The Night That Started It All

by Anna Cleary

  ‘Tu étais belle. Soon they will love you.’

  Her heart panged. Would they?

  Would he?

  She twisted her hands in her lap. ‘It feels strange not to know for certain where I’ll be in a year’s time. Or if I’ll be seeing Neil at Christmas.’

  He looked sharply at her. ‘You’ll be here at Christmas. With me. On the very brink of giving birth, if not in the hospital.’

  ‘If we can arrange the visa.’

  ‘Don’t worry about that, chérie. You worry far too much. I’m meeting with someone tomorrow, and we will discuss it.’

  ‘Someone in the government?’

  His eyes veiled and he waggled his hand. ‘A friend.’ After a long silence he observed casually, ‘You and Neil must be—very close.’

  ‘Well, naturally. He practically brought me up, you know.’

  He was silent so long, she turned to examine him. He was far away, a curious twist to his mouth.

  ‘Now who’s looking worried,’ she teased. ‘Lighten up. I’m the one giving birth.’

  Eager to fit in, she enrolled in intensive French lessons. Five mornings a week she caught the métro to Saint-Placide where she brushed up on her vocabulary and grammar. It didn’t seem to help when she was on the train eavesdropping on people’s conversations, but at least she was learning things about French manners and customs that hadn’t been included at high school.

  Luc was pleased. And she began to notice that, more and more, he reverted to his own language when they were conversing.

  Gradually, words and expressions must have been seeping into her understanding, because often she caught his meaning. Not that she understood him any the better, except in the matter of passion, where understanding flowed between them like a tumultuous river.

  The first ultrasound scan was an unforgettable experience. The indistinct and everchanging images of a tiny burgeoning person, the brave little rhythm of another heart beating within her had a deeply emotional effect on them both. During the event Luc seemed to lose all power of speech. Shari naturally cried, but glancing at Luc at one point she caught an awed shimmer in his eyes too, though he quickly concealed them from her.

  The news was good. The baby was developing well, and growing at the normal rate. The doctor offered to tell them the gender, but seeing a doubt in Luc’s shining eyes, Shari said softly, ‘I think we’d like to be surprised.’

  Before they left, the doctor paused. ‘Everything is looking very strong. Your next ultrasound will be in July.’ She produced a schedule with all Shari’s future consultations listed. The amniocentesis test hadn’t been included, to Shari’s relief.

  Maybe she could just quietly forget about it. Pretend the subject had never come up. But her relief was shortlived when the doctor added, ‘I see no need for the amnio test you inquired about. Your risk level is very low. Unless you have some concerns you wish to settle?’

  Shari tensed. ‘No, no. I just …’ She glanced at Luc, who’d frowned. She could feel a blush creep up her neck and into her hair. Admitting to the doctor that the father of her child had ever had the slightest question about his paternity, rightly or wrongly, was harder than she’d even imagined. ‘Can we make the decision later?’

  Luc scoured Shari’s troubled face. He said gently, ‘We don’t need to have the test, you know.’

  The doctor looked from one to the other, her intelligent glance veiled.

  ‘We’ll discuss it again,’ Shari told her, cheeks blazing. ‘I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Bien sûr,’ the doctor said easily. ‘I will write it in and we can always eliminate it if we decide to.’

  They would decide to, Luc thought, pierced by Shari’s blush. Somehow he would persuade her out of it. He thought guiltily back to the day he’d snapped at her in the café. He’d planted that seed of insecurity in her himself with his own careless tongue. Added to the Rémy effect …

  Was it any wonder she believed he didn’t trust her?

  It was a delicate balancing act, keeping a woman happy and secure without making her feel as pinned as a butterfly. How did guys achieve it? With a cold anxious burr it occurred to him that if he wasn’t careful she’d be on the next plane to Australia.

  And then what?

  A flash of his life before she came into it chilled his soul like a sudden arctic breeze. He wouldn’t let her go. Not without a fight.

  ‘I wish I didn’t have to return to work,’ he said thickly out in the street, pausing to shower her face in kisses. ‘I want to be with you. I could have you right here against this lamppost.’

  ‘Flattering, but would it be wise, monsieur? I’d rather not be arrested.’

  He laughed, but, surrendering to her protest, escorted her to the car with his arm around her waist, brimming with positive energy that communicated itself to Shari.

  ‘Now we know we are safe we can begin to tell our friends, n’est-ce pas?’

  Shari nodded excitedly. ‘Good. I can’t wait to tell Neil. He and Em’ll be over the moon. But …’ She shot him a glance. ‘I think it might be best for your mother to hear it from us first.’

  His dark eyes shimmered with some mysterious knowledge. ‘Ah, oui. Maman will like you to tell her. And we must start some serious planning. We need to research the schools. And you’ve never said … Do we want a nanny? And I’m wondering if we need to hire a dietician to prepare your meals from now on. What do you think?’

  She stared incredulously at him.

  ‘No?’ He burst into an amused laugh. ‘But I am thinking of hiring a car with a driver for you. You shouldn’t be travelling on the métro. It’s too much of a risk. Anything could happen.’

  ‘Now just hold on there. I like catching the …’

  Luc stiffened momentarily and the words died on Shari’s lips.

  A taxi had drawn in behind their car and a woman got out to help another alight. When the second one straightened up Shari saw she was heavily pregnant, moving with the changed gait brought about by the redistribution of body weight. She was in jeans and heels, her enormous bump lovingly outlined by a tightly fitted shirred top. Her hair had been cut in a short, sleek, very chic bob, and she wore minimal jewellery, apart from some bangles and hoops in her ears.

  Noticing Luc, she teetered backwards on her heels for an instant, and Luc lunged forward to steady her. He barely had time to touch her elbow before her companion stepped in and took a firm steadying grip of her other arm.

  With a sharp pang Shari recognised that face. Who else at her advanced stage of pregnancy could manage to be so elegant? And she was, Shari acknowledged. Truly elegant. With a glowing, luminous beauty.

  Luc smiled, though there was a hard glint in his narrowed eyes.

  ‘Ah. Manon. What a magnificent surprise,’ he said in French.

  The beauty inclined her head. ‘Luc.’

  ‘Imagine meeting you here, of all places.’ How could such suave and graceful words be so punishing? ‘And looking so—robust. Not bored with America, I trust?’

  Manon glanced quickly at her friend, then pushed back her sunglasses. Her gorgeous amber eyes were defiant. ‘I could never be bored with America. But where else does one go at this beautiful time of life?’

  Her glance flicked sideways to Shari for a bare instant, then back to him.

  There was a screechingly silent abyss when no one said anything, then the other woman tugged at Manon and hustled her into the clinic.

  On the trip home, the atmosphere in the Merc had a certain explosive fragility. It crept in upon Shari that her situation was really very precarious. It was terrifying to think, but there was a horrible possibility about the man she loved she needed to take into account.

  If he was still fixated on Manon, how long would he be likely to stay with her? Until the birth? Until the babe was a week old? Three months? And if he left her, would he be content to leave his baby behind?

  A familiar claw caught her entrails in a death grip. She knew nothing of Frenc
h law in the matter of child custody. But how likely was it that a mother—who wasn’t even a citizen—would take precedence over the father who was?

  In one swoop the excitement of the fantastic visit to the clinic was wiped.

  ‘She’s very beautiful,’ she said, fluttering her lashes to draw his attention to the fact that hers were at least as long as Manon’s. ‘More beautiful than her pictures.’ He made no answer, but she persevered. ‘Did you know she was pregnant?’

  His dark eyes were cool and veiled. ‘I may have heard.’

  ‘It’s—quite a coincidence.’

  ‘How is it a coincidence?’

  ‘Well … you and she were together. Now she’s pregnant, and here you and I are …’

  ‘Life goes on. And …’ He turned his head, and said softly, ‘You are beautiful.’

  Really? If he hadn’t been so angry with Manon, she might have let herself believe him. ‘Was that her sister with her—some relative?’

  ‘I can’t say. I barely looked to see.’ He glanced at her, his dark eyes softening. ‘Chérie, don’t allow this accident of timing to bother you.’

  She smiled. ‘It’s not. Why would it? I wish you had introduced me, though.’

  ‘Ah. I’m sorry.’

  ‘You could have said, “Allow me to present my pregnant friend, Shari.”’

  He flushed. ‘Yes, I should have, but it was a shock, you know, coming upon her so—unexpectedly.’

  ‘Mmm. I sensed that.’ She compressed her lips.

  ‘This is the first time I’ve seen her in seventeen, eighteen months. The last time I saw her we were … she and I were engaged in mortal combat.’

  She could just imagine it. The drama and the passion. Especially the passion. ‘Who was the victor?’

  ‘Oh, Manon, bien sûr. A man has no chance against a woman with claws extended.’

  Her heart pained. How he must have loved the beautiful woman, to feel so bitter. She wished she’d never asked.

  ‘You must miss her,’ she observed coldly.

  ‘Shari.’ His gentle chiding tone made her feel ashamed. Advertising her neediness was hardly the way to inspire a man to love her. She felt her throat thicken, but held back the tears for all she was worth.

  The rest of the journey seethed with an unbearable silence. When they drew up in the street before their apartment building, he turned to her, his intelligent eyes alert and at the same time grave.

  He hesitated, then took her hand and said firmly, ‘I don’t miss her, mon amour. I’m with you now. I’ve moved on. We all have.’

  ‘Sure. Sure we have.’

  ‘Hold the irony, please, Mlle Lacey.’ His dark eyes scrutinised her face with tender concern. ‘We—Manon and I were over long before our affair ended.’

  She lifted her eyebrows. ‘Affair? Oh, that’s cool. After seven years …’

  He shrugged. ‘That was what she wanted our relationship to be. No promises, no certainties. More than anything in the world she didn’t want to belong to anyone.’ His mouth made a sardonic curl. ‘So she said. That was what caused the final crash. She wanted our relationship to stay the same. But …’ He opened his palms and said simply, ‘I changed. I wanted—more. I understand now she saw that as a betrayal. At the time I was—angry. Disillusioned. You might say a little bitter. I said some things that were unkind, and she—stormed off to the airport in a fury, never to return.’

  ‘Oh.’ So it wasn’t just the Jackson Kerr affair that had broken their relationship. Shari hardly dared ask, but the question was burning on her tongue. ‘What was it you wanted?’

  He flicked down his lashes and made a rueful grimace. ‘Not a Russian wolfhound. No. I … er … suffered a brainstorm on my way home one evening and thought I wanted to have a child. Imagine that.’ He shot her a veiled glance.

  Her heart started thumping with a dawning realisation, but she struggled on to extract more of this astounding confession. ‘You and Manon? You wanted a—a—baby?’

  He inclined his head.

  ‘Oh. Right. Well. Well. So … Did you—propose to her?’

  He shrugged. ‘The roses, the ring, the carpet of rose petals, the private room in the restaurant, kneeling like a fool—the whole bloody farce.’

  ‘Oh-h-h.’ She winced in sympathy. ‘And she said no?’

  He gave a sardonic laugh. ‘Manon was a little like you in some of her ideas. She accused me of being a selfish chauvinist determined to cruelly subjugate her to domestic slavery and prevent her from realising her full potential by weighing her down with children.’ From the harsh intake of breath through his nostrils, some lingering outrage was apparent. ‘That was what she said to the media, among other things.’

  She could imagine how bitterly such a rejection had hurt. Then to see Manon allowing herself to be subjugated by the next man in so precisely the manner she’d sneered at …

  Shari’s heart positively ached for him. No wonder he’d been so cold to the beauty when they’d met. ‘That really wasn’t fair,’ she said earnestly. ‘You may not be perfect, but you aren’t cruel.’

  He laughed and kissed her lips. ‘Thank you, chérie. I am trying very hard not to be. And the fates must have forgiven me, because now I have an adorable …’

  ‘Friend.’

  His dark eyes gleamed. ‘And a child to look forward to. I am the happiest father-to-be in Paris. Do you believe that?’

  Meeting his glowing gaze, she did. If there was one thing she was certain about, it was that. He was definitely in love with the baby.

  ‘And I’m not really like her at all, by the way,’ she said, getting out of the car.

  But the concierge called to him at that moment, and Shari doubted he even heard.

  Darkness was approaching when Luc strolled into a bar in a sidestreet tucked around the corner from the Ministry for the Interior. His elderly friend was already ensconced at a table, perusing Le Figaro.

  ‘Henri.’

  ‘Ah, Luc.’ He folded the news sheet and rose to brush cheeks. ‘Good to see you, my young friend. What are we drinking?’

  Henri already had a cognac before him, so Luc signalled the bartender for the same. Once the courtesies had been observed, enquiries made about health, family and the stock market, the real reason for their meeting was subtly addressed.

  ‘I’m afraid the news is not good for your friend with the fiancée.’

  Luc’s heart lurched. ‘No?’

  ‘There are some laws made of steel. They cannot be bent in the slightest. I’m sorry, my friend, but what can one do? This is the new world. The law is implacable on immigration matters. However …’ Henri contemplated his cognac. ‘Might I suggest a possible solution?’

  Luc listened, and his spirits sank. Henri was assuming that this situation was straightforward, the woman like any other.

  He endeavoured to explain. ‘She is not—I believe from what my friend says—she is not the sort of woman who wishes to be pinned down. Forever is not a phrase in her vocabulary. My friend is concerned that if he sets a foot wrong she’ll be fleeing to the airport in a snap.’

  Henri arched his brows and laughed with frank amusement. ‘Ah, Luc. Tell your friend he is an idiot. He just needs to find the right inducement.’ He made a suggestive, masculine gesture. ‘In the end they all want to be pinned down.’

  Luc grimaced ruefully. ‘Not all.’ He rose, thanking Henri before leaving and walking slowly back to the métro, a heavy weight constricting his heart. ‘No. Not all.’

  Shari spent some of her afternoon engaged in research. It was a risk, it could have been self-defeating, but knowledge was power.

  Unsurprisingly, there was little of recent date to find out about Manon. The grand passion seemed to have dropped altogether from public sight. As Shari had noticed as far back as Sydney, it seemed that once the scandal had been milked for every last drop the media circus had moved on. The tabloid sites were no longer swamped with sightings of Jackson Kerr and his new woman.

>   Just a view here or there of Manon spotted in Beverly Hills, always shying away from the camera. Manon sunning herself on Jackson’s private beach with a friend.

  Was it possible they’d split up? Was this why Manon was back in France to have her baby? Shari was ready to bet LA was dotted with fabulous clinics for celebrities. Surely the American ones would compete with the best in the world.

  She studied some of the old images from the time Manon had worked for the glossy. How could Manon have even dreamed of exchanging Luc for a butterfly like Jackson Kerr?

  Scrolling back to the Malibu image, she enlarged it so she could get a clearer view of the friend. She could have been the same woman who’d been with Manon at the clinic.

  Jackson might have been off on location somewhere. Shari hoped he wasn’t seducing another leading lady. He already had a few notches on his belt in that direction, if the celeb spotters were to be believed.

  That would certainly explain why Manon had come back. Maybe she needed to call on friends and family for support.

  When Luc arrived home Shari noticed a change in his mood. He tried to conceal it, but she sensed there was something on his mind. As if that over-the-moon excited guy in the street outside the clinic had plummeted to earth and it had gone hard with him.

  She examined him carefully. ‘Is everything fine? At work? Your family?’

  Anxiously she contemplated the meal she’d cooked. Her salad—she was leaving the vinaigrette dressing to him—the lamb cutlets with the Shari Lacey version of ratatouille instead of a sauce. It was Luc’s turn to make the dessert.

  His handsome face lightened. ‘Everything is good. No need to worry.’ He smiled, but she couldn’t help wondering. And worrying.

  He partook of the meal she’d partly prepared with apparent appreciation, but, as she’d noted before, he was a courteous guy. She made the resolution to take some lessons in French cuisine just as soon as she had the chance. Definitely.

  Over the next week or so he often seemed deep in meditation. Once or twice she caught him looking at her with an expression she couldn’t interpret.

  Well, she was starting to show. Her waist had thickened a little, and there were definite signs of a bump. To compensate she started making sure she looked beautilicious when he arrived home. Pretty clothes, underwear. She even had her hair cut and foiled and bought a straightener. At one point she succumbed to ironing a tee shirt.