A French Affair

by Susan Lewis

  When she’d finished she stood looking around, and thought, if it weren’t for her nightie, she could almost be Modigliani’s Standing Nude with Garden Background. Smiling to herself she turned back inside, where she sat at the table waiting for the water to boil. For a while she became the Seated Nude (with nightie), then, enjoying having no demands on her at all, she began reading the carved initials on the table. She knew this cottage had once belonged to Luc’s grandmother, and then his mother who’d died ten years ago from cancer. Jessica remembered how close to tears Lilian had been when she’d told her about it. This was typical of Lilian, to feel for someone else’s pain just because she loved them, even if she didn’t know the person they’d lost. It was one of the many things that made her so special.

  The kettle began to whistle, and after making some tea with the lemon grass she’d found in a pot outside, she carried it upstairs where she set the cup down on the bathroom sink while she took a shower. Before she left she’d call Nikki and Harry, or at least send them a text. She should call Charlie too, but she didn’t want him to snap at her, or tell her again that she was wasting her time, so maybe she’d speak to him later in the day, rather than let him spoil her mood now.

  By the time Luc and Lilian pulled up in the car she was perched on the gatepost wearing shorts and a T-shirt, with her purse and phone clutched in one hand, and a small floppy hat in the other. As Lilian got out, Luc’s door opened too and Jessica was touched to realise that he was coming round the car to say good morning to her.

  ‘Did you sleep well?’ he asked, kissing her on either cheek.

  ‘Very,’ Jessica assured him. ‘I’m sorry you’re not joining us for breakfast.’

  His eyes were dancing as he said, ‘But then my wife would not be able to talk about me.’

  Lilian laughed, and tilted her head back onto his shoulder as he kissed her.

  ‘I will see you later,’ he said, to them both. ‘Have a good day and try to spare a thought for those of us who must work.’

  As he drove off they stood watching the car, waving and waiting for the small clouds of dust to settle as it disappeared from view. ‘Well, I don’t know about you,’ Lilian declared with a gusty sigh, ‘but making love in the morning gives me a hearty appetite. So, are you ready to head off to the hills?’

  Chuckling, Jessica linked her arm, saying, ‘I’ve been meaning to ask, has anyone rented the other cottages this summer? The place seems pretty deserted right now.’

  ‘Funny, but I had an idea you might ask,’ Lilian replied, ‘so I can tell you that the German couple who rent the smallest cottage every August have taken it this year too, but they’re touring the Loire at the moment and aren’t due back for a week or more. And the others are booked for the odd two or three nights here and there, but no-one is English, so you can remain safely anonymous, which I think is the real reason for asking.’

  Jessica smiled. ‘You read me too well,’ she responded, ‘but I have to admit the very idea of someone turning up and recognising me . . .’ She shuddered. ‘It would feel like someone was walking into my sitting room, or even my bedroom, I feel so at home here.’

  Lilian’s eyes glowed with pleasure. ‘I’m so relieved you still feel that way,’ she said earnestly, ‘because I want you to come whenever you like and for as long you like. Luc told me to be sure you understand that. He considers you my family, since I don’t have one of my own, and so he should, because that’s exactly how I think of you. The children too, of course, and Charlie.’

  ‘And my mother?’ Jessica prompted with an ironic arch of an eyebrow.

  ‘Actually, believe it or not, her too. In a way.’

  ‘Which wouldn’t be maternal.’

  ‘Not with your mother, no. But I’ve known her practically all my life, and you know how I always loved her glamour when we were growing up, her spirit of adventure. She always seemed so exciting and exotic.’

  ‘Just what you want in a mother,’ Jessica responded smoothly. ‘Tell me,’ she went on, as they walked past the old farm gates to start winding along the single-track road that led to the village, ‘do you think Fernand would mind if I talked to him about the call she made, asking to come here?’

  Lilian grimaced as she shook her head. ‘I shouldn’t think so,’ she replied. ‘He probably won’t be able to tell you any more than he told me, though – that she wanted to come for a week at the beginning of June, if the cottage was free, which it was, but then she never called back again.’

  ‘Or showed up.’

  ‘Or showed up.’

  Jessica gave a sigh and used her hat to bat away a wasp. ‘I think she was intending to come here to collect something she’d left behind,’ she said, ‘or look for something she’d discovered was missing. I might even go as far as to say, something incriminating.’

  Lilian seemed doubtful. ‘I can’t imagine what it would be,’ she said, ‘but if you’re right, maybe she found it at home or somewhere else, so she didn’t need to come here after all.’

  Since it was the only explanation Jessica could come up with, at least for the moment, she let the subject drop and stood to one side as a yellow mail van came trundling along the road towards them.

  After Lilian had exchanged a jolly bonjour with the sad-looking soul inside, and a few platitudes about the glorious weather, she said to Jessica, ‘So are you worried about her?’

  ‘You mean my mother?’ Jessica replied. ‘The truth is, more than I want to be, and certainly more than she deserves, especially when she’s almost certainly hiding herself away to avoid facing me. I must remember to ask Charlie if the neighbour’s had any luck contacting Maurice.’

  Lilian’s expression softened at the mention of Maurice. ‘Dear old soul,’ she said. ‘He’s adored her for ever, and she’s always given him such a runaround. So that’s where you think she might be?’

  ‘Well, it’s usually to him that she turns when she’s in any kind of trouble, and since we lost Natalie she’s been in plenty of that – at least with me.’

  Lilian cast her a sympathetic glance, then walked on ahead as they wandered on to a narrow, stony footpath to take a short cut through a shady wood.

  They were side by side and about to link arms again when Lilian’s mobile started to ring.

  ‘Sorry, it’s the office,’ she said, checking the number. ‘I have to take it.’

  As she began to speak in French Jessica gradually tuned her out, not because she didn’t understand the language – she did – but so she could listen instead to the cheerful sound of the birds and faraway farm noises. She inhaled deeply, drawing in the musky scent of wood and dry earth mingled with the sweet tang of mayweed and wild garlic. As she looked around she could feel the beauty of the landscape as though it were moving through her, and found herself wondering how Lilian could remain so attached to her work when she had all this at her fingertips.

  ‘Oh, I’ll give it up soon enough,’ Lilian assured her, when she finally ended her call and they strolled into the picturesque fourteenth-century village. With its narrow cobbled streets, Romanesque church and bustling market square it was so quintessentially French that Jessica couldn’t stop herself smiling with the sheer joy of being there, staring at the tricolour draped from its pole outside the centuries-old mairie. ‘I’m even looking forward to it,’ Lilian continued, ‘but now isn’t the right time.’

  ‘So when will be?’ Jessica pressed, as they stopped at a stall to test a home-made tapenade that was spread over a garlicky crouton.

  ‘I suppose when Luc officially takes over the vineyard. Or when – if – I get pregnant.’

  Jessica tucked an arm through hers as though to reassure her it would happen soon, then led her over to the boulangerie where they bought freshly baked croissants to eat now and a baguette to take back for lunch. The café terrace was shaded by a giant plane tree, and colourfully adorned with hanging baskets of geraniums and trailing fuchsias. When the owner came to take their order, he greeted Lilian
with much warmth and interest in her family, and as Jessica looked at Lilian’s happy face she felt her own breaking into a smile. Sometimes, she thought, being with Lilian was so soothing that she could almost believe if she just stayed with her then life would never be hurtful or complicated again – or if it was, she’d be able to deal with it much better than she’d managed these past three months.

  When their coffee came they talked for a while about Lilian’s upcoming trip, then about Claude and Daniella’s concert and Fernand’s troublesome heart. Soon, though, the subject returned to Luc, which made Jessica smile as she recalled what he’d said earlier. She was perfectly happy to talk about him, though, not only because she was interested, but because heaven knew, Lilian had spent enough time listening to her talking about Charlie over the years.

  The day passed in a heat-induced torpor, through which they laughed and occasionally cried as they took trips down memory lane and relished this precious time together. After lunch, which was no more than a crispy baguette with a salty Maconnais cheese and a chilled Macon-Valennes, they took a siesta side by side on the bed in the cottage, where the mosquito nets were ruffled by the breeze of a fan and the downy pillows were scented with fresh country air.

  The ring of Lilian’s mobile finally roused them. Jessica stayed where she was, unwilling to move yet, or even open her eyes. Lilian barely stirred either, merely put out a hand to bring the phone to her ear. ‘Lilian Véron speaking,’ she mumbled. Then, ‘Oh, darling, it’s you. Mmm, I was asleep. Yes, we’re having a lovely, lazy day, how about you?’

  Jessica listened to the indecipherable sound of Luc’s voice at the other end of the line, then to Lilian’s groan of disappointment as she pushed aside the nets and swung her legs over the side of the bed. ‘Are you sure?’ she said. ‘Oh, Luc, it’s our last night before I go away.’ Again there was silence, then she chuckled softly at something he’d said. ‘OK, I love you too,’ she said, and after putting the phone down, she glanced over her shoulder to see if Jessica was awake.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Jessica asked, stretching and yawning.

  ‘He can’t make it back tonight,’ Lilian answered, ‘so it’ll be just us with Claude and Daniella for dinner.’

  ‘That’s a shame,’ Jessica said. ‘What’s keeping him in Geneva?’

  ‘Oh, this client is notoriously difficult. He plays all the vignerons off, one against the other, and now he wants Luc to take him to dinner tonight. It’ll be too late to drive back, so he’s going to get up early in order to be here before I leave for Paris in the morning.’ She cast another glance at Jessica. ‘Do you think that means he loves me?’ she said with a girlish twinkle.

  Jessica laughed. ‘I think that qualifies.’

  Lilian spread out her arms in a luxurious stretch, then letting her head fall back she said, ‘Sometimes I worry that he only married me because Fernand wants to see him settled with a family before he goes off to the great vineyard in the sky.’

  Jessica looked at her in surprise. ‘But you know that’s nonsense,’ she said.

  Lilian shrugged. ‘Maybe.’

  Jessica was still baffled. ‘If he was going to marry to suit his father surely he’d have done it with . . . Karin? Was that her name? The one he was with for fifteen years.’

  ‘Mmm. Except he fell out of love with her, and sometimes I wonder if it was because she didn’t want children.’

  ‘People don’t fall out of love for that reason. True, it might make them break up, but from what you’ve told me he didn’t want them either, until he met you.’

  ‘Which could prove my point,’ Lilian countered. ‘Fernand’s getting older, time to think of the future . . .’

  Jessica rolled her eyes. ‘I think you’re being typically you and worrying about nothing,’ she told her bluntly.

  Lilian chuckled. ‘Whatever. I just hope I’m not going to continue having trouble carrying, because I’m starting to run out of time now, and I don’t want him trading me in for a younger model.’

  ‘It’s going to be fine,’ Jessica told her firmly. ‘Plenty of women are having babies in their forties, and you’re not even there yet. Besides, he doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who’d leave you because you can’t provide him with an heir.’

  ‘He’s French,’ Lilian reminded her. ‘Their machismo is very highly developed.’

  Jessica had to laugh. ‘You know him better than I do, but that certainly doesn’t gel with how he seems to me. He’s too intelligent for one thing, and too . . .’ she searched for the word. ‘Sensitive,’ she decided. ‘And in tune with himself.’

  Lilian was laughing too. ‘I must be sure to tell him what a big impression he’s made on you,’ she said. ‘It’ll go straight to his head of course, but I’m sure I can stand it. Now, what do you say to driving over to Claude and Daniella’s for some tennis? It’s about time I beat you, and I rather think I’m feeling on form.’

  Chapter Eleven

  HAVING STAYED UP talking to Charlie on the phone until the early hours, Jessica was still sleeping when Lilian left for Paris in the morning, so didn’t get a chance to wish her bon voyage, as she’d intended. However, what really mattered was that Luc had clearly made it back before the taxi came to take her to the train – at least, Jessica presumed he had, for she was sure Lilian would have woken her otherwise. Since there were no messages or texts on her mobile, she didn’t have much trouble guessing how they’d spent the time until Lilian’s departure.

  After calling Harry and Nikki, she showered and dressed in a thin pair of shorts and strappy top, before carrying her breakfast and the phone out onto the patio. This morning she was going to try making appointments to speak with the gendarmes and paramedics who’d responded to her mother’s emergency call, just in case there was anything they could tell her she might not already know.

  Experiencing much more nervousness than she’d expected as she dialled the gendarmerie’s number, she quickly cut the connection and allowed herself a few more moments to think. She’d felt certain she was ready for this, but now she was actually poised on the brink of opening it all up again, she was finding herself even more afraid of discovering any substance to her suspicions than she’d expected.

  Her call was answered on the third ring, and a moment later she found herself on hold. After an interminable wait she was informed by the same curt voice that Monsieur Galeron was en vacances. Frustrated, and annoyed with herself for not considering this before, since everyone knew that virtually the whole of France was en vacances in August, she asked when he might be back and felt slightly cheered when the answer was, ‘Lundi prochaine.’ Next Monday.

  Not too long to wait, and in the meantime she could always speak to the paramedics.

  However, the senior officer who’d completed the report was also en vacances and not due back until the following Friday, which left her wondering, somewhat pettishly, who was actually manning the emergency services right now.

  Next she tried the office of the Médecin Légiste, France’s version of the coroner. This was the call she’d been dreading the most, since she was terrified of learning that injuries had been found on the body that were inconsistent with the fall. The mere thought of it made her want to reel away from her questions and shut down her mind entirely rather than let her imagination go there, but surely, if there had been even the slightest hint of anything suspicious, there would have been a much more thorough investigation at the time. So, heartened by the logic of that, she pushed herself on, while thanking God that Charlie had no idea what she was doing, for it would probably send him right over the edge to know what horrible fears were lurking in her mind.

  Eventually a kindly voice came down the line asking how they could help, but after Jessica had explained who she was and why she was calling, she was told that certain permissions would have to be sought before she could be allowed to see the report on her daughter’s death.

  Having expected as much, she swallowed her dismay and asked how
to go about getting them.

  ‘I will do it for you,’ came the reply, ‘then you must come in to sign the documentation, bringing with you some form of identity.’

  ‘How long is it likely to take?’

  ‘It is hard to say for certain, but if you call again next Tuesday or Wednesday we should have some news by then.’

  After giving all the necessary details and taking the woman’s name, Jessica thanked her, then clicked off the line and sat staring out at the vineyard. Felled at the first three hurdles, she was thinking glumly to herself. Except she hadn’t been, it was simply that it wasn’t going to happen as quickly as she might like, and actually, even if she could have the answers tomorrow they were never going to give her what she really wanted, which was Natalie back. So what was the point in feeling urgent or frustrated? No-one was saying they wouldn’t speak to her, or help in any way, to the contrary, in fact, so maybe she should use this time now to try to focus on what she really wanted to discuss with the officials when the time came.

  After finishing her tea, she took everything back inside, then drew a chair up to the kitchen table where she began to write down everything she knew about what had happened on that fateful day. It didn’t take long, but once it was there in black and white, from the call Natalie had made to her, to the moment Luc had given her the life-shattering news, she realised that detached as she’d managed to make herself while doing it, now it was finished she couldn’t bear to sit with it a moment longer. She needed to get some air, to put some distance between herself and the images coming from those words, so gathering up her hat and purse she started off on a walk in the hope it might soothe some of the angst from her heart.

  She got no further than the top road before turning back again. She wanted to know where her mother and Natalie had walked the morning of Natalie’s fall. It was all there in her notes, the fact that they’d – apparently – gone out in the rain that day, and Jessica would like to follow that route now. Since only her mother could tell her which of the many paths around here they’d taken, that was who she needed to call.