Life's a Beach and Then... (The Liberty Sands Trilogy Book 1) (25 page)

The journey through France was proving easier than Robert had
anticipated. The French roads, clogged by tourist traffic later in the summer,
were relatively free-moving so they had arrived in Reims for their planned
lunch stop just before 1 p.m.

Robert was glad of the break. He had felt isolated in the
driver’s seat, unable to hear much of the conversation between Holly and
Rosemary due to the road noise when they were travelling at speed on the
motorway.

It had been a pleasant lunch in an ancient French inn,
although he had to restrict himself to one glass of wine as he was driving. He
was a little disappointed that Holly hadn’t volunteered to take the wheel for
an hour or two so that he could have had a second glass, particularly as she
had stuck to water with her meal. She had suggested that it would be better to
take over the driving further into the journey when he would be starting to
feel weary.

She was probably right, he thought, glancing in his
rear-view mirror at the two women. Rosemary had fallen asleep again, this time
with her head rested on a travel blanket on Holly’s lap which the younger woman
had thoughtfully folded to create a pillow. Considering they had known each
other for such a comparatively short time there was an incredible intimacy
between them. Earlier, when Rosemary was dozing, leaning against Holly’s
shoulder, he noticed she was resting her hand almost protectively across
Holly’s midsection.

Holly was looking out of the window barely seeing the scenery
as it rushed by at speed. She had been sitting in the same position for the
past two hours, not wanting to move in case she disturbed Rosemary and, as a
consequence, her right leg was starting to feel tingly as though she was about
to get pins and needles. It will soon be time to wake her so that I can swap
places with Robert and take a turn at driving, Holly thought.

That morning they had discussed in voices low enough that
Robert wouldn’t be able to hear over the noise of the engine and the road, how
best to broach the subject of a change of destination from Geneva, where Robert
thought they were headed, to Zurich. Holly had come up with the plan of taking
over the driving in Dijon in the hope that Robert’s attentiveness to his wife’s
comfort and conversation would distract him from noticing that they had turned
east instead of continuing south.

Rosemary had whispered to her, ‘You are so good at finding
solutions to other people’s problems but loath to ask advice on how to deal
with your own.’

‘The baby isn’t a problem, Rosemary,’ she had answered
defensively. ‘It will be loved and cherished as much as any child on this
planet.’

That was when Rosemary had rested her hand on Holly’s tummy.
‘I know, but don’t you deserve to be loved too?’

‘Apparently not by the people I fall in love with. But I’ve
got Harry, and now you two, of course.’

They both fell silent momentarily, realising that the number
of people who loved Holly would very soon be minus one.

‘Have you told Harry yet?’

‘No, I hadn’t done the test to confirm the pregnancy before
he went back to Bath and it’s not the sort of thing I can tell him on the
phone.’

‘How do you think he will react?’

Holly thought for a moment. ‘Honestly, I don’t really know.
He may be cross that I had unprotected sex, particularly when I’m always
nagging him about it. He might be a bit jealous that he’ll have to share me
with someone else, even though he’s not living at home anymore. He might even
be secretly pleased that he is going to have a sibling. One thing is for sure,
he will know exactly the experience this baby will have being brought up by an
unmarried single mother because he has already lived it.’

‘So does that mean you’re not going to tell Philippe about
the baby?’

‘I don’t know. Perhaps he has a right to know as the baby’s
biological father but I don’t think I want someone who clearly has so little
regard for my feelings to have an influence on the way my child views me.’

Rosemary was troubled. She had known Philippe for almost a
year and she knew he was a kind and caring person with a troubled past of his
own that he had only really come to terms with by writing about it in his novel
Maman
. Rosemary felt sure that he had deep and true
feelings for Holly and he clearly didn’t think he had done anything wrong by
using their intimacy as a basis for the character in his latest book. Maybe he
thought Holly would never find out about it, after all he was unaware of her
work as both a travel blogger and a copy editor, and he hadn’t told her that he
wrote under the pseudonym Veronica Phillips.

It was all so complicated and there was so much the two of
them had kept secret from each other for various reasons. Perhaps he had
intended to tell Holly when he returned to England that she had been the
inspiration that brought his book to life. What an unfortunate coincidence that
his manuscript had landed on Holly’s desk to copy edit and that she had put two
and two together and come up with her own conclusion without hearing what he
had to say.

If only there was something I could do to reunite the two of
them or at the very least get them to talk things through, she thought. If only
I wasn’t so tired and sick. If only I had more time.

As her eyes had started to close she thought she heard Holly
say, ‘If it’s a little girl I will call her Rose.’

Holly shifted her weight slightly to try and relieve the
numbness in her right thigh. The last road sign said they were only fifty
kilometres from Dijon so it would soon be time to wake Rosemary but she was
anxious that her friend should rest as much as she needed, particularly if she
was to stop her husband noticing the change of destination for as long as
possible. She thought back to lunchtime. Rosemary seemed really refreshed and
full of energy after her morning nap, laughing about Robert’s appalling chat-up
technique when they had first met in Mauritius. At his crestfallen expression
she had reached for his hand across the table and given it a squeeze, and then
left her hand resting lightly on his for the remainder of the meal. Holly was
ashamed to admit to herself that she had felt a hint of jealousy at the relaxed
intimacy of that simple action between two people still so in love with each
other.

She glanced down at Rosemary’s elegant hand which she had
been holding for the past two hours. It was starting to feel a little cold.
Maybe it would have been better to use my jacket as a pillow for her so that I
could have wrapped the blanket around her, she thought, reaching for the jacket
to lay it across Rosemary’s shoulders.

The movement attracted Robert’s attention as, raising his
voice to be heard, he asked, ‘Everything all right in the back?’

‘Yes fine,’ answered Holly, realising with growing concern
that things may not be at all fine. Rosemary had not stirred when she had
reached for her jacket nor at the sound of Robert’s raised voice. Holly’s mouth
felt dry and a cold sweat started to form on her brow as she adjusted her grip
on Rosemary’s hand to feel for a pulse. Nothing.

Oblivious to Holly’s mounting panic, Robert was asking her,
his voice still louder than usual, whether she had noticed how much Rosemary
had eaten at lunch. ‘Rosie’s always been partial to coq au vin but I was
genuinely surprised that she finished the whole plateful. It must have been the
sea air from the ferry crossing giving her an appetite. You didn’t seem to eat
much though, Holly, are you still feeling under the weather?’

‘A bit,’ Holly responded, her heart thundering in her chest,
wondering what she should do. She didn’t want to alarm Robert needlessly, after
all, maybe Rosemary had a weak pulse that she couldn’t detect because of the
leukaemia.

‘This break will do us all good I think,’ Robert continued.
‘And it will be lovely for you see your Italian friends again, particularly the
little girl. What was her name again?’

Holly just wanted Robert to be quiet while she tried to
think.

‘Giulietta,’ she replied, slipping her hand into her handbag
to retrieve her make-up compact. She flipped it open and held the mirror in
front of Rosemary’s mouth just as she had done with Harry when he was a baby to
check he was still breathing. No mist formed. Rosemary was not breathing.

‘That’s right, Giulietta. Cute little thing and she really
took a shine to you, Holly. Do you ever regret not having more children?’

Struggling to keep the rising panic from her voice she said,
‘Actually Robert, I’m not feeling too great, could you pull over to the side of
the road please.’

Robert eased his foot off the accelerator, indicated to pull
into the inside lane and then the hard shoulder and brought the car to a halt.

‘What’s wrong, Holly? A bit of car sickness?’ he asked
sympathetically while turning in his seat.

Tears were coursing down Holly’s cheeks. ‘I’m so sorry,
Robert. She’s gone.’

Holly gazed down the beautiful sunlit garden, filled with the
pungent aroma of honeysuckle and roses, and rested her hands on the stone
balustrade which felt cool and slightly damp to the touch after the light rain
shower a couple of hours earlier. The rain had started just as Rosemary’s
coffin was being lowered into the ground and it was almost as though the
heavens were crying. The shower had only lasted a few minutes and stopped as
abruptly as it had begun allowing the sun to once more shine on the subdued
gathering and causing the most vivid rainbow Holly had ever seen. Rainbows and
white feathers, the two things that had felt like a connection with her dad
after he died and had been the biggest comfort to her whenever she saw them.
Was Rosemary trying to tell them she was free of pain at last?

Holly had come out into the garden to allow Robert to say
goodbye to the remaining guests who had come back to the house for afternoon
tea following the funeral. She was glad of a few minutes to herself after
answering so many questions about the aborted trip to Switzerland and the
comments about how lucky they were to have made it home in time for Rosemary to
pass away peacefully in her own bed. If they only knew the truth, Holly
thought, shuddering at the memory of the horrendous twelve hours that had
followed Rosemary’s death.

Robert had understandably been totally devastated and unable
to make any decisions as to what they should do. He had sat cradling his wife,
gently rocking back and forth as if to comfort her, tears flowing freely down
his cheeks. It was Holly who suggested they should try and get Rosemary home.

‘Obviously I’ll drive, Robert,’ she had said. ‘But when we
get close to Calais you will have to sit in the front with me and we will cover
Rosemary with the blanket on the back seat and hope that nobody will want to
check the car.’

There had been no response from Robert.

Holly had continued. ‘If we can just get her home you will
be able to call your doctor in the morning and say that Rosemary must have
passed away in her sleep. He knows how ill Rosemary has been so I don’t think
he will question anything.’

Robert was still silent.

‘Do you want to try this Robert?’ Holly persisted, knowing
they needed to reach a decision quickly. ‘If the French authorities become
involved they would have to perform an autopsy on Rosemary in a French morgue
to determine the cause of death. You don’t want that to happen to her, do you?’

‘Will it work?’ Robert had whispered.

Holly had no idea if it would work, or what would happen to
the pair of them if they were discovered smuggling a dead body into the
country, but she wanted the best for Rosemary so was prepared to take the risk.

They had both been terribly tense at the French border
control but they had got on board the ferry without being questioned. Robert
didn’t want to leave Rosemary alone in the car but realised that he had no
choice. They sat at a small table in the cafeteria in silence, neither of them
touching the hot sweet tea traditionally recommended for shock, and neither
able to think of meaningful words to comfort the other. Holly was also quiet
because she knew the most risky part of her plan lay ahead.

There needed to be a record of Rosemary coming back into the
country. She would show all three passports and hope that the border guard
would accept that the Forresters were both sleeping in the back seat and would
not disturb them. Miraculously that was exactly what transpired. Normally Holly
would be shocked at the lax security but under the circumstances she was merely
grateful.

It was after 3 a.m. when the tyres of the Jaguar finally
crunched on the gravel of the driveway they had left less than twenty-four
hours previously. Robert had refused Holly’s help to carry Rosemary into the
house and as she watched him gently lift her out of the back seat, Holly’s
throat constricted. There was something incredibly poignant about the sight, so
reminiscent of a newly married bride being carried over the threshold.

As Holly had held open the bedroom door Robert paused before
entering.

‘Words can’t express my thanks for what you have done for
Rosie and I tonight Holly and I promise I will never forget. You should try and
get some rest. You look shattered.’

Holly had lain down fully clothed on the bed in the guest
room and, much to her own surprise, had instantly fallen into a deep sleep born
out of physical and emotional exhaustion.

It’s hard to believe that was only ten days ago, Holly
thought, welcoming the warming feel of the sun on her face, although in some
respects the time had flown as she had been busy helping Robert with the
preparations for the funeral. They had been surprised to find that Rosemary had
planned every minute detail and left it in an envelope on Robert’s desk, which
he had discovered when he went into his office to call their doctor the next
morning. There were also envelopes addressed to each and every guest who would
be attending her funeral.

Thankfully Holly was at Robert’s side when the doctor
arrived to examine Rosemary’s body and pronounce her deceased. His only comment
was that she must have died quite soon after she had retired to bed the
previous evening. Holly exhaled the breath she had been holding and put a comforting
arm around Robert’s shoulder as a gentle reminder not to mention the excursion
to France. It was an enormous relief that there would be no need for an autopsy
as the doctor had been kept up to date with her treatment and deterioration by
Professor Lang.

Holly had also been there when the undertaker arrived later
in the day to move Rosemary to the chapel of rest. Robert had been reluctant to
let go of her hand. ‘You want her to look her best when her friends see her for
the last time don’t you?’ Holly said as she gently loosened his grip. They
handed over the clothes and shoes that Rosemary herself had selected and Holly
quietly reminded the undertaker that the make-up should be minimal.

Once Rosemary was no longer in the house the shock of it all
really hit Robert. Holly decided she would have to stay with him until after
the funeral apart from a fleeting visit to her home in Reading to pick up some
clean clothes.

She also took the opportunity to email Philippe following
his lack of response to the three emails Robert had sent him with the dreadful
news. Holly was incensed that he would ignore his friend at such a time. In the
subject box she put:

PLEASE READ, your friend Robert needs you

Philippe

I know you and I are no longer speaking but I am writing to
plead with you to contact Robert. He has sent you three emails and so far you
have ignored them. Surely you cannot be too busy with your new book to turn
away a friend in need. Robert is devastated after losing Rosemary and you are
supposed to be his friend. Please find it in your heart (if indeed you have
one) to at least speak to him on the phone.

The funeral is arranged for Tuesday. If you want to attend I
will stay away to avoid an embarrassing situation but please let Robert know.
He will need as much support as possible on the day.

None of this changes the situation between us.

Holly

She wasn’t particularly surprised, but nevertheless very
disappointed, when there was still no reply to either of them from Philippe.

Her hands gripped the balustrade tighter as she muttered,
‘Selfish bastard’, under her breath.

‘What’s that, Mum? Are you okay?’ Harry asked, approaching
his mother across the mellow Yorkstone patio.

Holly turned to face her son. ‘I just need a big hug,’ she
replied wrapping her arms around him. ‘Has everyone gone now?’

‘Robert is just waving off Melody and the children. It’s
funny, I would have thought Robert and Rosemary would have had more friends.’

‘Rosemary was very specific about who she wanted to be
here.’

‘I can’t believe she had the whole thing planned. I suppose
that’s the only benefit of knowing you’re terminally ill. You can put all your
affairs in order so that other people don’t have to. Didn’t she want the
Frenchman here?’

Holly coloured slightly. ‘Both Robert and I emailed him to
tell him what had happened and give him the funeral details but he hasn’t been
in touch at all. Looks like I had a lucky escape,’ she said, subconsciously
resting her hand on her softly rounded belly. She knew she would soon have to
tell Harry about the pregnancy but she couldn’t face it while she was already
feeling so emotional and he was heading back to university that evening. Holly
planned to stay the night in Woldingham again but then she had to leave to get
ready for her latest Liberty Sands trip.

‘Come on we should go in and look after Robert.’

They heard the click of the front door closing as they
entered through the glass doors. Robert slowly descended the stairs looking
every day of his sixty years.

‘Would you like a brandy, Robert? You look like you could
use one.’

‘A bit early in the day for me, really, but I think I will.’

He slumped on to the plump cushions of the sofa and extended
his hand to take the glass of golden liquid that Holly had poured for him.

‘Did you give everyone their letters?’ Holly asked.

‘Yes, all except Philippe, of course.’

Holly and Harry exchanged a look.

‘I can’t believe I got him so wrong. I’m usually a pretty
good judge of character. I can’t even post it to him because I don’t know where
he is staying now that he’s back in the UK. Damn funny business all that,’
Robert concluded shaking his head.

‘It was a beautiful service,’ Holly said, anxious to steer
the conversation away from Philippe.

‘Yes it was,’ agreed Harry. ‘I’ve never been to a funeral
before but I thought they were always sombre and full of Bible readings and
hymns that no one knows the words to.’

‘Rosie always could plan an event. We weren’t big
church-goers but we know the vicar really well because he has visited our home
many times for coffee mornings and tea parties that she laid on to raise funds
for the upkeep of the church. That’s why the eulogy was so touching because he
was speaking about a friend, not just a parishioner. She wanted pink roses and
happy poems and songs that her friends could sing along to. I think she would
have enjoyed it if she had been there.’

‘She was there, Robert.’

‘No, Holly, only her body was there, her spirit was long
gone. I like to think she’s visiting all the places around the world that she
loved before she leaves this existence for ever. I hope I’ll be able to find
her again when it’s my turn to go.’

Holly and Harry were both silent, not knowing what to say.

‘You know I held it all together until the Michael Jackson
version of “Smile”. I don’t know if I’ll ever smile again.’

‘Give it time, Robert, it all gets better with time. I know
it’s not the same thing but when my dad died I felt exactly the same, totally
desolate. Thank God I had Harry to get me through the darkest times.’

Robert thought but didn’t say, I don’t have any children to
bring me happiness and make me smile.

Harry thought but didn’t say, I don’t have a father to one
day mourn.