His eyes didn’t meet hers. ‘Penny said you had come here to see if you could find Natalie. It has been a long time since I have visited Lille and—’
‘And that is bullshit, Yves Rousseau. You came because you didn’t think I could convince Natalie to come back with me.’
He shoved his hands in his pockets and twisted his lips.
‘I’m not some damsel in distress.’
‘I am aware of this, oui?’ That tone of annoyance had returned. His face relaxed a fraction when he said, ‘Your French is, how do I say this…very basic. I thought you could use some help as I am not aware if this Cheverin person speaks English.’
Hmm…
Cocking her head in the direction of the mansion, she said, ‘I may not even have to speak to him. Natalie might be in there and no French will be required.’
Yves looked up at the sky and closed his eyes for a moment. He lowered his head and locked eyes on her. ‘You have a streak of stubborn like Natalie. Although it is very different. Hers comes from ego but yours…’ He narrowed his eyes and paused for quite some time. ‘Yours comes from a deeper place. It is a wall you use so no one can see who you really are. Guess what? I am the exception because I can see you very clearly.’
‘No, you can’t.’ Now it was her turn to look at her dusty shoes.
Yves stepped closer and she forced herself not to retreat. ‘I see you are afraid of talking about your past. I see that you are clinging to painful memories like a buoy in an ocean. I see that you do not know how to—’
A whirring sound signalled the opening of the automatic gates and she braced herself, wishing she could think on her feet. She’d had hours to come up with a reason for standing at the gates of a man she didn’t know yet she hadn’t come up with anything. Natalie could come up with the biggest lie off the top of her head and pull it off without a single twitch or hint of a blush.
Thankful that Yves’s speech had been interrupted, she stepped out from behind the gate post and gave the vehicle the friendliest wave and smile she could muster.
The limo stopped and the back window tentatively rolled down a few inches.
‘Puis-je vous aider?’ Came the male voice from behind the tinted window.
Content her schoolgirl French had gotten her as far as understanding him saying ‘Can I help you?’ she replied, ‘Oui. Je cherche quelqu’un.’
‘Please do not kill my language,’ the voice replied in English. Okay, so maybe the schoolgirl French wasn’t so hot. ‘Who are you looking for?’
‘An Australian woman. She’s a dancer.’
No answer.
‘Her name is Natalie.’
Still no answer.
‘I have reason to believe she may have come to see you. You are Cristian Cheverin, right?’
His silence confirmed he was, in fact, the man she’d been looking for. Why wouldn’t he roll down the damn window all the way so she could see his face? It really was disconcerting holding a conversation with a tinted piece of glass.
‘Why would this person visit me?’ His initially soft voice had acquired a slight agitation.
‘That’s the problem, I have no idea,’ she said. Telling him his family had been mentioned in her sister’s diary probably wouldn’t help matters.
‘I do not know her.’
‘Are you sure?’ She failed miserably at keeping her pleading tone at bay. Standing on tiptoe, Lily tried to gain a better view of the man in the car. Again, no luck. ‘I’m really worried about her. She’s gone missing from her apartment in Paris and I have reason to believe she could be visiting your estate and—’
The man behind the window coughed, but it was forced, like he was buying time to come up with a lie. ‘I do not know her. Now please, go.’
‘Please, I’m her sister—’
‘Mon dieu! She has a sister? Stay away!’ He leaned towards the driver and spoke in rapid French. A second later the window rolled up and the vehicle took off, the wheels spinning on the gravel.
She ran to Yves’s car then jumped in the passenger side, leaned over and yelled, ‘Get in!’
‘I am not sure this is a good idea.’ He climbed in reluctantly and shoved the keys in the ignition.
‘Some of the best ideas start out as crazy schemes.’
Yves released the handbrake and the car rolled into action. The limo was out of sight but dust clouds remained.
‘What are you going to do if we meet up with them again?’ asked Yves.
‘I’m not sure.’ She willed her brain to kick into gear and give her something spectacular. ‘He knows something and I’ll make him talk somehow.’
‘Because your approach worked so well a few minutes ago?’
Throwing him a glare, she said, ‘I failed this time around, so be it. But when we see him again—and we will—then he’ll understand the urgency of the matter.’
‘And what if he calls the police because he thinks a crazy woman is chasing him?’
She shrugged. ‘Then he would be right.’
* * *
‘Damn.’ Lily gripped the dashboard and glared at the flock of sheep blocking their path. ‘Why now?’
Yves threw his hands in the air.
‘Stupid bloody animals,’ she grumbled.
A sheep let out a loud baa and leapt high and the rest of the flock followed. The farmer whistled, the dogs barked and set to work getting the sheep across the road safely. Meanwhile, Lily drummed her fingers on her thigh and glared at the woolly annoyance. After a few more excruciating minutes the path was clear and Yves put the car in motion.
‘If we are to catch this baron, we must make up for lost time.’ He revved the engine and a flurry of stones flew behind them.
Lily gripped the edge of her seat so hard, her fingers ached. ‘Please, slow down.’
‘You want to find this person, yes?’
She nodded, her panic rising.
‘Then we must use speed.’
She sent silent prayers to whoever would listen that they’d arrive safely. Visions of the traffic zipping down Avenue Victor Hugo flashed before her and she heard the ear-piercing honking of horns just before a dull, gut-wrenching thud ended one life and destroyed others.
‘Lily?’ Yves glanced over at her but quickly returned his focus to the road. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing.’
‘People do not let out a strange sound like you did if they are thinking about nothing.’
‘Oh.’ Her mind whirred into action. ‘I was wondering about Natalie and where she could be.’
‘No, you were not.’
She turned to look out the window but was met by a wall of blurry green. Her stomach churned and anxiety squeezed her ribcage.
Yves didn’t reduce speed even when they reached a bend in the road.
‘Slow down, please,’ she muttered. Her chest constricted further and she fought to suck in air.
Yves pressed his foot on the accelerator and the small car bumped along the road, taking flight with every pothole.
‘Slow down!’
Yves did as she asked, albeit begrudgingly. ‘You want me to catch this person yet you expect me to drive like a snail.’
‘I can’t cope with fast cars.’
‘But—’
She turned to face him. ‘I appreciate you going to all this trouble and I get your reasoning about why we have to go fast but…’ She looked to the heavens for a moment. ‘The reason I gave up ballet was because I was in a car accident.’
That wasn’t so hard to say after all.
The car slowed slightly and he glanced over at her.
‘I’m sorry for yelling,’ she said.
‘Do not be. Now I understand. I just wish you had—’ His eyes widened. ‘Oh, ho, ho! Look at this!’
Sun glinted off the white limo as it veered onto the freeway leading to Lille.
‘Could you bear just a few more moments of fastness?’ he asked. Realising this could be their only chance of keeping the li
mo in their sights, she nodded and squeezed her eyes shut. The car lurched forward and gravity pushed her head against the backrest while a thin film of sweat coated her body.
For Natalie. For Natalie. For Natalie.
Petrol fumes filled the cabin as Lily kept her eyes closed, her hands gripping the edges of the seat. Yves changed to the highest gear and the vehicle leaned to the left, then right. The car shuddered slightly as Yves went full throttle, like a missile seeking its target.
Just as she thought she’d reached the upper echelon of hell, Yves slammed on the brakes and let out an almighty, ‘Merde!’
CHAPTER
19
Lily threw her arms over her head, trying to brace for the impact of the vehicle ramming into the back of the limo. She squeezed her eyes shut and all the fear and hurt she’d tried to bury for almost two years surfaced in one blood-curdling scream.
Yves pumped the brakes as the car skidded and screeched. She waited for the sickening sound of metal against metal.
Nothing happened.
Prying one eye open, then the other, she saw the limo speed away, overtaking other cars by driving in the bike lane, while a cacophony of horns and angry voices exploded behind her and Yves. He swung the car into action but by now the limo was at least ten cars in front.
‘Did he do that on purpose?’ Her words sounded strangled.
‘I suspect this is the case.’
The traffic was now at a standstill, the limo close but not close enough. The pain in her back increased ten-fold. She scrunched up her face, telling herself the shooting aches were only psychological.
‘What is wrong?’ His concerned tone helped her body relax a fraction.
‘I’m—’
‘If you say you are fine then I know you are lying.’ Yves’s voice brooked no argument and she slumped against the seat.
‘Since the accident, my back sometimes gets very sore.’
Although it was hard to admit, she loved that he cared so much and showed concern for her welfare. She loved how he called her out when she was trying to fool him. And he certainly called bullshit when she tried to fool herself. Whether she liked it or not, Yves Rousseau was good for her and he deserved more respect than she’d given him. No time like the present. ‘I’m sorry for running out on you the other morning. It was wrong of me to leave without an explanation.’ So far, so good. Her head hadn’t exploded yet. ‘So much happened when I was last in Paris and I’ve spent almost two years trying to work through it. But being here is triggering all kinds of emotions and sometimes it knocks me for a six.’
‘Knock you for a six?’ The traffic started moving and Yves kept his eyes on the road.
‘Sets me back. Makes me feel like I’ll never get over the sadness.’ A flutter of pride buoyed her now that she’d opened up—a little.
‘Sadness?’ Yves frowned.
‘Look, I have so much to work through and to be honest, I’m not sure I have the courage to face it. That’s why I’ve been strange at times.’ The pain in her lower back seemed to have disappeared. Weird. ‘It’s me, not you.’
He glanced at her. ‘That statement is often a lie.’
‘This time, I promise you, it’s not.’
They snaked through the streets of Lille, a city more beautiful than she could ever have imagined. Situated close to the border of Belgium, she’d read about the Baroque and Renaissance architecture that had a Flemish flair—three- and four-storey buildings sported tall windows surrounded by elaborate gold carving, and roofs pitched at dramatic angles lined the narrow cobblestoned streets. Any other time she would have stopped and marvelled at this gorgeous city but today was not that day.
She spotted the white limo turning the corner. ‘There it is!’
Yves expertly wove between the traffic to bring them directly behind the limo.
‘We’ve got him now!’ she yelled, a little too loudly.
The limo pulled to the side of the road and the chauffer stepped out and opened the back door. Her target jumped out, his stocky frame clad in a stylishly cut navy blue suit. His thick hair was slicked back in 1920s style and framed his flawless complexion perfectly. He clutched a briefcase and strode down the street towards a plaza.
Yves slowed down and she grabbed the door handle, about to wrench it open.
‘What are you doing?’ Yves asked, pulling over to the kerb.
‘I’m going to bash him over the head with my handbag until he tells me where Natalie is.’ Yves’s eyes widened and she laughed. ‘I’m going to politely ask him about Natalie—again—and if he doesn’t tell me—again—I’ll turn on the waterworks. No one can refuse to help a woman crying in public.’
‘That is despicable. Besides, we are used to showing our emotions, we are French.’
‘And I’m a distraught Australian falling apart at his feet. He’ll want to get rid of me quickly so he’ll tell me what I need to know.’ She looked down the street and could see Cheverin about to turn the corner. ‘Find a place to park and come find me.’
Lily closed the door and hurried down the street, pulling the collar of her jacket up like a spy. Cheverin entered a large square and she did the same. Magnificent architecture towered above. As if sensing her behind him, he hurried towards a spectacular building that looked like the Opéra du Lille, the theatre the Ballet Bohème often performed at.
Her feet halted.
Jesus.
Just when she thought she was getting her act together another element from her past popped up and smashed into her face. There is no time for wallowing. Pressing on, she deliberately lost herself in a group of tourists standing outside the theatre. She needed a moment to think about how best to approach him.
Peering around the huddle of bodies, she spied him again.
He stared right at her.
Heat rushed across Lily’s face as he marched towards her, phone at his ear. ‘I am calling the police.’
‘Please.’ She moved to grab his hand but stopped. He jerked back. ‘Just tell me where Natalie is and I’ll leave you alone. I promise.’
He stared her down. ‘Is all your family crazy or just the girls?’
‘I’m completely sane, thank you very much. Okay, my actions today won’t give you any confidence that I’m not loopy but I promise you, on most days I’m boringly normal.’
His attention turned to the phone and she suspected the police had just answered.
Lily sucked in her breath, her stomach knotting as memories of the last time she dealt with French police surfaced.
As Cheverin spoke gruffly into the phone, her eyes pleaded with him. He eventually pressed End Call. ‘You must know that I have the police on speed dial.’
She nodded. ‘I don’t mean to come across as some crazy stalker, I just want to find my sister.’
‘Tell me why it is so important to see your sister. Why can you not call her?’ He clutched the briefcase against his torso.
She decided to tell the whole sordid truth about her relationship with her sister, her fear that Natalie was throwing her career away, Aiden’s death and the blame Natalie placed on her. Cheverin stood still, calmly listening and occasionally nodding. When she’d finished, a wave of relief swept over her. Never had she blurted out her history in one fell swoop. Although, a large wad of guilt grew in her belly at not having told Yves all this.
Boy, she needed a stiff drink.
Cheverin took so long to reply she worried his brain had shut down halfway through her monologue. ‘You do not appear to be as insane as your sister.’
‘I’m not, I promise. I’m just worried about her.’ She held out her hand. ‘I’m Lily.’
He didn’t let go of the briefcase but his features softened a fraction. ‘I will tell you what I know if you promise to leave me alone after this.’
‘That’s a fair deal.’ Her lips formed a grateful smile.
‘She has been arrested.’ The way he said it was so matter of fact.
‘What for?’ she ras
ped, her eyes searching the plaza for Yves. How long did it take to park a freaking car?
‘For refusing to leave my property.’
Cool air hit her wide eyes. ‘No wonder you didn’t want me near you.’
He shrugged one shoulder.
‘I’m so sorry. She’s not been herself and—’
‘There is more.’ He clutched his briefcase a little tighter.
‘Yes?’
‘She is also being charged with theft. And harassment. She’s lucky I don’t add blackmail.’
‘What?’
‘You can ask her.’ Cheverin briefly looked at his gold watch. ‘I have to be somewhere.’
She lurched forward to grab him but stopped. ‘Do you know where she’s being held?’
‘At the police station. It is not far from here.’ He swung the briefcase and headed in the direction of the theatre. ‘I do not want to see you or your sister again—ever.’
CHAPTER
20
Paris, 1917
Viktoriya opened the door to the apartment block, a steady stream of tears dampening her face as she tried to gulp back the sobs that threatened to escape. She detested that Alexei had thought it was all right to snoop and she hated the anger and frustration swirling inside her.
Viktoriya entered her room and slammed the door.
Yana was sitting on the wooden chair, her eyes wide. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘So many things.’ Viktoriya sat heavily on the bed, the thin mattress not offering much protection between her and the wooden slats.
‘I’m sorry about Alexei. I didn’t know—’
‘It’s not your fault. God,’ she dropped her head forward and covered her face with her hands, ‘what a mess.’
Yana moved over to the bed and placed her hand on Viktoriya’s knee. ‘Can I help?’
Bless this beautiful girl. After losing her parents she still had enough empathy for others. ‘Thank you, but I’ll get through it. It’s only a bump in the road. Besides, there are many worse off than me and in the grand scheme of things, my problems are nothing.’
‘But you’re crying.’ Yana gently wiped away a tear.
Viktoriya smiled, her heart swelling with affection. ‘I’ll be fine, I promise.’
Beneath the Parisian Skies Page 18
