A French Affair (44 page)

Bringing the car to a stop outside the cottage, he kept the engine running and sat staring straight ahead.

Several seconds ticked by. There was too much to say, and yet no amount of words was going to change the fact that Lilian would be back on Friday, and then this affair – how could she even call it that? – would be over.

‘I should go in,' she said. ‘I have to ring the children, and I expect you have things to do too.'

‘Yes,' he answered.

But still neither of them moved.

‘I'm sure my father will be expecting us for dinner,' he said in the end. ‘Why don't you come early and I'll show you your sculpture? You still haven't seen it.'

She nodded, then getting out of the car, she took her overnight bag from the back seat and walked across the patio to the door. Not until she was inside did she
hear him drive away, and as her head fell forward into her hands she could only feel confounded by the sheer futility and frustration of what was happening between them. Why couldn't she be like the millions of others who were able to take what they wanted and still find it possible to live with themselves? God knew, she wanted it badly enough . . .

After unpacking the few things she'd taken with her, she showered and dressed for dinner, then went downstairs to ring Charlie. It was the strangest thing, she reflected as she picked up her mobile, to find herself so full of love for him now, when in her heart she was betraying him. Suddenly she wished he would come now, tonight, or tomorrow, and make her realise how foolish she was being, show her what really mattered in her life, which was him and Nikki and Harry.

She had barely begun dialling when her phone started to ring. Seeing it was the
manoir
she clicked on and said a quiet hello.

‘Jessica. It's Fernand. I hope I am not interrupting.'

‘No, not at all,' she assured him, feeling suddenly anxious that he was going to talk to her about Lilian and friendship and loyalty, and all the things he must be so worried about, for he was far from stupid, he must know she'd been in Paris with Luc.

‘That is good,' he was saying. ‘I believe you will join us for dinner, but Luc thought you would want this number that I have been given by my friend, the brother of the
Chef des Pompiers
. It is for the paramedic who has broken his leg. He is still in the hospital, but you can call him tomorrow morning between eleven and twelve. Also, I have received a fax copy of his report, which I will give to you when you come to the house.'

Jessica's heart was contracting as she reached for a
pen. ‘Thank you,' she said. ‘Can you tell me, is there anything in the report that . . .? Does he say that he carried Natalie to the sofa?'

‘No, but that might be because officially he should not have done it, so he wouldn't want his superiors to know.'

‘Of course. OK, I'll take down the number.'

A few minutes later she was still staring at the ten digits she'd noted, trying to imagine what had happened here that morning, how desperate it must all have been, when her mobile rang again.

‘Jessica! It's me. How are you?'

At the sound of Lilian's cheery voice she felt such a conflict of emotions that it was hard to keep her voice normal as she said, ‘I'm fine. How are you?
Where
are you?'

‘In Mumbai – my God, it's a zoo here! But so exciting. We'll have to come together one of these days. Anyway, I should be back in Paris around midday tomorrow. Unfortunately I'll have to go to the office, so I'll overnight at the apartment, then on Friday I'll be
home
. I can hardly wait, and knowing you're going to be there too . . . Is the weather still good?'

‘There's going to be some rain tonight, apparently, but it's been so hot.'

There was a note of concern in Lilian's voice as she said, ‘You sound tired. Are you all right? Or is it just the heat?'

Wondering how on earth she was ever going to hide anything from Lilian, when even over the phone she was able to detect her moods, she said, ‘Fernand's just given me a number for the paramedic, which is making me feel a bit shaky again. I'm going to speak to him tomorrow.'

Lilian's silence was very brief, but it was long enough for Jessica to feel the disappointment, and to think of how much easier she found it to discuss this with Luc. He never seemed to disapprove, or even sound doubtful, in fact he appeared to have a far greater understanding than those closest to her of why she had to see this through.

‘I'm sorry you still haven't resolved this in your mind yet,' Lilian said gently, ‘but you will, I'm sure.'

Needing to change the subject Jessica said, ‘Tell me more about Mumbai. How's the takeover going?'

Lilian's laugh sounded slightly forced, but she answered the question lightly enough as she said, ‘Actually, I've been in meetings almost since the moment I got off the plane, and I'm ever-hopeful that something will be signed before I leave. I have to tell you that Vasu, the owner of the saleroom in question, is such a charmer I could fall madly in love with him, were I not a happily married woman, and he was twenty, or maybe even ten years younger. Anyway, as gorgeous and accommodating as he appears, he's definitely no pushover, but I'm pretty sure it'll come off, and we're already planning a sale for September . . . Oh hang on a sec.' She went off the line leaving Jessica with her senses swimming, and her heart trying to cope with all the emotions crowding into it. Seconds later Lilian was back saying, ‘So tell me, have you managed to persuade Charlie to join us at Valennes? Luc says Harry's coming on Monday, which is great, but it would be wonderful if Charlie came too.'

‘He's booked a flight for Wednesday.'

‘Oh, that's fantastic. We're going to have such a wonderful time, all of us. I feel so in need of a break, and I think Luc does too. Which reminds me, Fernand
told me your sculpture's finished and it's
ravissante
.'

Jessica took a breath. ‘Did Luc tell you that yours arrived from the foundry today?' she asked.

‘Yes, but he hasn't opened it yet. He says he wants to wait until we can do it together.' She laughed happily. ‘He's such a romantic at times. I just hope it continues when I finally chuck in my job and become a full-time wife.'

‘Do you have any plans to do that soon?' Jessica asked, the words seeming to echo in her head.

Lilian laughed again. ‘Maybe,' she replied. ‘Oh hang on, someone's just come in again.'

As Jessica waited she could only thank God that things hadn't gone as far as they might have with Luc, for she felt certain now that she'd never have been able to face Lilian again if they had.

‘Hi, are you still there?' Lilian said.

‘Yes.'

‘Listen, I'm bound to be interrupted again, so I should probably go. I just wanted to catch up with you before I leave here in case there's anything you'd like me to bring back. The jewellery is fantastic and I can easily send one of the staff out to get some. In fact, I'll make time to go myself and choose something for you . . .'

Jessica started to protest.

‘. . . and now I'm loving you and leaving you,' Lilian said over her. ‘With any luck I'll see you in time for lunch on Friday.'

After she'd rung off Jessica stood staring at the swirling clouds outside, feeling almost as though she was being carried along with them as she imagined Lilian over there in Mumbai, Luc up at the house and Charlie preparing to go into the studio. On the grand
scale of things, what was happening to them was so unimportant, irrelevant even, for the truth was, no matter whether she slept with Luc and Lilian found out, or even if Charlie decided to leave her because of it, the world would continue to turn. Nothing would change – she'd learned that when Natalie died. It made no difference to the world. It simply continued to go on in the same impervious way, and even if she discovered the paramedic hadn't carried Natalie to the sofa, and someone else had been here that day, it still wouldn't bring Natalie back. And in her heart that was all she wanted. For that she'd give up everything, anything, but that was something else she'd learned when Natalie went, there were no bargains to be made, or discussions to be had. There was only a cruel reality followed by an emptiness that nothing would ever be able to fill, no amount of love, or happiness, self-sacrifice or even pain. It would always be there, because Natalie no longer was.

So was there really any point in continuing to deny her feelings for Luc, in trying to pretend that she hadn't fallen in love with him when she knew she had? No matter what she did, or didn't do, the world would keep turning, life would go on and one day, not so very distant from now, they'd all be gone and forgotten anyway.

‘Do you have anything at all to say?' Luc prompted, breaking the silence. He was standing against a workbench, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other as he watched Jessica looking at the sculpture.

Her gaze remained where it was, taking in her own features in a way that felt almost surreal. Though it was unquestionably her, there seemed to be another
dimension to her features now. Her eyes, in fact her whole expression seemed more haunting, even ethereal, yet alluring and perhaps even seductive. She shook her head. ‘What have you done?' she asked. ‘It's different. It's . . . It's . . .' She glanced at him, and seeing the laughter in his eyes she began smiling too. It was extraordinary the way everything seemed to be all right now she was with him, when less than an hour ago she'd felt so bleak.

‘You're making this impossible,' she chided. ‘If I tell you how beautiful it is, it's like saying it about myself, but it is, and I don't think it's down to me . . . It's down to you. So what have you done?'

His expression was droll as he said, ‘I saw a look in your eyes while we were at the lake, and again while we were in the vines, that I think, I hope, is what you are seeing now. A woman who is radiant in her beauty, brazenly seductive in her charm, and fully trusting of the man who is watching her. It was an epiphany for me.'

She couldn't help but laugh. ‘Not only trusting,' she murmured, looking at the sculpture again. Those moments at the lake and amongst the vines felt almost like a dream now, or a game, where they'd teased one another, showing their attraction, even their desire, with no real understanding yet of what it was going to mean. She couldn't help thinking of how different it would be if she were naked with him now, right here in his studio, with rain pattering on the skylights and the scent of damp earth seasoning the air . . .

‘I have something to say to you,' he told her.

She turned to look at him, a nervousness breaking through inside her. His gaze was so intense it almost seemed to take hold of her, and she wondered if it was
his eyes that made her feel the way she did. But as magnetic as they were, she knew it was only one small part of what drew her to him.

‘
Luc, tu es là? Ton portable n'arrête pas de sonner
,' Fernand told him, coming into the studio. ‘Ah, Jessica,
tu es là aussi
.'

Taking the phone from him, Luc turned it off and watched as his father went to Jessica, arms open wide. ‘The sculpture is
magnifique, non
?' he declared, embracing her. ‘
Elle est vraiment superbe.
'

Jessica's eyes were shining. ‘It's beautiful,' she agreed, smiling up into his face. If he knew, or sensed, what was happening between her and Luc he was hiding it well, and appeared neither disapproving nor censorious, for which she could only feel thankful.

‘I think it is one of his very best,' Fernand decided, standing back to admire the sculpture again. ‘And once it is in bronze, it will be truly
exceptionel.
'

Jessica looked at Luc and wondered if the sculpture, once cast, was still intended for Charlie. Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but of course Lilian would remember, so it would have to be Charlie's. It didn't feel right, when it had been created by a man who had captured so much more of her than her likeness, but it would be impossible to explain why it should stay here, so perhaps Luc would keep the drawing for himself. It was what she wanted, and felt certain he did too.

‘I must return to the kitchen,' Fernand informed them. ‘Yves, Claude's brother, has some friends staying at the château – I think one of them is a young lady of much interest to him,' he added with a romantic twinkle, ‘so they are all coming over to eat. It will be much different under the pergola this evening with all the rain,
non
? Ah, but it is beautiful to see.'

After Fernand had gone, Luc and Jessica looked at one another again, and seeing his expression she felt another tremor of unease.

‘Tomorrow my father has a
Chevaliers
dinner at Vougeot,' he told her. ‘He won't return until Friday morning. It will be our last opportunity to spend a night together. You know how much I want to be with you, but if you would like to take some time to think, I will . . .'

‘I don't need any time,' she said.

His eyes darkened, and for a moment it seemed he might come to her then, but in the end he stayed where he was and they both smiled with relief to know that at last they had accepted the inevitable.

THE NEXT MORNING,
following torrential downpours through the night, everything looked as fresh and vivid as a newly painted Gauguin. The sun sparkled on the vines, while the damp earth seemed to breathe a gentle sigh of relief. Overhead there were only a few lingering clouds floating around like small clusters of foam on a sea of blue, while the air was perfumed with the scent of the vines and their soil, mixed with the wet stone of the cottage and all the clinging flowers on their trestles and wires.

As Jessica walked over to her car she was feeling both exhilarated and anxious, thinking of Luc and their plans for later, and of the call she needed to make to the paramedic this morning. She would deal with each event as it came – for now she was only going to concern herself with the market and what she wanted to buy when she got there.