A French Affair (7 page)

‘Keane.'

‘. . . that I can only repeat what my husband's just told you, I've no idea where my mother is – and at the risk of sounding rude, if you are as close a friend of hers as you say you are . . .'

‘Actually, I didn't . . .'

‘. . . then you'd know how unlikely it is that I would.'

‘I'm aware of the difficulties between you,' he said, still sounding perfectly polite in spite of her tartness, ‘but it's not like her to take off without . . .'

‘Once again,' Jessica cut in, ‘if you know her at all, then you'll be aware that she has a long history of taking off without telling anyone where she's going, or how long she'll be, so rest assured she'll turn up sooner or later, bad pennies always do. Now I'm sorry if she's run out on you . . .'

‘Mrs Moore, I should tell you that I'm not one of your mother's more intimate friends, as you seem to be thinking. My wife and I live next door to her, here in Oxfordshire. We generally check her mail and keep an eye on things when she's away, and it's usual for her to give us a number where we can contact her, should we need to. We're worried because she left here ten days ago saying she'd be gone a day or two, and we haven't heard from her since.'

Feeling suitably abashed at having presumed he was one of her mother's conquests, Jessica adopted a much gentler tone as she said, ‘I see, but I'm afraid I still can't help you. I have no idea where she might have been going.'

‘Well, that's just it – she left us a note saying she was going to London for her usual check-ups and things, and that she was hoping to see you while she was there.'

Jessica turned to look at Charlie. ‘Even if she intended to come here,' she said, ‘we still haven't seen her.'

‘Then I don't understand what could have happened to her. Please don't think I'm objecting to taking care of the house, it's simply that we started to worry when we realised how long it had been since she'd been in
touch. Oh, excuse me, they're announcing my flight, I'll have to go. I should be in Rome by midday – if it's all right with you, I'll ring again once I've checked into my hotel to see if you can give me some other names and numbers to call.'

‘By all means,' she replied, ‘but I can tell you now that I know virtually no-one in my mother's social circle, so I doubt I can be of any help.'

After putting the phone down she turned to find the children staring at her expectantly, while Charlie was behind the paper again.

‘Well?' Nikki prompted.

She pulled a face, and going back to making Harry's packed lunch she gave them a quick precis of what had been said.

When she'd finished Nikki said, ‘So aren't you worried?'

Jessica shrugged. ‘Why should I be? You know very well what she's like. She probably met someone on the train and got herself whisked off to Rio de Janeiro or Timbuktu or some tumbledown pile in Totnes.'

‘But aren't you at least interested to know what she was coming to see you about?' Nikki pressed.

Though Jessica was, she ignored the question, for they all knew, without her having to tell them, that there was only one thing about her mother that interested her now.

Nikki looked at her father as he said, ‘Maybe we should tell this guy to try getting hold of Maurice. If anyone's likely to know where she is . . .'

‘Do you have a number for him?' Jessica interrupted tersely. ‘No, nor do I.'

Nikki said, ‘Are you sure she didn't come here?'

‘If she did, we must have been out,' Jessica replied.

Nikki's eyes turned playful. ‘Wow, you haven't offed her, have you?' she asked.

Jessica threw her a distinctly unamused look.

‘What? It was just a joke,' Nikki responded sulkily.

‘Which wasn't even close to funny,' Jessica informed her. ‘Now unless you two want to be late, I suggest you get going. And yes, you can wear my pink lacy top, seeing as you already have it on, but it had better come back in the same pristine condition it's in now, or you're buying me a new one – and just so's you know, it cost a hundred and fifty pounds.'

At that Charlie's head came up. ‘That little scrap of a thing cost a hundred . . .' Seeing Jessica's face he bit back the words. After all it was her money, not his – and when had he ever refused her anything anyway? But really . . . It was no bigger than a couple of ten-pound notes with a couple of sparkly chains and some floaty sort of gauze stuff holding it all together. Well, if nothing else, Nikki was going to go down a treat at the studios today, which, now he came to think about it, was very probably the intention.

‘So,' Nikki said, busy pressing a text into her phone as she and Charlie inched through the morning jam on Holland Park Avenue, ‘what did you make of all that?'

‘You mean about Grandma?' he replied. ‘I'm not sure. What did you make of it?'

Nikki shrugged. ‘She definitely didn't seem too bothered about it, did she?'

‘Well, you know how she feels where her mother's concerned.'

‘But if this bloke Keane's worried, maybe as family we should be too.'

‘Perhaps,' Charlie conceded, ‘but I guess it has to be her call.'

Nikki no longer seemed to be listening as she started another text, so letting the subject drop Charlie turned on Radio 4, only to have it changed seconds later to some pop station.

‘You might have asked,' he commented.

Nikki looked at him blankly.

He rolled his eyes. ‘So, do you think there's any chance you might go back to your natural colour some time soon?' he enquired, turning into Campden Hill Road.

‘Oh don't start again,' Nikki grumbled. ‘I like it like this. Everyone says it really suits me.'

‘Then they're wrong, but what do I know, I'm just your father who happens to prefer blondes.'

‘Really?' she responded mildly.

He glanced at her in surprise, but her head was down as she read an incoming text so he was unable to see her face. Thinking better of asking her what she was implying, he hooked on his earpiece to answer his phone.

By the time he ended the call another was coming in, followed by another, then another, until they were almost at the studios, and his mind was full of the day ahead.

‘So are you enjoying your job?' he asked, as he steered the Jaguar into the underground car park.

‘Yeah, it's cool. Everyone's really nice. Elsa's letting me do some research on inner-city housing today for some features they've got coming up.'

Charlie was impressed. ‘Well, I'm glad they're making good use of you,' he commented. After pulling into his reserved space he said, ‘I hope you're not
taking too much notice of any gossip you might be hearing.'

Nikki shrugged. ‘What, you mean like about Mum and the job?'

‘Well, yes,' he answered, though it wasn't actually where his mind had been. ‘How did you hear about that?'

‘Someone was talking in the canteen. I don't think they realised I was there, or maybe they didn't know I was your daughter . . .'

‘Who was it?'

‘I only know one of them – Frances, Melissa's PA. Oh my God, there's Freddy,' she gasped, and immediately sank down in her seat.

Charlie rolled his eyes. ‘You're not going to make much progress if you start hiding from him like that,' he told her, pushing open his door.

‘I don't want to see him while you're there, not after you took his photo. Are you sure you didn't tell him it was for me?'

Charlie grimaced. ‘Well, I suppose I might have mentioned . . .'

‘Oh Dad, no!' she cried, ready to be mortified. ‘You did, didn't you?'

‘It'll be fine,' he told her. ‘Now come on, I'm due in a meeting at eight thirty and it's already twenty-five past.'

‘I am like so mad with you,' she said furiously, as she loaded her phone, make-up and magazines back into her bag. ‘Everyone's going to know. They'll all be talking and laughing . . .'

‘They won't,' he said irritably. ‘Besides, you shouldn't listen to gossip.'

‘Oh, like, when it's about me I'm not supposed to mind? Get a life, Dad.'

‘When it's about anyone,' he retorted, slamming his door closed and starting towards the lift. ‘People often make things up, you should know that by now,' he said as she joined him.

‘So are they making things up about you? Is that what you're worried about?'

He turned to her sharply. ‘Are they?' he demanded.

‘Depends what you think they're saying.'

Though his expression showed he'd like to take that further, as they were joined by one of the subs at that moment he had to let the subject go.

A few minutes later, having parted from Nikki outside the Ladies in reception so she could finish preparing to dazzle Freddy, Charlie diverted from his usual route straight to the newsroom to his personal suite on the first floor. It was luxuriously fitted out with expensive fawn leather sofas either side of a glass coffee table, a large desk in front of a picture window that was protected by vertical blinds, a 55-inch plasma screen across one wall invisibly connected to a small bank of technology in the sideboard below; a fully stocked bar, a spacious corner wardrobe and an adjoining kitchen and shower room at the far end.

After closing the door behind him he took out his mobile, pressed in Melissa's number, then hit the remote to tune into the studio's current output.

Melissa answered on the fourth ring. ‘Good morning, Charlie,' she drawled in her soft Scottish accent.

‘Good morning,' he responded, almost curtly. ‘Where are you?'

‘At home. I'm not due in until three. Is there a problem?'

‘Yes and no. Nikki found out, apparently from
overhearing Frances gossiping, that you're not giving Jessica a job.'

‘Oh dear,' Melissa commented, sounding suitably bothered. ‘Well, that's Frances's employment at an end. Now, what to do about Jessica. Has Nikki told her?'

‘She has.'

‘Oh. Definitely not good. I was going to pop along and see her this morning anyway – obviously I still will, but I'm glad you told me she already knows. How did she take it?'

‘She was upset, as you might expect. Naturally, she wants to know why you're turning her down when you've been actively trying to persuade her to join the channel.'

‘Yes, well, of course she wants to know. So maybe you'd like to help me out here, Charlie. Tell me why I don't want her to join us, and please don't give me all that bullshit about her not being ready yet, because she's not going to swallow it any more than I do. So I'd like the truth, Charlie, whatever it is.'

Charlie remained silent, his face taut with anguish.

There was a note of reassurance in Melissa's voice as she said, ‘Don't worry, it'll stay between us, but if I'm going to lie, my friend, I'd like to hear from you why I should.'

‘OK,' he said abruptly, ‘the long and short of it is I have to get away from her sometimes. She's suffering so badly I can hardly bear to see it, and I think it's the same for her, so it won't do us any good to be in each other's pockets.'

‘Mm,' Melissa responded, not sounding fully convinced. ‘So what do you want her to do?'

Charlie felt a tight band closing around his head as
he said, ‘I wish I knew, but thank you for supporting me over this. I won't forget it.'

‘Then let's hope you won't regret it either,' Melissa retorted, and a moment later she was gone.

Having performed her scheduled carpool duty, Jessica was back at home and still not entirely sure what she was going to do with her day – apart from finish the DVD reviews which she sorely wished she'd never agreed to now. She had a pile of books in her study too, all of which she'd have to take a pass on, because it simply wasn't fair to the authors to assess their work when she was finding it all but impossible to stay focused. Unfortunately there was still the mountain of sympathy letters to be got through, but since she was more inclined to throw them away than read them, there wasn't much chance of her filling the time with that.

What she'd really like to do was spend the day with Lilian, just talking and being together, the way they always used to, but she couldn't even call her friend – at least she wouldn't – because Lilian's job as chief auctioneer at Summerville's Paris salerooms meant that she was almost never available, and right now Jessica wasn't even sure what she wanted to say.

Were she of a mind to, she could try sorting through Natalie's room, but she knew very well she didn't have the heart for that. She'd have to get round to it sooner or later, of course, but she still couldn't bear even the thought of going through her daughter's cherished possessions, never mind parting with a single one of them. So for now the room remained as it had always been, pink and lavender covers and curtains, with shelves crammed full of Care Bears, a hopelessly
cluttered dressing table, an overstuffed wardrobe and all kinds of perfumed candles, dancing mobiles and books numerous enough to stock the children's section of WH Smith. There were her diaries too, with pretty padded covers and tiny little locks, and somewhere, presumably, their keys. Jessica hadn't even looked. She didn't want to read them, but nor would she ever part with them.

By ten o'clock the temperature outside was rising fast. It seemed summer was finally with them, which reminded her that a decision still had to be taken on what they were going to do about a holiday. Were it left to her they'd return to the grape-picker's cottage in France, but she knew Charlie would immediately veto that, and maybe revisiting the place Natalie had died wouldn't be good for her either. She had a feeling it would make her feel closer to Natalie though, which was what she wanted more than anything. Also, if Lilian was able to take some time off, she'd be at the
manoir
, so they could spend some days together too. However, there was no point even fantasising about it, for she knew Nikki would be as reluctant as Charlie to go back to Valennes. In any case, now Nikki was almost eighteen and currently earning her own money, she might not want to go anywhere with them.