A French Affair (34 page)

‘Ronnie, did you send the letter?' Maurice asked.

Jessica could hear her mother replying, but was unable to make out what she was saying.

‘Apparently I misunderstood,' Maurice told her, coming back on the line. ‘But that doesn't change the fact that your mother can't keep going through this. You know she hasn't been well, so please, for both your sakes, try to accept what she's told you . . .'

‘I wish I could, Maurice,' Jessica cut in, ‘but I only have to stand here in the place my daughter died, to know there's more to it. And I will find out what it is. I swear on her little grave that I will get to the bottom of what really happened here that day.'

After she'd rung off Jessica stood beside the table trembling, as much with shock at what she'd said to her mother, as with anger that it still hadn't got her anywhere. Then feeling a near overwhelming sense of exhaustion and even defeat crawling through her limbs, she took herself upstairs to lie down. She almost wished she hadn't made the call now, but what she'd told Maurice was true. There were times when she did only have to be in this house to know she was right, and it wasn't simply her instincts that were telling her, because it was as though Natalie herself was telling her too. She couldn't confide that to anyone, of course, or she really would be written off as deranged by grief. But whatever anyone else might think, she knew what was happening inside her, and there was no question in her mind that she could sometimes feel a connection to her daughter that seemed almost as real as the pain in her heart.

‘Are you there, Nat?' she whispered brokenly. ‘Are you trying to find me? I'm here, darling. Come and lie down with me.'

Almost as though it were happening, she turned on her side and wrapped an arm around a pillow. ‘They're keeping their secrets from us,' she said, her voice thick with tears, ‘but we have ours too, don't we? We know we're together, and I won't ever really let you go, sweetheart, you know that, don't you? You'll always be my baby and nothing, no lies or secrets or anything else is going to change that. I just have to
know what happened to you, why you were so upset when you rang me, and if there was anything I could have done to save you.'

She must have fallen asleep for a while then, because the next thing she knew the phone was ringing and the sun was in the very early throes of its evening glory. For a moment she simply continued to lie where she was, wishing herself back in Luc's studio where she'd felt happy, or even still in oblivion. Then making herself get up, she ran downstairs to find her mobile, hoping it would be Nikki or Harry, while suspecting it was probably Charlie. However, the readout was saying private number, so she had no idea who it was until she heard Lilian saying, ‘Jessica? It's me. How are you? I'm sorry I haven't called back before now, it's been absolutely manic here.'

‘Don't worry,' Jessica told her, loving just the sound of Lilian's voice, for it was like slipping into a sanctuary after a bruising go-round with her demons. ‘I'm fine. Hot, but fine.'

‘Good. Luc tells me you're considering staying on a while longer. I'm so pleased. It means you'll still be there when I get back.'

‘I was always going to be,' Jessica reminded her.

‘Yes, if I were returning on schedule, but you know the big problem with networking, you will find great contacts and they just have to be followed up.'

In spite of her disappointment Jessica started to smile. ‘So what's happened?' she prompted. ‘Are you about to take over the world?'

Lilian laughed. ‘Not yet, that's on next month's agenda. On this month's it's just a small but rather exclusive saleroom in Mumbai. I've been in
discussions with the owners virtually since I arrived, and now they want me to stop off on my way back to France to have a look round. I've had them in my sights for ages now, so I can't pass up this opportunity, especially with my promotion in the offing.'

‘So when will you be back?'

‘Only two or three days later than planned. Meaning next Friday or Saturday instead of Wednesday, by which time you would have gone. So that's why it's so great that you're staying. I couldn't bear it if I missed you altogether.'

‘No, nor could I,' Jessica responded, wishing Lilian was there right now.

‘And I believe Luc's doing a sculpture of you,' Lilian chattered on. ‘I know he'll do a wonderful job . . . Of course I'm biased, but I guarantee Charlie will be thrilled. It's a lovely idea, let's just hope it's ready in time for his birthday. Tell me, is he any happier about you being there now?'

So Luc had told Lilian the sculpture was for Charlie, and Jessica couldn't help wondering if he'd said it to make the time she spent in his studio appear innocent and above board, when maybe he too was finding it . . . ‘No, not really,' she answered, cutting the thought off. ‘Things are still quite strained between us, but I've asked him to join me here as soon as he can get some time off.'

‘Do you think he will?' Lilian said doubtfully. ‘I know it probably won't be easy at first, but I'm sure once he gets there he'll find it's not as hard as he thought . . . And it'll be wonderful for us all to spend some time together. Will he bring Harry?'

As the call ran on with all the usual back and forth Jessica found herself returning to the conversation
she'd had with her mother, and how guilty she was feeling now for having accused her the way she had. She didn't really think her mother would commit such a terrible crime. She never had thought this, but nor did she have any clear idea what she did think. She only knew that Charlie would never conspire with anyone to protect someone who'd hurt his daughter, so no matter what her suspicions might be concerning men from her mother's past, they had to be wrong.

‘Oh listen to me yawning,' Lilian said eventually. ‘I'm sorry, it's one in the morning here, but before I go, have you managed to talk to the
Médecin Légiste
yet?'

‘Not in person,' Jessica answered, ‘but they've told me I can call back tomorrow.' Thinking of what she might discover turned her cold inside. ‘Lily, if I find out there were any other injuries on her body . . .'

‘You won't,' Lilian said firmly. ‘Remember Charlie's seen the autopsy report. And for heaven's sake, France is a civilised country – they wouldn't cover up anything like that, so you have to stop tormenting yourself.'

‘I know. But I have to be sure. Please try to understand.'

‘I do, just don't lose sight of how hard this is for Charlie, because he probably senses the way your mind's working, even if you never discuss it.'

‘You could be right, and I've already decided to try and ease off him a little now. I just wish he could let go of some of his grief. Not that I blame him for keeping it bottled up, God knows it's hard to face, and he loved her so much so of course he wouldn't want to know if someone had hurt her . . . I don't either, but I owe it to Natalie to find out if someone should be paying for what happened to her, particularly when I feel so strongly that someone should.'

After a moment Lilian said, ‘I'm not going to argue with you. You were her mother so, as Luc says, your feelings should be respected. I just wish you could see it from a more objective point of view . . . No, that's the wrong thing to say. All I want is that you don't go on suffering the way you are.'

‘I won't if I can prove myself wrong, or even right . . . The head of the paramedic team is due back from holiday tomorrow, so hopefully I'll manage to fix a time to see him next week. Then all the official business will be over and done with before Charlie gets here – if I can persuade him to come.'

‘Tell you what, if I get a moment I'll give Charlie a call and add my voice to yours. Or I'll ask Luc to do it. It might help if Charlie feels we all want to see him. Now I really do have to go. I'm exhausted and I have to be up at six. So have a lovely evening, all of you. You're going to adore Claude and Daniella's friends. I just wish I was there with you.'

‘So do I,' Jessica said.

A few minutes later she was standing at the door, gazing out at the exquisite evening light as it spread like liquid honey over the vines, while trying to make some sense of what was happening inside her. She didn't seem able to contain either her thoughts or her feelings in a way she could fully understand, for they were elliptical and strange, alighting on one thing, then, as though burned or afraid, flitting on to another. At first she felt anxious about hurting the people she loved, Charlie, her mother, even Nikki and Harry, then she was uneasy about her suspicions, and the route they were taking. A moment later she was confronting the attraction she felt towards Luc, though she barely stayed with that for a second, because it simply wasn't
real. It was only his kindness that was drawing her to him, and the way he was making her laugh, allowing her to forget for a while. It was hardly surprising that she wanted to spend time with him, rather than be left alone here with the burden of her pain.

Hearing her phone ring twice then fall silent again, she took her cue to go and call Harry back, and to her relief, just a few minutes of listening to his excitement about coming to France was enough to start untying some of the knots inside her. So it seemed Charlie had booked him a flight, which pleased her even more than she'd imagined it would. Then wondering if Charlie was intending to book one for himself, she tried calling him again to find out.

‘I can't make any promises,' he told her, ‘but I am trying to get the time off. It might only be for the last week, but if I can make it any sooner . . .'

‘So you really are considering coming?' she said, hardly able to contain her joy.

‘Since it seems to be the only way I'm going to get to see my wife, yes, I'm considering it.'

‘I wonder if you know how much that means to me,' she said softly. ‘I'm missing you, and I need you to be here.'

‘I'm missing you too,' he said. Then after a pause, ‘I have to go now, but next time we speak, let's try to make it more like this, shall we?'

‘It's a deal,' she responded.

Later she was upstairs getting ready for dinner, when it occurred to her that neither of them had mentioned speaking to her mother. She could only feel glad of it, however, since it would inevitably have changed the tone of the conversation, and right now she was enjoying the reassurance of how much better
just a few tender moments with Charlie could make her feel.

‘Bloody hell!' Jessica seethed, throwing her mobile back on the table in a rage.

‘Ah ha. Something tells me I've chosen a bad time.'

She spun round to see Luc standing in the doorway. ‘Sorry,' she said, starting to laugh in spite of her frustration. ‘It's just that sometimes I wonder how I'm ever going to get anywhere when life itself is squaring up against me . . . But you didn't come here to listen to me complaining. What can I do for you? And please don't tell me I outstayed my welcome last night, because I know I did, and my only excuse is I was having such a good time that I had no idea it was so late until I rolled into bed at two a.m.'

Leaning against the door frame, he said, ‘You were welcome to stay as long as you liked, and I would have been happy to walk you back through the vineyard . . .'

‘But it made much more sense for me to leave with Claude and Daniella,' she jumped in. ‘You were right about their friends, by the way, they were wonderful company.' Then remembering her duties as a hostess, ‘Can I get you a drink? I've just made some tea, which I believe I was about to hurl against the wall, and actually I still might.'

Apparently undaunted, he came into the kitchen, put a large brown envelope on the table and unhooked two small cups from a rack over the window. ‘Please tell me it's not lemon-grass-flavoured,' he said, lifting the lid from the pot.

‘It is.'

Drawing back from the smell, he said, ‘Then maybe I will hurl it against the wall instead.'

‘No, please don't, I feel in need now,' and whisking the pot from his grasp, she said, ‘I can always make coffee for you, if you prefer.'

‘English people don't know how to make coffee, and anyway, I don't have time. I just stopped by to bring this. It arrived for you this morning, but now I'd like to know what was making you swear.'

Remembering the phone call, her spirits started to sink again. ‘Would you believe,' she said, ‘the paramedic I need to speak to has broken his flaming leg in two places, so he's still in the Auvergne and not due back until Monday week at the earliest. I mean, I'm sorry about his leg, obviously – though frankly I want to kick it – but I'm starting to feel as though the fates are conspiring against me, because they'll only let me speak to
him
, since he was in charge that day, and therefore responsible for filling out the report. Grrrr,' she added, in another fit of impatience. ‘And what's more,' she suddenly ranted on, ‘the clerk at the
Médecin Légiste
's office left a message while I was on the line to cancel an appointment I'd only just made for Monday. So now I have to call back to make another.'

Going to the table, he picked up the envelope and handed it to her. ‘This is the reason she cancelled your appointment,' he told her. ‘It's a copy of the autopsy report which came by fax about half an hour ago.'

Jessica blinked, felt her heart turn over, then looked at him in confusion.

‘Monsieur Clavier, the
Médecin Légiste,
is a
Chevalier de Tastevin
,' he said, as though it was explanation enough. And perhaps it was.

‘So you spoke to him on my behalf?'

‘My father did. They are old friends, and you could spend a long time trying to get through the
fonctionnaires
at the Institute. I hope you don't mind that we . . .'