A French Affair (28 page)

Jessica turned sharply away. Important or not, Charlie had known about this car and never told her. Suddenly she turned back again. ‘Does Lilian know?' she asked.

Appearing more uncomfortable than ever, he said, ‘Yes, I believe so.'

Shock hit her heart hard. ‘Then why has she never told me?'

‘Probably for the same reason as Charlie, because she didn't want you to become upset about something that didn't matter.'

Jessica pushed a hand through her hair and tried again to make herself think. She'd had her suspicions
for so long, and now to be told that both Charlie and Lilian were covering up for her mother was disorienting her badly. ‘Do you believe it was a tourist?' she asked abruptly.

‘I have no reason not to.'

She looked at him closely. ‘But you're not convinced?'

Holding her eyes he said, ‘No, not entirely.'

She took a breath, then quite suddenly she realised she felt afraid. ‘I have to call the
Médecin Légiste
in the morning,' she told him, a ragged edge to her voice. ‘And I've arranged to go and see the
gendarmes.
I think . . . I don't know . . .' She put her hands to her head, not sure what she was trying to say. ‘This is changing what I need to ask and I can't . . .'

‘Would you like me to come with you?' he said gently.

Startled, her eyes went to his. ‘I could ask Daniella,' she said, ‘but she has the children . . .'

‘I'll take you,' he interrupted, and as her eyes filled with tears he got up from the table to go outside and put up the parasol, apparently realising she needed a moment to be alone.

He stayed for a long time that afternoon, listening as she talked about Natalie in a way she hadn't felt able to since she'd lost her. There was so much, too much, locked up in her heart, and though she'd never imagined she would unleash it all to him, as the words spilled from her she began to realise that maybe it could only ever have been him. After all, he was the one who'd been here that day, who'd seen Natalie at the end and carried her little body out to the ambulance when it was time to take her away. He'd
even made sure he knew where they were taking her before they left; then he'd had the terrible ordeal of telling a mother her child was dead.

He mentioned nothing of his own role now, he merely listened as she spoke from her heart, never once showing any sign of discomfort, or saying anything to make her feel he would like to go.

She didn't cry then, that happened later, when she was alone, but during that long, hot afternoon she felt as though all the confusion and loneliness inside her was at last finding some small sense of relief.

‘It's as though parts of me have been shut up in darkness since she died,' she told him, as she finally began to run out of words, ‘and now you're allowing them to come into the light.'

His only answer was to look at her in a way that she couldn't quite fathom at first, until a kind of lambency came into his eyes that made her start to smile. This tragedy had forged a connection between them that needed no words, she realised, it was simply there, as gentle as the air and intangible as the understanding that was lifting her heart.

He got up to go and rinse their glasses, then refilled them from a fresh bottle of Macon-Valennes, and once again she watched the way he drank, appearing to savour every nuance of the flavour and perhaps each delicate part of the aroma before finally allowing himself to swallow.

‘Tell me what you're doing,' she said.

He seemed confused.

Realising that to drink that way was second nature to him, she said, ‘I'd like to know about the wine, what you're looking for when you're tasting, how it feels in your mouth.'

He stared down at his glass, then apparently understanding her need to talk about something else for a while, he brought his eyes back to hers and began to explain, as though it were the most natural thing in the world for her to want to know about wine, and for him to be telling her. ‘With a white wine like this,' he said, ‘I am checking for its acidity, because this is important to its freshness. What we have here is a
vin de table,
so the quality is not going to be the same as for the
premiers ou grands crus.
Nevertheless, we must establish the fruits or flowers of the taste, whether there is a residue of oak from the barrels . . . Maybe it will be easier to explain if we do a tasting at the
caves
, sometime.'

She was just saying she'd love to when they heard a car door slam outside and seconds later an enormous dog skidded into the kitchen, all glossy black fur and fat pink tongue, and launched itself straight into Luc's lap.

‘Ah Rousseau,' he laughed, ruffling the dog playfully. ‘
Je pensais que tu nous avais quittés pour de bon.'
I thought you'd left home for good.

Jessica laughed as the dog insisted on giving Luc's face a thorough licking before rearranging its large, sleek body to plant two huge paws on his master's shoulders, as though preventing him from seeing anyone but his adoring beast.

‘
Tonton
Luc.
Tonton
Luc.
Tu es là
,' Elodie cried as she and Antoine raced in after the dog.
‘Maman
,
Tonton Luc est ici avec Jessica
.'

‘So he is,' Daniella responded dryly as she came in with Hugo. Then she rolled her eyes as the twins circled a big embrace around both Luc and the dog. ‘I hope we are not interrupting,' she said to Jessica, putting Hugo down so he could join in the hug.

‘Not at all,' Jessica assured her, going for another glass. ‘Luc was just telling me how to taste wine.' She laughed as Rousseau, having suddenly realised there was someone new to greet, whizzed round in front of her and sat very upright, tongue hanging out, tail wagging as he waited to be spoiled.

‘You are too adorable for words,' she told him, catching his mischievous face between her hands and stooping to kiss him. ‘I'm not sure if you remember me, but Harry hasn't forgotten you.'

‘
Maman, pouvons nous avoir une boisson?
' Antoine cried, as Luc kissed his sister on both cheeks, then took over the pouring of her wine.

‘You must ask Jessica,' she responded.

His big brown eyes turned to Jessica. ‘
Pouvons nous
 . . .'

‘In English,' Daniella interrupted.

Antoine looked anxiously at Elodie, who promptly drew him into a huddle so they could work out the translation. Not to be left out, Rousseau pushed his nose between them and began thumping a chair with his tail.

‘I am bringing the twins for their next sitting,' Daniella reminded Luc, as he passed her a drink. ‘And then I think we stay for dinner, because Claude is out for the evening. I hope you will join us, Jessica, I have bring plenty of food.'

Jessica was about to respond when Luc said, ‘
Brought
plenty of food – and of course she will join us.'

Jessica's eyes were shining as she looked at him, then Antoine cried, ‘Jessica! Please can we 'ave a drunk?'

As the adults started to laugh his expression turned to one of confusion, then clearly offended he punched his sister who was laughing too, though it was
doubtful she knew why. ‘
Tu m'a dis de dire ça!
' he protested.

‘
C'est toi, pas moi!
' she shouted, thumping him back.

Before it could go any further, Luc caught them both by the arms and pulled them apart. ‘I think it is better if I give you a
drink
at the studio,' he said, emphasising the word so Antoine would understand his mistake.

‘
Est-ce que l'on peut faire la course jusqu'à la maison?
' Elodie cried, jumping up and down. Can we have a race up to the house?

‘A race? In this heat?' Luc objected.

‘
Mais il fait moins chaud maintenant.
' But it's not as hot now.

‘Maman, puis-je y aller aussi?'
Hugo asked. ‘
Je veux faire la course, moi aussi.
' Mummy, can I go too? I want to be in the race.

‘You want to be in the race?' Daniella laughed. ‘
Non, chéri, tu es trop petit.
'

Hugo looked devastated. ‘
Mais ce n'est pas juste
,' he protested. ‘
Je veux faire la course avec Tonton Luc
.' But it's not fair. I want to be in the race with Uncle Luc.

‘And so you shall,' Luc declared, scooping him up – and plonking him in Daniella's arms he turned round so she could put his chubby little nephew on his back. ‘And what is more, Hugo, we shall win,' he informed him.

At that Elodie and Antoine erupted in protest and made for the door, hotly pursued by Rousseau.

Luc turned back to Jessica. ‘Come for dinner,' he said, and a moment later he was going after the twins.

Amazed at how he could find the energy in so much heat, Jessica went to watch them charging through the vines in a race that appeared as full of cheating as it did shouting, thumping and stumbling about in the dirt.
When finally she turned back inside, still laughing at what was developing into a very noisy dispute over who'd actually won, Daniella was perched on the edge of the table sipping her wine.

‘Please tell me if you'd rather carry on working,' she said. ‘I can always leave you in peace.'

‘Oh, no, really, I'm enjoying having some company,' Jessica assured her. ‘Would you like to sit outside? You might have noticed I have a parasol now.'

A few minutes later they were half-sitting, half-sprawling each side of an old wrought-iron table, with a large cream-coloured parasol shading them from the glare of the early evening sun. ‘I think,' Daniella said with a smile, ‘that you are beginning to feel quite at home here,
non
?'

‘Very much,' Jessica agreed. ‘Thanks to you and Fernand, and now Luc. Lilian's very lucky to have found herself such a lovely family. I always hoped she would, though I can't help wishing sometimes that she wasn't so far away.'

It was a while before Daniella spoke again, and when she did she seemed almost to be in tune with Jessica's thoughts as she said, ‘I hope you don't mind, but Lilian told me that part of the reason you come here is because you are having some difficulties with Charlie.'

Jessica looked down at her glass, aware of how those difficulties had increased now that she knew about the car. ‘No, I don't mind,' she answered. With a sigh she gazed out across the valley, to where the woods were turning into a fiery cluster on the horizon. ‘Things haven't been right between us since Natalie died,' she said. ‘At first it seemed to bring us even closer together, but then for some reason it started to change . . . I'm not
sure if it was him or me . . . It was probably both of us . . . Did Lilian tell you about the other woman?'

Daniella nodded. ‘But it was a long time ago,
non
?'

‘Apparently. It still means he lied though, and now I've just found out he's been holding something else back from me.'

Daniella frowned.

‘Luc told me there was a car here that morning.' Her eyes stayed on Daniella's. ‘Did you know?' she asked.

Daniella seemed uncertain. ‘Do you mean the one who belonged to someone who was lost?' she said.

Jessica nodded. ‘Apparently that's the story my mother gave, but I don't believe it.'

‘So who do you think it was?'

‘I've no idea, but I have every intention of finding out.'

‘Jessica, if you just listen to yourself you'll understand exactly why I didn't tell you,' Charlie cried when she challenged him later. ‘I knew you'd read more into it, and end up in the very state you're in now.'

‘If I'm in a state it's because you lied . . .'

‘I didn't lie, I simply judged it better not to tell you something that meant nothing . . .'

‘It amounts to the same thing, and you know it.'

‘No, I don't. You've been twisting yourself up in knots ever since Natalie died, refusing to believe anything anyone tells you . . .'

‘I'm not discussing it with you any more,' she said savagely. ‘I want my mother's number.'

‘You can't call her while you're in this kind of mood.'

‘Give me the number, Charlie.'

‘Jessica, you've got to stop this. I'll give it to you when you've calmed down . . .'

‘Charlie! I don't want to argue about this . . .'

‘I don't have it right now. I'm still at the office and it's at home.'

Since there was no arguing with that, except to accuse him of lying again, she forced herself to stop pacing and let her head fall forward. A moment or two later, managing to sound slightly less angry, she said, ‘So you believe the car belonged to someone who was lost?'

Sounding incredulous he said, ‘Why wouldn't I? It's happening all the time around there. It even happened to us, last Christmas. You must remember when someone knocked on the door . . .'

‘Of course I remember, but doesn't it strike you as a bit too much of a coincidence that some tourist should bowl up in his car on the very morning my mother was planning to take Natalie into the village for lunch?'

‘I hardly know what to say to that,' he responded. ‘Whether or not you think it's stretching belief, it happened. You said yourself, Luc saw the car.'

‘But not who was in it, so we only have my mother's word it was a tourist. My mother, Charlie! Someone who's never been reliable in her entire life, and who now, very conveniently, has to be protected from any kind of stress so we can't ask her any more questions. Surely to God you can see I might have a point.'

‘If I thought so I'd pursue it myself,' he told her earnestly. ‘But all you're doing is proving to me what I feared all along, that going back there is adding to your confusion and not helping at all.'