Peach (63 page)

The weather in the south was unseasonably warm. A few late vacationers dotted the pool at the Hostellerie, soaking up the October sunshine like luxurious sleepy animals. Peach wandered through the immaculate terraced gardens, turning to look at the beach where young Charles was playing happily beneath an umbrella with his nurse. She thought of the baby she had been carrying for four months, Noel’s unborn child. He’d been thrilled when he heard that she was pregnant. “We’ll fill that nursery with kids,” he told her happily, “let them wake up this great old house. The new breed of Maddoxes will give the old de Courmonts a run for their money!”

Peach remembered laughing at his excitement, pleased that he seemed to have none of the worry that had preceded Charles’s birth. But Noel couldn’t blame this new situation on his unknown mother. What had happened now was his own doing—and singlehandedly he’d destroyed the love and trust that was the foundation of their relationship. It had been over a week since Marianne had given her the message that Noel had been forced to stay in Detroit for business reasons—though why he should need to be in Detroit so
long when his own company was here in France was beyond her understanding. And Detroit be damned—if he loved her he would have been on the next plane out, rushing to her side to try to explain, to make amends … Oh God, why hadn’t he done that, why, why? Instead, he’d left her alone, hurting and angry. Somehow, Harry’s cheating had not affected her inner self, but with Noel she felt devastated by the fact that what she
was
had not been enough. Noel had needed more than she had to offer. Was she the failure then? Was it all her fault? Unsure of herself and unable to understand Noel, Peach wandered back to the villa.

“Monsieur Maddox called again, Madame,” Marianne told her. “Won’t you please answer him next time? Nothing good can come of a silence like this.”

Peach nodded. “You’re right, Marianne.” For Charles’s sake and that of the unborn baby, it was time to sort things out.

She was lying on the bed when the phone finally rang.

“Peach, I’m at the airport in Nice,” said Noel, “I’ll be home in an hour.”

Home. He still called it home … and despite her anger Peach’s heart leapt when he said her name.

“Are you still there?” Noel sounded anxious.

“I’m here,” said Peach.

“Then I’ll see you in a little while. How’s Charles?”

“He’s fine.”

“And you, Peach?”

“I’ll see you later, Noel,” she said, ringing off.

It was only when she put down the phone that Peach realised how blazingly angry she was. Noel had thought he could put her emotions on hold until he’d finished whatever it was that kept him in Detroit—either business or a love affair, she didn’t know which, and what’s more she didn’t
care. He would walk in here expecting to say sorry and then she’d fall into his arms—the way other women did, no doubt. God, she was angry, she wanted to kill him with her anger, to wound him the way he’d wounded her!

Noel had never seen Peach like this before. She’d pulled back her hair tightly and the strong bone-structure that she’d inherited from her grandmother cast gaunt shadows across her face. She was so coldly angry you could almost chip ice from her. And she was looking at him with Monsieur’s dark and chilling eyes.

He held out his arms to her but she went to stand by the fireplace, ignoring him.

Noel shrugged. “Where shall I start?” he asked.

Peach eyed him icily. “How about that night two weeks ago—or do we go back further than that? How many other nights were there with her?”

“There were no other nights, Peach—at least not since I met you. She was just someone I knew a long time ago. Peach, I swear to you it’s not as bad as it sounds. It wasn’t planned—it was just something that happened. We met by chance …”

“I see—it was sort of for old times’ sake?”

Noel sighed. “No, it wasn’t for old times’ sake. It was just that Claire had been having a rough time and was lonely and so was I …”

“And what about me?” Peach’s cry was anguished. “I was as lonely as you, but I was content to wait. I didn’t think of filling in my nights with another man. Why was it different for you?”

“There’s no way I can explain, Peach, because I’m not sure I understand myself. It was just that on that particular night I was full of self-doubt … about my achievements and myself …”

“Self-doubt? You? I never noticed that particular quality in you, Noel. It seems to me you always know exactly what you are doing, and exactly where you’re aiming in life.”

“And what does that mean?” asked Noel wearily.

“A lot of people said that you only married me to get your hands on de Courmont.”

“You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?”

“Well, if that’s what other people believe, now we can prove them wrong. The reason I had to stay in Detroit wasn’t because of a woman, it was because the chairman of Great Lakes Motors is resigning. There was a chance I could get the job if I presented my case properly. And I did it, Peach. I did it! It looks as though the Board will offer me the chairmanship!” Noel walked towards her, his arms open supplicatingly. “It’s what I’ve worked for all my life. Can you imagine what it means to me?”

Peach was staring at him incredulously. “Chairman of Great Lakes Motors?” she exclaimed.
“But what about de Courmont?
What about
us?
Oh I understand it now, I see what you planned, Noel. I gave you de Courmont thinking you wanted its success for the same reasons I did. It was our company, our family, our life … but now I see it was only another rung in your climb up the ladder. And that’s why you married me—you wanted to use de Courmont!”

“De Courmont was a dying company—I could have had it without marrying you,” replied Noel coldly. “Believe it or not, Peach, I married you because I wanted you. More than that,” he added, suddenly humble, “I needed you.”

“Why? To give you an identity you didn’t have?” Peach strode towards him, her pale face flushing with anger. “An identity you
still
don’t have—because you’re still the little orphan boy, aren’t you, Noel? You wanted a grand name to match your grand ambitions? You are an enigma, a loner,
you don’t allow anyone to get through to the
real
you, and do you know why? Because there’s nothing there beneath the façade. Why don’t you face it, Noel?” she taunted. “Your mother abandoned you when you were born because she didn’t want you! And to compensate for that you want
everything!
I’ll bet even when she left, all you cried for was her milk—so that you could survive and go on to better things. But life doesn’t work like that, Noel—you’ve never learned that you have to
give
something too.” She glared at him, boiling with rage, her icy façade destroyed. “I don’t care how rich you become, or how successful and powerful. You can’t change, Noel. You’ll always be the Maddox Charity orphan!”

She searched his cool, hooded gaze for a response, but his face was stony. “You’re right, Peach,” Noel said at last, turning and walking to the door, “that’s
exactly
who I am.”

The door closed behind him with a sharp, decisive click. “Jesus,” screamed Peach, “can’t you even slam the door? Why don’t you lose control for once, you goddamn iron man!”

She hurled herself on to the sofa, tears raining down her face, pummelling the cushions with clenched fists. Oh God, what had she said, what had she done? Peach leaped to her feet, hating herself, hating him. “I didn’t mean it, Noel,” she cried flinging wide the door and running down the hall. “I didn’t mean it!” But Noel had gone.

Nove drove slowly through the bleak urban sprawl that covered the windswept once-empty plains. The small town he remembered so clearly as just one long street scattered with cheap frame houses whose sagging porches held old refrigerators and rockers, the tacky motel, the fly-blown diner and the body-shop spattered with rusting cars had all vanished into an untidy maze of factories, workshops and supermarkets. New parking lots, shopping malls and sub-developments of tract-houses had pushed back the naked fields he recalled rippling in great waves of wheat into lonely infinity.

Noel had been driving for half an hour in what he had thought was the right direction and he still hadn’t found the Maddox Charity Orphanage. Pulling the big car into the parking lot in front of a neon-lit diner with a “For Sale” sign outside, he hurried through the icy rain in search of a telephone. Flicking through the pages of the directory he ran his eye down the column of Ms.
There was no Maddox Charity Orphanage listed!
Noel looked again, disbelieving. In his mind the Maddox had always been there, waiting to reclaim its son. He’d fought against it all his life and now—
when he needed it
—it had disappeared. He glanced around the diner. Surely there must be someone around here who would remember it?

Taking a seat he waited while a scrawny-looking waitress flicked cigarette ash and a litter of wrappers from the plastic table, wiping it clean.

“Yeah?” she asked without looking at him.

“Just a cup of coffee, please,” said Noel, watching as she walked back to the counter and returned with a steaming jug. She was middle-aged and looked tired and defeated. Dark roots showed in her cheaply-dyed blonde hair and her face was blank and indifferent as she poured Noel’s coffee.

“Do you know the Maddox Charity Orphanage?” Noel asked.

Her head snapped up, a flicker of expression lighting her eyes. Was it fear?

“What if I do? What d’ya wanna know for?”

Noel shrugged, surprised. “I just need directions, that’s all.”

“What d’ya wanna go there for?” she demanded harshly.

“You know where it is?”

“It hasn’t moved,” she replied, her face settling back into indifference. Picking up the coffee jug she sauntered away from the table to serve another customer. The strip of fluorescent light caught the pale gleam of her bare legs and her slender ankles as she teetered across the floor in scarlet stiletto-heeled shoes in a vain attempt at youthful glamour. He listened as she chatted morosely to the burly truck-driver at the counter, serving his coffee and grumbling about the sale of the diner.

“Just wish
I
could afford to buy it,” she said, slamming the pot back on the hotplate.

“Well, why don’cha?” The trucker swigged back his coffee thirstily.

“
Why?
Take a good look at me, Mister. Ya think the bank’s gonna lend money to me? Fat chance! And that’s the way it’s been all my life. Nobody’s ever given me a chance. I’ll tell you something, though, I could run it a lot better than the old man. Yes sir, this would be the best diner in the county if I had it!”

She’d probably been quite something when she was
young—seventeen or so, thought Noel. Young and wild and with a year or two playing around before a half-dozen kids and poverty claimed her. He knew the pattern, the grind down into nothingness. It was all he had been determined to escape from—and it was also what had made him the man he was.

The waitress walked back towards him and stood there, arms folded, studying his face. Noel was uncomfortably aware of the shabby diner and his own smart appearance and of his rich automobile parked outside. But he hadn’t wanted to return as a Maddox orphan, he’d wanted to go back all guns blazing, everything about him proclaiming his identity, shouting for him.
I’m me—I am someone!

“The Maddox,” she said slowly, “it’s all changed now. It’s an old people’s home.” She laughed bitterly. “I guess all those Maddox orphan-kids who didn’t make it can go home there to die.”

“Home!” exclaimed Noel, pushing back his chair and tossing a dollar on the table for the coffee.

“Turn left at the traffic lights,” she called after him as he made for the door, “about a mile and a half—make a right at Dalton’s Motel, then left at the next light—you’ll find it.”

Noel slammed the car door shut, aware of her eyes on him behind the dull, steamy window as he switched on the ignition. For once he was indifferent to the thrill of the sound of the perfect engine as he swung the car from the small parking lot and sped off towards the light.

Noel rang the polished brass bell, glancing nervously behind him. The driveway that had always seemed so long when he was a child now looked a mere fifty yards, and the tall iron gates seemed scaled down, dragged permanently open and hanging rustily from their hinges. He heard the sound of a
key being turned in the lock and fought back an impulse to turn and run.

A nice-looking young woman in a crisp white shirt and a red sweater smiled at him enquiringly. “Can I help you?” she asked.

“I hope so,” replied Noel. He wondered what she would say if he told her the truth, that he needed to know
who
he was to understand
what
he was. He was a man who had everything—the chairmanship of Great Lakes Motors was his, if he wanted it. But there was no pleasure in his achievement, though he’d dreamed of it all his life. Just the way he’d dreamed of Peach—and now he’d lost her too. Life had lost its meaning. Unless he knew his past, he felt he had no future.