Summer in Provence

by Coleman, Lucy

  ‘But that’s my role, Owen. If I can’t be there for you all, then who am I?’

  ‘Someone who deserves to take a little time for themselves, that’s who. We’re all so proud of you, Fern, and for once we all wanted to put you first.’

  ‘Proud?’

  He lets out a deep sigh. ‘You’ve carried us all in one way or another, Fern. Guess we wanted to make up for that. Aiden told us that you’d sold some paintings.’

  ‘Aiden told you?’ My question goes over his head.

  ‘I did tell them you’d be upset, but Mum, Dad and Hannah were adamant. When I arrived home, the timing was unfortunate, as Mum wasn’t talking to Dad because the kitchen fitters had messed up and he didn’t notice. Sorry, Fern, but you just seem to sense things and it’s too hard talking to you and… trying to keep things back. So, it was easier to say nothing at all. Why did you come home early, though?’

  I came back to figure out who I am now and what is left of the old me, if anything, before Aiden gets back.

  ‘I came home because even though I thought I’d be here on my own, this is where I feel closest to you all. And now – am I going to have to check into a hotel to get a bed?’ I ask, half joking.

  ‘Dad has had to paint the entire house due to the smoke damage, so I hope you don’t mind me staying here. I didn’t want to get in his way, seeing as I wasn’t able to give him a hand.’

  I can’t laugh at his ridiculous question, because now my eyes are welling up. ‘I’m going to be an aunt,’ I whisper with incredulity.

  ‘I know. It still hasn’t really sunk in. I’m going to be an uncle; that’s surreal,’ Owen agrees. ‘Once Hannah and Liam got over the shock, they were ecstatic about it, Fern. And we’ve all been dying to tell you.’

  I nod. There are worse things happening in the world and I know that Hannah and Liam will rise to the challenge.

  ‘And now you have a chance at a whole new career, Fern. We’re all excited for you.’

  ‘But how did Aiden know? I didn’t tell him two of the paintings were sold.’

  A sudden movement in the doorway attracts my attention and my jaw drops as I see Aiden standing there.

  ‘It’ll mean sorting you out a studio, of course. I was thinking about one of those smart log cabins in the garden. Your own space, what do you think?’

  I stare at Aiden in total disbelief, then turn back around to look at Owen, who shrugs his shoulders, uncomfortably.

  ‘I think it’s time I made a swift exit and left you guys to it,’ he says, rather sheepishly, and within seconds he’s gone. Aiden, hasn’t moved a muscle.

  ‘Well, I thought I knew you as well as I know myself, Fern. You think after knowing someone for, what, thirteen years that you’ve seen it all. But you proved me wrong, my very own artist. Keep those surprises coming, babe, life was boring without you and that’s the truth. Welcome home, Fern.’

  We’re staring at each other like strangers, but seconds later our arms are wrapped around each other. Aiden’s hug is so tight, I can barely breathe through my tears. It’s several minutes before either of us can talk and when I look up at him, his confusion is heart-wrenching.

  ‘What made you come back early?’ he whispers, his voice hoarse.

  ‘I needed to reassure myself this life still existed,’ I admit.

  He groans and suddenly he pulls back a little. What I see is a momentary look of fear in his eyes. A cold feeling runs down my spine like a trickle of icy water.

  ‘And what are you doing here?’ I question him, frowning. I thought he was heading for Bangkok.

  I can see how troubled he is – I was right to be scared because something is wrong here.

  ‘I’ve been back for six weeks, now. Work is busy, and they were struggling.’ He pauses, nervously. ‘The truth is that it wasn’t the same without you by my side, Fern. I wasn’t the same person.’

  Aiden releases his hold and his hands seek out mine, grabbing them both tightly as he leans back to gaze at me. It’s a look of such intensity that it’s as if he’s trying to see into my very core, but his anxiety is tangible.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone talk to me about what was happening here?’

  ‘Because I arrived back when everything was kicking off and none of us wanted you to come back until you were ready. I went along with it because I needed some time to get my head together.’ His look is earnest, regretful – pained.

  ‘But… but it was you who wanted this year of discovery, this time to find yourself. It wasn’t about me, Aiden, it never was.’

  ‘I know. And unwittingly my stupid little life panic put me in danger of losing everything we have. All I’ve discovered is that without you I don’t make good choices. I’ve seen some wonderful sights, Fern, but it made me question everything and I messed up.’

  Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath in. I’ve been living in dread of this moment and what I might discover about myself, and Aiden, when it finally arrived. But I thought I’d have some time here alone to gather my thoughts before he returned. To discover that he’s been here, facing the same dilemma, is too much to comprehend. What have we done to ourselves?

  ‘I put us in this position, babe, and I realised, too late, it had turned into a test. One that could go either way. The temptations out there—’

  My heart feels like a leaden weight inside my chest.

  ‘We need to be honest with each other.’ I stare up into Aiden’s eyes and he leads me into the sitting room and over to the sofa. As we sit side by side, I’m glad I don’t have to look directly at him.

  ‘I’d hoped we’d simply fall into each other’s arms and everything would be back to normal, but the old normal wasn’t working any more, was it.’ It’s an admission, more than a question.

  Aiden has been the centre of my life since I was sixteen years old. I thought I knew him inside and out, but as I turn to glance at him, I have no idea what he’s thinking any more. Is it the same for him as he stares back at me? I wonder.

  ‘This is a new beginning for us, then. If that’s what you want.’ I will my voice to sound strong, positive and not desperate.

  ‘I slept with Joss,’ he blurts out, and his head droops forward. He stares at his hands as he laces his fingers together, his knuckles turning white.

  ‘Did you think I didn’t know that?’ I mutter, my voice barely audible. I thought if I kept pushing my fears away, it would make them less real, but deep down I knew what was going on.

  ‘I’m sorry, Fern,’ he says in a half-sob. ‘I didn’t mean for it to happen and I know that’s a lame excuse. Joss gave me an ultimatum and I walked away. It’s like I stepped outside my life for a while and I wasn’t thinking. I hoped that coming back here would help me make sense of things again.’

  ‘And has it?’

  He launches himself back into the cushions, turning to look at me. ‘The moment I heard your voice and then saw you sitting there, I suddenly felt… safe again.’

  ‘Safe? What does that mean?’ I try not to sound angry or disappointed, but I am – a little of both.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come back. Hannah told me all about this artist guy of yours and the thought of how closely you were working together has been eating away at me. He was a stranger and yet he saw something in you, something I missed. You don’t get to exhibit in a gallery and sell paintings unless you have real talent. How ironic that I was the one feeling trapped, but you were the one suffering in silence.’

  I almost recoil in shock. ‘That’s crazy, Aiden. I knew that someday I’d set aside time to explore my interest, but I had no idea it would go anywhere. And how did you find out about the gallery?’

  ‘Look, it wasn’t Hannah’s fault, but after she mentioned his name, I looked him up online. I wanted to find out more about the guy who was spending so much time with my wife.’

  I’m disappointed that it’s only jealousy that has made Aiden stop and think. ‘But you never said you were uncomfortable abo
ut my being there. I didn’t think you were that interested, to be honest.’

  He grunts and gives his head a little shake. ‘Jealousy is an ugly emotion and it’s not something I wanted to admit had begun to consume me. Particularly, when… well, when I wasn’t feeling very proud of myself.’

  It’s hard not to give a rather terse retort, but I remain silent.

  ‘One of the links that came up was to a gallery in Seville. His work was good and that made me relax a little, but then I saw your name in the sidebar listed as a new artist coming soon. I called Owen to ask if he knew anything about it and he was as surprised as me. I didn’t mention it to Hannah, or your parents, because I felt awkward about it. Shouldn’t I have known what was going on? And then I realised I’d been holding things back, so who was I to complain? But a few days later Owen emailed me to say your paintings were up and Fern Wyman was officially an artist. I think he shared the link with everyone we know. And since then it says two of them have been sold.’

  I’ve always been the one supporting everyone else and now they’re all supporting me. Even though it can’t have been easy for Aiden, in particular, not to voice his fears.

  My life seems to flash before me. After losing my sister, I felt I had to step up to help fill the hole she left in our family. Mum leaned heavily on me, while Dad simply shut himself off for a while. But I kept a close eye on him whenever I felt his courage waning. It was a time when Owen and Hannah really began to look to me, to save worrying our parents. It’s a role I never handed back, until now.

  As for Aiden, well, temptation comes in all forms and while I wasn’t unfaithful, I knew it was too dangerous to stay. When you find yourself caring enough to want to save someone from themselves, there is a connection – even if you don’t want to admit it.

  ‘So, where does this leave us?’ I ask, and Aiden looks away, shrugging his shoulders.

  April 2020

  33

  Facing Up to the Truth

  ‘How are you feeling? Sad? Angry?’ Hannah’s voice is low as the baby is in bed asleep.

  ‘I’m fine, really.’ It’s not a platitude, because when something ends amicably, it’s more of a relief. Like working your notice in a job and it’s the last day; you are finally moving on. There’s a little tinge of sadness for what has gone, the friendships and the memories you are leaving behind, but you know that the time has come to say goodbye.

  Divorce is no different. When the passion has gone, the period spent unpicking your life together is like tipping water out of a bottle. Once it was full and as it gradually empties, it becomes just a hollow vessel.

  ‘I’m sorry, sis. I know how hard you both tried and Aiden didn’t mean to hurt you. I just wish he hadn’t gone off like that. He owed you a proper explanation after messing you about.’

  I know that it’s been hard for them all as Aiden was a part of this family for such a long time. How can you not miss someone you thought would always be there? For Mum and Dad he was like a son, to Hannah and Owen he was a brother.

  ‘Sometimes the things that people choose not to discuss, or share, aren’t important. And sometimes they are, but they don’t need to be said out loud because it won’t change anything. Aiden and I both knew that within a short time of being back together. I hope he is with Joss, but a part of me also doesn’t want to know for sure. Silly, isn’t it? You accept that you don’t want someone any more and yet it hurts to think of them with someone else. Above all, I do want him to be happy.’

  I can hear Hannah’s tiredness in her sigh. ‘Some people have a party and a divorce cake to celebrate their new-found freedom. Guess you aren’t out partying tonight, then?’

  ‘I’m alone, sipping coffee at the bed and breakfast. At least I have two blissful weeks in Canterbury, sketching and painting while I get to know Rosemary, my potential new business partner. I’ll soon know whether it’s the right thing to do, but it’s scary buying into an art gallery and the thought of giving art lessons. But with a sizeable bank balance from my share of the house and the sale of over a dozen canvases thanks to Isabel, I have capital. But now I’ve given up work I will need some sort of regular income. Everything in my life is decidedly lacklustre at the moment. Committing to the next step feels like an impossibility because my emotions are all over the place,’ I admit.

  ‘Did you open the letter the Marquesa gave you?’ Hannah’s gentle probing tugs at my conscience.

  ‘No. It’s still in my bag, but I can’t bring myself to open it.’

  ‘That’s silly, Fern. Read it and then maybe you can really get on with your life. It’s not like you to be so indecisive. Buying into that gallery in Canterbury is a great opportunity and if you keep putting off making a decision, someone else will step in and you will regret it.’

  I know she’s right. ‘I have a deadline. Two weeks, but it’s scary, Hannah. What if I never sell another piece? The money I have could dwindle and I will have thrown it all away.’

  ‘Hey, you’ve done well so far and the Marquesa is supporting you every step of the way still. She wouldn’t do that if she thought someone else’s work would sell better. It’s time to have some self-belief, Fern. And that’s an order. Love you and get some rest, for goodness’ sake. And long, head-clearing walks.’

  I start laughing. Since when did my little sister start mothering me? As I put down the phone, I decide the time has come; grabbing the letter and my thick jacket, I saunter out onto the balcony. There’s a slight chill on the breeze and in the fading light I’m overcome with a sense of loneliness. Happiness seems like a distant dream these days, something I once had but may never have again.

  Pulling my collar up around my ears, I sit at the little bistro table with the letter in my hand. The wind almost whisks it away and I grab it firmly, turning it over to stare at my name, handwritten on the front. Nico’s writing is purposeful, and each letter is carefully crafted. Little curlicues on the tail of the F and the N look like tiny flowers. It could almost be a wedding invitation, except that if it were the case, I know Isabel would have told me before she handed it over.

  We met up in August of last year when she came to London for an important art auction. She invited me to go with her and afterwards insisted I accompany her to an exclusive reception in one of the local galleries. I wasn’t keen on going, but she’d been so good to me and I didn’t want her to think I was ungrateful. She had no idea I was going through a painful divorce. Aiden was rarely contactable as he was trekking in the Himalayas, I presumed with Joss. But I couldn’t be sure, seeing as he didn’t leave a note the day he left. That broke my heart; it wasn’t that I begrudged him a new start, but the fact that he’d put up with the constraints my hang-ups had forced on him. He’d never complained, but stifling his yearning to travel must have made him unhappy. As unhappy as I would be now, if I couldn’t paint. Aiden had loved me once, I know that for a fact, as I had loved him. The unknown, was when exactly that love had started to fade and die.

  ‘You should read this,’ she’d said as she handed over the envelope and we’d hugged goodbye. ‘I have no idea what’s in it, but I can tell you that Nico was adamant I deliver it in person.’

  ‘Has he finished the portrait?’ An image of his face filled my mind as I recalled the night that I posed for him.

  ‘Yes. He has captured you perfectly. It’s rather beautiful.’

  I’d looked at her, shocked. Captured me? ‘You’ve seen it?’

  She’d nodded. ‘Of course.’

  I remember feeling the colour draining from my cheeks as I’d stared at her in horror. Nico had betrayed me; betrayed my trust and my good intentions. I would never have sat for a nude portrait, but I was prepared to sit for him so he could finish the painting that tormented him.

  And now, as I stare at the envelope between my fingers, I realise it’s time to read what he has to say. Without Nico’s tutoring, I may well have spent time drawing at some point in my life but might not have been bold enough to discover wh
at I was really capable of doing. He was my inspiration, whether I like it or not.

  Tearing it open, I slip out the single sheet of paper and stuff the envelope into my pocket.

  My dear Fern,

  The night I locked the door of the studio, as you sat on the rug with the robe half draped around you is etched in my memory forever. As we were bathed in the soft light, I was a man transfixed by the beauty of my muse. As an artist, I directed you into the perfect pose and my pencil greedily filled page after page. My soul soared in celebration of something that transcended physical beauty; something I still can’t quite explain.

  Your inner beauty and goodness permeated through the glow of your naked skin as I strived to capture every little nuance, every sensual curve. I believe I came to understand how close passion can be to insanity that night. For I realised that I was insanely in love with you.

  You were my beautiful angel and always will be. But I know that angels are meant to be ethereal and that, sadly, you could never be mine in the real sense of the word. Not least because I am undeserving.

  For one night, though, you were mine and mine alone – to capture on paper.

  My fingertips touched your shoulder for one brief moment as I slipped down the robe. We didn’t share a single word the entire time. Yet it was to become the most exquisite night of my life. One that will never leave me until I take my final breath.

  I know how dear your family are to you; everything you do is for them, and as a man who is often selfish in his moodiness and sense of regret, I found that truly humbling.

  Have a long and happy life, my darling Fern, for you deserve it. Be happy, keep painting and let your artistic soul soar. You touched my life briefly and for that I will be eternally grateful.

  Your portrait is the first thing I gaze upon each morning before I begin my day and the last thing I see at night. I am a happy man indeed and I wanted you to know that it’s because of you I was able to finally let go of my past demons.