The Missing Wife

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  ‘You get on with your packing,’ Vince said to her. ‘I’ll get rid of this mob.’

  ‘It’s your choice, Imogen,’ said Céline.

  ‘I know.’ Her voice was steady and determined. ‘Thank you all for coming. I really appreciate it. It was good of you. But everything’s all right.’

  ‘You heard her,’ said Vince. ‘Now get the hell out, all of you. You’re trespassing.’

  They exchanged worried looks.

  Then Imogen took a sideways step, so that Vince’s arm was no longer around her shoulder. She looked at her friends and gave them a small smile before turning towards him.

  ‘Everything’s fine, but I’m not coming with you,’ she said. ‘I’m staying here.’

  He stared at her in shock for a moment, then grabbed her by the wrist so that she gasped in surprise.

  ‘You’re doing no such thing,’ he said. ‘Leave your stuff behind. We’re going right now.’

  ‘No,’ said Imogen. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you, Vince. I’ve left you for good.’

  ‘You damn well haven’t!’ Vince jerked her wrist as she tried to twist away.

  Which was when Oliver punched him.

  There was a stunned silence in the apartment as Vince sank to the floor with a grunt.

  ‘Trouduc!’ Oliver rubbed the knuckles of his fist against the palm of his other hand as he spat out the insult.

  ‘Well done, whoever you are,’ said Becky. ‘He deserved it.’

  ‘Bien joué.’ Céline patted Oliver on the back.

  ‘Shit,’ said Vince, who was half lying, half sitting on the floor, holding his bloody nose. ‘You maniac. I’ll have you for this!’

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ Max Gasquet, who’d just arrived home and had heard the disturbance, walked into the apartment. ‘Here, let me.’ He knelt down beside Vince and helped him to sit up. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose to staunch the flow of blood.

  ‘Call the police.’ Vince’s voice was muffled. ‘That man assaulted me.’

  ‘What man?’ asked Max.

  ‘Me,’ said Oliver.

  ‘You hit him?’ Max was incredulous.

  ‘He was acting in defence.’ There was a note of admiration in René’s voice as he switched to French again.

  Max looked at him enquiringly.

  ‘Defence of Imogen,’ explained René. ‘This man is Imogen’s husband.’

  ‘Ah!’ Max nodded to René. ‘I’m sorry. I had to leave earlier to an emergency call. Otherwise I might have seen him before he got this far.’

  He turned to Imogen. ‘Has he hurt you?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I told you before.’ Vince’s voice was still muffled. ‘No French.’

  Max continued to hold Vince’s nose while the others watched. When the bleeding had finally stopped, he helped the other man to his feet.

  ‘Why are you people still here?’ asked Vince. ‘I told you to leave.’ He turned to Imogen. ‘Give me your phone. I’m calling the police. I’m going to have them arrested for trespass and assault.’

  ‘If you wish to call the police, that is up to you,’ said Oliver. ‘But please remember that Imogen opened the door and let us in. So we are not trespassing. We are concerned citizens.’

  ‘Also,’ added René, ‘you should know that my cousin is a police officer.’

  ‘Is he?’ Imogen looked at René.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So if you wish to make a report to the police, Monsieur, I will take you myself.’

  ‘Of course I’m going to make a complaint,’ said Vince. ‘But I’m certainly not going anywhere with you.’ He looked at Imogen. ‘You’re going to come with me to report this disgraceful assault, and then we’re going to the hotel. And I can assure you that this is the last night either of us will ever spend in France again.’

  ‘Oh, Vince …’

  ‘This is your chance,’ he said. ‘Your chance to prove that you love me. That all this was a cry for attention on your part. That you’re not as stupid as you’re appearing right now.’

  ‘Don’t call Imogen stupid!’ It was Céline who spoke this time. ‘She’s a wonderful, intelligent person.’

  ‘Get your stuff.’ Vince ignored Céline. ‘I’ve had enough of this bloody French farce.’

  ‘I told you already,’ said Imogen. ‘I’m not going.’

  ‘You heard that?’ said Oliver. ‘She’s not going anywhere with you. So you’re the one who’d better leave. Right now. Or I’ll call the police myself and tell them you attacked her.’

  ‘She’s my goddam wife and I can do with her as I please,’ said Vince.

  There was a shocked silence.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’ He knew he’d made a mistake. ‘I’d never hurt her. Tell them.’ He turned to Imogen. ‘Tell them,’ he repeated.

  ‘He wouldn’t,’ she assured them. ‘Really he wouldn’t. Not like that. But it doesn’t matter. I’m not going anywhere with him. I’m going to divorce him.’

  ‘Imogen!’ He made to move towards her, but both Max and René held him back.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘When I married you, I loved you. I really did. But it was a mistake, Vince. You know it and I know it. There’s no point in pretending.’

  ‘You’ll be sorry,’ Vince told her. ‘You really will.’

  ‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

  ‘Right.’ René looked at Vince. ‘You’re out of here. And I’m going to make sure of it by bringing you back to your hotel myself.’

  ‘It’s a hospital I need to go to,’ said Vince as he touched his nose gingerly.

  ‘You’ll be fine.’ René was unsympathetic. ‘Now come on. Let’s go.’

  He hustled Vince out of the apartment. As soon as they’d gone, Imogen flopped into a chair. Céline sat beside her and took her by the hand.

  ‘Are you OK?’ she asked.

  Imogen nodded.

  ‘You need a brandy,’ said Oliver, who began looking in her cupboards.

  ‘I don’t have brandy in the house,’ said Imogen. ‘I hate brandy.’

  ‘Some tea, then,’ said Céline. ‘For shock. All my English friends tell me that, although I agree with Oliver. A brandy would be better.’

  Oliver filled the kettle and found the tea. Meanwhile Max knelt in front of Imogen and checked her pulse.

  ‘You seem fine,’ he said.

  ‘I am fine. Really. It’s true what I said earlier. He wouldn’t have hurt me.’

  ‘He grabbed you by the arm,’ said Oliver. ‘He was going to drag you from your home.’

  ‘I’m not sure you needed to hit him, though.’ Her voice was stronger now.

  ‘It’s only the second time in my life I’ve ever swung a punch,’ said Oliver. ‘I know it was wrong and I know it was dangerous. But I was worried for you, Genie.’

  ‘We all were,’ said Becky.

  ‘And I really appreciate your concern,’ said Imogen. ‘It was good of you to come to my rescue.’

  ‘It was the least we could do after letting him into your apartment.’ Nellie was contrite. ‘But he seemed so nice …’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ said Imogen. ‘He can be very charming when he wants to be.’

  ‘And you’re sure he’s never hurt you before?’ Max asked as he finished his quick examination.

  Imogen released a slow breath. Although she didn’t really want to talk about Vince, her friends deserved some kind of explanation. So while Oliver handed around cups of tea, she told them a little of their life together and explained about the Plan.

  ‘That’s so cool,’ said Becky when she’d finished. ‘Setting up a secret bank account. Slipping away like that. Amazing.’

  ‘And brave!’ Céline clapped her hands together. ‘You’re a marvel, Imogen.’

  ‘I’m not so sure about that.’

  ‘Céline is right,’ Oliver said. ‘But then I always knew you were brave.’

  ‘Always?’ Céline glance
d at him, a puzzled expression on her face.

  ‘That’s for another time,’ said Imogen.

  ‘I agree,’ said Max. ‘And now I think you should get some rest, Imogen. If you need anything at all, you know where I am.’

  ‘Perhaps it would be better if you stayed with me tonight,’ said Céline. ‘You’d be very welcome.’

  ‘That’s sweet of you,’ said Imogen. ‘But I’m OK. Honestly. I’ll stay here.’

  ‘You have my phone number,’ Céline said. ‘Call if you need me.’

  ‘Or us,’ said Nellie. ‘Bang on the wall. We’ll come in straight away.’

  ‘You’ve all been wonderful.’ Imogen finished her tea. ‘Thank you very much.’

  They got up to leave.

  ‘I’ll wait,’ said Oliver. ‘Until I’ve heard from Bastarache that everything’s OK.’

  ‘You’re sure you don’t want to come to me?’ Céline asked Imogen again.

  ‘This is my home,’ she replied. ‘But thank you for the offer, Céline. I appreciate it.’

  ‘OK then. I’ll leave too.’ She dropped a quick kiss on Imogen’s cheek.

  ‘Au revoir.’ Max did the same.

  ‘See you tomorrow,’ said Becky as she and Nellie left.

  Oliver closed the door behind them.

  Chapter 36

  ‘Well,’ he said as he sat down again. ‘That was an unexpected end to the day.’

  ‘What on earth made you come to the apartment?’ asked Imogen.

  Oliver explained about Vince having accosted René earlier in the day. And told her that he’d been walking down the street after leaving her apartment when he’d seen René and Céline walking towards it.

  ‘Céline suddenly remembered that I drove a Range Rover,’ said Oliver. ‘So she asked if I’d been with you. When I said that I’d just left you, they got very agitated and told me that your husband was looking for you and that they were worried about you. So we all came back to the apartment. Céline was distraught that it was her father who betrayed you.’

  ‘Her father? How?’

  Oliver explained how Bernard Biendon had given René’s name to Vince.

  ‘I never wanted Samantha to take that photo,’ said Imogen. ‘I had a horror of it appearing somewhere and Vince seeing it, although I never truly believed it would happen. I’d closed all my social media stuff so I thought I was safe enough. Vince spotting it on TripAdvisor was the million-to-one shot that gave me away, not Bernard. He was asked a question and he answered it. I’m sure Vince would have found me with or without his input.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ Oliver said, ‘Céline reckons he should have known better. Men with photos asking about women – never a good thing in her view.’

  ‘Oh well.’ Imogen smiled. ‘All’s well that ends well, I guess.’

  ‘Fortunately,’ said Oliver. ‘However, I agree with the others, Imogen. I don’t think you should stay here tonight.’

  ‘I doubt Vince will come back,’ she assured him. ‘Not after his bloody nose.’

  Oliver took out his phone and dialled René’s number. They spoke quickly to each other and Oliver nodded as he ended the call.

  ‘Vince is at the hotel and René is going to bring him to the airport tomorrow. I said I’d go too. René is going to keep an eye on him overnight. But I’d still feel better if you weren’t alone.’

  ‘I’m not going to impose on Céline,’ protested Imogen. ‘She’s supposed to be a client, after all.’

  ‘I’m a client too,’ he said, ‘but I’d be a lot happier if you came to the Villa Martine.’

  ‘Oh, Oliver, it’s kind of you, but I’m not going to impose on you and your maman either.’

  ‘It’s not imposing.’ Oliver spoke impatiently. ‘It’s being sensible. Staying with us would be a sensible thing to do, really it would.’ Seeing the hesitation in her eyes, he added, ‘If you want to stay here, that’s your decision. But if you do, I’m going to sleep outside the door.’

  She laughed.

  ‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘I don’t care what you say about that guy; he grabbed you by the arm and he was going to hustle you away, and that’s assault in my eyes.’

  ‘Less of an assault than punching someone on the nose,’ Imogen pointed out.

  ‘Touché.’ Oliver gave her a rueful grin.

  ‘He won’t come back,’ she repeated. ‘You’ve embarrassed him and he hates to feel embarrassed.’ She hesitated for a moment and then gave him a faint smile. ‘However, if it makes you feel better, I’ll come with you. Mainly because I can’t bear to think of you stretched out on the floor.’

  ‘Good decision.’ He smiled. ‘Do you want to get some things before we go?’

  She went back into the bedroom. Her clothes were still hanging neatly on the rail in the wardrobe. She hadn’t packed any of them while she’d been alone with Vince. She’d never intended to. She’d been quite determined on that point. Even though the arrival of the others at her door had changed how things had developed, the bottom line was that Vince hadn’t persuaded her that she should come back to Ireland with him. He hadn’t managed to get inside her head as he’d done so many times before. She’d broken free of him. And now, no matter how difficult things were in the future, she knew she’d always be free of him.

  She took her small case from the wardrobe and put a few things inside. Then she walked back to the living room.

  She smiled at Oliver.

  Her heart was light.

  She felt good about life.

  Lucie Delissandes was still sitting on the terrace when they returned. Her surprise at seeing Imogen turned to shock when Oliver gave her a distilled version of the evening’s events.

  ‘Ma pauvre,’ she exclaimed, getting up and wrapping her arms around Imogen’s shoulders. ‘What a horrible thing. Are you all right now? You must have a brandy!’

  ‘Everyone seems determined to get me drunk,’ observed Imogen as Lucie hurried to the kitchen.

  ‘It’s restorative,’ Lucie told her when she returned and handed her a glass.

  ‘It’s firewater,’ gasped Imogen after she’d taken a sip. But even as she spluttered, she felt the golden liquid spread a warm glow through her body and she almost visibly relaxed.

  ‘I will make sure that the guest room is tidy,’ said Lucie.

  ‘It is,’ Imogen told her. ‘I know, I cleaned it.’

  ‘It seems somewhat déclassé that you had to do it for yourself,’ said Lucie. ‘However, I will take your word for it. Do you wish to go to bed now?’

  At the mention of bed, Imogen was suddenly overwhelmed by tiredness, and she yawned involuntarily.

  ‘I think that would be a good idea,’ said Oliver. ‘But not until you finish your brandy.’

  It took her ten minutes, during which time Lucie went to check on the room anyway, and returned saying that it was indeed perfect.

  ‘I will say goodnight myself,’ she told Imogen, kissing her on both cheeks. ‘Sleep well.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Imogen.

  She waited while Oliver locked the house, then followed him up the stairs.

  ‘I have to say that this is weird,’ she remarked as they stood outside the bedroom door.

  ‘Somewhat,’ he agreed. ‘I hope you do sleep well tonight, Genie. It’s been an eventful day.’

  It seemed like a lifetime since he’d picked her up that morning to take her to San Sebastian. A lifetime in which she’d come face to face with her worst fear – that Vince would somehow be able to persuade her to come home again. And she’d overcome it. In that one day, she knew she’d changed for ever. She’d found her inner strength again and she was never going to lose it.

  ‘Goodnight, Oliver,’ she said as she opened the bedroom door.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he said.

  Then, like his mother, he kissed her on the cheek.

  She was so tired she thought she’d fall asleep straight away, but even as she drifted off, she told herself that she had to get in tou
ch with Berthe and with Cheyenne and Shona to tell them what had happened. In their individual ways they’d given her strength over the past weeks, despite the fact that she’d been unwilling to open up to them completely. She should have said something before now, she acknowledged, instead of trying to pretend to herself and to everyone else that she and Vince were happy, and that he hadn’t turned her into a shadow of the woman she used to be. She’d wasted five years of her life with him and she hadn’t needed to.

  Or perhaps she had, she thought, as she rolled over in the comfortable queen-sized bed. Perhaps she’d needed to go through all of it to be able to put things into perspective. Because she’d done that now. The past, the present and the future. Nothing as perfect as she’d wanted. None of it as scary as she’d thought. Maybe it was time she started to believe in her mother’s clichés. Like always looking on the bright side and counting her blessings. Because there was a bright side, and one of her blessings was that there were people she could turn to. People who cared.

  Mind you, she added, as she threw off the light coverlet because the night was warm, Mum was wrong about one thing. Running away actually did solve something. I’m glad about that. She smiled to herself. Then she closed her eyes and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Vince didn’t sleep. His nose was swollen and sore and one of his teeth was loose from where Oliver’s punch had connected. He’d thought about going to the police station after René Bastarache dropped him at the hotel, but the estate agent hadn’t left him alone there, instead telling him to get his things together, that they were going to stay in the twenty-four-hour coffee dock until dawn. At which point, he said, they’d be going to the airport together. He was going to put Vince on a flight out of France. Any flight. Vince was about to argue with him, but the other man was taller and stronger and suddenly it didn’t seem worth the effort.

  At around six thirty, after numerous coffees, he saw the man who’d punched him stride into the coffee bar and announce that he was there to bring them to the airport. The two Frenchmen bundled him into the Range Rover and drove for ninety minutes to Biarritz. Vince muttered about the car hire and René told him not to worry about it, that his cousin would sort everything out.