A French Affair (32 page)

‘Mr Moore? It's Rufus Keane here. I got your message, but I can't help you, I'm afraid. As far as I'm aware Veronica's still on Capri.'

‘When did you last speak to her?' Charlie asked.

‘It must have been three or four days ago.'

‘And she didn't say she was going off anywhere else, or intending to come back to England?'

‘No, but she and Maurice could have gone sailing. May I ask if there's a problem? Perhaps it's something I can help with.'

‘Thank you, but no,' Charlie responded. ‘My wife is keen to get hold of her, and we're probably overly anxious after learning about Veronica's collapse.'

‘Understandable. But if anything like that had happened again, I'm sure Maurice would have let one of us know.'

‘Of course,' Charlie said, relieved to have his own thoughts confirmed. ‘But if you do hear anything . . .'

‘I'll get in touch right away,' Keane assured him.

After ringing off Charlie tried the number in Capri again, but there was still no reply, and feeling irrationally furious with both Veronica and Jessica he slammed the phone down and went off to tackle Nikki about the appalling mess she'd left in the kitchen last night.

Jessica was laughing so hard it hurt. The absurd thing was, she couldn't even remember what had started her off now, apart from the hilarious dance Luc had performed a few minutes ago whilst trying to prevent a stack of empty boxes from falling. Ever since, his struggle to keep a straight face, added to his efforts to be serious again, were only making matters worse.

‘If you remember anything of this tour of the
cave
,' he told her, trying to sound stern, ‘I think it will be my excellent juggling, rather than the way we make wine.'

Though she tried to answer, the word juggling set her off again, and as she bent double, holding herself about the waist, he put his hands on his hips and tapped his foot waiting for her to finish.

‘I'm sorry,' she gasped, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘It's just . . . Oh God, don't look at me like that.'

‘Like what?' he cried, throwing out his hands, though his eyes were brimful of laughter.

‘
That!
'

His head fell back in despair, then a menacing gleam came into his eye as he began advancing on her.

With a shriek she took off along the row of vats, looked around quickly for somewhere to hide, then slipped into a shadowy niche just outside a storeroom. As he came into view she gurgled with laughter again,
and was just about to run off in another direction when his mobile started to ring.

Though clearly exasperated, he took it from his shirt pocket and clicked on. ‘
Ah oui
,
François
,' he answered.
‘Si, je t'entends, mais très mal, je sors avec le téléphone,
' and shooting a look at Jessica that told her he hadn't finished with her yet, he started back through the
cave
towards the daylight.

As he went Jessica stood watching him, still smiling all over her face and breathless from so much hilarity. She couldn't remember when she'd last laughed like this, though guessed it would have been with one of the children. It would very probably have been with Natalie, since she'd had a genuine gift for making her mother laugh. Thinking of how much her daughter would have enjoyed this larking about with Luc sobered her a little, but she continued to smile, because right now she felt so happy that her heart simply wasn't ready to let it go.

Luc had been waiting when she and Daniella had returned from the market, pacing up and down outside the
cave
, looking at his watch and reminding her that they had made a rendezvous for ten thirty to begin her first lesson in wine-making.

‘
Mais non!
' she'd cried, astounded that she could have forgotten.

‘OK,
non
,' he'd agreed. ‘It was in my head, but I think I might not have remembered to tell you.'

Grinning, Daniella had waltzed off into the house at that point, taking the groceries with her, while Luc whisked Jessica into the
cave
, informing her as they went that new pupils who were late usually had to pay a forfeit and he'd let her know later if there was one.

Finding him in such a playful mood had been
exactly what Jessica had needed to lift her spirits after her call to Charlie. Now, enjoying the cool mustiness of the
cave
, she wandered idly around the giant vats – or
fûts
as they were called here in Burgundy – wondering if naked men really did climb in to trample and hack at the
chapeau
– the debris of skins and pips – or if it was something Luc had made up to tease her. Actually, she'd heard that it did still happen, so she was at least half-willing to believe him, and now what she wanted to know was whether he was one of the naked men. The idea of him sloshing about in the wine with not a stitch on started her laughing again, though it was an image she didn't allow to linger for fear of it taking her off in a wrong direction.

As she walked on past giant pyramids of empty bottles and a row of settling tanks she could hear him talking in the distance, so eventually she turned round to wander back towards the mouth of the
cave.
He was standing beside the tasting counter, noting down whatever the person at the other end was telling him.

‘
Oui, j'ai l'information
,' he said to the caller, looking up as she approached, ‘
dès que tu as une date fais moi signé. D'accord. À bientôt
.' As he rang off he continued to look at her, thenas she started to turn away he said, ‘I wish I had my camera now. With the light coming in on you like this, you could be Meditrina herself.'

Her eyebrows lifted. ‘The Roman goddess of wine?'

He nodded.

She started to smile, flattered even though she knew he was teasing her, then becoming aware of the misty shafts of sunlight she was standing in, she stepped aside. ‘Have we reached the tasting bit now?' she asked, looking at the bottles lined up on the counter.

‘I would think so,' he replied. ‘Red or white?'

‘Red.'

As he picked up an unlabelled bottle and uncorked it she watched how deftly his hands moved, and thought how their masculine elegance was so true of an artist. Then she looked at his face. His eyes were lowered, showing her the fullness of his lashes, and heavy lines of his brows. The whiteness of his shirt made his skin seem darker, and because it was open almost to the waist she could see the coarse hair on his chest.

He passed her a glass, and began to explain the process of tasting, first holding his glass to the light to check the wine's transparency, then assessing the surface for the liquid's brilliance.

‘At the side of the glass,' he told her, his voice sounding low and deliberate, ‘you will see the robe. In a young wine, it is purple.'

She listened and learned that inhaling the fragrance was called the
premier nez
, and should be done without unsettling the wine. Then she swivelled her glass to allow the elements to evaporate into the air. Now the scent was stronger. She looked for the
jambes
around the bowl of the glass, understanding that the more traces she found the more alcohol there was. Then finally she was allowed to take the wine into her mouth.

As the flavours began to unfold across her tongue, liquorice, cherries, a hint of wood, she was watching him as he watched her, then without thinking about what she was doing she swallowed the wine. Instead of smiling as she'd expected him to, his eyes remained on hers, and for one strange moment it was as though she could feel him touching her . . . She understood that it was the potency of the wine moving through her, but
then it seemed more than that, as though there was a will, a wish for it to be real, and feeling a heat come into her cheeks, she lowered her head.

The next moment Jean-Marc was in the
cave
and the strangeness had passed almost as though it hadn't occurred, for they were soon laughing at her descriptions of taste, and how overly eager she was to try again.

‘After lunch,' Luc said, when they finally walked back to the house, ‘will you be free to sit for me? I will only ask you to pose for an hour, so that will leave you some time for your own work.'

‘I'd love to,' she responded, then as Fernand came out to greet them her smile became one of genuine affection.

‘Ah,
chérie
,' he said, taking both her hands as he embraced her. ‘I hear you are becoming an expert on wine.'

Jessica laughed. ‘Not even close,' she assured him, ‘but I have a good teacher so there's hope for me yet.'

‘Pah,' he replied dismissively, ‘he knows only what I have taught him, but I have to admit that probably makes him good.'

As Jessica laughed, he put an arm around her and steered her into the kitchen, where she was assailed by the delicious aroma of grilling goat's cheese and garlic.

‘I had a call from François,' Luc said, going to wash his hands, ‘he tells me we're supplying some of the white wine for the
vignerons'
ball.'

‘Ah yes, I forgot to mention this,' Fernand responded, slapping a hand to his forehead. ‘But it is OK,
non
?'

‘
Mais bien sûr.
'

‘I believe Lilian has offered to be on the committee to
organise the ball,' Fernand continued, as he shuffled to the stove to check the cheese. ‘Have you spoken to her today? She called very early while you were in the studio.'

‘Yes, she caught up with me there,' Luc replied, reaching for a towel.

‘How is she?' Jessica wanted to know. ‘I tried calling her myself first thing, but had to leave a message.'

‘She was being very mysterious when I spoke to her,' Luc answered. ‘She tells me she has something big in the offing, but will not say what it is until she knows for certain.'

‘Just as long as you remember to be suitably impressed,' Jessica advised him. ‘Except when is she ever not impressive? She's so good at what she does, it's no wonder they're promoting her.'

‘There is no-one who admires my daughter-in-law more than I,' Fernand told her, ‘but at the moment the tomatoes are here and she is not. So please will you slice them and put them onto this plate.'

Obediently Jessica took the knife he was offering, saying, ‘Tell me more about the
vignerons'
ball. When is it, and what happens?'

‘It is after the harvest,
naturellement,
' Fernand replied. ‘And because we never know for certain when that will be, we hold it at the beginning of November.
Au fait,
I think it is an event you and Charlie would enjoy. The children too, of course.'

Smiling, Jessica said, ‘We'd love to, if it fits in with the school holidays, and Charlie's able to get the time off.'

‘What's this?' Luc demanded, holding up an open bottle of red wine that was one of four resting on the dresser.

Addressing himself to Jessica, Fernand said, ‘This is one of our Vougeot
premier crus
. It must be opened six hours before drinking in order for the flavours to take the air, and two hours before we drink it, it is to be put into a decanter. So,' he continued, turning to Luc, ‘it is for dinner this evening.'

‘Four bottles?' Luc exclaimed, laughing.

‘Because Jules and Babette are joining us,' Fernand explained. ‘They are friends of Daniella and Claude who are on their way to the French Riviera,' he told Jessica, ‘so they are staying overnight at the château. Daniella and Claude are bringing the children too. I hope you will join us,
chérie.
'

‘Oh, no, really,' Jessica protested. ‘You've already been too kind . . .'

‘
Mais non
. It is not kind to feed your family, it is normal, and this is how we think of you now.
C'est vrai
, Luc?'

Seeing the laughter in Luc's eyes, Jessica found herself responding with a warning look, but when he reached round her to help himself to a slice of tomato, she was careful to step clear and then refused the half he offered to her.

‘
Voilà
, I believe our lunch is now ready,' Fernand declared, carrying the crusty white
crotins
from the grill to the table. ‘You have made an excellent selection at the market,
chérie
. This cheese will make a very happy companion to our
crémant
. You have drunk a
crémant de Bourgogne
before?'

‘No, never,' she replied. ‘What is it?'

‘It is our pink champagne,' he replied, with a prideful twinkle. ‘We make it with the
pinot noir
to the
méthode champanoise
. It is very fresh and delicious on a day that is so hot like this. It is in the cooler, Luc, and
over there,
chérie,
you will find fresh basil – in the pot by the window.'

A few minutes later they were seated under the pergola, the chill, fruity wine sparkling in their glasses, napkins draped across their laps and the succulent cheeses oozing over beds of crisp green radicchio and sweet red tomatoes. As they ate Fernand took much delight in describing the menu he was planning for the evening, having decided to centre it around a
lapin forestière
. Jessica was astonished to hear how much preparation was involved and tried to offer some help, but Fernand was adamant about working alone in the kitchen.

After a while she noticed how quiet Luc had become. In fact he hardly seemed aware of anything that was being said. She kept glancing at him, trying to get a sense of what might be distracting him, but his eyes were focused away from her, to a place only he could see.

‘Do not be offended,' Fernand told her, clearly registering her concern, ‘he must be planning to spend time in his studio, because always he goes inside his head before he starts with the sculpture.'