A French Affair (56 page)

Jessica looked up from the page. Since she'd read the letter once before she didn't want to go over again how Charlie and Lilian had abandoned Natalie and her mother, so flipping over the next two pages she started to read again.

Jessica smiled sadly at the ‘Mummy', for it had been a long time since she'd called her that. Then putting the letter aside for now, she reached for her mobile, which kept bleeping to say there was a message, and pressing in the number to pick it up she felt her heart filling up
all over again as she listened to Luc's voice coming down the line.

By the time Charlie came back, having left Harry at the château, Jessica was upstairs halfway through packing, so he began to carry her computer and books out to the car. He didn't ask what she was thinking now she'd read the letter, nor did she attempt to tell him. For the moment she wanted only to be quiet as she tried to take in all that had happened, and how it was going to affect where they went from here. Right now it was impossible to know anything for certain, but tempted as she was to see this as a way for her and Luc to be together, she knew it wasn't – not only because of the baby, but because she had Nikki and Harry to consider. She needed to be there for them while their father tried to come to terms with what he'd done, and she could sense already that Charlie's journey was going to be a long and hard one, and would be far too much for them to cope with at the same time as their parents breaking up.

Hearing voices below she realised Lilian must have arrived, so she stopped what she was doing and took a moment to collect herself, for as strangely calm and even detached as she seemed to be feeling, she was aware of how utterly devastated she was inside. These were the two people she'd loved and trusted most in the world, the very mainstay of her life to whom she'd always turned in a crisis. To find herself having to face them like this, knowing how unforgivably they had behaved towards both her and Natalie, felt so disorienting that she was suddenly afraid to take even one step into a future that was going to be so changed in the light of their betrayal. Yet she knew what had to
be done, and though a part of her could hate them for bringing her to this, and even want to harm them in some way, another part was reminding her that no amount of anger or vengeance was ever going to undo what they'd done, any more than it was going to help her now.

They both looked up as they heard her footsteps and she wondered how they must be feeling, watching Natalie's mother coming down the same stairs Natalie had fallen from. They must have lived in such dread of this day, surely always knowing it would come, while still trying to deny it. Given the time over again, she felt certain they'd never act the same way. Perhaps because of this certainty, something in her sympathised with them, for time's inexorability ensured their mistake could never be unmade, only lived with for the rest of their lives.

By the time she reached the bottom she was managing to make herself think of her own guilt in the way she'd fallen for Luc. Desire and passion had made her reckless and selfish, and her feelings could have led her still further, but she knew with an absolute certainty that she and Luc would never have made love in her daughter's bed, nor would either of them have driven away and left Natalie and her mother the way Lilian and Charlie had.

It was with that thought in her mind that her eyes went to Lilian's once dear, now stricken face, as she said, ‘I'm not going to try and make this any worse for you. I know you loved Natalie enough to have suffered terribly over this, and I think you love me too . . .'

‘Of course I do,' Lilian broke in. ‘Oh God, Jessica, if you only knew . . .'

‘I don't want to know.' Jessica's voice was cold, but
her eyes were full of pain. ‘Your conscience is your own, Lilian. I can't take on the burden of it.' She swallowed hard as a wave of emotion came over her. ‘I never imagined myself ever saying something like that to you,' she whispered. ‘It's as though we've all become strangers, and it's not how I want it to be . . .'

‘It doesn't have to,' Lilian cried. ‘Somehow we can . . .'

‘No,' Jessica interrupted. ‘No, Lily. There's no going back from this. You sleeping with Charlie, having an affair with him even, would have devastated me – and our friendship – if I'd known about it at the time. Now, nothing can be worse than the way you left Natalie, and the lies you've told since.' She stopped and put a hand to her face as her heart faltered again, but her voice was steady when a moment later she said, ‘Of course I understand now why I've seen so little of you since it happened, why you've thrown yourself into work the way you have, even to the point of not being here these past two weeks. It wasn't only too hard to face me for long, you've hardly even been able to face yourself.'

As Lilian started to sob, Charlie turned to comfort her, but it was plain from the haunted look in his eyes that he was so tormented by his own inner demons he barely knew what he was doing.

‘I deserve everything you're saying,' Lilian wept, ‘and you're right, I do hate myself. I wish to God I could wipe out that terrible day . . .'

‘It didn't stop there though, did it?' Jessica interrupted.

Lilian looked at her, seeming unsure what she meant.

‘Natalie wasn't the only child to pay for what you did, was she?'

Lilian's eyes were suddenly frightened. ‘I don't know . . . Why are you saying . . .?'

‘Does Charlie know about the baby?' Jessica asked.

Lilian's face turned white.

‘You were afraid it was his, weren't you?' Jessica said. ‘You couldn't bear the idea that a baby might have been conceived out of that day, so rather than take the chance you got rid of it.'

Lilian's mouth opened, but no words came out.

‘You see,' Jessica said, ‘maybe I read you a little better than you think.' She looked at Charlie and wondered how he was reacting to the fact that he might have fathered a child on the same day as he'd lost one, but from his expression she couldn't be sure he'd taken it in.

‘I can't say any more,' she murmured, realising how close she was to breaking down. ‘Going over everything that happened . . . Trying to make some sense of it . . . It's never going to make sense to me, so we have to try to think of the future now . . .'

‘Are you going to tell Luc?' Lilian blurted.

Jessica looked into her eyes, and almost felt herself being drawn into the depths of her fear. She'd always known how desperate Lilian was to be loved, so desperate that maybe she didn't really understand the meaning of it, for Jessica could think of no other reason why she would have put her marriage at risk the way she had. In the end, though, she'd clearly been prepared to do anything to hold onto it: that had to be the real reason she'd been willing to go along with Charlie's madness that day, out of fear of losing Luc, not because she'd wanted to spare her best friend. So it would be the easiest thing in the world to ruin everything for her now, to destroy what was left of her
dream, but Jessica knew she wouldn't do it. Not because she pitied Lilian, even though she did, but because she wanted the memories she shared with Luc to stay intact, untouched by this terrible betrayal, and unsullied by a useless act of revenge. For that was what it would mean if she told him, and neither he, nor his unborn child, deserved that. So finally she said, very quietly, ‘No, I'm not going to tell him.'

‘Oh God,' Lilian spluttered, sobbing into her hands with relief. ‘Thank you. Thank you. I know . . . I realise . . .'

‘I'm doing it for him, not for you,' Jessica told her.

‘I understand that, but if there was some way I could make this up to you . . .'

‘There isn't.' She took a breath, slightly shaken by her own sharpness. ‘We have to go our separate ways now,' she said. ‘I'm going to miss you, almost as much as I miss Natalie . . .'

Lilian's eyes flooded with panic. ‘Don't say that . . .'

Jessica turned away. ‘You have to leave now,' she said, struggling to hold back the tears.

‘Jessica, please . . .'

Jessica shook her head. ‘I'm sorry,' she whispered. ‘This is the way it has to be, because no matter what happens, I'll never be able to forgive you for this, Lily. I wish I could, but I can't.'

As she walked back up the stairs she could hear Lilian sobbing and Charlie murmuring to try and comfort her, but she wasn't thinking about them any more. She was closing them out now, pretending they didn't matter, because there were too many other painful things she must try to resolve in her heart before leaving.

Once she got to the bedroom she left her open bags
to go and gaze out at the vineyard, as luscious and still as a Renoir. After a while the brightness of the sun began to dazzle her eyes, blinding her to what was there, but she was no longer looking, only remembering . . . She was seeing him the first time he'd shown her how to taste the grapes, and tilting her face to the light. She'd felt such a thrill of anticipation when he'd asked if he could sculpt her, but it seemed so mild in comparison to the sensual pleasures she'd experienced when he'd drawn her naked and happy in a hat amongst the vines. She didn't feel guilty about that now, she had no reason to, she only wished they'd given in to their desire while they'd had the chance.

Her eyes moved on to the
cave
where he'd tried to teach her about wine and they'd laughed and felt the magnetism of one another as potently as the
pinot noir
. Then she looked at the pergola, where she'd read to him and his father from
Suite Française
, and felt her heart trip on how he'd chosen the chapters about Lucile and the German. He'd known so much more than she had already, and had more or less told her that the next day at Issy-l'Evêque, when they'd quoted from the book. Then there was the studio where she'd watched him work and felt the heady sensation of being touched, yet not. After that her gaze wandered on to the woods that led to the lake where he'd come to stand behind her, and she'd let him take off her dress. She recalled how they'd recited de Lamartine's poem together, and wondered what would have happened if instead of choosing the first verse they'd spoken the chorus:

She thought of their time in Paris, the agony of resisting him and joy of just being with him. There was the music they'd listened to, the art they admired, the literature they loved, and she realised he was so much a part of her own book that it was going to be almost impossible to continue without him.

Then she thought of him up at the house now, and wanted to go to him so much that she almost couldn't bear it. She needed to feel his arms around her, the tenderness of his mouth, the warmth of his breath, and knowing she never would now made the longing so terrible that her head fell back as she sobbed out loud. She didn't want to leave without saying goodbye, but it would be too hard to speak to him now. She needed his strength, his courage, his unwavering calm, but it wasn't hers to take, so she must find her own and let him go.