by Thérèse
Holding back tears, she murmured softly, “Hello, Alana. Welcome to the world.” She turned to her friend “Sarah, she is so beautiful.” she murmured.
“Yes,” Sarah answered, looking at India. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Turning to the nurse, she said, “Could you take her away again please? I need to go back to sleep. I’m sorry.”
India came into Henry’s office the next morning and tried to push from her mind all images of the last time they had been in there alone together. She was failing miserably. He swung around in his leather chair, took his legs off his desk, and stood up.
“So, Henry?” India said, sitting down and attempting to ignore the strength in his thigh muscles and the breadth of his shoulders as he walked toward the window.
“I don’t think you’ve met Joel Lichtenstein, my partner, yet. Have you?” he said.
“I did briefly a while ago. He was on his way to Cannes.”
“Ah! Right. Well, Joel hired Samantha a couple of years back after she’d interned for him. She was an international student here. We’ve been gradually giving her more responsibility. She was much more than a receptionist, as you know.”
“And?”
“She came up with a suggestion that took the wind out of me.” Henry recounted the story and India shook her head.
“That’s callous,” she said. “Sounds like she’d sell her granny.”
“I agree.” He nodded.
“Anyway, this now leaves me with a problem. Samantha was from Switzerland. She spoke fluent French and she’s been setting up the meetings with the Paris Fashion Institute. She was probably hoping to score a job there now that I stop to think about it. Anyway, you don’t speak much French do you?”
“Sadly not.” India sighed. “Un petit peu.”
“Yeah! I thought I remembered that. But I need you in Paris for a couple of days. We have to hold those meetings while Faux Fashion is fresh on the shelves and the publishers are still excited. Luella doesn’t want to be away in the next couple of weeks for obvious reasons.”
He crossed the room and leaned against her side of the desk.
“Sorry. I’m not following,” India said, looking up at him. “You want me to go to Paris? I just told you I don’t speak much French.”
“I want you to come with me to the meetings.”
“But again, you just pointed out that I don’t speak French.”
“It’s a PR thing. It’s not important. They all speak English, but opening the meetings in French is the polite way to do business there. You can describe the educational benefits of the projects. You’ve lived and breathed it these last few months, and two of us presenting together will be a stronger pitch.”
“Okay.” She hesitated. “When do you have to go?”
“End of next week, in ten days’ time.”
“I think that’ll be okay,” she said, hoping she was conveying a studied response and that he hadn’t noticed her breathing had become shallow the closer he was to her. “How many days will we need to be there?”
“Three I reckon. Possibly four. Are you up for it?”
“Yes,” she said. “Happy to help.” Oui oui! Oui! OUI! she thought. I’m going back to Paris. Le vais revenir a Paris. Wahoo!
“Perfect. Patricia will book us tickets,” he said hopping up and going around to the back of his desk. “I’m keeping her on. She’s working out well. Are you happy to stay in Hotel de l’Abbaye again?”
“Absolutely. I loved it there,” she said. “Henry, what do you think about Jean-Luc? I saw the newspapers. Do you know what that’s all about?”
“I don’t know a lot of the details. I know it has something to do with his financial advisers and he’s being used to get bigger headlines. I bet he’s like a lot of successful people. They leave the money stuff to managers, who sometimes get greedy. Jean-Luc is the talent. He doesn’t strike me as a crook, but I’ve been wrong about people before.”
“Okay. I hope you’re right. I like him,” India said, getting up. “Henry, I’m going to go to my desk and catch up on things. I’ve a ton of e-mails to send to the colleges. Did you send a letter of congratulation to the winners?”
“Yes, and I spoke to them too. We shot the videos the day you left. Everyone was on a high. Sorry you had to miss that. I’ve sent flowers to Annabelle and to the college deans. All taken care of. Didn’t I copy you in?”
“You probably did. As I said, I’m way behind on my e-mails.”
“Okay. Catch you later,” Henry said as she stood up to leave. “Oh! And India.”
“Yes?” she said, turning back as she reached the door.
“We want to extend your contract. You’ve proved to be a real asset. We’re happy to renegotiate the terms. Are you good ’til the end of the year?”
India grinned at him. “Thank you, Henry. Yes. I am. I’m loving this job.”
“It shows,” he said.
India resisted the urge to throw herself into his arms and hug him. She smiled and left the room.
On her way to visit Sarah that evening, she mused on the fact that Henry had been so quick to protect Luella. I like that, she thought. I like that in a man. In fact, there’s a lot I like about that man, now that I think of it. A lot.
Roger was sitting with Sarah when she arrived at the hospital. She looked fragile in her hospital gown and slippers, her face free from makeup, her eyes hollow from lack of sleep.
“Hey. Great to see you India,” he said, standing up to give her a hug. “It’s been ages. How’s it going?”
“Good. Lovely to see you, Roger. So how’s the patient?” she said to Sarah. “And how are you today?” she crooned to the baby.
“I’m okay. We’re okay,” Sarah said. “They reckon we can go home in a few more days as long as she keeps gaining weight. It’s funny saying ‘we.’”
“That’s great,” India beamed. “Is Damien coming this evening?”
Roger shot India a look as if to say, “Don’t go there.”
“Not today,” she said. “He’s working.”
“Oh! Look at the time,” Roger interrupted. “Here, take my chair. I’m going to leave you two to have a chat.”
“Thanks, Rog.” Sarah smiled, looking over to the table and gesturing to the oversized stuffed animal. “And thank you for the teddy bear.”
India sat down on the chair when the door closed behind him. “Did you get much sleep last night?”
“Not really. But I feel a bit more human. They had me walking around today. I’m like a granny. I feel as if I’ve been sawed in two, which is pretty much what’s happened.”
“You look a lot better though. It’s good to see you out of bed, Sarah.”
“Yes. Well, I’m sorry for my meltdown.”
“I think you had every right to have a meltdown. Don’t beat yourself up. Is Damien going to stay with you when you get out? You’re going to need help.”
Sarah hesitated. “I don’t think so,” she sighed.
“Okay if I camp out with you then? I’m going to be away a few days with work the following week, but I can help you over the hump.”
Sarah’s look spoke volumes. “That’d be wonderful, Indie. Thank you.”
“No need to thank me.” India smiled. “I’m being selfish. I want Alana to get to know her Aunt India.”
“Indie. Can I ask you something?
“Sure.”
“Will you be her godmother?”
“Of course. Of course, I will. Absolutely. In fact, I will be her fairy godmother. She will be the best dressed little girl in town.”
“Thank you.” Sarah smiled. “I’d give you a hug but my stitches hurt too much.”
India checked her inbox and saw there was an e-mail from Luella changing where she wanted them to meet and asking her to come to her house. She was fine with that. It was close to Sarah’s and she could go straight on afterward.
Luella greeted h
er at the door, casual in a pair of blue jeans and an oversized cashmere sweater. “Great to see you, India. Come in. Cup of tea?”
“Yes, please,” India said, taking off her coat and putting it on the hall-stand. “It’s really cold out there today.”
“Margaret,” Luella shouted through to the kitchen. “Be a love and make a pot of tea before you go, will you? India and I are going to sit by the fire.”
India followed Luella through into the sitting room and warmed her hands at the grate. “This is such a lovely room, Luella,” she said looking around. “You have some beautiful paintings.”
“The paintings are Peter’s,” Luella said. “He collects watercolors. The books are mostly mine. I should show you my Alice in Wonderland collection before you leave. I’ve been collecting them since I was a kid.”
Margaret set out a tray with tea and biscuits. “I’m off now, Luella,” her assistant said. “Do you need anything else? I’ve scanned all the photographs from the book signings. I’ll archive them tomorrow.”
“No. I’m fine. Thanks, Margaret. Good morning’s work.”
“Okay. Bye then. Nice to see you, India.”
Luella sat forward to lift her cup. “India, thank you so much for stepping in for me at the show. I heard you did a marvelous job. I can’t wait to see the footage. I also heard Henry’s extended your contract. I’m very happy about that.”
“Me too,” India answered. “I’m amazed how much fun this has been. It doesn’t really feel like work at all. I can’t wait to get to planning the Paris show with you.”
“Biscuit?” Luella said, offering her the plate of shortbread. “India, thank you for stepping in next week as well. I’m exhausted after the book tour. We did ten book signings in as many days on top of the media blitz and then…well, you know what happened. I don’t need to bore you with the details, but it’s been a very stressful time, to put it mildly.”
“I’m sure.” India nodded.
“I know you and Henry will manage perfectly well without me. By the time you get back here, things will hopefully be more sorted out,” she said. “I’m way behind on my next book. I really appreciate not having to travel right now.”
“Luella, I’m delighted to be going back to Paris, I promise you. It’s not a hardship, just so you know,” she added. “I know we’ve not known each other all that long, but I understand you’re having a rough time of it, and if you ever want to talk about anything, I’m here.”
“That’s good to know,” Luella said, looking into the middle distance dreamily. “Funny isn’t it? I worked so hard to build up to the fashion show and to making Faux Fashion a commercial success, but suddenly it doesn’t seem important. I don’t feel driven in the same way. If all this stopped tomorrow I think I’d be okay with it.”
Snapping out of her thoughts, she forced herself back to the moment. “Okay. Sorry. Fill me in on what I’ve been missing. Henry said he has things in hand to maximize the online promotions. Where are we up to?”
As India was leaving a few hours later, a tall man in a gray overcoat walked up the path. He nodded to her as they passed each other.
That must be Peter, she thought, turning around and seeing him use a key to open Luella’s front door. What a good-looking man.
Peter went into the sitting room. “Who was that I just saw?” he asked, taking off his coat and throwing it over the back of an armchair.
“India Butler, the education consultant. She was collecting some papers. She’s going to Paris with Henry.”
“How are you, Lu?” he said.
“I’m okay.” She looked up from tidying the tea tray in front of her. “You?”
Peter sat down on the armchair across from her. “I’m beginning to get it together. Thank you for being there for me, Lu. I will always regret putting you through all this. I’m so grateful to you and Maisie for all the support.”
“We love you very much. I think you know that. Let’s try to forget about it. It’s behind us now.”
“I told Jean-Luc what I’d done,” Peter said quietly.
“And?”
“Turns out he understood better than I thought he would. He’s been there himself.”
“Really? You mean?”
“Yes. He tried to kill himself when he was about twenty, when his first love affair ended. Artistic temperament I suppose. He’s very dramatic. Cut himself, then panicked and called for help.”
Luella sat down across from him. “That’s awful…Peter, dreadful. You know, I’ve been thinking. You should take some time off. Spend some time with him. It is what you want isn’t it? I mean, you want to be with him, to live with him, to see if it’ll work out don’t you?”
“Yes, I do. It’s why I wanted to see you.” He paused. “I’m going to France, to Provence for a while. I wanted to tell you rather than phone, and I was thinking about Christmas. I don’t like the thought of you being on your own.”
“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Susie and Phil have invited me for the whole of that weekend. They always have a crowd of people around for Christmas dinner, her ‘waifs and strays’ as she calls them. Have you squared the time off with the bank then?”
“Yes. They owed me a bunch of time. I’m taking a month’s leave.”
“And Jean-Luc? Is he in the clear with the bank?”
“Pretty much. These things take time, but it turns out he’s lost a shitload of money through mismanagement. They know who they need to go after. It’s not him. Don’t worry, Lu. Our money, your money’s safe.”
“It’s a relief to hear you say it, but actually I haven’t been too worried. I trusted you on that one. You’re too sensible with money to mess that up. I overreacted, but let’s move on, put all that behind us.”
She stood up and lifted the tray. “I have soup ready. Let’s get something to eat.”
Peter followed her into the kitchen and leaned against the wall. “What do we do next, Lu?” he asked.
“You mean about us?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know,” she said, putting down the tray and wiping her hands on a towel. “But you know what I think?” She walked over and looked up at him.
“Go on,” he said.
“I think we’ll be just fine. That’s what I think. No matter who I might meet or what happens with you and Jean-Luc, you will always be my best friend. Always.”
“And you will always be my soul-mate,” he said, looking deep into her eyes. “Always.”
A tiny whimper made India sit up from where she’d been napping on Sarah’s couch. She leaned across to the cradle at her side.
“Shhh. Shhh. Shush,” she whispered. “It’s not time for your feeding yet.”
Gently rocking the wicker bassinette, she watched as the baby closed her eyes, then opened them and cried again the second the motion stopped. The past week had been a serious learning curve for India. Volunteering to help Sarah, she had imagined a few evenings singing the child lullabies at bedtime and warming chicken soup for her friend. The reality had been a lot more prosaic. Seven straight days of sterilizing bottles, changing diapers, changing clothes, averaging three hours of sleep a night and making endless dashes into Mothercare for yet more supplies had left her achingly tired.
It amazed India that one miniscule human being could cause such exhaustion, require so much attention, and create such chaos. She’d found it impossible to get any routine established for Sarah, who’d taken full advantage of having her there and had spent most of the time in bed. Her doctors had given her medication to help with the postnatal depression and India could see Sarah’s mood was lifting.
By the end of her stay, India joked that she was beginning to feel postnatally depressed herself. She was counting the minutes until she could go into the office for a full day. She was done. So done that she felt pretty certain it’d be a good ten years until she ever felt broody again, and by then she’d be looking at adoption in a system th
at required nothing more than a monthly donation to a child in a developing country.
The baby continued to whimper. India picked her up and took her upstairs to Sarah, who sat up slowly, stretched out her arms, and took the baby and the bottle from her.
“Sorry to wake you. Are you two going to be okay on your own for the rest of the morning? The nurse will be here in a couple of hours. I’ve left a fresh set of clothes out for the baby, and there’s a quiche in the fridge for you for lunch. Why don’t you get dressed before then?”
“Okay.” Sarah smiled. “I think I will today. Thanks for everything, Indie. We’ll be fine ’til she gets here. Thanks again. You’ve been wonderful. Have a great trip.”
India hesitated a minute to make sure Sarah didn’t fall back asleep, then confident she was okay, went downstairs, packed her bag, and called a cab for home.
Climbing under the welcoming sheets of her own bed that night, India reflected on Sarah’s situation. Things would improve for her, she felt certain. Sarah was too independent to be under par for too long. A professional baby nurse would have the child in a regular sleep pattern in no time at all. Drifting off to sleep, India reflected on how much their lives had changed in the last few months.
24
Sitting on the train on the way to the airport a few days later, India was buzzing with excitement at the prospect of going back to Paris and to Hotel de l’Abbaye.
This is strictly a business trip, she told herself. What happened months ago is ancient history, an insane moment best forgotten…not easily forgotten though, she thought, crossing the terminal and checking in at the Air France desk quickly, where for once her bag was the correct size and weight for carry-on.
Walking into the business-class lounge, she had a flashback to the last time she’d flown with Henry. At the memory, she resisted the glass of chardonnay she craved to steady her nerves before the flight and poured herself a cup of tea instead. She caught sight of him stretched out in a seat by the window as she struggled to open a creamer.
