A French Affair (20 page)

Jessica smiled into her rich brown eyes, and not for the first time found herself entranced by Daniella's amazing beauty, and the way she seemed so unaffected by it. She had the unmistakable elegance of many Frenchwomen, with exquisite poise and femininity and thick, dark hair which she wore in a single plait that fell almost to her waist. Her features were large and generous and, at times, almost wickedly humorous, while there was such grace to her movements that it was often difficult to stop watching her. Before becoming the wife of a prominent conductor and mother of three, she'd had a promising career as a mezzo-soprano, but apart from special occasions, such as the annual
vendange
celebrations, or the national
Fête de la Musique
, or at local fund-raising events, she rarely sang in public now.

‘And I don't regret giving it up for a minute,' she had readily assured Jessica the first time they'd met. ‘I love
my life with Claude and the children, rolling around our ridiculous château like
petit
peas in a pot. Of course I miss him when he has to be in Paris, but it is good for him to be very important when he is away, because I am afraid he is not very important at home.'

Since Claude had been sitting right next to her when she'd said that, Jessica had seen the humorous light in his eyes that told how much he enjoyed their banter – and perhaps how much he missed her when he was away too.

‘I must tell you,' Daniella said now, as they started to unload Jessica's car, ‘that my father,
comme d'habitude
, is doing the cooking this evening, so you must prepare for a stew. I know it is very 'ot, and this is probably the very last thing you would like, but you 'ave only yourself to blame, because you and Charlie were so complimentary about it the last time he served you that he is determined to show off again.'

Laughing, Jessica swung her heavy suitcase down to the ground, while Lilian grabbed the laptop and a bag full of carefully chosen books, which included two Virginia Woolfs, an anthology of favourite poems, but most importantly of all
Suite Française,
the extraordinary novel Jessica had reviewed a year ago that had risen instantly to the top of her list of all-time favourites.

‘We've cleaned the place top to bottom,' Lilian informed her as she led the way across the patio, where large pots of petunias and geraniums were starting to wilt in the sun. ‘The attic bedroom was full of cobwebs, so I left that to Daniella. With a draughty old château, two boys and a girl who thinks she's a boy, she's much better at dealing with that sort of thing than I am.'

‘The children are going to be most upset that I didn't
keep some of the spiders for pets,' Daniella added, ‘but I think we have enough right now, with our dogs and rabbits and mice and worms and goodness knows what else they have in their bedrooms. Always there is something new coming into the house, and always it has to have a name, so please be ready to think of some, because they will be sure to ask.'

‘Where are the children?' Jessica asked, feeling a horrible mix of emotions as she thought of Daniella's twins alive and well, and how hard this was suddenly feeling as she approached the double French doors that opened into a spacious, old-fashioned kitchen. But now, she told herself firmly, wasn't the time to shrink from the place Natalie had died.

A moment later she was inside the kitchen and waiting for her eyes to adjust to the sudden change of light. Already the musty smell of dry wood and centuries-old stone was reaching her, reminding her of how gracious she'd always felt this house to be. Its coolness was a welcome respite from the relentless sun outside, and it had a kind of composure to it that felt gently reassuring. She looked around, taking in the large centre table where various children had carved their initials over the years, and the huge recessed fireplace where an antiquated range was gleaming like new amongst its support cast of cookpots and ladles. Then there was the latched door at the top of two steps that opened into the sitting room, and next to that was the foot of the staircase that rose across the back wall of the kitchen. Straight away Jessica noticed the banister that had been put in since her last visit, and could only wish with all her heart that it had always been there.

‘The twins are at a birthday party,' Daniella said, while tidying a broom and dustpan into one of the tall,
creamy-coloured cupboards that only vaguely matched the rest of the kitchen, ‘and Hugo is at home with his papa.'

‘Claude's here?' Jessica said, surprised and pleased, for she liked Daniella's husband immensely.

‘It is August,' Daniella reminded her, ‘all of Paris takes their
vacances en août,
except,' she added, tapping Lilian's cheek with a finger, ‘my workaholic sister-in-law who is off to Hong Kong in two days.'

Unable to hide her disappointment, Jessica turned to Lilian. ‘So soon?' she said. ‘When we spoke last night . . . I thought you were going to be here for at least ten days.'

‘So did I,' Lilian groaned, ‘but would you believe, Michel Racine, our current managing director, had a heart attack in the early hours of this morning. Not fatal, apparently he's likely to recover, but as yours truly is due to step into his shoes at the end of September, I was nominated to take his place at a major seminar in Kowloon.'

Jessica wanted to protest, in fact she was almost desperate to, but how could she without seeming absurdly needy or selfish?

‘I shouldn't be much longer than a week,' Lilian assured her, ‘so you'll still be here when I get back, and obviously Daniella's going to be around . . . Now, what do you say we break out the wine.'

Being the closest to the cooler, Jessica pulled it open and passed a perfectly chilled bottle to Daniella to uncork. She was still unsettled by the prospect of being here without Lilian, not only because she took such comfort in her presence, but because she was afraid the family might consider her a burden. However, if Daniella's greeting was anything to go by, she
probably didn't need to worry immediately, and after a few days of her being here they'd soon realise that she had no intention of disrupting their lives in any way, or indeed of putting them to any trouble at all.

‘
Oh là là
, Papa will be most pleased that you have chosen this one,' Daniella informed her, holding up the wine. ‘It is from last year, which was not too bad for us. He is saving his specials from Montrachet, or Montagny, or Chablis, I don't know where exactly yet, for dinner, naturally, but any time you would like to restock your cooler, you know you just have to pop into the
cave
and Jean-Marc or one of the
ouvriers
will carry it down for you. Now,' she said, looking at her watch, ‘I will open this bottle, and then I am sorry, but I must leave. I have some things to do in Macon and then I have to pick up the twins.'

After she'd gone Lilian filled two glasses, then carried one to Jessica who was still standing at the French doors watching Daniella's car climb to the top road.

‘Fernand is very tolerant of the way we English drink wine,' Lilian told her, going back for her own glass. ‘He thinks we're mad of course, and very uncultured to take it without food, but luckily he isn't snobbish about it.'

Unable to imagine Fernand being snobbish about anything, Jessica smiled and turned back into the kitchen. ‘It's too hot to sit outside,' she said, slipping into one of the rail-backed wooden chairs that surrounded the table.

‘Which reminds me,' Lilian said, ‘someone's supposed to be bringing a parasol down from the house to shade the table on the patio. The one that was here seems to have disappeared. Probably got taken by a tourist, or one of last season's pickers. Anyway,
cheers and welcome back to
la maison de vendangeur
.' Her voice dropped a little as she added, ‘How do you feel about being here?'

Though there was a tightness in Jessica's heart as she clinked glasses, she was able to say with reasonable honesty, ‘Actually, not too bad. I thought it might be more difficult, but maybe I won't really know until I'm alone.'

Lilian was regarding her closely. ‘Are you sure you won't stay up at the house?' she said. ‘There's plenty of room and Fernand wouldn't mind a bit.'

‘Thank you, but I really do want to stay here.' Then, after taking another sip, ‘I don't suppose you found anything while you were cleaning up?'

Lilian's eyes were dark with feeling as she said, ‘Nothing that isn't always here.' She took a breath, and sounding almost tentative, she said, ‘I spoke to Charlie earlier. We're both hoping this visit will help you come to terms with what happened so you can stop tormenting yourself this way.'

Feeling annoyed both by their concern and their continued inability to believe in her instincts, even though they seemed to have deserted her now, Jessica said, ‘How was he when you spoke to him?'

Lilian looked down at her drink and slowly shook her head. ‘To be honest he sounded exhausted and very worried about you.'

Jessica sat back in her chair and rubbed her hands over her face. ‘This past week hasn't been easy,' she confessed. ‘He really didn't want me to come. He thinks I'll just end up even more confused than I already am.'

‘I suppose there's always a danger of that,' Lilian said softly.

‘Even if there is, I'm here now, and frankly I'm more relieved to be away than I expected. He's been so on edge since the thing with Melissa, snapping at everyone, especially me . . . It's strange, isn't it, the way we start to push away the very people we're afraid will reject us? I used to do it with my mother – maybe I still do.'

Lilian's eyes came up. ‘Any news on her yet?' she asked.

Jessica shook her head. ‘Actually, I was thinking about asking her to join me here, if we manage to find out where she is. I doubt she'll come though, and Charlie thinks it's a terrible idea. Well, he would when he saw how bad it got between us after Natalie died. He thinks I should just let it all go now, and focus on what's happening between me and him.'

The corners of Lilian's mouth went down. ‘Maybe he has a point.'

Jessica sighed, and struggled for the words to explain what she barely understood herself. ‘I had to get away from him for a while,' she said, ‘not because I don't love him, but because I do and I'm afraid of how many more lies there might be – and if there are any, I don't want to cope with them before I've sorted out in my mind what really happened here.'

Though there was a light of understanding in Lilian's eyes as she looked at her she said nothing for a while, only picked up her wine and stared down into its depths as though there were some hidden mystery there. ‘I know what I feel isn't relevant,' she said in the end, ‘but it makes me so sad to think of you and Charlie having these problems. You were always so happy together.' She glanced at Jessica as though expecting a response, but Jessica didn't even look up. ‘I
used to envy you so much,' Lilian continued. ‘You two had everything I ever dreamed of, a great marriage, close friendship, successful careers, lovely children . . . I'd virtually given up hope of any of it ever happening for me, and now it has, it seems so wrong to think it could be falling apart for you.'

Hearing it put like that, Jessica couldn't help but rise to her and Charlie's defence. ‘Maybe it won't,' she said. ‘I'm already missing him, and I only left this morning.' She had to wonder why she'd felt the need to add the lie. Was it to make Lilian feel better, or had she hoped that speaking the words aloud might make them true?

‘He'll be waiting to hear from you,' Lilian prompted. ‘He needs to know you arrived safely.'

‘Yes, of course. I'll ring when I've finished my wine.' Putting on a smile, she said, ‘Sorry, maybe I am a bit tired after the drive. I don't mean to sound so maudlin.'

‘You don't. Just confused and perhaps a little strained. You've been through a lot lately.'

‘Which is no reason to sit here feeling sorry for myself, or taking up all of your time.'

Lilian laughed in surprise. ‘For you I have all the time in the world, you know that.'

‘Except when you'rein Hong Kong,' Jessica reminded her wryly.

Lilian grimaced. ‘Do you mind?' she said. ‘I could always try to get out of it, but . . .'

‘Don't you dare, not on my account. I'll be fine here with Daniella and the children for company.'

‘And Fernand,' Lilian reminded her. ‘And Luc, when he gets back. He's at the foundry in Italy at the moment, checking on one of his sculptures.'

Jessica smiled, but her eyes were starting to lose
focus, so Lilian said no more, simply let the next few minutes pass quietly, with only the drone of a wasp batting around the window and the steadying tick of a grandmother clock in the sitting room next door to break the silence.

‘Shall we carry your things upstairs?' Lilian offered after a while. ‘I prepared the big bedroom for you, and Daniella brought a mosquito net that's making it look very romantic up there.' Her eyes twinkled. ‘Maybe after a couple of weeks away from Charlie, you'll be ready to invite him to join you.'

Jessica's expression became sardonic. ‘You never know,' she responded, and getting to her feet she braced herself to approach the stairs.

Seeming to sense her hesitation, Lilian got up too and put an arm around her as they looked down at the spot on the flagstone floor where Jessica had been told Natalie had landed. To Jessica it felt odd that there should be no sign of the fall, no scratch or bloodstain or even the tiniest scrap of one of the newspapers that Natalie had apparently tripped over. It had been like this the day after it happened, everything cleaned up before she arrived, so that the place was looking perfectly normal, as though nothing tragic, or even remotely unusual, had happened here at all.