A French Affair (27 page)

‘If she was lying about that, then she could be lying about anything.'

‘Jessica, for heaven's sake . . .'

Realising how close she was to losing her temper she said, abruptly, ‘All right, let's drop it.'

There was a moment's difficult silence before he said, ‘Have you spoken to Luc yet?'

‘No. I haven't even seen him.'

‘But he's back?'

‘Yes, I told you yesterday.'

‘And there was me thinking you could hardly wait to rush up there to ask him about this lunch your mother was planning at the café on a rainy day.'

Wishing now that she'd stuck to her decision not to mention it, she said, ‘Why do you have to be so scathing? In anyone else's book it's a harmless question . . .'

‘And it was a harmless intention.'

After a pause she said, ‘Tell me, am I missing something here, because every time this comes up you behave as though I'm attacking you.'

‘Now you're being absurd,' he retorted. ‘I get
annoyed
, because you seem hell-bent on reading something sinister into just about everything that happened that day, when what you should really be doing is trying to let it go so we can move on with our lives. Better still, you should be here with me, so we can work through the trust issues you're having.'

Jessica's eyes moved to the door as she heard the
sound of a car approaching. ‘Would it make you feel any better if I told you I do trust you now?' she said, waving as Luc and Fernand drove past. She knew they were on their way to Daniella's, but she'd declined to join them since she'd been there the night before and didn't want to seem to take advantage of their hospitality.

Charlie was saying, ‘Actually yes, it would, if you meant it, but it's hardly the impression you're giving.'

‘Well, I'm trying,' she informed him, ‘and I think it's helping to be away from London. In fact it would do you a lot of good to get away and relax for a while too.'

‘You sound more on edge than relaxed to me,' he told her bluntly.

‘Because we're talking about my mother. The rest of the time I'm totally chilled.'

He laughed at her use of Nikki's language, and as it seemed to diffuse the hostility she said, ‘So, how about coming to join me?'

‘Darling, please don't let's go there, or we'll end up falling out again.'

‘But you need a holiday . . .'

‘Not now, Jessica. I'm tired, it's been a long day . . .'

Sighing she said, ‘OK, then what are you doing this evening?'

There was a moment's hesitation before he said, ‘If I told you Melissa's invited me for dinner, would you hang up on me?'

Though she detested the very idea of Charlie going to Melissa's, she said, ‘It depends whether or not Paul's going to be there.'

‘He is – and the rest of the gang.'

‘You know, I've always hated being thought of as part of a gang.'

‘Oh, for Christ's sake, nothing I say is ever right,' he responded irritably. ‘It's just a word.'

‘Of course. I'm sorry. Give everyone my love,' she added, attempting to be friendly.

‘I'm sure they'll send theirs too.'

‘Just as long as I have yours, that's all that counts.'

‘You know you do.'

‘Even when you're annoyed with me?'

‘Even then,' he said, and the smile in his voice made her smile too.

After assuring him she loved him just as much, she rang off and wandered back outside to watch the crimson glow of the sunset spreading like treacle over the vines. It was so exquisite and restful that once again she felt lines from Lamartine and Baudelaire gathering inside her, as though to soothe away her angst and bring her back into the beauty around her.

After a while she found herself thinking about her mother again, and the curious events of that fateful morning. She wished now that she'd asked Charlie for the number in Italy so she could challenge her mother herself, though she doubted he'd have given it, since he of all people knew how quickly any contact with Veronica could turn into a disaster. It didn't matter though, she'd speak to her sooner or later, while for the time being she'd continue along the path she was on, by talking to the officials who'd been involved that day, and of course to Luc.

When darkness finally began to fall she went back inside and settled down to indulge in a few chapters of
Suite Française.
It was the most entrancing escape she could think of, and if she were able to write anywhere near as beautifully she'd have no concerns at all for her own book. However, since she was never going to get
near such a talent, she was happy simply to draw inspiration from Irène Némirovsky's wonderfully lyrical prose.

Much later, after taking a shower, she was gazing at her reflection in the mirror and thinking of how long it had been since she and Charlie had made love. She felt certain he must miss the physical release every bit as much as she did, so maybe she should tell him what an arousing effect the sun and good wine were having on her, because there must surely be a chance it would work the same magic for him. However, as she looked at the dark gleam in her eyes, and the soft light on her newly tanned skin, she could almost hear him telling her that if she thought being in the place Natalie had died was ever going to help him get over anything, she either didn't know him at all – or she was losing her mind.

The following morning, having called first thing and been told to try again at eleven, she was on the line to the
gendarmerie
when she heard footsteps on the patio outside. Turning to see who it was she felt her heart give a quick beat of unease, for a tall male figure was stepping into the doorway and the dazzling sun was making it impossible to distinguish his features. Then, realising it was Luc, she started to smile and beckoned him to come on in.

‘
Madame? Vous êtes toujours là?
' a voice at the other end of the line demanded.

‘
Oui
,' she replied. ‘
Oui, je vous écoute.
'

‘
Vous est il possible de venir demain à onze heures?'
Can you come tomorrow at eleven?

‘Oui, très bien
,' she replied, making a note. ‘
Merci beaucoup. À demain
,' and she ended the call.

As she replaced her mobile on the table she was on the point of going to greet Luc in the traditional French way, when she found herself a little shy of attempting something that seemed rather intimate in such a small space, particularly when no-one else was around. Presumably he felt it too, for he stayed where he was, leaning against the sink with his arms folded as she said, ‘It's good to see you. How was Paris? More to the point, how was Lilian when you left her?'

With a typically droll expression he said, ‘Already halfway to Hong Kong, I'm afraid.' Then continued, ‘She called last night to remind me to bring you a parasol, which I've left outside. I'll put it up before I leave. She also sends her love, and says you should call her mobile if you need to, any time day or night . . .' His head went to one side as he thought. ‘I'm trying to remember if I have any more instructions.'

Laughing, Jessica said, ‘Will a drink help refresh your memory?'

‘I'm sure,' he replied with relief. Then, taking the bottle from her to uncork it, ‘Do you have everything you need here?'

Her eyes were dancing as she said, ‘Everything and more.'

Responding to her humour with an arch of his eyebrows, he filled the two glasses she put down in front of him. After saluting her with his he inhaled the bouquet, swivelled the wine around the bowl of the glass, smelled it again, then taking a sip he savoured the taste and aroma before finally swallowing. ‘So, are you making good progress with your research?' he asked, glancing at the table where her books and notepads were strewn.

‘I think so,' she replied, going to sit down and feeling
pleased when he pulled out a chair too. ‘At some point I'll have to make a trip to Paris, to visit Montmartre, but it's not pressing. There's plenty for me to go through here.'

‘Ah,
Suite Française,
' he remarked, picking up the novel she'd left open on the chair he was about to sit on. Then he added wryly, ‘I think you'll learn a lot about the French character from this, and perhaps not all of it is flattering.'

She laughed. ‘That must mean you've read it.'

‘
Mais bien sûr
. The reviews were excellent, and deservedly so.' He frowned for a moment, then started to quote, ‘“It's as though the rhythm of the words has wings that carry you right into the heart of their beauty and pain, their happiness and horror . . .” I think that is more or less accurate,
non
?'

Jessica was looking at him in amazement. ‘You read my review?' she said.

‘Of course. Lilian is one of your biggest fans, she reads everything you write for the magazines and passes it to me to make sure I do too.'

Jessica rolled her eyes. ‘I'm sorry if it gets tedious.'

‘It doesn't, but I admit in the case of
Suite Française
I was particularly interested to know what you'd written, because it is a book that fascinated me when the manuscript was first discovered here in France. Naturally I read it in the original when it was published, then Lilian gave me your review when the English translation came out, plus a copy of the book.'

‘So you've read it in French and English?'

He nodded. ‘Have you?'

‘No, but I should. Is it a good translation?'

‘Excellent.' He looked down at the copy he was holding. ‘I know it is set at a different time to the belle
époque, but it contains much about France that I imagine you are finding helpful for your story.'

‘I'm finding it inspiring on just about every level,' she confirmed. ‘I'm not sure I've ever read a book that I admire or love more.'

His eyebrows rose. ‘A touching tribute to a woman who died so tragically,' he commented.

She smiled, then looked away as the resonance of his words seemed to touch on the events that had taken place in the very room they were in.

Apparently following her thoughts, he said, ‘Lilian tells me you are hoping to make things a little clearer in your mind while you are here.'

She continued to look down at her glass as she nodded. Then, bringing her eyes to his, she said, ‘I suppose, like everyone else, you think I'm crazy, or at the very least in some kind of denial.'

‘No,' he replied, seeming to wonder why she'd think that.

Surprised, she found herself momentarily lost for a response.

‘You were her mother,' he continued, ‘if you feel that something is not right, then I would not be the one to say you are wrong.'

His words were so unexpected, and so what she'd longed to hear these past months from Charlie or Lilian, that for a moment she felt herself swamped by emotion. ‘But you were here,' she said. ‘You came right after she fell, so if something wasn't right . . .'

‘By the time I arrived the police and paramedics were everywhere, but I don't think you are so much worried about what happened then. It is what happened before that concerns you?'

Her eyes were fixed intently on his as her breath started to become shallow. ‘Do you know if anything did happen?' she asked. ‘I mean, apart from what my mother told us?'

His expression seemed paradoxically harsh and gentle as he said, ‘All I can tell you is what I told Charlie and the
gendarmes
. I didn't see your mother or Natalie at all that morning. The first I knew that anything was wrong was when you called me.'

‘So you didn't offer to drive them to the village for lunch?'

He was taken aback. ‘No. Why? Does your mother say I did?'

‘No. Apparently she told Daniella she was intending to take Natalie there, and I just don't believe she'd have walked in the rain. If I'm right, it can only mean someone was going to take them.' She sighed, then took a sip of her wine. ‘Of course, they didn't go anyway . . .' Her eyes went to his. ‘Did you speak to her at all that morning? Or see anyone here?'

He shook his head. ‘As you must already know, the only unusual thing I saw was the car.'

Jessica's eyes opened wide.

Evidently surprised by her reaction, he said, ‘I see you didn't know about the car?'

‘No, I didn't.' Her heart was starting to pound. Her thoughts were coming too fast. ‘Please tell me,' she said, almost breathlessly.

Clearly concerned about finding himself in a vacuum he hadn't even known existed, he said, ‘I only noticed it because normally the space outside the cottage was empty, but that morning, when I happened to look this way, maybe at about eleven o'clock, or a little after, I saw that someone had parked outside.
I knew your mother hadn't rented a car, so I presumed it was a visitor.'

Jessica rose to her feet, so thrown by this news that she couldn't fully take it in. ‘So whose was it? What happened to it?' she asked.

‘I believe it belonged to a tourist,' he replied. ‘Someone who was lost and stopped to ask for directions.'

‘That's what my mother said? Then she's a liar.' The words had escaped her before she could stop them. Realising he wasn't going to contradict her, she became more agitated than ever. ‘Does Charlie know about this car?' she asked.

Though his eyes met the glittering challenge in hers, it was clear he didn't want to answer.

‘He does, doesn't he?' she said quietly.

Unable to lie, he said, ‘It was mentioned when we were talking to the
gendarmes
, but by then your mother had assured everyone that the car belonged to someone who was lost and had stopped to ask the way, so it was probably not considered to be important.'