was hazy and blurred, seeming almost to seep colour, as though it were aspiring to become a spectacular Pissarro or Monet. It was shaped like an amphitheatre,
with the south-facing slopes comprising a vast cornucopia of heavily laden vines creating the tiers, and the lazy patchwork of fields that spread towards the horizon forming the stage. In the near distance was a shady wood of maples, yews and limes, and beyond that, though not visible from where she was, was a crystal-clear freshwater lake.

The road she was about to take was more gravel and potholes than tarmac, and dropped steeply away for several metres before easing its descent to a handful of small, closely shuttered dwellings that housed the workers during harvest, and the occasional tourists in summer. Further down, virtually in the bowl of the valley and nestling almost coquettishly in amongst the vines, was a bigger, sprawling cottage that was covered in jasmine and ivy and a liberal sprinkling of pale yellow roses. This was
la maison de vendangeur
– the grape-picker's cottage.

Still Jessica remained where she was, aware of how her breath had shortened as she allowed her eyes to follow the track on through the vineyard to where it ended in a roughly circular flourish in front of the
manoir
, which was halfway up the opposite hill. The
manoir
itself was a large eighteenth-century stone-built house with big sash windows in the upper levels framed by sky blue shutters, and a huge pergola right across the front, where morning glory, honeysuckle and jasmine intertwined with a ferocious ivy and big purple-blooming passion flowers. To one side of the
manoir
was a towering old
pigeonnier
– a dovecote – whose top two floors were used for storage, while the double arch at the bottom was the entrance to the wine
cave
. And to the other side of the
manoir
was a long, low structure that had once been a barn, but was now
divided in two to make the office that Luc and Lilian shared when they were here, and the studio where Luc created his sculptures.

There was not a single person in sight, the only signs of life being the Charolais cows in one of the fields and the occasional soar or flutter of a bird. The trees were motionless, as were the vines and the cottages. She lowered her window to inhale the earthy perfume that filled the air, and feel the sun's heat stealing in like a burning cloak. It was strange how in spite of what had happened here she could still sense the silence and beauty settling around her like a balm, seeming to ease content into her heart and a kind of wonder into her soul. Then she found herself recalling the first time she and Charlie had arrived with the children and how she'd experienced a curious sense of returning, even though they'd never been here before.

‘Déjà vu,' Natalie had immediately piped up, which had triggered a noisy and amusing ten minutes as she and Nikki explained the meaning to Harry, who ended up claiming he'd been everywhere in the whole wide world before, but he wouldn't tell them what it was like in any of the places because it was his secret and they had to find out for themselves.

On that occasion they'd come to meet the new man in Lilian's life and his family. It had been August, which would make it a year ago now, four months before the Christmas wedding, which was the second time they'd come.

Their third visit and all its horror would remain branded in her memory for ever, yet as she looked down at the glistening grey slate roof of the grape-picker's cottage and its walls of clamouring flowers, it might almost have been possible to persuade herself it
was a dream, for the tragedy seemed to have changed nothing in its appearance, or in its spirit. It was still as sleepily benign as ever, and as welcoming in its calm and unobtrusive way.

Her eyes swept back out across the valley as she thought of how hard it was going to be to feel the same about the place if she discovered anything violent or sinister attached to Natalie's death. But was she really expecting to? Before she'd arrived she'd certainly been afraid of it, but now she was here she was starting to wonder why she'd felt so concerned, because there had never really been any suggestion of anything remotely untoward, no inconsistent injuries or suspicious evidence. In fact, looking down at the cottage now, it was almost impossible to imagine anything ominous or even curious happening there at all. So maybe, she thought with a lift of hope in her heart, she was going to find out that her instincts were wrong and everyone else was right.

Pressing her foot gently on the accelerator she let the car roll forward, then caught it with the brake as it picked up speed on the sharp descent. Seeing Lilian come out of the grape-picker's cottage she waved and quickened her speed, and as she turned onto the dry patch of land next to the cottage Lilian pulled open the car door to gather her into a loving embrace.

‘You made it,' Lilian declared, her voice muffled by Jessica's shoulder. ‘I'm so pleased to see you,' and after squeezing even harder she stood back to get a good look at Jessica's face. ‘Are you OK?' she asked. ‘It's such a long journey, you must be exhausted.'

Feeling only the pleasure of seeing Lilian, Jessica slid from the 4×4 and hugged her again. ‘I'm fine,' she assured her. ‘A bit spacey, maybe, but nothing a good
leg stretch and glass of chilled Macon-Valennes won't sort out.'

‘The leg bit I'll leave to you,' Lilian chuckled, linking her arm as they walked round to the back of the car, ‘the wine is over to me – but first, there's someone else here to greet you.'

Expecting it to be Luc, or Fernand, Jessica's eyes widened with surprise when Daniella, Luc's sister, came out of the cottage and crossed the stone patio towards them.

‘Sorry, I was up in the attic,' Daniella said, appearing every bit as pleased to see Jessica as Jessica was to see her. ‘
Ça me plâit très bien à vous voir
,' she said, kissing both Jessica's cheeks. ‘We are all very happy you are here. My father is planning a very special dinner in your honour tonight, so I hope you are hungry.'