Hand On Heart: Sequel to Head Over Heels (17 page)

‘Ooh, looking so good, Mrs Brookes, good enough to eat.’  She had been so far away in her thoughts, she hadn’t heard the bathroom door open.  James came up close behind her, and traced his finger gently down her spine.  She shivered.  But she didn’t pull away, nor did she feel like she ought to.  That was progress.  She stood still, waiting to see what he would do next.  And whether she would mind or not.  She didn’t.  James cupped her breasts in his hands and began nuzzling her neck.  Oh no, I don’t mind this at all, she thought, closing her eyes and losing herself in the sensations.  He spun her around, and his mouth was on hers, urgently seeking her out.  His eyes were open, she noticed, his expression questioning, as though looking for the warning signs that she might pull away from him any minute, as she had done before. 

I’m ready
, Evie thought to herself, as she let her husband lead her back into their bedroom. 
I’m ready for this now.
 

Grace was right, the restaurant
was
lovely.  It was tucked up a steep side street, and the waiter led them to an outside table, under a canopy of vines, heavy with grapes and lit with tiny fairy lights.  It was a magical setting.  They could see down to the river and across rooftops, but were far enough away from the hustle and bustle of the town centre not to be disturbed by the traffic and crowds milling around. 

Perfect for people watching,
Evie thought, looking on as the waiter turned away an English family who had just arrived, hopeful of getting a table.  No chance without a booking, this place was clearly popular, and she was heartened to see that it was mostly full of French people.  Good, then maybe for once they wouldn’t get presented with the English version of the
Menu Touristique
.  It seemed too upmarket a place for that.

Evie was in a ponderous mood tonight.  The early evening interlude with her husband had come as a surprise, as much to him as to her.  James had been so loving, so very gentle… and clearly so very relieved to have his wife back again – properly.  She realised just how much she had missed him, not just the love-making, but his general physical presence, his warmth close behind her in bed, their limbs intertwined, his arm flung over her as they slept.  What a relief that she seemed to be slowly shedding the mental barrier that had prevented her from being able to accept him back fully; she had begun to wonder if it would ever leave her, if their relationship would ever get back to a physical level again.  He sensed her gaze on him and glanced up from the wine menu, smiling, his eyes brimming with love. 
We will be alright, I think.
 
We’re going to get through this, I know that now.  Together.

‘You’re quiet, Evie, everything OK?’ Grace asked while the men were distracted, helping Jack and Lily read the menu and choose their food.  The children’s menu, in true French style, was a mini version of the adult menu, only with some of the more complex flavours removed, and not a chicken nugget in sight, thankfully.  The twins both decided on the Confit of Duck with Lentils; Grace was very proud of them for being game enough to try something they’d never eaten before.

‘More than, OK, actually,’ Evie whispered to her friend, conspiratorially.

‘You mean, you two…’ Grace wiggled her eyebrows mischievously.  Evie hadn’t exactly given her friend a blow-by-blow account of the progress of her marriage, but she had told Grace how hard she found it to accept James back on a physical level.

‘Oh, Evie, I’m so pleased for you.  You two are going to be fine, I know it.’  Grace knew it had been a long and slow road back to recovery for her friends, but had always been confident in the fact that there was so much love, so much history there, that at some point they would find their shared ground again.  But it was easy to make observations like that when you were outside the marriage, much harder to achieve when you were the ones actually in it, having to do the work and make the effort.  And look how quickly that shared ground could so easily be infiltrated.

Anastasia, partly hidden by her menu, kept looking over to the side and grinning.  Evie wondered what she was up to, and then peered across to see the object of her daughter’s smiles.  On the other side of the veranda there was a very smartly dressed French family, parents and two teenage children, a girl and a boy.  The girl was chatting away animatedly to her mother, but the boy was doing exactly what Ana was doing, peeping up coyly and smiling.  He couldn’t be more than about fifteen, Evie thought, and had that slightly uneasy manner that comes with teen-hood, stuck in the hiatus between leaving childhood behind and becoming a man. 

‘Oh no, not Ana too,’ Evie muttered quietly to Grace.  Grace smiled.  ‘Both of my girls falling for French boys.  Ana has barely noticed that boys exist up till now.  But then it had to happen at some time, I suppose.’

‘He does look nice, very handsome.  At least she’s got good taste!’ Grace joked.

Evie studied her youngest daughter in more detail.  Both girls were very pretty; Evie knew she was biased, but they were.  Ana was really starting to come out of herself lately, and when dressed up, looked far older than her fourteen years.  Just recently, Ana had been taking more care in her appearance.  Before the summer holidays she’d asked if she could try contact lenses, and Evie had taken her along to the opticians.  She wanted to stop ‘looking nerdy’, and Evie was fine with that.  Ana did look very studious in her glasses, and tended to use them as a barrier to hide behind.  Getting lenses had removed the safety net, and that coupled with the growing confidence she was starting to have in her own natural beauty, meant that her head was held high more often these days.  She was losing the shrinking violet look and growing into a lovely young lady. 
What beautiful girls I have,
Evie thought to herself.
  I’m so lucky.  And not just beautiful, but lovely people on the inside, too.  Well, teenage spats aside, at least, but they would grow out of those.

‘
Will it still have its beak on, Mummy?’ Jack asked, after the food had been ordered.  He had asked the waiter all by himself if he could please have the duck, in English, obviously, but at the end had added a very grand
‘See voo play,’
as he pronounced it, grimacing with the effort of speaking a foreign language.

‘No darling.  It’ll just look like meat.  It’s fine to eat duck, just like we eat chicken and beef and pork.’  She didn’t think she’d better tell her five-year-old son that the French also ate snails and frogs legs, or she could see Forest School at Cropley School becoming a tasting zone for Class One children, eager to try out the delicacies lurking in the pond in the school grounds, as recommended by their widely travelled friend, Jack.

Lily had come out with a very grown up ‘I’ll have what he’s having,’ which made the adults laugh.  Followed by a very obvious English ‘Please’, with a roll of the eyes as if to say, ‘If you expect me to speak any French, then you’ve got another thing coming.’

She was hilarious, Evie thought.  She loved her Goddaughter to bits.  Having another little girl in her life made her think back fondly to the days when her own girls were small.  Looking back now, life had seemed so much less complicated then, even if at the time it felt like there was never a moment to spare, and the children were so dependent on you.  It was always the way that you never appreciated what you had until it was gone.

The evening passed pleasantly and the empty bottle count increased.  The children had congregated at one end of the table and adults at the other.  Evie and James were snuggled close together, but Evie was still keeping watch on her what her youngest was up to.

She could see Anastasia fidgeting.  ‘Why don’t you go and speak to him?’ she whispered.  ‘Look, the parents are waving for you to come over.’

‘Really, Mum, you’re so embarrassing,’ Anastasia replied, but then got up from the table and self-consciously made her way over to the other side of the veranda.  The French family had finished eating now, and pulled up another chair alongside their son’s for Ana to sit on.  They looked very nice and very welcoming, Evie thought.  Within minutes they were all chatting away, in what Evie could work out as a mixture of French and English.  Ana had lost her air of embarrassment and seemed to be enjoying the attention.  Good for her.

James slipped his hand onto Evie’s knee, pushing the soft silk of her dress up her thigh. 

Grace saw that Tom had noticed the renewed closeness between their friends, too – they’d better let these two lovebirds get back to the chateau and their reignited passion in the not too distant future, but it looked like Ana was having a great time on the French family’s table, so no one wanted to drag her away just yet.

‘Just give her ten more minutes, then we’ll get the bill,’ Evie said, clearly on the same wavelength.

‘Bless her,’ Grace said.  ‘You’ve got your hands full now, two daughters after French boys.  Have to say that one over there looks a little tamer than the lovely Pascal, though!’

‘Yeah, you’re not wrong there,’ James piped up.  ‘That boy is way too good looking for his own sake.’

‘Uh-oh, talk of the devil,’ said Tom.  ‘Don’t look now, but isn’t that him over there?’

‘Oh shit, he’d better disappear before Immy spots him.’ 

It was too late, Immy was already waving at Pascal.

Grace thought there looked to be nothing accidental about Pascal’s sudden appearance.

‘Pascal, salut, ça va?’ Immy was up from the table, kissing him on both cheeks – twice – in true French style.

‘OK if Pascal joins us for a bit?’ she asked, all wide-eyed and innocent.

Evie knew they had fallen into a trap.  No doubt her scheming daughter had let Pascal know exactly where they would be, and he had simply then ‘happened to be passing’ as they were dining.  How convenient.  Part of her wanted to congratulate her daughter on her deviousness – she’d have been proud of her teenage self if she’d come up with something like that – but the other part of her was furious that Immy was about to upset the balance of the evening.  But then if one daughter was busy chatting up a French boy, then she couldn’t really say no to the other, could she?  She had been looking forward to getting back to the chateau soon – she and James had lots of catching up to do – but clearly Imogen’s romance was going to be taking precedence over her own this evening.  Honestly, dealing with teenage kids could be a passion-killer sometimes. 

‘Monsieur, Madame Brookes, I am once again delighted to see you.’  Pascal greeted Evie and James warmly. 
What was I saying about passion-killer?
Evie thought to herself as Pascal very boldly stepped forward to kiss her on the cheek, too, subjecting her to a huge waft of his musky aftershave.  Mmmm. 
Pull yourself together, Evie, this boy is young enough to be your son.  Lucky Immy,
she thought, then slapped herself on the wrist for even thinking such a thought about her young and innocent daughter.  It was frightening to think of her own little girl having lustful thoughts about this man.  And more frightening to think what she might do about them.

‘Would you like to join us Pascal?’ she heard James ask.  Crikey, he had changed his tune.  Maybe he had realised that allowing Immy to see Pascal under their watchful eye was safer than banning her from seeing him – and then risking her doing so behind their backs.

‘Merci beaucoup, you are too kind.  Monsieur et Madame Brookes, I am, how you say, very much liking your daughter.  She is very pretty.  Comme sa mère.’  Evie blushed.  ‘My friend, he is in town with me, we meet and go to club later.  But do not worry I not take your daughter, she too young.  I no trouble you too long.  But I may visit with Imogen at the chateau one day?’

Well, I’m impressed, Evie thought, glancing towards her daughter, who was still sitting demurely at the table, whilst the object of her affections worked his charms on her mother.  A few months back and Immy would have tried to make a quick runner into town with this young man, but here she was, showing huge restraint, not sulking, not insisting she went too.  It was hard not to like this boy, with his stilted English and charming manners and oh, so perfect body.  But still, they didn’t know him, or what he was really like.  Oh heck, who would be the parents of teenage kids?  Especially girls, it was scary.  Surely teenage sons must be so much easier.

‘Ah, my friend, he come now.’  Pascal stood to greet the man who had just arrived, shaking his hand and leading them to the table.

Oh my God, he’s the man who kissed me at the service station.  What the hell is he doing here?

Evie blushed to her roots.
 
Again.

The meal out hadn’t done a huge amount to lift Grace’s spirits.  It was such a waste of a fabulous evening, she thought, but nevertheless she hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that she was hiding behind a mask of pretend enjoyment. She’d smiled when she needed to smile, answered people’s questions, but things just hadn’t felt right.  How could they?  Despite her conviction that Tom couldn’t possibly be Isaac’s father, and that if he was, then she would have known about it sooner, there was still that small, niggling thought in the back of her mind that said, ‘But what if he is?’

Grace was convinced Sophie was lying, that she and Tom were simply caught up in some sick and twisted plan of hers.  Tom wasn’t the kind of man to keep secrets, and she couldn’t imagine that he would shirk responsibility to any child that he knew was his.  It just wasn’t him, which was why she was even further convinced that this was the first Tom had heard about the child, and that he hadn’t been keeping things from her.  To do that would go against all the principles of honesty and decency that he held dear.

But what if Sophie had kept Isaac a secret for these past six years – for whatever bizarre reason – and the child
did
turn out to be his?  Where did that leave her and the twins?  She couldn’t bear the thought of having to have Sophie in their lives, even in an indirect way, purely because Sophie and Tom shared a child.  And then there was the added complication of a new half-brother for Lily and Jack suddenly materialising out of the blue.  It would be a lot for them to take in.  But then, if Isaac really was Tom’s, then Tom had every right to have the child in his life, as much as the twins had a right to know their half-brother.  She felt like her head would explode with all the constant analysis. 

It had been Tom’s idea that they go out for dinner the previous evening; he thought it would be a good distraction for them all, particularly with the children there too.  It was impossible to get introspective when you had the kids with you; they kept everything real.  The restaurant was beautiful and the food amazing, and she and Tom were much cheered by the fact that Evie and James’ relationship seemed quite obviously to be taking a turn for the better, after their day out together.  What a relief.  The pair of them had mostly been fine during the holiday, although sometimes she and Tom had detected an undercurrent, which their friends had done their best to hide. 

Evie and James weren’t the sort of couple to air their dirty laundry in public, so it must be hard, when you were in constant company, to feel as though you always needed to show a happy face.  Evie would confide in Grace, but the men hardly ever talked about personal matters; it just wasn’t what men did.  Grace thought James looked like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders last night, though, and Evie had a little spark of hope in her eyes, which had been missing for quite some time.  Well, good for them, Grace was happy for her friends.

Now she just needed to sort out their own problems, such as they were.  Hopefully James would be able to do some digging and find out something at the hospital.  But that wasn’t going to be easy, in this day and age with such stringent rules about confidentiality everywhere, especially in the health sector.  What if he couldn’t find anything out?  Would they have to go through the whole rigmarole of paternity tests and all that sort of stuff?  She shuddered, imagining the horrors of where this could all lead. 

Grace and Tom had taken themselves off upstairs for some quiet time.  The girls were looking after the twins by the pool – again.  Really, if they totted up the hours that those girls had babysat on this holiday, then they must owe them a fortune.  Luckily Immy and Ana were happy to do it, and adored Lily and Jack.  She and Tom lay side by side on the bed, in the cool, shuttered room, glad of a break from the poolside chatter and the heat of the afternoon sun.  Grace had her book and was half-heartedly dipping in and out of that, and Tom was listening to his iPod, although with only one earphone in, so that he wasn’t cut off from Grace. 

‘You OK, love?’ Tom asked.  ‘How’s your book?’

‘Yeah, it’s good.  Can’t really concentrate, though.  I wonder if James has put in a call yet?  We can’t really ask him so soon, can we?  I mean, he’s doing us a massive favour.’

‘Damn her, spoiling our holiday like this.  Look at us two, moping around like it’s the end of the world.’  He sat up suddenly.  ‘Well, sod her, I say, come on you, my lovely wife, let’s get on with the rest of our holiday.  We can’t live our lives like this, can we, thinking about what might happen, when it just might not happen?  It could be a complete fabrication, and what a waste of all this that would be.  And then she’s ruined our holiday and won, hasn’t she?  Come on, we’re going downstairs to crack open a bottle of champagne and celebrate.’

‘Celebrate what?’ asked Grace.

‘Something, anything, we’ll find something.  Being happy, yes, we’re going to celebrate friends, families and happiness.’

He grabbed Grace’s hand and pulled her up off the bed before she could say ‘Well, pop my cork’, and they ran down the stairs like a pair of giggling school children.  As Tom reached into the fridge for the champagne, Grace couldn’t help feeling that this was all a front he was putting on, for her sake and for the sake of not ruining the rest of the holiday.  He was the sort of deeply kind person who would rather take the weight of the world on his shoulders than let anyone he loved be miserable.  Grace hoped to goodness he wasn’t doing that – it wouldn’t do him any good at all – but she knew he was right, they couldn’t spend the next few days moping.  This was the holiday of a lifetime; it would be such a waste.