A French Affair (21 page)

‘I suppose it's like when someone is killed on the road,' she said. ‘A hundred or more lives are changed for ever, while the road itself always stays the same. Probably that's why people take flowers to the spot, to make it different.' Then turning to Lilian, she said, ‘Not that I'm planning to set up a little shrine here on the floor, so please don't worry.'

Lilian squeezed her gently. ‘Come on, let's get that monster suitcase up to your room,' she said, ‘then I
should leave you in peace to phone Charlie and the children.'

The upstairs landing was narrow and dark, with only a single window at each end, and three doors leading off, two to bedrooms, the third to a bathroom. The furthest bedroom was the one Natalie had used when she'd come with her grandmother at Easter, the closest was as large as the sitting room below it, and appeared every bit as romantic as Lilian had promised with copious folds of white muslin cascading over the bed, and nothing but crisp white linen sheets and a billowing explosion of pillows beneath it. The furniture itself was heavy and dark, with the same air of permanence as the cottage itself. The window was enormous, rising from just above the crooked floorboards almost to the beamed ceiling, and was swathed in more muslin that was fluttering gently in the breeze of a fan. From here there was a clear view of the vineyards and the
manoir
and the endless blue sky overhead.

‘I'll close the hatch,' Lilian said, starting to climb the wall ladder that led up to the attic. It was where Natalie and Harry had slept when they'd come for the wedding, declaring it much more creepy and adventurous than just a boring old bedroom. In the height of summer it was hardly possible to go up there, but at Christmas they'd barely ventured down, they had been so engrossed in their make-believe worlds.

‘OK,' Lilian said, jumping off the bottom rung, ‘is there anything you need? There's soap, toothpaste, new toothbrush, towels, you name it, in the bathroom, and plenty of hot water, if you can stand it in this heat. The fridge has the essentials, butter, marmalade, eggs, cheese, well, you'll see when you go down. Jean-Marc,
the wine-maker, tends to bring baguettes and croissants in the morning, so I hope you'll come over and breakfast with us, but if you prefer to stay here, he can always drop something off on his way.'

Jessica was regarding her fondly. ‘Is there anything you haven't thought of?' she teased.

‘If there is, be sure to tell me. Oh, if you need to access the Internet feel free to use my computer. You know where it is.'

‘Won't Luc mind me crashing into the studio if he's working?' Jessica asked.

‘Oh no. Anyway, his studio's separate to the office, remember? But don't worry, he's perfectly used to people crashing in on him, particularly little people who go by the names of Antoine, Elodie and Hugo. He tries growling at them, or threatening them with all manner of grisly deterrents, but it never seems to have an effect.'

Smiling at the spectacle of Luc trying to be menacing with his niece and nephews, Jessica said with some irony, ‘Then I'll have to hope he doesn't growl at me.'

‘As if he'd dare,' Lilian responded with a laugh. Then with a quick burst of affection she hugged her again. ‘I'm so pleased you're here,' she said. ‘I just wish this stupid Hong Kong thing hadn't come up, but I know Daniella will take great care of you while I'm away – or not, if you prefer to be left alone. Now, I'd better get back to the house. I have some calls I need to make before dinner, and I know you do too. Aperitifs at seven, is that OK for you?'

‘Absolutely,' Jessica assured her. ‘I'll look forward to it.'

‘Oh, I can't remember,' Lilian said, turning back as she reached the door, ‘did I already tell you that Luc's
in . . . Yes, I did. So it'll be all of us,
sans mon mari
, this evening. He'd just better be back before I leave on Thursday, is all I can say,' and with a wink that told Jessica she had every confidence he would be, she started off on the five-minute walk back through the vineyard to home.

Left alone in the cottage, Jessica returned to the foot of the stairs and looked up to the landing above. For a while she saw only what was actually there, a steep wooden staircase with a new wooden banister, a shadowy archway above, and the hint of a curtain in its tie-back . . . until finally, in her mind's eye, she was able to see Natalie, clinging to her mobile phone and on the brink of running downstairs as she shouted, ‘Mum!
Mum
!'

‘Natalie, no!'

Jessica's heart froze as the echo of her mother's voice seemed to escape her imagination to cry out in reality.

She took a breath, then another. The spectral horror retreated and she was left feeling strangely alone, in a way she hadn't a few seconds ago.

She tried to imagine where Natalie might have been running from. Was it the large bedroom across the landing, or the one she'd been using further along? Maybe she'd come down from the attic. And where had her mother been at the time of the fall? Veronica had said she was in the large bedroom with the door open, which was how she'd been able to see Natalie at the top of the stairs, so provided Jessica believed her mother, that must mean Natalie had come from her own room, or even the bathroom. The problem was, Jessica didn't believe her mother. She wasn't even sure she believed in the walk they'd apparently taken just
before the fall, for there had been no muddy boots that she knew of, or damp coats, and it had been raining that day.

Had the police checked for damp coats, or muddy boots? Had they questioned Veronica's story at all? Not in any great detail, Jessica was sure, because no-one had ever doubted her story. It was all just a terrible tragedy that the grandmother would probably never get over – and maybe the parents wouldn't either.

Feeling tears starting to well in her eyes, Jessica sat down on the bottom stair and covered her face with her hands. The frustration of not knowing why Natalie had called was almost as punishing as the loss itself. She felt constantly that she had let Natalie down, that she should have been there for her, should never have allowed her to go. If she hadn't Natalie would be with her now – the real Natalie, not the ghost that was impossible to hold, or see, or hear, nor the memory of a child who would never grow old, who had been as vital to her family as the air they breathed. A surge of longing rose up in her so forcefully that her arms started to reach out. She wanted her baby. She needed to feel the life in her tender little body, the pulse of blood beneath her skin, the softness of her hair. She wanted to feast her eyes on her face, watch her frown and smile, smell the freshness of her breath, taste the salt of her tears. She couldn't make herself accept that she'd never know Natalie as any older than ten. She would never be a teenager with tantrums and hormones, or a student with dreams and first loves, or a vet, which was what she'd always wanted to be, or a bride, or a young mother . . .

As the anguish intensified Jessica could hardly breathe. Natalie's life should never have been taken
from her. It was wrong. There had been a terrible mistake. ‘What happened, Nat?' she whispered brokenly. ‘Why did you call me? What were you going to say?'

It wasn't as though she expected an answer, or even any kind of sign, but when her mobile started to ring she felt an absurd beat of hope in her heart. By the time she dug the phone from her bag the hope had gone, but seeing it was Nikki seemed to bolster her anyway.

‘Hi, darling, how are you?' she asked, using her fingers to dry her cheeks.

‘I'm good,' Nikki assured her. ‘How about you? You sound as though you're crying.'

‘Sneezing,' Jessica corrected. ‘Probably a touch of hay fever.'

‘So you're there now? How is it?'

‘Very hot, and peaceful. Lilian and Daniella were here when I arrived. They've gone now.'

‘So are you OK on your own? Is it hard?'

‘A bit, but I'm glad I came. Where are you?'

‘In Dad's dressing room. He's just popped along to the studio for something, but he wanted me to ring to make sure you'd arrived. Oh hang on, someone's just come in.'

As she waited, Jessica could hear Nikki informing whoever it was that Charlie should be back any minute, then the other person apparently leaving a message. She wondered how she'd feel if it were Melissa's voice she was hearing in the background, but then Nikki was back on the line saying, ‘Sorry about that. Where were we?'

‘You were saying that Dad wanted you to call, and I was wondering why he couldn't call me himself.'

‘I think because he's like trying to give you some space. After all, it's what you wanted, isn't it?'

Jessica closed her eyes. Nikki's tartness she could do without right now, but she had to remember that angry as Nikki might be with her father for what had happened with Melissa, she was still very close to him, and probably feeling overly protective now she could see he was hurting. ‘What are you two planning this evening?' she asked, deciding to change the subject.

‘Three,' Nikki responded. ‘Dad's taking me and Freddy to Beach Blanket Babylon for dinner.'

Jessica felt the irony, for the contrast of their evenings could hardly be more striking – her under a flower-covered pergola in the middle of France enjoying the company of a family she felt more at ease with than most of the friends they'd known for years, and Charlie in a trendy eatery full of gaudy decor and famous faces. She knew where she'd rather be, but guessed that given the choice, Charlie would probably prefer to be here too.

‘He's just come back,' Nikki said. ‘I'll put him on. Oh, before I do, Freddy and I have been invited to join some of his friends in Norfolk for the last two weeks in August. I hope that's OK with you.'

‘But it's your eighteenth . . .'

‘I know, I know, but I really want to go Mum, so can't we do something when I get back? Dad says it's fine, so if he's OK about it . . .' She let the sentence hang in a way that was typical of her when she was playing her parents off one against the other.

‘Then I suppose I am too,' Jessica responded, because she was clearly expected to, rather than because she meant it. Not that she blamed Nikki for wanting to spend her birthday with her boyfriend and in much younger company, it was simply that she'd
hoped to do something special for her. ‘Shall I speak to Dad now?' she said.

A moment later Charlie said, ‘Hi, is everything all right?' No ‘darling', she noticed, and his tone was clipped in a way that betrayed his nerves.

‘It's fine,' she answered. ‘I hear you're off to Babylon this evening.'

‘I thought it was better than eating alone. Where are you?'

‘At the grape-picker's cottage. I arrived about an hour ago.'

‘So I take it you were going to call at some point to let us know you got there safely?'

Ignoring his terseness she said, ‘Actually, Nikki beat me to it by seconds. Lilian's been here since I arrived, so this is the first chance . . .'

‘You don't have to make excuses.'

‘Dad, ease up,' she heard Nikki say in the background.

Jessica waited, and a moment later, sounding more strained than ever, Charlie said, ‘Sorry. I guess I'm finding this all a bit strange, you going off without me.'

‘It's not the first time we've been apart,' Jessica reminded him. ‘Far from it . . .'

‘It's the first time like this. Anyway, are you convinced yet that what happened to Natalie was an accident?'

She tried to bite her tongue, or at least take the asperity from her tone as she replied, but even as she spoke she knew she'd failed. ‘Actually, I've hardly had a chance to unpack, never mind go into anything else, and I deeply resent the insinuation that I'm wasting my time. Besides, I didn't only come here for that, as you well know, so instead of doing your damnedest to
get under my skin, maybe you might try asking how Lilian is.'

‘I know how she is. I spoke to her earlier.'

‘Oh yes, when you discussed my need to stop trying to make my daughter's death into something neither of you feel it is.'

‘Not just me and Lilian, but the police, Fernand and his family . . .'

‘All right, let's call a stop to this now,' she cut across him. ‘I'm tired, I need to shower and change for dinner, and I don't want to spend the evening regretting saying things that would be better left unsaid. I take it you wouldn't enjoy that much either, so let's speak again in the morning, shall we?'

‘OK,' he said. Then added, ‘I'm sorry.'

Feeling her heart soften, she said, ‘Me too.'

There was a moment's silence, then hearing him ring off she clicked off her own mobile, and taking her iPod from the computer case she carried it upstairs to the bedroom. Something soothing from Bach or Haydn should help calm her mind now, and blend her more fully into her surroundings, as she prepared for an evening she was actually looking forward to. She just hoped Fernand and his family were too.

BY THE TIME
Jessica closed the doors of the cottage and started up through the vineyard the sun was spreading a soft rosy glow over the valley. The palette of colours would deepen and change as the evening advanced, until finally there would be a dazzling blaze on the horizon before this perfect summer day gave itself up to darkness.

As she walked, inhaling the warm, unsullied air as though it were an elixir, and admiring the fattening clusters of grapes that would soon be ready for harvest, she was thinking of Charlie and trying not to feel disloyal for being so glad she'd come alone. They really did need to be apart for a while, and now she was here the very ease of her movements and the lightness stealing into her heart as the tensions unfurled were telling her just how beneficial this time could be. Hopefully he would start to feel it too, and realise, now she wasn't around, just how much pressure they'd been putting one another under with all their grief and fears, as well as their needs and even their love. They'd been too close, expected too much of one another while
neither of them really had it in them to give. Maybe she'd try saying that to him the next time they spoke, it might help him to stop feeling so angry and rejected.