by Susan Lewis
Wondering how on earth she was ever going to hide anything from Lilian, when even over the phone she was able to detect her moods, she said, ‘Fernand’s just given me a number for the paramedic, which is making me feel a bit shaky again. I’m going to speak to him tomorrow.’
Lilian’s silence was very brief, but it was long enough for Jessica to feel the disappointment, and to think of how much easier she found it to discuss this with Luc. He never seemed to disapprove, or even sound doubtful, in fact he appeared to have a far greater understanding than those closest to her of why she had to see this through.
‘I’m sorry you still haven’t resolved this in your mind yet,’ Lilian said gently, ‘but you will, I’m sure.’
Needing to change the subject Jessica said, ‘Tell me more about Mumbai. How’s the takeover going?’
Lilian’s laugh sounded slightly forced, but she answered the question lightly enough as she said, ‘Actually, I’ve been in meetings almost since the moment I got off the plane, and I’m ever-hopeful that something will be signed before I leave. I have to tell you that Vasu, the owner of the saleroom in question, is such a charmer I could fall madly in love with him, were I not a happily married woman, and he was twenty, or maybe even ten years younger. Anyway, as gorgeous and accommodating as he appears, he’s definitely no pushover, but I’m pretty sure it’ll come off, and we’re already planning a sale for September . . . Oh hang on a sec.’ She went off the line leaving Jessica with her senses swimming, and her heart trying to cope with all the emotions crowding into it. Seconds later Lilian was back saying, ‘So tell me, have you managed to persuade Charlie to join us at Valennes? Luc says Harry’s coming on Monday, which is great, but it would be wonderful if Charlie came too.’
‘He’s booked a flight for Wednesday.’
‘Oh, that’s fantastic. We’re going to have such a wonderful time, all of us. I feel so in need of a break, and I think Luc does too. Which reminds me, Fernand told me your sculpture’s finished and it’s ravissante.’
Jessica took a breath. ‘Did Luc tell you that yours arrived from the foundry today?’ she asked.
‘Yes, but he hasn’t opened it yet. He says he wants to wait until we can do it together.’ She laughed happily. ‘He’s such a romantic at times. I just hope it continues when I finally chuck in my job and become a full-time wife.’
‘Do you have any plans to do that soon?’ Jessica asked, the words seeming to echo in her head.
Lilian laughed again. ‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘Oh hang on, someone’s just come in again.’
As Jessica waited she could only thank God that things hadn’t gone as far as they might have with Luc, for she felt certain now that she’d never have been able to face Lilian again if they had.
‘Hi, are you still there?’ Lilian said.
‘Yes.’
‘Listen, I’m bound to be interrupted again, so I should probably go. I just wanted to catch up with you before I leave here in case there’s anything you’d like me to bring back. The jewellery is fantastic and I can easily send one of the staff out to get some. In fact, I’ll make time to go myself and choose something for you . . .’
Jessica started to protest.
‘. . . and now I’m loving you and leaving you,’ Lilian said over her. ‘With any luck I’ll see you in time for lunch on Friday.’
After she’d rung off Jessica stood staring at the swirling clouds outside, feeling almost as though she was being carried along with them as she imagined Lilian over there in Mumbai, Luc up at the house and Charlie preparing to go into the studio. On the grand scale of things, what was happening to them was so unimportant, irrelevant even, for the truth was, no matter whether she slept with Luc and Lilian found out, or even if Charlie decided to leave her because of it, the world would continue to turn. Nothing would change – she’d learned that when Natalie died. It made no difference to the world. It simply continued to go on in the same impervious way, and even if she discovered the paramedic hadn’t carried Natalie to the sofa, and someone else had been here that day, it still wouldn’t bring Natalie back. And in her heart that was all she wanted. For that she’d give up everything, anything, but that was something else she’d learned when Natalie went, there were no bargains to be made, or discussions to be had. There was only a cruel reality followed by an emptiness that nothing would ever be able to fill, no amount of love, or happiness, self-sacrifice or even pain. It would always be there, because Natalie no longer was.
So was there really any point in continuing to deny her feelings for Luc, in trying to pretend that she hadn’t fallen in love with him when she knew she had? No matter what she did, or didn’t do, the world would keep turning, life would go on and one day, not so very distant from now, they’d all be gone and forgotten anyway.
‘Do you have anything at all to say?’ Luc prompted, breaking the silence. He was standing against a workbench, arms folded, one leg crossed over the other as he watched Jessica looking at the sculpture.
Her gaze remained where it was, taking in her own features in a way that felt almost surreal. Though it was unquestionably her, there seemed to be another dimension to her features now. Her eyes, in fact her whole expression seemed more haunting, even ethereal, yet alluring and perhaps even seductive. She shook her head. ‘What have you done?’ she asked. ‘It’s different. It’s . . . It’s . . .’ She glanced at him, and seeing the laughter in his eyes she began smiling too. It was extraordinary the way everything seemed to be all right now she was with him, when less than an hour ago she’d felt so bleak.
‘You’re making this impossible,’ she chided. ‘If I tell you how beautiful it is, it’s like saying it about myself, but it is, and I don’t think it’s down to me . . . It’s down to you. So what have you done?’
His expression was droll as he said, ‘I saw a look in your eyes while we were at the lake, and again while we were in the vines, that I think, I hope, is what you are seeing now. A woman who is radiant in her beauty, brazenly seductive in her charm, and fully trusting of the man who is watching her. It was an epiphany for me.’
She couldn’t help but laugh. ‘Not only trusting,’ she murmured, looking at the sculpture again. Those moments at the lake and amongst the vines felt almost like a dream now, or a game, where they’d teased one another, showing their attraction, even their desire, with no real understanding yet of what it was going to mean. She couldn’t help thinking of how different it would be if she were naked with him now, right here in his studio, with rain pattering on the skylights and the scent of damp earth seasoning the air . . .
‘I have something to say to you,’ he told her.
She turned to look at him, a nervousness breaking through inside her. His gaze was so intense it almost seemed to take hold of her, and she wondered if it was his eyes that made her feel the way she did. But as magnetic as they were, she knew it was only one small part of what drew her to him.
‘Luc, tu es là? Ton portable n’arrête pas de sonner,’ Fernand told him, coming into the studio. ‘Ah, Jessica, tu es là aussi.’
Taking the phone from him, Luc turned it off and watched as his father went to Jessica, arms open wide. ‘The sculpture is magnifique, non?’ he declared, embracing her. ‘Elle est vraiment superbe.’
Jessica’s eyes were shining. ‘It’s beautiful,’ she agreed, smiling up into his face. If he knew, or sensed, what was happening between her and Luc he was hiding it well, and appeared neither disapproving nor censorious, for which she could only feel thankful.
‘I think it is one of his very best,’ Fernand decided, standing back to admire the sculpture again. ‘And once it is in bronze, it will be truly exceptionel.’
Jessica looked at Luc and wondered if the sculpture, once cast, was still intended for Charlie. Neither of them had ever mentioned it, but of course Lilian would remember, so it would have to be Charlie’s. It didn’t feel right, when it had been created by a man who had captured so much more of her than her likeness, but it would be impossib
le to explain why it should stay here, so perhaps Luc would keep the drawing for himself. It was what she wanted, and felt certain he did too.
‘I must return to the kitchen,’ Fernand informed them. ‘Yves, Claude’s brother, has some friends staying at the château – I think one of them is a young lady of much interest to him,’ he added with a romantic twinkle, ‘so they are all coming over to eat. It will be much different under the pergola this evening with all the rain, non? Ah, but it is beautiful to see.’
After Fernand had gone, Luc and Jessica looked at one another again, and seeing his expression she felt another tremor of unease.
‘Tomorrow my father has a Chevaliers dinner at Vougeot,’ he told her. ‘He won’t return until Friday morning. It will be our last opportunity to spend a night together. You know how much I want to be with you, but if you would like to take some time to think, I will . . .’
‘I don’t need any time,’ she said.
His eyes darkened, and for a moment it seemed he might come to her then, but in the end he stayed where he was and they both smiled with relief to know that at last they had accepted the inevitable.
Chapter Twenty
THE NEXT MORNING, following torrential downpours through the night, everything looked as fresh and vivid as a newly painted Gauguin. The sun sparkled on the vines, while the damp earth seemed to breathe a gentle sigh of relief. Overhead there were only a few lingering clouds floating around like small clusters of foam on a sea of blue, while the air was perfumed with the scent of the vines and their soil, mixed with the wet stone of the cottage and all the clinging flowers on their trestles and wires.
As Jessica walked over to her car she was feeling both exhilarated and anxious, thinking of Luc and their plans for later, and of the call she needed to make to the paramedic this morning. She would deal with each event as it came – for now she was only going to concern herself with the market and what she wanted to buy when she got there.
She’d just put her basket on the back seat when she heard the sound of a vehicle coming down from the house, and turning saw the vineyard camionette bumping over the potholes towards her. Presuming it was Jean-Marc, she was about to wave when to her surprise she saw Luc at the wheel, with Jean-Marc beside him.
She waited as he brought the van to a stop, and started to smile as he got out.
‘Ça va?’ he asked as he came to her.
‘Oui. Et toi?’
He nodded, and knowing what he was thinking as he continued to look at her, she felt tiny frissons of desire moving all the way through her.
‘I was just off to the market,’ she told him. ‘I thought I’d make dinner for us this evening. Where are you going?’
‘The rain was much harder in other parts of the region, so we need to make a check on the parcelles. I should be back around . . .’ He was about to look at his watch when they both noticed a car turning from the top road into the valley.
She glanced back at him in surprise as he muttered under his breath.
‘It is the German couple who have rented one of the other cottages,’ he explained. ‘Clearly they have returned from the Loire.’
Hearing that made her heart turn over. ‘Does that mean we . . .? Will that make it impossible tonight?’ she said.
‘No, of course not,’ he replied, and with a wryness to his tone he added, ‘I have to admit, however, it might have been better if they’d waited another day to come back, mais, c’est la vie.’ He waved as the Germans pulled into the space reserved for the other cottages, then turning back to Jessica he said, ‘My father will be leaving around three. I hope to be back by then.’
‘OK. Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat?’
‘Whatever you choose will be fine for me.’ Then after a brief moment, ‘I should go now.’
As she watched him walk back to the camionette, she was remembering him at the lake, how beautiful he was naked, and how powerful his desire had been when he’d come back towards her. Knowing she would see him like that again later, and feel him in every way possible, started such a turmoil of longing inside her that it was only as he turned and cocked a humorous eyebrow in her direction, as though knowing what she was thinking, that she was able to let the intensity go with a laugh.
By ten o’clock she was back from the market with a basket full of fresh fish, locally grown salad and fruit, baguettes still warm from the oven, and two bottles of Bâtard-Montrachet grand cru that had cost almost a hundred euros each. She’d bought candles too, and pink, starburst lilies which she arranged in a vase to set down on the kitchen table, not only so their wonderful scent could start filling the house, but as a centrepiece. Now the Germans were back it wouldn’t be possible for them to eat outside.
After preparing the fish, she began to wash the salad, then noticing a small grey dove pecking around on the wall outside she went to watch it. A moment later it fluttered over to perch on the flower box in front of the kitchen window. Not wanting to scare it, she remained very still watching it inspect the earth and geraniums, then to her surprise it raised its head and seemed to look right at her. She looked back and for a while neither of them moved. Then, very gingerly, she reached for a baguette, broke off a few crumbs and putting them on her palm she held them out. Almost immediately the dove flew away, but after a minute or two it returned to the wall and watched, hesitantly, as she dropped the crumbs into the window box. A few seconds later it came to gather them up.
Delighted, she was about to feed it some more when her phone started to ring. Immediately fearing it would be Charlie or Lilian she was tempted not to answer, since she knew her conscience would put an end to everything if she spoke to either of them today. However, to her relief, she saw it was Luc and quickly clicked on.
‘Am I interrupting?’ he asked.
‘Well, as a matter of fact,’ she replied, ‘I was busy making friends with a dove. Would you believe, it’s almost eating out of my hand.’
He laughed. ‘Yes, I would believe,’ he told her, ‘because it’s probably Solange. The twins – and Natalie – found her at Easter. She was injured so we took her to the vet, and she stayed at the cottage with your mother and Natalie until the twins took her to the château. She’s been there ever since, but every now and again she comes back to Valennes.’
Jessica was smiling. ‘Well, she chose a good day for her return,’ she declared, watching the dove flit back over to the wall. ‘She’s very pretty. You say her name’s Solange?’
‘You know how the twins love to name everything.’
She did indeed, but realising he hadn’t called to discuss that, she said, ‘Is everything all right with you? No problems at the other plots, I hope.’
‘None so far. I was just thinking about you, and wanted to hear your voice.’
Feeling her heart swell, she said, ‘Funny because I wanted to hear yours too.’
‘No second thoughts about tonight?’
‘None at all.’
‘That’s good.’ Then after a pause, ‘It’s almost time for you to call the paramedic.’
As anxiety returned to her heart, she said, ‘Yes. I know.’
With a reassuring warmth, he said, ‘It’ll be all right. I’m sure no-one else was there. As my father told you, the paramedic probably wouldn’t have put the truth in his report if it could get him into trouble.’
‘But I have to be certain. You do understand that, don’t you?’
‘Of course. Call me after you’ve spoken to him?’
She smiled, loving his concern, and after assuring him she would, she rang off.
At ten past eleven she sat down at the table and holding the paramedic’s number in one hand, she began dialling with the other. Her insides were in a tumult of dread and hope and no little fear, because if the paramedic hadn’t been the one to carry Natalie to the sofa . . . But of course he had. It could only have been him, so she must stop putting herself through this unnecessary strain and remember that her instincts hadn’t
served her correctly over the autopsy report, so there was every chance they were about to let her down again.
A muffled voice answered after the third ring, saying, ‘Oui? Qui est là?’
In French Jessica said, ‘This is Madame Moore, Natalie Moore’s mother. Is that Monsieur Lemoine?’
‘Vous voulez mon frère,’ the voice told her.
A moment later another, slightly clearer voice said, in French, ‘Stefan Lemoine speaking. I was told to expect your call.’
‘I hope you don’t mind, when you’re . . .’
‘No, no, not at all,’ he assured her. ‘I am happy to be of help in any way I can. Did you see my report? I think someone was going to fax you a copy.’
‘Yes, I have it,’ she said. ‘Thank you. It’s very clear, but I was wondering . . .’ She took a breath. ‘What I’d really like to know, when you arrived at the cottage . . . You were the first here?’
‘With my colleagues, yes.’
‘And was my daughter . . . Did you find her . . . I know you say she was on the sofa, but I need to know, was it you who carried her there?’
There was a moment’s hesitation before, sounding slightly baffled, he said, ‘No, Madame. It was as I say in my report. She was lying on the sofa when we arrived.’
Jessica swallowed hard as her heart turned over. ‘I understand that it might be against regulations if you were to move her,’ she said, ‘but if you did, I only want to thank you for your kindness in not leaving her on the floor.’
She heard him inhale, then in a gentle but firm voice he said, ‘It is true, Madame, I might have broken the rules and moved her if I had found her on the floor and realised there was no more we could do, but my report is accurate. She was on the sofa when we arrived.’
Jessica’s eyes closed as she took a moment to collect herself. ‘Do you have any idea how she might have got there?’ she asked. ‘Did you see anyone else, besides my mother?’
‘No, only your mother,’ he answered. ‘I assumed she had moved your daughter, but I think from what you are saying, that maybe she did not?’
