A French Affair (55 page)

Jessica was crying too, and put out her hands as though to block the impact of those terrible moments.

‘It was all over so fast,' he finally spluttered. ‘One minute she was on the landing, and the next . . . Oh no, no, no. My baby . . . My girl . . .' he sobbed. ‘And it was all my fault . . .' He tried to push the tears away, but
they were coming too fast, and he was shaking so hard that Jessica grabbed his hands to try to hold him together.

It was some time before he was able to go on, but finally he said, ‘Your mother was the first one down here . . . She came so fast that she fell herself when she reached the bottom.' He dashed his hands into his hair and clenched them tight. ‘It was already too late,' he said, having to squeeze the words out. ‘The way she was lying there . . . We could see . . .'

He took a breath, and then another. It didn't help, he still couldn't control himself.

‘Just keep breathing,' Jessica told him, realising he couldn't get past the image of Natalie at the foot of the stairs. ‘That's it. That's right,' she said, not knowing where her own strength was suddenly coming from.

‘Your mother went to the phone,' he finally managed, ‘but she didn't know the emergency number. She kept shouting for Lilian to tell her and Lilian was trying but your mother was hysterical, so . . . in the end Lilian made the call. I was on the floor with Natalie, holding her, trying to make her wake up, but she . . . Her eyes were . . .'

‘Just tell me what you did,' Jessica broke in, unable to deal with how her baby must have looked.

‘I picked her up . . . I picked her up . . .'

Realising he was starting to lose it again, she squeezed his hands so hard that she could barely take the pain.

‘I took her to the sofa,' he said. ‘She was on my lap and I was holding her . . .'

Finding it too easy to picture them, the big man racked with despair, holding his little broken daughter, Jessica let go of him and buried her face in her hands.

‘Then the phone started to ring and I realised . . . it must be you, trying to find out why she . . . Why she'd called . . . I didn't know how I was going to tell you . . . I was . . . I couldn't . . . I started to panic . . . I didn't know how to tell you.'

Jessica was unable to look at him now, she was too afraid of what was coming next, for she knew it would be this that she was going to find the hardest of all.

‘In all my life I will never understand what happened to me then,' he said. ‘I'll never forgive myself, never. It was as though I lost control. I couldn't think straight. I know I was in shock, we all were, but it doesn't excuse . . . Nothing will ever . . . I was so afraid of what it was going to do to you . . . Losing Natalie and then . . . I couldn't let you find out like that I'd been unfaithful. It was too much . . . Your daughter, your husband, your best friend . . . I don't know if I thought it would be better to lie, or if I was so afraid that I just wanted to run . . . It was as though . . . If I got out of there and went back to Paris, it might turn back the clock. I know that sounds crazy, but it was how it seemed . . . Or what I was telling myself, I don't know. I only know that . . . That . . .'

When he stopped Jessica lifted her head. ‘So you left her there?' she said hoarsely. ‘You got in the car and drove away?'

His face seemed to collapse. ‘Nothing you say or do now can make me feel any worse than I already do,' he told her, choked with pain. ‘If it weren't for Nikki and Harry . . . I've thought so often about ending my life, because I can't bear what I've done . . . I'll never forgive myself. Never.'

Knowing that would almost certainly prove true, Jessica said, ‘And Lilian went with you?'

He nodded. ‘I think she was afraid to let me drive on my own, and she didn't want Luc to find out she was here . . .'

‘So both of you drove away leaving my little girl and my mother . . .' She could still hardly make herself believe it. ‘And when I called Lilian to get Luc's number . . . Where were you?'

‘On our way to Dijon. We thought the time it would take to drive there and back would be about the same as it would have taken me to get here from Paris. So I dropped her at the station, where she waited for the next train . . . Then I . . . I drove back here.'

‘Oh my God, so calculated,' she murmured in horror. ‘You weren't thinking rationally, and yet you managed to work out how long it would take . . .' She closed her eyes, as though that could somehow shut out the madness. ‘And all these months you've kept the lie going,' she said. ‘You've let me doubt myself, and even think I was going crazy, when all the time . . . Oh my God, I feel as though I'm talking about strangers, not the people I love . . . Did you really think you were going to get away with it? Yes, you must have . . . You almost did, because if Harry hadn't found the diary . . .'

‘I was coming here to tell you anyway,' he said. ‘Your mother's already tried . . . She wrote you a letter . . . She left it to me to decide when to give it to you, so I've brought it with me, but I thought I should tell you myself first, and ask you not to blame her. She never wanted to deceive you . . .'

‘She never wanted . . .? Jesus Christ, the whole thing . . . Even down to the tourists losing their way. It was obviously your car Luc saw. So when did you work that out? Was it your idea, or my mother's?'

‘It must have been hers, because we didn't discuss it. I think it did happen though, but the day before, which was what put it into her mind.' His eyes looked pleadingly into hers. ‘Try not to be too hard on her. She really didn't want to lie, and it's made her ill, which is why we've had such a hard time getting hold of her.'

Jessica's expression changed. ‘What do you mean, ill?' she demanded, and feeling a distant panic starting to well up inside her, she said, ‘She's not . . . Oh God, Charlie, please don't tell me . . .'

‘She's OK,' he assured her. ‘She's at home with Maurice now, but she's had a couple of strokes . . . Minor ones . . .'

This was becoming all too much. Her mother had collapsed in Bond Street, had suffered a stroke, very probably because of the stress the lies had put her under, and no-one had ever seen fit to tell her. ‘How long have you known?' she asked. ‘Is this something else you've been keeping from me?'

‘Only since yesterday when I spoke to her on the phone. She wants to see you, but Maurice won't allow it until you know the truth. He's afraid of how much it upsets her.'

She turned away, racked with guilt for the way she'd treated her mother, accusing her of the most terrible crimes, blaming her for everything imaginable, when all the time Veronica's suffering must have been extreme. This was what Charlie's and Lilian's deceit had done, because she understood her mother well enough to know that she always thought everyone knew better than her, particularly men, so she wouldn't have had the confidence to stand up for what she thought was right. Except in the end, she had, because she'd written it all down . . .

‘I want the letter,' she said to Charlie.

‘It's in the car, in my bag.'

‘I want it now.'

While he went to get it she found her mind going round and round, searching out memories, looking for more lies and treachery, which seemed to have worked their way into almost everything now. Then she was remembering Lilian's cryptic remarks the day before about being punished, and deserving what was happening to her. They made sense now, in the light of this horrible truth, and for a moment Jessica almost couldn't bear it, because she'd always trusted Lilian in a way she'd never trusted anyone else in her life. She'd believed so completely in their friendship and what they meant to one another, had never even dreamt she could deceive her that way . . . It was too hard to take, too difficult to understand, because no matter how many excuses Lilian might have made to herself, or how afraid she must have been of what would happen if Jessica ever found out, to have left Natalie the way she had was beyond anything Jessica could ever comprehend.

‘I need to speak to Lilian,' she said to Charlie as he came back. ‘Please call her and ask her to come here. You can tell her why, or I will, it's up to you.'

There was an expression of such helplessness in his eyes that she realised he was barely thinking about anything beyond her, and how he could possibly make this right.

‘When you've done that,' she said, ‘you can call my mother, or Maurice, to let them know we're coming back. We'll leave as soon as I've packed.'

‘You mean today?'

‘Yes, today. I want to see her for myself, to make sure it's not more serious than they're telling us.'

‘And then?' he said, bleakly.

As she looked at him she found herself thinking of Harry who looked so like him, and Nikki who adored him, then of how crushed he was inside, how full of shame and grief and fear, so that in the end all she could say was, ‘I don't know, Charlie. I just don't know.'

‘Charlie,' Lilian cried brightly as his voice came down the line. ‘How lovely. Are you here yet?'

‘I'm at the cottage,' he replied.

His very tone caused the warmth to seep from her smile as she glanced nervously at Fernand, then at Luc. They were still sitting at the table in the pergola following lunch, but even though the meal was over, it was going to seem odd if she stood up and left now, particularly when they knew she was speaking to Charlie. ‘Is everything all right?' she asked, managing to make it sound like a casual question. ‘Good flight?'

‘Jessica wants to see you,' he told her.

Lilian's heart missed a beat, but somehow she kept on smiling. ‘Oh, I'd love to come and see you right away,' she responded, ‘but I promised Daniella I'd help at the château this afternoon. You know about the concert at the weekend, don't you? I hope you and Jessica are coming.'

‘We're driving back to England tonight,' he said. ‘Veronica's unwell.'

‘Oh my goodness,' Lilian murmured, able to lose her smile now. ‘What's wrong with her?' Aware that both Fernand and Luc were looking at her, she put a hand over the receiver to tell them about Veronica.

‘You need to come here,' Charlie said. ‘Jessica's saying that you can use her mother's illness as an
excuse if you like, but if you don't come she'll speak to Luc instead.'

‘Oh gosh, of course I'll be there,' Lilian replied feelingly. She was about to say more when she realised Charlie was speaking to Jessica.

‘She wants you to wait for an hour,' he said, coming back on the line. ‘She wants to read a letter from her mother first.'

Lilian swallowed anxiously. ‘Will you be there?' she asked, forgetting herself for a moment.

‘I don't know,' he replied. ‘I guess that's up to Jessica.'

As she put the phone down Lilian looked at Luc and Fernand, then pressing her palms to her cheeks she said, ‘Poor Veronica.'

‘We must ask Jessica if there's anything we can do,' Fernand said, reaching for his own phone.

‘I'm sure she'll appreciate that,' Lilian responded. ‘But I've said I'll go down there in an hour, so I can ask her then.'

Luc continued to look at her, but his expression was unreadable.

‘Apparently they're driving back to London tonight,' she said, her eyes moving away.

‘Oh, Daniella will be disappointed,' Fernand replied, ‘but I am sure she will understand.'

Lilian got to her feet. ‘I think I'll go over to the office and see about sending Veronica some flowers,' she said. ‘They should arrive by Friday if I order them now.'

As she left she heard Luc saying something to his father, then he got up too, but instead of coming after her, as she'd half-hoped he might, he went into the house and closed the door.

‘Are you all right?' Luc said into Jessica's voicemail. ‘Lilian told me about your mother. She said you're leaving tonight, so I want you to know . . .' He stopped and started again. ‘Please don't go without calling,' and ringing off he kept his phone in his hand as he walked over to the
cave
in the hope of losing himself in some work as he waited to say goodbye.

NEEDING TO BE
alone when she read her mother's letter, Jessica waited until Charlie had gone to find out if Harry wanted to come back with them now, or stay with his friends, then sitting down at the table she took the small bunch of handwritten pages from their crumpled envelope and unfolded them.

As she read she could almost hear her mother's voice, sultry and breezy, deep-throated and occasionally girlish, but mostly there was anguish and pain, and heartfelt regret for the way she'd let her down as a mother, and for the lies that she could no longer keep up.

By the time she'd finished reading her vision was blurred by tears, but at least she knew now that Charlie was holding no more back. However, she'd read it very quickly, so drying her eyes, she went back to the first page and started again . . .