Hand On Heart: Sequel to Head Over Heels (7 page)

‘Bloody French and their slack morals.  I still blame Sarkozy for the slip in standards, hasn’t been the same here since him and that Carla woman of his…’  Evie felt he was protesting a little too much, but on he droned. She blanked out her grumpy husband and strolled across to the service station shop feeling considerably taller and straighter and with a beaming smile of satisfaction on her face.  What made a man do something as impulsive as that?  Whatever it was, she thought it was quite charming.  She knew that the fact it had wound James up should bother her, but actually it just added to the little frisson of excitement.  Why shouldn’t another man find her attractive and act on impulse?  It wouldn’t hurt to make him feel he needed to keep his wits about him when it came to his wife.  After all, that was what she had had to do only last summer.

Grace glanced worriedly at her friend, hoping this little turn of events wasn’t going to cause friction in the Brookes’ car for the rest of the journey.

‘We’re here!  I think.’ Tom shouted.  Grace was still in the driving seat and Tom had hardly looked up from the map for the past fifty miles or so.  Grace had been happy to put her trust in the Sat-Nav during her stint at the wheel, and it had served them perfectly well, leading them safely and in good time to the Chateau Cardin.  As they neared the village, Tom had insisted on reading out the hand-typed instructions from the owner, telling them to how to get from the village to the Chateau itself.  It had been unnecessary.  Finding this place wasn’t rocket science, and Grace had been managing perfectly well with the help of modern technology.

‘Of course we’re here, Tom, you silly thing,’ Grace droned, rolling her eyes.  Then: ‘Oh my God, just look at this!’

They pulled into a huge driveway, marked ‘Chateau Cardin, Propriété Privée’.  Well, it was more of an avenue than a driveway, Grace thought.  A long, tree-lined avenue.  ‘Private, just for us!  Oh… My… God… Look at it, it’s beautiful!  Kids, look!  Turn the film off now, come on, and just have a look at this, this is where we’re staying!’  Grace could hardly contain her excitement.  Her eyes wandered from the road as she turned the corner, and the true splendour of the place was revealed to them all.  She was breathless with excitement.

‘It’s… it’s… I mean… look at this place!  Is this really all just for us?  It’s huge!’ 

It was a magical building, a fairy-tale castle from a little girl’s dreams, only more beautiful, more real, and definitely far better in the flesh than it had looked on the website.  In the early evening sun the mellow stone walls glowed a warm welcome to them.  There were turrets of all shapes and sizes, arched windows, dove cotes, a wishing well, ivy growing up the walls.  It couldn’t look more typically French, grand yet shabby, chic yet casual.  How did the French always manage to pull off that style so well? 

Grace was enchanted.  She couldn’t remember being this enthralled by a building since an old boyfriend, on an early-twenties holiday in the Loire, had taken her to visit the Chateau de Chambord.  As they’d approached, it had gently crept out of the trees at them, before unveiling itself in all its glory, with its renaissance towers and rooftops and its sheer magnificence.  She’d been back a decade or so later with Mark, and it had had the same effect on her all over again.  Chambord might be on a different scale to this much smaller chateau, but in this one they were to stay!  A whole two weeks here!  This was going to be some holiday, Grace thought, smiling inside and out.  Who could fail to have a great holiday somewhere like this?  They pulled up on the gravelled forecourt, undid the twins’ seatbelts and almost fell upon the owner, a jolly looking elderly Frenchman, who had come out of his half of the chateau to greet them.

Released from their car seats like coiled springs, Lily and Jack powered off like a pair of bullets from a double-barrelled shotgun.  They ran around the courtyard, screeching and caterwauling, whilst Grace apologised to the owner – who had since introduced himself as Henri – in her best schoolgirl French, which wasn’t terribly extensive.  When words failed her, she shrugged her shoulders in what she considered to be a Gallic way and smiled indulgently at her offspring, hoping her actions would convey what she was trying to say better than her lips could.

‘Bienvenue à tous-le-monde au Chateau Cardin,’ Henri exclaimed, shaking Grace and Tom’s hands enthusiastically. ‘J’espère que vous passerez de très bons vacances chez nous.’

Grace understood enough French to know that Henri was wishing them a good stay here, but knew they would be relying quite heavily on James, who spoke the language fluently, for any more complex forms of communication.  The Brookes’ car was already parked up, so clearly they were all inside, settling themselves in. 

Evie emerged from the chateau, showered and changed and ready to begin her holiday.  James followed hot on her heels.  He managed to dismiss Henri with some polite-sounding expression, offering to give their friends the tour of the chateau, as Henri had already done it for them.  Grace was relieved not to have to resort to any more of her pidgin French for the time being.

‘Wow, Evie, I think you chose well,’ Grace said as the two women strolled arm in arm back towards the chateau.  ‘This place is amazing!  Is this all really for us?’

‘Well, Henri and his wife live in that half over there, but it’s not really a half, all those windows in that bit belong to our wing, too. It’s huge, come inside and have a look.’

‘But first, champagne,’ James insisted, handing Grace and Tom a ready-poured flute. 

‘Hang on a sec, where are my kids?’ Grace inquired, but then she heard the squeals coming from outside.  Beyond the huge double doors that led to the patio and pool, she could hear the twins shrieking in delight.  Naked as the day they were born, the pair of them were preparing to jump into the pool – where Imogen and Anastasia were waiting to catch them, thankfully.

‘How sweet,’ Evie laughed.  ‘Couldn’t even wait to unpack their cossies.  Oh the innocence of youth!’

‘Sorry,’ Grace began, then realised there wasn’t really anything to apologise for.  No one minded the nakedness of a five-year-old or two; but she and Tom might just wait until they’d unpacked before they sampled the delights of the pool.

After the lunch stop, Imogen and Anastasia sulked in the back seat.  Honestly, teenagers, Evie thought to herself.  She wouldn’t mind betting that in Grace and Tom’s car, the only strops came when the biscuits ran out.  How much simpler life had been in those days when the kids were small… 

Immy hadn’t really wanted to come away with them to France, but she was still too young – and as recent events had proved, too immature – to be left behind for two whole weeks.  Not that Evie and James would have left her alone; they’d had an offer from Immy’s best friend’s parents to have her, but at this moment in time Evie still felt her eldest needed keeping an eye on, by her parents, not a third party around whom she could potentially run rings.  It wasn’t only that, but Evie was also clinging onto the idyll of the whole family holiday for as long as she could.  Only a couple more years and Immy could do what she wanted; once she was eighteen they wouldn’t be able to force her along if she really didn’t want to come. 

Evie thought back to her own teenage years.  If her daughter was a chip off the old block, then she’d go all independent, taking herself off on one or two cheap package holidays with her friends, to two-star hotels in inexpensive mass-market resorts, before realising that yes, Ma and Pa could provide a much better standard of holiday.  And then they would get the ‘Actually, I’d quite like to come with you guys this year after all,’ kind of comments.  And ‘Oh, Mum, would it be OK if my friend came along too?’

‘Immy, love, come on, this holiday is going to be great for us all.  It’s just what we need, a bit of real family time.  You’ll have a lovely time when you get there, you’ll see.’  Evie knew she sounded lame, and that family time was probably the lowest priority for her near adult daughter right now, but she was still reeling from that very unexpected kiss and didn’t have the energy to make up reasons as to why this grumpy child ought to relax and enjoy her holiday, and stop acting like a spoiled brat.  As far as she was concerned, it was a holiday, and therefore you enjoyed it.  Sun, a pool, the company of good friends, what was there not to like?  Quite frankly, Evie couldn’t wait.

‘But there’s going to be nothing to do there, Mum,’ Imogen groaned.  ‘I can’t see my friends, there’ll be nowhere to go at night, and I bet there’s a bloody lousy internet connection, too.  I won’t even be able to Instagram, will I?  Get it now?’

‘Imogen, do NOT speak to your mother like that,’ James shouted.  ‘And do not swear.  Especially not in front of your sister.’  Anastasia glanced at her misbehaving older sister with an air of triumph.  On a rare occasion like this it was great being the youngest.  It wasn’t hard to look like the angel in the family when your sibling was playing up.  Tough as it might sometimes be as the youngest, she suspected she would have it easier than Immy when she reached that age. 
Thank you big sis for breaking them in to all the bad things teenage girls are capable of.
 

Immy sat back in her seat with a harrumph.  The kind of harrumph that only teenagers can pull off, with maximum attitude and rolling of eyes.

There was a short moment of silence, then: ‘But that bloke, Mum, what was that all about?’ 

So that’s what is really bothering her
, thought Evie.  She thought her daughters hadn’t been paying much attention to events at the service station, but clearly they had noticed everything that had happened.  ‘Didn’t you know him?  You must have done, surely.  Why would he do that otherwise?’ 

Bless her, underneath all this, she is still a sensitive little girl,
Evie thought to herself.  She remembered how Imogen had been the worst affected by the events of last summer, had taken everything to heart when she saw her secure world threatening to crumble beneath her, terror-struck that their little family might fall apart.  For a while, things had seemed fairly terminal, and it had been scary for them all.  Once the worst had passed, she thought she’d done a good job of plastering over the cracks and reassuring the girls that everything was back to normal, but clearly the whole episode had shattered Immy’s sense of security.  As a teenager, Immy clearly understood enough about relationships to be concerned that the fault-lines in her parents’ marriage, which had appeared last summer, might have broken through again.

‘Course I don’t know him, Immy.  How could I?  Come on, love, he was just some mad Frenchman showing off to his mates, don’t worry about it.’

‘Maybe you wish it was you he’d kissed, Immy?’ said James.  ‘Didn’t you like your mum getting all the attention?’ 

Evie put her head in her hands in sheer exasperation. 
Oh, for God’s sake, James.
  Sometimes he really could be utterly insensitive and clueless.  Hadn’t he picked up on the reasons for Imogen’s comments?  The fact that she was feeling troubled by the whole thing?  Evie glared at him; it was a wholly inappropriate way of dealing with their daughter’s fears.

‘Just shut up James, will you?’ she snapped.

It took until the first sighting of the chateau for everyone’s mood to lift.  James sat in sulky silence, almost as tangible as his teenage daughter’s.  He didn’t take too kindly to being told off by his wife, in front of his girls, but Evie was unrepentant and thought he deserved it.

Immy was the first one out of the car.  ‘Wow,’ she exclaimed, wide-eyed with excitement, before running off to greet the chateau owner and practise her GCSE French on him, much to the shock and surprise of her parents.  Teenagers could be such changeable creatures.

Evie sighed at her daughter’s sudden transformation, back to human being once more.  Teenagers didn’t come with a manual – you had to make it up as you went along, and life was so unpredictable.  Looking across at her now, it was a child that she saw again, no pretences, no attempting to keep up appearances or to look ‘cool’, just an uncomplicated child, excited to be arriving in a new place, with two whole weeks stretching ahead of her, full of all sorts of possibilities.

‘Whatever would you do without me?’ Evie joked. 

James had just emerged from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a distracted frown.  He picked his clean boxers up off the bed and put them on, as Evie handed him the dress shirt she had just spent the last ten minutes ironing.  Once again no partners were invited to the dinner he had to attend that evening, and she was surprised at how disappointed that left her feeling.  Her social life seemed to have waned to almost non-existent lately, annoyingly just as they reached the stage in their life when babysitters were no longer necessary and it would have been easy to go out more often. 

There was a time when she’d been at James’ side at all these social functions, the glamorous wife who wasn’t just a plus-one, but was the real ‘first lady’ of the business, a significant shareholder and an asset for James to have by his side.  She supposed that in this era of austerity, dropping partners from the invitation list must slash costs drastically for these companies, but then why throw a lavish dinner at all, if you really wanted to keep expenditure down?  And so it looked like being another night home alone with the remote control for her, as both girls were sleeping over at friends’ houses.

‘Oh, thanks, hun,’ James said absentmindedly, picking up the shirt and shrugging it on, before heading to the mirror to have a first attempt at tying his bow tie.

‘Come here, do you want me to do it?’ Evie offered.  Even after all the black tie do’s he had attended over the years, he still freaked out the moment the tie came out of the box, squinting at it as though it was some kind of complicated origami kit.

‘No, I’m fine.  Let me do it.’  He gave her an unceremonious shove with his elbow.  Unintentional, she hoped.

‘Ouch, what was that for?  I’m only trying to help.’

‘Sorry, sorry, didn’t mean to do that.  It’s just… It’s just easier for me to do it myself.’  He still hadn’t made eye contact with her since coming out of the bathroom.  Whatever was the matter with him this evening?  He didn’t seem to want her there, wanted to just get ready and go out, without any input from her.  Although wasn’t it funny how he was quite happy to let her do the tedious wifely bits like the ironing?  Typical bloke.  There was a time when she would have laid on the bed, watching him dress, they’d have had a glass of wine together, chatted and flirted and, had time permitted, he would have thrown caution to the wind and joined her on the bed, even if it meant crumpling his shirt.

‘What’s the matter James?  You’re being really snappy.  Have I done something to piss you off somehow?  Because if I have, there’s nothing I can put my finger on.  Tell me, come on.  What’s eating you?’

Well, that had turned into a bit of a rant.  She hadn’t intended it to be, but she couldn’t help giving vent to her feelings.  She could sense James’ defences rising.

‘Nothing.  Nothing’s wrong.  Look, I’ve got to go, the car’s just pulled up.’  He glanced out of the window; Evie hadn’t heard a car.  ‘Don’t wait up for me.’  He finished fiddling with the errant bow tie and grabbed his jacket from the hanger.  About to leave the room, a sudden change of heart caused him to take a few steps back and kiss her quickly on the cheek.

Don’t worry, I have absolutely no intention whatsoever of waiting up for you,
Evie thought,
especially if you’re in that kind of mood
.  What had happened to her husband?  Whatever it was, she would make sure she was well asleep before he came home.  She didn’t like going to bed with bad feelings between them, but she certainly wasn’t hanging around for him to come home either, a more drunken, and probably more cantankerous version of what he was now.

James wasn’t himself at all.  And this wasn’t the first time his behaviour had been uncharacteristic.  But the opportunity to talk to him about it hadn’t really arisen, as they had spent so very little time alone together recently.  It seemed that either the girls were always around, or when they were at home alone, James was busy in his study on some important call or other and couldn’t be interrupted.  When was the last time they’d been out together, just the two of them, or sat down at home, alone, chatting over a late supper or a glass of wine?  Suddenly she missed him desperately, missed those times when they’d been happy.  Why weren’t they happy anymore?  What had gone so wrong?