A French Affair (58 page)

As he chattered – and shouted – on, full of triumph or indignation or bafflement, she reflected on how, in his innocent and lovable way, he'd got her through all the terrible moments of loneliness and self-pity that had crept up on her when Charlie was at his worst. Without Harry she wasn't entirely sure anything she was doing now would even make any sense, for his unfailing happiness and ready affection was the only real joy in her life. His was also the energy that kept the house alive, and the humour that held them all together, and even the love that made them all one. Unlike Nikki, he seemed unaware of the tension between his parents, and therefore was only concerned with reading to Charlie, lying beside him to watch TV, or simply being himself with his mother.
Préjugée
as she might be, Harry was the most adorable little person in the world.

‘Mum, can we have cabbage pizza for dinner?' he asked, as they drove into the supermarket car park.

Jessica looked at him askance.

He struggled not to laugh.

‘How about marmalade pasta?' she suggested.

‘Oh no! Yuk, yuk, ugh. I'll be sick.'

‘But cabbage pizza would be fine?'

‘No! I'm just joking to make you laugh. I love it when you laugh.'

Since that could only mean she wasn't doing nearly enough of it, she scooped him into her arms and kissed him hard. ‘I promise to laugh all weekend when Grandma and Maurice come to stay,' she told him.

‘Oh! Are they coming? Cool. Your phone's ringing,
Mum. Shall I answer? Hello. Jessica Moore's phone, her son and hair speaking.'

His cheeky little smile started to wane as he listened to the voice at the other end, then passing the phone over he said, ‘It's someone called Desmond. He wants to speak to you. Oh look, there's Mark Greenaway, can I go and see him? I'll come straight back.'

As he leapt out of the car Jessica put the phone to her ear. ‘Desmond,' she said, to Charlie's agent. ‘What can I do for you? If you're looking for Charlie . . .'

‘I wanted to speak to you first,' he interrupted. ‘Is this a good time?'

‘I don't know until you tell me what it's about.'

‘OK, here goes – now it's out that he's been going into the office . . .'

Cutting in right away she said, ‘What do you mean “out”?'

‘There's something in the
Standard
tonight,' he warned her. ‘Not a big piece, but someone's obviously got hold of the fact that Charlie Moore's on the mend, so I wanted to find out from you how he really is before I start filling up his days.'

God, how she hated the way the press took such an interest in every little detail of their lives. ‘It's true, he's improving,' she responded, not prepared to go any further than that.

‘Enough for me to approach him with all the usual kind of stuff, guest-hosting news quizzes, chairing debates . . .?'

‘Why don't you put it all in an email,' she interrupted, ‘and I'll discuss it with him later.'

‘Will do.' He took a breath. ‘There is something a bit, well, different,' he went on cagily. ‘I don't think you're going to like it much, but here goes . . . I've had a call
from the exec producer of
The Morning Programme
, asking if you and Charlie will consider being interviewed about how you've coped with losing a child. You know, the initial shock, the grief, what Charlie's just been through, how you've kept your marriage together when so many don't in these situations . . .'

‘Desmond,' she cut in sharply, her head already spinning with rage, ‘there is absolutely no way in the world I am ever going to appear on TV to discuss my family's difficulties . . .'

‘I thought you might say that, but I'm just the messenger, remember, and I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't put the whole package to you . . .'

‘I'm not interested . . .'

‘They're offering full editorial control, network transmission, obviously, and a fee that's well into five figures.'

‘I don't care if it's into ten figures, the answer's still no. Now please don't let's discuss this any more. Harry's about to get into the car and I don't want him listening to any of this.'

‘OK. I'll send the email to Charlie, and sorry if I've upset you.'

After ringing off she waited for Harry to collect a trolley, then bracing herself for the usual go-round of unwelcome recognition while doing her shopping, she followed him in through the automatic doors. Why the heck, she was asking herself angrily, was everyone so damned determined to pry into her private life – publishers, producers, analysts? Didn't they understand, for God's sake, she just wanted to be left the hell alone?

Charlie's sunken eyes, with their tired, purplish shadows and bloodshot whites, seemed both bemused
and defiant as Jessica turned to him in amazement. ‘Are you out of your mind?' she cried, trying to keep her voice down, since they were in the study and Nikki, at least, was somewhere nearby. ‘You can't seriously be thinking about doing it.'

'I don't see what the problem is,' he replied, trying to sound assertive. ‘I mean, I understand why
you
wouldn't want to do it, because you've always been publicity-shy, but it's not the same for me. And they're right, it might help others to know what we've been through.'

Jessica could hardly believe her ears; she felt so enraged that she had to turn away and go to stare out at the rain for a moment in an effort to calm down, or she might just have hit him.

It was Saturday morning now, which meant he must have been thinking this over since the email had arrived on Thursday. Realising that this was the direction his mind had been taking, when he had to know how strongly opposed she'd be to it, was making her angrier than ever.

‘Darling, I'm sorry if this is upsetting you,' he said, from where he was sitting at his desk, ‘but if you try to see it from my point of view . . .'

Jessica spun round, eyes flashing. ‘I think it would be a good idea for you to see it from my point of view,' she told him furiously. ‘Do you really imagine I want the whole world to know what happened when my daughter died, how her father was in bed with another woman, and not just any other woman . . .'

His face was turning very pale now. ‘I know it'll be hard,' he cut in nervously, ‘but look at it this way, it might make other men – and women – think twice before they cheat on their spouses again, because this
is a terrible example of how one snatched decision, driven by selfishness and lust, had the worst possible outcome.'

Jessica stared at him, dumbfounded. ‘I can only think that the drugs you're on have addled your brain,' she told him frankly. ‘You're not some kind of one-man crusade to save the world from infidelity. Your only job is to save yourself from the depths you've sunk to.'

‘I know that, but if I can help others along the way . . .'

‘Charlie! For heaven's sake, listen to yourself. You'd
never
have thought about it like this before.'

‘I'd never been to hell and back before.'

Jessica's eyes closed as despair and frustration descended on her in a cloud of helplessness. ‘Look, I know you've been through a rough time, but it hasn't been easy for the rest of us either. So how do you think it's going to be for Nikki and Harry if you go announcing to the world how you left Natalie for others to take care of? Harry doesn't even know, so is this how you want him to find out?'

Charlie's eyes fell away. ‘I wasn't actually going to discuss that part of it,' he said. ‘I just feel as though I have to make amends somehow . . .'

‘Well this isn't the way to do it, and anyway, no-one says you have to. What's important is that you try to forgive yourself, not go out there seeking a pardon from your great viewing public, because you won't get it. Take it from me, Charlie, people won't understand . . .'

She broke off as the door opened and Nikki came in. ‘I'm sorry, Mum, but I couldn't help overhearing,' she said, appearing both determined and anxious, ‘and I'm not going to let him do it either.'

Charlie looked at her in confusion, then as his eyes went back to Jessica he seemed to slump inwardly, and rubbing his hands over his face he said, ‘I'm sorry. I didn't realise it would upset . . . Maybe I'm not thinking straight.'

‘What you're doing is thinking about yourself all the time,' Nikki told him brutally, ‘and it's just not fair when Mum's been carrying the burden around here. You hardly think about her at all, and what she's been going through . . .'

‘That's enough,' Jessica said gently. ‘I thought you were leaving at twelve.'

‘I am. It's still only ten to.' Then, turning back to Charlie, ‘Promise me you're going to turn this interview down,' she said, her tone uncompromisingly firm.

Charlie looked at her.

‘I'm telling you, if you do it, she'll leave you,' Nikki informed him as though it were a foregone conclusion, ‘and I for one won't blame her.'

Charlie's anxious eyes went to Jessica.

Jessica only looked at him, letting her silence speak for itself.

‘Oh God,' he groaned helplessly. ‘Of course I won't do it if you feel that strongly.' Then, pressing his fists to his head, ‘What's happening to me? Am I losing my mind?'

‘No, of course not,' Jessica said. ‘You just have to try to understand that the rest of your life isn't going to be about your grief, or your guilt, or even some kind of penance. You're focusing too much on it now. You need to start letting go a little, which is why it's a good idea for you to read the news a couple of times next week. It'll help get you back in the swing, and restore
some proper perspective, because this isn't the only time you've lost sight of it lately.'

He nodded slowly, then apparently sunk in the disgrace of his other confusions, he looked from Nikki to Jessica as he said, ‘I know I'm a waste of space, and I don't deserve either of you . . .'

Jessica turned away. ‘If you're going to start down the self-pity route,' she said crisply, ‘then you're on your own.'

There was a rare twinkle in Charlie's eyes as he looked back at Nikki. ‘Well that told me, didn't it?' he said.

Nikki came to embrace him. ‘Get rid of that email and do as Mum says,' she murmured, giving him a kiss. ‘Now I have to go, so behave yourself with Grandma and Maurice, and call if you need to chat.'

As she left the study, Charlie turned back to Jessica, who was sitting at her computer now. ‘I'm sorry,' he said again. ‘I should have realised how much it would upset you without putting you through all this. Maybe it is the drugs. They seem to be helping in some ways, but . . .' He sighed and wiped his hands over his face. ‘They're not doing much for me in other parts either,' he went on hoarsely, ‘so I'm letting you down all over the place.'

‘Don't worry about that,' she told him, keeping her eyes on the screen. ‘All that matters is to get you fully well again so you don't have to take them any more.'

Getting to his feet he came to stand behind her, and put his hands on her shoulders. ‘I know I probably shouldn't ask,' he said in barely more than a whisper, ‘but is there a chance you'll consider coming back to our bed some time soon? I miss you, and I think I might sleep better if you were there.'

Resting her cheek on his hand, she said, ‘It'll happen, don't worry. Just don't try to rush things.'

Accepting that for now, he stooped forward to press a kiss to the top of her head, then turned at the sound of a car pulling up outside. ‘That'll be Freddy or your mother,' he said, going to the window. ‘Your mother,' he announced. ‘I'll pop out and help them in with their bags.'

For a moment Jessica carried on with what she was doing, finding it easier to absorb herself in the household accounts than to make a swift transition from angry and confused wife to forgiving and welcoming daughter. Not that she wasn't pleased to have her mother and Maurice staying for the weekend, in fact she'd rather spend time with them than the so-called friends in whose circle she and Charlie were supposed to belong. That kind of pretentiousness and one-upmanship was something she never wanted back in her life, though she guessed it would be hard to keep refusing it once the ever-popular Charlie was back on form. Still, that was a problem for another time, she wasn't going to worry about it now. She was simply going to make sure everyone had a lovely two days, and hope they managed to get through it without too many references to what had happened before.

She found her mother in the kitchen a little later, busily unpacking all the food and champagne she and Maurice had brought with them and loading it into the fridge.

‘I thought I'd find you here,' Jessica said, dropping down from the last step.

Veronica turned round, joy lighting up her blue eyes which had managed to remain bewitching, and even sultry, in spite of her sixty-something years and the
slight droop of a left lid. Her youthfully ruffled hair was a vivid shade of silver, while her small heart-shaped face and pretty mouth were as exquisite and childlike as a doll's. They were also, Jessica was aware, along with her vivacity and curvy figure, what had made so many men want to take care of her over the years, as well as full and frequent advantage.

‘How are you darling?' she said, having to go up on tiptoe to embrace her daughter. ‘You're looking a little tired, if you don't mind me saying so. You know my offer of a day at the spa stands for any time you'd like to go. Or two or three days. Or we can take a holiday together, because I'm sure you need one, and there's always Maurice's house on Capri.'

‘I'll bear it all in mind,' Jessica assured her. ‘Now tell me how you are. Happily, you're not looking tired. In fact you're looking rather good.'