Brandon did as she directed and ten minutes later a young male doctor arrived to talk to him.
“Monsieur Hartford, Doctor Winters is off duty at the moment but I am in charge of your wife’s case. I must stress that it would not be wise to take your wife home at this point. I would not trust her to be on her own where she would have access to further prescription drugs. She needs to go directly from here to rehab. Is it possible that you can arrange that?” He looked at him enquiringly. “In the meantime, I think it will be possible to find her a private room, if that is what you want. It will be very expensive, of course.”
“That won’t be a problem, doctor, and I will try and organise a flight as soon as possible. I have a friend in New York who is a psychotherapist and he’ll organise rehab for Taylor there.”
“That’s good. Please let me know when you’re ready and I’ll release her but in the meantime she’s better off here under our supervision.” He smiled sympathetically at Brandon. He’d been at the receiving end of Taylor’s anger and felt extremely sorry for her husband.
“The doctor says you must stay here for a couple of days,” Brandon told Taylor, “but the good news is that they’ve found you a private room.”
“Thank God for that,” she said ungraciously. “Can you go home and get me some clean clothes and my make-up? I need some towels and toiletries as well. I couldn’t possibly use the awful stuff they have here. I’ll call Mimi and tell her exactly what I want.”
He threw his eyes to heaven. “I do need to go into work this morning, Taylor.”
“It will take you less than an hour. I can’t possibly go on looking like this.” She looked disgustedly at the hospital robe they had given her.
Resignedly, he agreed to do as she asked. He arrived back at the hospital an hour later lugging a heavy case and a large bag. The sooner he got her back to the States the better.
Jazz waited impatiently for Brandon to come into the office and enlighten her as to the problem. She had noticed that Taylor had been acting very strangely lately. She had seemed out of it at Kieran’s birthday party and Felicity had told her that she had acted awfully strangely at her lunch party the previous Sunday. Felicity had expressed concern that Taylor was drinking too much. Jazz was inclined to agree with her. It was no wonder Brandon had succumbed to Chantal’s charms if he had to cope with a wife who was not only the most obnoxious woman Jazz had ever met but also an alcoholic.
Jazz had met Chantal during lunchtime in the Excelsior the previous Wednesday, and couldn’t resist pumping her for information. She gathered that Chantal was happily married and that she left her husband in Normandy on Monday morning, returning there every Friday evening, which meant that Brandon wouldn’t even have the pleasure of her company over the weekend. Jazz knew that being involved with a married person meant you were destined to spend every weekend alone. She wouldn’t see Yves until Monday and it was killing her.
Nothing prepared Jazz for the bombshell Brandon dropped when he finally arrived at the office. He looked haggard as he slumped into his chair.
“Are you all right?” Jazz asked him, a worried frown on her face. “You look wrecked.”
“I’m more than wrecked,” he admitted, looking up at her.
“How’s Taylor? What happened?”
“It’s a long story. Any chance of a coffee?”
“Of course,” she replied, going into the kitchen and coming back with two big mugs of coffee and a plate of macaroons. She placed them in front of him and pulled up a chair beside his desk.
“Shoot!” she said, as she sipped her coffee and bit into a macaroon.
“Can I ask you not to breathe a word to anyone? Promise?”
“Of course, I promise. What is it?” She was mystified.
“Well, Taylor was mugged last night . . .”
“What?” Jazz exclaimed, looking at him in shock.
“That’s not the worst part,” he continued. “It happened in Montmartre, when she was buying cocaine.”
Nothing he could have said would have shocked Jazz more.
“Cocaine?” she repeated after him, spilling her coffee on the desk. “You can’t be serious!”
“I’m afraid I am. And it’s not only cocaine, they tell me she’s addicted to prescription drugs and must go into rehab immediately.”
“Oh my God, Brandon, I’m so sorry. I never would have guessed. I did think that maybe she had a drink problem . . .”
“She has that as well,” he said putting his head in his hands. “I can’t believe that she was taking all this stuff without my knowledge although I did notice a change in her personality.”
“You poor thing,” she said sympathetically as she came around the desk and gave him a hug. “What are you going to do?”
“She won’t go into rehab here so I’m taking her back to New York as soon as possible and signing her into a clinic there.”
“Can I help? Shall I go online and find a flight for you?”
“Thanks, Jazz, that would be great. If you can get a flight for Tuesday that will give me time to make arrangements in New York.”
“I’ll do it straight away. First class or business?” Going to her desk, she logged on to her computer.
“Better make it first. The more privacy we have the better. Will you be able to manage here while I’m gone? I should be back by Thursday morning.”
“Of course I will. You take as long as you need to get everything sorted out.”
“Thanks, Jazz. You’re a jewel. And please remember, not a word to anyone. I’ll just say Taylor was mugged and not go into details.”
“You have my word,” she assured him. “My lips are sealed. And Brandon . . .” she added shyly, “I appreciate your confiding in me.”
Brandon waited until twelve thirty to call his friend, Bob, in New York, as it would be just six thirty in the morning there.
“Hi, Brandon, old buddy! How are things in gay Paree?”
“Not too good, Bob, I’m afraid. I have a problem.”
He then explained to Bob what Taylor had been up to.
“Gawd, I’m real sorry, buddy, how awful for you. They’re right when they say she has to stop immediately. I can arrange to see her on Tuesday when you get here and take her straight in. That okay?”
“Thanks, Bob. I appreciate that.”
“See you Tuesday then. Give me a call when you get in.”
“Will do. Till Tuesday.”
Ashling had been looking forward to the weekend. They had planned to take the girls to the theme park, Parc Astérix, on Saturday and then Felicity had invited all four of them to lunch on Sunday. Jazz was also invited but unfortunately she’d already committed herself to lunch with Hugh.
However, these plans were scuppered by the phone call from Ireland at six that morning. Kieran’s mother had suffered a stroke and he had to catch the first flight home. Luckily they hadn’t told the girls they were going to Parc Astérix so she didn’t have to disappoint them. She rang Felicity to explain that Kieran would not be able to come to lunch on Sunday.
“That’s a shame but I hope you and the girls will come anyway,” Felicity said.
“Of course, we’d love to,” Ashling assured her.
“Did you hear that Taylor was mugged on Thursday night and is in hospital?”
“God no, how dreadful! What happened? How is she?”
“Well, Brandon didn’t elaborate but said she’s fine. She should be out in a day or two. He’ll be at our lunch tomorrow.”
“That’s good.” Ashling wasn’t too keen on Taylor but didn’t wish her any ill. “See you tomorrow then, Felicity. I look forward to it.”
She took the girls to the Luxembourg Gardens and was surprised to run into Corey as she entered the park.
“What a nice surprise,” he said, his face lighting up when he saw her. “And this must be Orna and Ciara.” She was amazed and pleased that he had remembered the girls’ names. He shook their hands solemnly and Ciara, as alw
ays shy with strangers, clung to Ashling’s leg.
“Is your husband with you?” he asked, looking around.
“No,” she grimaced. “He had to go to Ireland urgently this morning as his mother had a stroke last night.”
“Oh, I am sorry,” he said sympathetically. “May I stroll with you?”
“Of course,” she smiled at him. “I’m just taking the girls to the playground.”
The two little girls skipped ahead of them and when they reached the playground, Corey remarked, “You know the only thing I miss about home is doing simple things like this with my grandchildren.” She heard the wistful note in his voice.
“Please feel free to borrow my two for an hour, if you like,” she laughed.
To her surprise he did and was wonderful with the two girls, pushing them on the swings and the seesaw. They took to him very quickly and were enjoying playing with this man who reminded them of Santa Claus and was paying them such attention. Ashling could see that both Corey and the girls were having a whale of a time. After forty minutes he collapsed down on the bench beside her.
“My age is catching up on me,” he laughed, panting and trying to catch his breath.
“You’re great with them,” she said.
“They look very like you,” he replied. “I can see just what you were like as a little girl now. Orna is a real little extrovert. I imagine she’ll be an actress or a dancer whereas Ciara is much shyer. I guess she’ll be more a thinker and maybe a writer, like her mother.”
Ashling was amazed that he had identified the girl’s personalities so quickly.
“You’re very astute,” she told him. “Do you judge everybody so well?”
“Oh, yes, I sussed you out from the first moment I met you,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Don’t tell me,” she laughed.
“I won’t. It would only embarrass you,” he said, his eyes solemn now.
Blushing, she got up to call the girls over.
“How about I take you all to Berthillon for the best ice cream in Paris?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, please!” the girls chorused, jumping up and down.
“I don’t know,” Ashling hesitated.
“Please, Mummy, please!” they begged her.
“Please, I’d love you to come,” he said, looking into her eyes.
“Okay, then. I guess I’m outnumbered.” She smiled at the three pleading faces. “Actually, I have been looking forward to tasting this famous ice cream since I came here and seeing as how I reached my goal weight this morning, well . . . I guess I owe myself,” she laughed.
“You look fantastic,” he said, appreciatively. “You definitely deserve a special ice cream.”
He took the girls’ hands as they walked down the Boulevard St Michel to the Île Saint-Louis where she was amazed to see an enormous queue outside the famous Berthillon ice-cream salon.
“This is the best ice cream in the world. There are queues here even after midnight,” he told them as they took their place in the line.
Two American couples recognised him and, telling him they were big fans of his, asked for his autograph. He was very gracious and chatted away to them as he signed. They were thrilled to bits. Ashling guessed it would be the highlight of their holiday.
“Does this happen all the time?” she asked, as they moved forward in the queue.
“Yes, especially in New York. But I don’t mind. They’re my readers after all. It’ll happen to you someday too.”
“I wish,” she sighed, as they reached the counter and tried to decide what flavour ice cream to choose.
Licking the coconut and violet ice-cream cone that she’d chosen, Ashling had to agree with him that it was the best she’d ever tasted. “Worth the wait,” she smiled, getting ice cream on her nose.
He had gone for strawberry and chocolate, as had the girls.
“Yummy! This is del-ic-ious,” Ciara said, in between licks, making them laugh.
“Merci, Corey,” Orna said. “C’est très bon.”
“Merci, Corey,” Ciara parroted her.
“They’re adorable,” he said to Ashling, “just like their mother.”
She blushed again.
They said goodbye then and Ashling felt that somehow the dynamics of their relationship had changed. Now she would have to tell Kieran about him because, sure as hell, her two daughters wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about him.
36
Ashling was in good form when she arrived at Felicity’s for lunch on Sunday. After greeting Felicity and Max she went into the living room where Brandon was sipping a whisky.
“Brandon, I’m delighted to see you and I was so sorry to hear about Taylor. How is she?” she asked, kissing him on both cheeks.
“I was in with her this morning and she’s recovering well. She should be out tomorrow and then I’m taking her to New York on Tuesday to recuperate.”
Both Felicity and Ashling thought that this was strange.
“I am sorry. Felicity told me she was mugged. How dreadful for her. Would you like us to visit her?”
“No, really, thanks all the same. She needs rest,” he assured them.
“If there’s anything we can do, please just ask,” Felicity said.
“Thank you, I will. She was lucky really. It could have been much worse,” he told them, grateful for their concern. “Where’s Kieran?”
“He’s had to go to Ireland urgently. His mother took ill on Friday night.”
“Well then, you can be my date for lunch,” he smiled at her, hoping to lighten the mood.
“I’ll be honoured,” she smiled back at him.
Felicity had excelled herself and Ashling was amazed at the wonderful food she dished up.
“You’ve definitely found your calling,” she said, when they’d finished. “I haven’t had such a wonderful meal in years.”
“I agree,” Brandon complimented her too. “You really are the most amazing cook.”
Felicity blushed as Max beamed proudly at her.
“Have you considered cooking professionally?” Brandon asked her. “I would imagine you’d be hugely in demand as a caterer.”
“What a brilliant idea,” Ashling said enthusiastically. “You should do it, Felicity. It’s so difficult to get really good caterers in Ireland, and I imagine that in London it’s even worse.”
“I might think about it,” she told them, delighted with their compliments. “I have a friend on the course, Becky, who plans to start a catering company in London and she’s asked me to go in with her, but I don’t know yet. Anyway, I have almost nine months to decide.”
They had a lovely day and Ashling thought uncharitably that it was all the better because Taylor was missing. Brandon was very good with the girls and played endless games with them. Taylor would have hated having them there.
“You’re very good with children,” she remarked, as he finished reading them a story. Orna and Ciara adored him and were sitting on his knees with their arms around his neck. “You must have been great with your own children.”
“Sadly not,” he grimaced. “I was too busy working when the twins were growing up so I saw very little of them. I regret it now.”
Ashling disentangled her daughters from his neck and took them into the television room where Felicity put on the Disney Channel for them. She returned to Brandon.
“Brandon, about what you were saying,” she said, as she accepted a glass of wine from Max, “I wish you’d mention that to Kieran. He hardly sees the girls and I’m afraid he’ll regret it too, when they’re older.”
“I will try but it’s not easy convincing a workaholic like Kieran that work is not the be-all and end-all. His work is very important to him.”
“I know,” she sighed, “but there has to be a balance between work and family-life surely, especially where children are involved.”
“I agree, but it took me a long time to realise that and, by the time I did, it was too late,
the children were grown. I missed out big-time,” he added sadly.
He could see from the strained look on Ashling’s face that this was becoming a problem for her. He hoped Kieran would see that quicker than he himself had. Ashling was no Taylor, willing to settle for a comfortable lifestyle. She wanted more from her marriage than a breadwinner and Kieran should realise that.
“I will bring it up with Kieran, if you like,” he assured her. He was rewarded with a glorious smile which lit up her sparkling emerald eyes. Her husband is a lucky devil. I hope I can talk some sense into him, Brandon thought.
Meanwhile, Jazz was having lunch with Hugh and a group of his friends when her phone rang. It was Yves.
“Can you meet me this afternoon, chérie?” he asked.
“What time?”
“Four o’clock. I can get out for about two hours and I’d really like to see you.”
“Of course I’ll meet you. I want to see you too,” she whispered, aware that Hugh could hear her. “Why not come to my apartment?” she added, much to his surprise.
“That would be wonderful,” he said huskily, his voice full of desire. “À bientôt!”
“Yes, see you soon,” she whispered back, her heart singing with joy at the prospect of this unexpected meeting.
She’d never invited him to her apartment before but now it was time. Today she desperately wanted him in her own bed where there would be no thoughts of other women he’d shared it with. She quivered with excitement at the thought of the evening ahead.
“I’m sorry, Hugh, I’ll have to leave soon,” she said.
“It’s Yves, isn’t it? Jazz, I hope you know what you’re doing and that you don’t get hurt.” Hugh looked at her, concern in his face.
“Gosh, all my friends seem to think I’ll get my heart broken,” she said ruefully, trying to make it sound like a joke.
“I sure hope not,” Hugh replied but without much conviction.
Sophie knew that Yves was lying to her. He’d said that he needed to go into the office for a few hours on Sunday afternoon. He had never done this once in all the years she’d known him. Now she knew for sure that it was serious with this other woman. She was frightened and pondered how she should react. She wished she knew who the woman was but it could be anyone. It could be someone he’d met in a restaurant, in a café, on the street, while buying the newspaper. Yves would never have a problem charming a woman into bed, wherever he met her.
A Year Like No Other Page 20
