Claude had been uncharacteristically angry with Celine. Not because she had been delayed, he had seen Celine’s message and knew that she hadn’t forgotten Emmie, but because Emmie had been waiting outside the school gates and Claude knew that she would never have done so if she had not been encouraged.
‘You must have told her to wait there,’ he said as they drove towards the chateau. ‘She wouldn’t do that of her own accord.’
‘Oh, Claude, you know what she’s like,’ Celine said quickly. ‘I probably said something once about it being easier not going in. She obviously picked up on it.’ She reapplied her lipstick in the mirror. ‘Who knows what goes on in her head?’ She was relieved that Emmie had been found but was very anxious to make sure the girl didn’t breathe a word about waiting outside the gates.
Claude was not convinced by her explanation, but they had arrived at the driveway so he let the matter rest. ‘Please say sorry to her,’ he said unexpectedly.
‘Of course I will say sorry to her,’ she snapped. ‘I’m not a complete monster, Claude.’
Celine was back on her feet, hugely embarrassed and furious with her daughter for making such a fuss.
Emmie had seen the look of anger on her mother’s face and was trembling like a leaf.
Stephanie looked at Celine and took a deep breath before speaking.
‘Well luckily no harm was done so let’s not spoil the party. Did you manage to pick up the gateau whilst you were in town this morning, Celine?’
Celine put her hand to her mouth. She had completely forgotten the gateau. This damned day went from bad to worse. ‘I was, um, I was barely in town this morning,’ she stammered. ‘I had thought I would go back there after picking up Emmaline but obviously I was delayed.’ That was why Madame Granet had been trying to attract her attention.
Stephanie raised her eyebrows but said nothing. She had seen Celine going into the hair salon and the patisserie was two doors away. Stephanie had been tempted to pick it up herself but Celine so rarely volunteered to do anything that she hadn’t wanted to interfere.
‘I’ll go,’ Claude said. ‘They will still be open.’
‘Let me go, Claude.’ Michel stepped forward. ‘You stay here and form the welcome party.’ He grinned. ‘I’ll be back just as you are opening the champagne.’
‘Michel to the rescue again,’ Stephanie said. She turned to Celine. ‘I’m not sure if you remember Luc’s friend Michel. He was Emmie’s knight in shining armour.’
Michel turned to greet Celine and was momentarily lost for words. He knew Claude but had only met Celine on a couple of occasions and only then very briefly. But he recognised her right now.
He had seen her in the Hotel de Paris at lunchtime. His girlfriend, or soon-to-be girlfriend, on reception had murmured something about her being the manager’s latest squeeze.
‘Michel, thank you so much.’ She held out her hand. He was relieved that she hadn’t recognised him from the Hotel de Paris. ‘How lucky that you came along. I hope you thanked him properly, Emmie.’ She turned to her daughter who merely nodded, unable to utter a word.
‘My pleasure, we had a great time, didn’t we, Emmie? We had the roof down and the music blaring out.’ He winked at Emmie. ‘But I’m astonished that the school let her out of the playground. It doesn’t seem particularly responsible behaviour.’
There was a short pause after this. Something didn’t ring true but no one could put their finger on it. During the silence Stephanie’s phone bleeped. She looked at the screen and smiled. ‘They’re nearly here.’ She was grinning from ear to ear. ‘Emmie, shall we go to the top of the driveway and welcome them in.’
‘He’s only been away for a week.’ Celine spoke without thinking.
‘Philippe may have only been away for a week but Luc has been away for five months,’ Stephanie said quietly.
Michel stepped into the slightly awkward moment. ‘I’ll nip into town to collect the gateau,’ he said. ‘I won’t be long.’
Stephanie beckoned to Emmie. ‘Come on, cheri, I’ll race you and Sausage to the end of the driveway.’
Giving her mother a wide berth, Emmie ran after her aunt and the piglet ran after his mistress.
‘Silly creature,’ Celine said, and the others were unclear whether she meant her daughter or the piglet.
Claude chose to believe the latter. ‘I actually think he is rather sweet.’
Henri and Rosa exchanged glances.
‘Maybe the worm is turning,’ Rosa muttered under her breath as they walked back into the house.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Philippe got out of the car and held out his arms to Emmie who was bounding down the driveway. She flung herself into his embrace, clinging on to him like a limpet. The emotions of the day caught up with her and she hung on to him as if she never wanted to let him go.
Tuned to her every mood, Philippe sensed her distress and tightened his arms around her. He could not bear to think of her being unhappy and was desperate to know why but now was not the time to ask.
‘Look who else is here, Emmie.’ He gently untangled her arms and beckoned Luc over.
Emmie knew Luc, of course, but it had been a long time since she had seen him and he had grown a beard in the intervening months. She was overcome with sudden shyness and hid behind Philippe’s legs, leaving Luc staring down at Sausage.
‘Mon Dieu!’ he cried. ‘What has happened? Emmaline has been turned into a pig. What wicked witch has cast this spell?’ He winked at Philippe. ‘I have to reverse this curse with a little verse.’ He paused for a moment to think and then waving his arms around started singing.
‘Witches of France, hear my plea
A piglet is not what I want to see.
Bring back a girl, her name’s Emmaline
She is the prettiest little fairy queen.’
Giggling, Emmie ran from behind Philippe’s legs and straight in the arms of Luc.
‘Emmie is here,’ she cried, kissing him and then tugging his shaggy beard.
‘Don’t you like it?’ He stroked it ruefully.
She shook her head.
‘OK, then I’ll shave it straight off in the morning.’ He grinned at her. ‘I can’t have young girls hiding from me in fear.’ He ruffled her hair. ‘I’ve missed you, ma petite. Now I need to know, is young Daniel still your boyfriend?’ She squealed with protest, putting her hands over her ears. ‘No?’ He laughed. ‘I’m pleased to hear that because I’ve found someone for you. A young Californian lad, well not that young, in fact he may be a bit old for you, well quite a lot old for you, but his parents are very wealthy and we have to think about my future.’
Everyone was laughing, including Emmie, and watching the interplay it slowly dawned on Claude that no one else treated her any differently. It didn’t seem to matter to them that she was slow or clumsy or had difficulty talking. In fact, with them she didn’t actually appear to have any difficulty talking. When she was alone with him and Celine she was tongue-tied and awkward, stammering so badly at times that she could hardly get a sentence out. Celine had no patience with her and if he were honest he wasn’t much better. Watching her now looking so relaxed and happy he suddenly felt incredibly sad. He loved Emmaline, she was his daughter, but he didn’t really know her. He had watched her grow up, they occupied the same space, he clothed and fed her but he had no relationship with her.
He had always known that there was an incredible bond between her and Philippe. It hadn’t worried him, in fact he encouraged it. He knew that Emmie was happier in the chateau and he knew that Celine was happier if Emmie was not in the house, and keeping his wife happy was one of Claude’s main targets in life. He had dedicated the last twelve years to doing exactly that.
He still found it hard to believe that Celine had chosen him. She was a beauty, she could have had her pick of anyone, but miraculously she had picked him. He was under no illusions about himself, he had not inherited the tall athletic build that most Fontaine men ha
d. He took after his mother, he was slightly built, short-sighted, and these days alarmingly short of hair. It remained a mystery why Celine had wanted him, but she had and he was determined to do everything in his power for it to remain that way.
But however much he tried it never seemed to be quite enough. He was aware of the restlessness within her and had hoped that the birth of their first child would bring her more contentment but she had loathed being pregnant. She’d had a terrible time giving birth and when she had been told that Emmie had suffered as a consequence had virtually turned her back on her tiny daughter.
He had been baffled both by her behaviour and by the baby and had been only too happy for Philippe and his family to step in. Now, however, something stirred deep within him and watching his daughter laughing with Luc and Philippe he began to suspect that he might have missed out on something very special those last nine years.
He felt empty. He sensed the laughter and love flowing around him but felt as if he were in an eddy, swirling in circles, near but never actually in the current. He looked over to his wife who was also standing on the edge. He had known for a long time that she was unhappy but for the very first time he acknowledged that maybe he was too.
‘Claude?’ Rosa was beside him. ‘This is a celebration, not a funeral,’ she chided gently.
‘I’m so sorry, Rosa, I’ve a lot of things on my mind.’
‘Can I help you?’
He shook his head sadly. Rosa was almost like a mother to him but even so he couldn’t unburden himself.
‘Then go and join the party.’ She smiled.
Nailing a smile to his face, Claude followed instructions. He accepted a glass of champagne, greeted Luc and Philippe and watched his young daughter dance around giddy with joy. He was relieved that her ordeal seemed to have had no lasting effect. He turned to Michel. ‘Thank you once again for rescuing Emmie.’
‘My pleasure,’ the young man said, taking a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. ‘She’s absolutely gorgeous, you must be very proud of her.’ He offered Claude a cigarette.
‘Thank you, yes.’ Claude took the cigarette without making it clear whether he was responding to Michel’s statement or his offer. Michel took out a box of matches and with a jolt Claude saw that they were from the Hotel de Paris.
Was there a connection between him and Celine? If so, what the hell was it? Or was it mere coincidence? Before he could continue this train of thought a squeal from Emmie interrupted him.
‘Uncle Philly, look what Luc made.’ She held up a small brown circular tube which had been tied at intervals and now resembled a string of small chipolatas. ‘A collar what is for Sausage.’
‘No.’ Stephanie laughed. ‘Isn’t that a bit too cruel?’
‘I imagine he will remain a Sausage in name only, so I think it is safe for him to wear.’ Luc hugged his mother. ‘I have a gift for you too.’
‘I hope it’s more tasteful than that.’
‘I have presents from Bea for everyone,’ Philippe announced just as Celine was walking over to greet him. ‘Let’s go inside.’
Celine stopped in her tracks. How did this happen? Even when Beatrice wasn’t here she managed to ruin her moment. Perhaps it was true, perhaps the bloody woman really was a witch.
‘Everything alright, Celine?’ Philippe stopped to give her a quick kiss. ‘You look as if you’ve seen a ghost.’
I have, she thought, a ghost that has haunted me half of my life, only this particular ghost is alive and kicking.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Philippe sat gazing at his special little girl. Emmie was fast asleep and snoring gently. As usual her arms were flung out above her head and her tousled curls lay spread on the pillow. They had forgotten to braid her hair the night before and it would be a tangle of knots when she woke up. Long lashes rested on her chubby cheeks and her tongue stuck out from her open mouth.
He remembered a precious night nine years ago. The night he had fallen in love with Emmaline. Celine was still recovering from the birth, it had been long and difficult and the recuperation period was taking weeks. The rest of the household, barring himself and a teenage Luc, had succumbed to a particularly virulent flu that was spreading around the town like wildfire.
He had heard Emmie’s cries echoing around the chateau until finally, unable to bear it any longer, and mindful of those trying to sleep, he’d got out of bed and gone to see what was happening. A white-faced Claude was clumsily pacing the kitchen, jogging and jolting the little baby with every heavy step. He looked like death. Philippe had immediately reached out for the screaming child and ordered Claude to bed.
Settled gently into the crook of his arm, Emmie’s screams subsided immediately. Stammering vague instructions about her bottle, a relieved Claude had relinquished all responsibility and staggered off upstairs.
Philippe had fed her and changed her, he had sung to her and waltzed with her in his arms. Careless of hygiene, he had placed her next to Belle and the big dog had gently snuffled and sniffed her and Emmie had lain entranced.
He had finally fallen asleep in the big wicker chair by the fireplace with Belle at his side and little Emmie in his arms. He woke to see her huge blue eyes staring up at him. He smiled at her and she blew a raspberry. Their mutual love affair had begun.
She opened her eyes sleepily and then sat up with joy on seeing him. She flung open her arms and he got up to hug her.
‘Morning, fairy queen.’
‘Morning, fairy king.’ She giggled.
‘So I hear you had an adventure yesterday, Emmie?’ He stroked her matted hair.
She looked puzzled.
‘A lift back in the sports car with Michel,’ he said winking at her. ‘I bet everyone at school was jealous when they saw that, Emmie.’
Incapable of telling a lie, she hesitated before replying, ‘Nobody didn’t see me, Uncle Philly.’
‘Why didn’t they see you? Where were you, cheri?’ He was being slightly cruel pretending he didn’t know, but he wanted to hear the reason from her.
She didn’t immediately reply, torn between desire to tell her uncle and terror that her mother would find out.
‘It’s OK, Emmie, you can tell me.’ He tightened his arms around her.
‘Emmie was outside,’ she said softly.
‘Why was that, Emmie?’
‘Easier.’ She chewed furiously on her lip.
‘Easier for who, cheri? Easier for Maman?’
She nodded miserably. Philippe’s blood was boiling but he managed to keep calm.
‘So Maman asks you to go outside, does she? I expect it’s quicker for her than going into the playground.’
She nodded again, relieved that he seemed to understand.
‘And do you slip out every day?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Emmaline, can you promise me something?’ Philippe took both her hands. ‘Will you promise me never to leave the playground by yourself again?’
The little girl looked confused. She was imagining her mother’s reaction. She hated not to do what her uncle wanted but she knew Celine would be furious if she found out she had told Uncle Philly what Celine referred to as ‘their little secret’.
Rightly interpreting her fear, Philippe hastened to reassure her. ‘Maman won’t know you’ve ever said anything. We’ll tell her that the teachers are being extra strict.’ He smiled at her. ‘I don’t think she realised quite what the rules were. She wouldn’t want you to disobey your teachers.’
Emmie was not really convinced but smiled up at him.
‘So do we have a bargain, cheri? You promise me you will stay inside the gates?’
‘Promise,’ she whispered.
He kissed the top of her head. ‘I’ve missed you, Emmie.’
‘Missed you too.’ She buried herself in his arms, breathing in his familiar scent.
‘I smell Rosa’s hot chocolate, do you?’ He put his nose in the air and bayed like a bloodhound.
; Emmie looked up and copied him.
‘Race you to the kitchen.’ Philippe stood up. ‘But a slow race, I can only walk, no running now.’
Giggling they marched side by side down the corridor. Just as they reached the kitchen door the phone rang.
‘OK, we’ll have to call it a draw,’ Philippe said breathlessly.
‘You sound like you’ve been running.’ Beatrice laughed down the phone.
‘I’ve been having a quick walking race with Emmie,’ Philippe replied, dropping his stick to the floor and sinking gratefully onto the huge leather armchair.
So Emmie had stayed at the chateau again last night, thought Beatrice. This was getting too regular to be normal. What on earth was going on?
‘Did you tell them our ideas?’ She was eager to hear what the family had thought of their plans.
‘No,’ Philippe answered slowly. ‘It wasn’t quite the right moment.’
‘Really?’ Beatrice was surprised.
‘There was a strange sort of atmosphere, a few things were out of kilter,’ he said quietly.
‘What things?’ She reached for a cigarette, instantly intrigued.
‘I’m in the hallway, Bea,’ he said, seeing Emmie’s face appear in the kitchen doorway.
‘OK.’ She understood immediately. The hallway was vast and it echoed. Everywhere. Not the place for a private conversation.
‘I’ll tell them over breakfast and then I will call you back.’
‘Before you go, I’ve had another idea.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Sky should come over to the chateau.’
Sky's the Limit Page 17
