by Emma Nichols
Anna shook her head. ‘It’s only three days til Christmas,’ she said. Lauren nodded.
They had been celebrating the official confirmation that the allegation against Henri and Valerie had been dropped because the witness had withdrawn their statement. The senior investigating officer had driven over to the house to apologise in person for the inconvenience caused. He had assured the Vincentis that they were considering action against the witness for wasting police time. Lauren had suggested that they would all be happy just to let it go, and after the officer had downed couple of glasses of champagne, he agreed. The party had been in full swing when the call had come in about Rowena.
Now Lauren and Anna sat on the large couch in the living room, staring into the wood-burning stove, Anna expressing her disbelief at the turn of events.
‘Remember when you split your head open on that fireplace?’ Anna asked as her thoughts drifted.
‘Yes.’ Lauren smiled and tugged Anna closer, the memory bringing to mind her lover’s over-zealous response and her supervision whilst Lauren took a bath. ‘You were…’
‘I was paranoid that you were going to die,’ Anna interrupted.
‘Wonderful, I was going to say,’ Lauren corrected her.
‘I was scared shitless,’ Anna said, holding Lauren’s eyes as she spoke. She moved, pressed her lips to Lauren’s. ‘Come to bed with me,’ she said. They eased out of the couch and ambled lazily, hand in hand. Anna stopped outside the bedroom door, turned to face Lauren, and traced a finger down the side of her face. ‘I love you,’ she said.
Lauren leaned in to kiss Anna’s lips. The touch spoke volumes.
16.
Eva paced the floor in her mum’s office. Except it wasn’t her mum’s office any more, she reflected, battling another hot sweat and a gripping pain in her gut that nearly floored her. She wanted to scream out, but no one would hear her cries of desperation. What was the point? She made her way to the coffee machine, hoping the familiar hissing sound would give her mind something positive to focus on. Her mother’s will sat on the table in a sealed envelope. She had collected it from the solicitor two days ago. Dying so close to the holiday season meant that the funeral couldn’t be arranged until after the New Year, so she waited, in limbo until the fourth of January. Eva squeezed at her stomach as another spasm griped her. At least the thumping in her head had eased since taking the tablets. She put in a second coffee pod and pressed the button: strong and sweet.
She glanced around the room, pausing at the director’s chair, reminded of Rowena’s presence. A wave of sadness passed through her. Perhaps she’s still here, she thought; she wished. She’d heard about energy and spirit and wanted to believe in it, but right now all she could feel was the gaping hole that her mum had left in her life. She sipped at the strong coffee, wandered to the couch, and picked up the envelope. She knew that her mum had left her the business, and both flats, but the reality gave her no pleasure. She put the envelope down again, rubbed her fingers through her hair, and winced as her stomach tweaked again. She took a bite out of the ham baguette she had purchased on the way in. She chewed the dry contents, eventually swallowing what still felt like a large lump in her throat. The temptation was too much. She walked to the desk, opened the cabinet drawer, and pulled out the bottle of scotch. She uncorked the top and took a long swig, taking the bottle with her back to the couch. She opened her laptop and set to work, ignoring the bleeps from her phone advising her that she had a string of texts waiting.
Scrolling down the list, she checked out each profile in detail, searching for the right skills. The trouble was, she had no idea what those skills might be. Searching for a lost or missing person wasn’t something she’d ever done before, and she felt a little out of her depth as to where to start. It was the name that caught her eye in the first instance, then the apparent contradiction between the name Mitch Slater and the image of a petite built, dark skinned woman, with short black curls cut tight to her scalp and a beaming white smile. She looked like an angel. She read further…
Ex police, based in Paris. If you need to find someone, I’ll look for you. Give me a call.
The advert didn’t give much information, but Eva felt a sudden rush of excitement as she pondered the idea that someone might be able to help her. She went to make the call, then stopped when she realised… It was Christmas Day. Surely, Mitch Slater had better things to be doing today than taking calls from a potential client. She took note of the number. The call could wait another day. She’d go to her mum’s house and see what she could find. The thought caused her stomach to churn, but it needed to be done. Maybe there would be something there to help with the search: a picture, a last known address, or a social security number. Anything. Her mum must have something with David Adam’s details on it, she reasoned, as she grabbed her coat and headed out the door.
*
‘Merry Christmas everyone,’ Brigitte announced as she plonked the large tray on the dining table. The weight brought it down with a thud, nearly spilling its contents. She picked up the sharp carving knife, and long two-pronged fork, and began slicing the large, perfectly seasoned, turkey crown.
‘Merry Christmas,’ came the chorus, as the other five people sat around the table responded in unison.
The aroma had been wafting through the house for the last couple of hours at least, and as Rosa spied the juices being released from the knife cutting through the tender flesh, her mouth watered. She took in the scent and her stomach complained. She took a sip of wine to quell the desire, but her belly wasn’t going to be cheated by such a cheap trick. So she reached out and snatched a loose bit of turkey and threw it into her mouth, before her mum could stop her. The voices around the table protested teasingly, and Rosa moaned aloud as the flavours captivated her taste buds. ‘Mmm, that’s really good,’ she said, to more whining noises from their guests. Brigitte worked faster, serving the turkey, and passing the plates around the table, until everyone had a dish in front of them. Groans of pleasure filled the room.
‘Delicious.’ Rosa said. More nods and mumbled gratitude confirmed the meal was a hit.
‘Keep you waiting long enough, you’ll eat anything,’ Brigitte teased, taking her own seat in front of her plate.
Rosa loaded her plate with steaming vegetables, roast potatoes, and a Yorkshire pudding. She had insisted her mum make them, as they were a luxury she never got to eat when in Paris. She poured a little gravy over her meat and into the centre of the pudding, refusing the cranberry sauce that had just been offered. She picked up her knife and fork and looked up, realising for the first time that Kaye was watching her intently. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks and tried to distract herself from the smiling eyes, tucking into her food with passion.
Kaye’s smile broadened as she watched Rosa enjoying her meal. She accepted the cranberry that had now reached her and placed a small spoonful of the sauce on the side of her plate. She returned the dish to the table, and started to tuck in. ‘Wow, this is fantastic,’ she said, directing her words to Brigitte, whilst her eyes strayed to the younger woman who had attracted her attention.
Brigitte chewed, swallowed, and chewed and swallowed again, aware of the energy passing between her daughter and the enigmatic doctor, Kaye Bennett. Brigitte had known Kaye for five years now, having started at the Royal Free not long after finishing medical school. She was solid, dependable, and… she was single. She also figured that her daughter might think she was hot. Kaye was always drawing attention at work, even if it was from the wrong gender for her taste. Brigitte had hoped the two women would get along, and it seemed she was right. This was one of the reasons she had suggested a Christmas lunch in the first place. That, and the fact that the four colleagues she’d invited would have been eating canteen leftovers had they not had somewhere better to go. She watched with interest, as sparks fired across the table and back again. Paul and Flo, her nursing friends, were deep in their own conversation and Agnes, the oldest sister
on the Renal ward, who had had one too many Gin’s already, was happily tucking into the food, at a pace.
Rosa finished her plate, leaned back in her seat, and held her protruding stomach. ‘I’m stuffed.’
‘Me too,’ Kaye said, mirroring Rosa’s movement. The smile she flashed impacted Rosa quite a way below her waistline, and she wriggled in her seat to ease the sensation building between her legs. She tried to cross her legs, only to bash her knee on one of the struts of the table.
The sound of cutlery landing on plates drew Rosa’s attention to the fact that others around the table had also finished eating. She excused herself, rose to her feet and began to clear away the empty plates. Kaye collected the plates from her side of the table and followed Rosa into the kitchen.
‘So, are you staying here long?’ Kaye asked.
Rosa rested the plates on the side, noticing her body’s intense response to the simple words. ‘Until after New Year,’ she said, her eyes tracking the feminine figure, as Kaye placed the plates onto the pile she had started.
‘Sorry,’ Kaye said, as she brushed an arm across Rosa’s breast, but her eyes gave away the fact that the move had been somewhat intentional.
Rosa smiled. ‘It’s okay.’
‘Do you fancy going to a party on New Year’s Eve?’ Kaye asked. The question caused Rosa to flinch, though she wasn’t sure why. When did she lose her ability to flirt outrageously? Kaye noticed Rosa’s discomfort. ‘As friends,’ she added.
‘Maybe,’ Rosa said. Though not entirely convinced, she had felt a brief sense of relief pass through her when Kaye had qualified her invitation, as friends. Maybe it would be good for her, she pondered, as they both joined the others at the table. The atmosphere over lunch had been convivial, but a fleeting thought of Eva had dampened her mood. As crazy as it might have seemed to an onlooker, and especially to her friend Dee, she felt Eva’s absence, dreadfully and painfully.
Her mother noticed and remarked. ‘Everything okay sweetheart?’
‘Fine, just lost in thought for a moment.’ Rosa smiled weakly, and turned her attention to the banter between Paul and Flo that seemed to have the rest of the table in raptures, except for Kaye whose eyes were firmly fixed on Rosa. She seemed fully tuned in to Rosa’s sadness and motioned her head as if to check that everything was okay. It wasn’t.
*
‘You look pensive,’ Lauren said, sweeping a strand of hair from Anna’s tense face. She coaxed her chin up and gazed into her eyes. ‘You’re worried about Eva.’ It was a statement not a question, but Anna nodded all the same.
‘I’ve texted her five times today and she hasn’t responded. Her calls are going straight to answerphone.’ Lauren studied the steel-blue eyes. ‘She was there for me when…’ Anna said.
Lauren’s smile conveyed tenderness, and something else. Pride? She toyed with an errant hair sitting across Anna’s eyes, pinned it behind her ear and ran her fingers down the side of Anna’s face. She could feel Anna’s sadness as if it were her own.
The tender touch caused a sharp prickle of discomfort and Anna averted Lauren’s gaze suddenly, memories of her time with Eva riding on the wave of guilt that filtered through her mind, and settled heavily in her chest. Logically, she knew she had nothing to feel bad about. Yet, the dark-brown eyes piercing through her now, made her feel as if they had never been separated by the accident. In so many ways, it felt as if they had always been together since the time they met. The reality was, it was one year and two days since Lauren’s accident, and what had happened between Anna and Eva had been left unspoken. Yet now, Anna felt as bad as if she had actually had an affair. Without questioning the timing, Anna opened her mouth.
‘Eva and… we… we were intimate for a while,’ she said, fighting to get the words out through the tension in her mind. As soon as the words were set free, she breathed out deeply.
Lauren stiffened as the words landed, her face tightened and her eyes withdrew into another place. She stepped away from Anna, and knelt on the floor where Emilie was playing with a soft rattle; shaking it vigorously, then putting it into her mouth. Anna’s heart dropped. Naively, she hadn’t seen that response coming. She bent down next to Lauren and placed her hand in the small of her warm back. Lauren remained focused on entertaining Emilie. After a short while, Anna removed her hand, stood, and walked out of the living room, with the soft sounds of Emilie gurgling in the background as she closed the door quietly behind her. She pulled on her coat and stepped outside. Her breath faltered as she adjusted to the cold air.
It was already dark, but on route to the horizon, pockets of light marked the hamlets and small villages, set amid the forests that snuggled into the mountains. She wrapped her arms around herself for warmth and meandered down to the eucalyptus tree, pondering the wisdom of her confession. From the position of the tree, more lights appeared down through the valley and her eyes were drawn to a small number of moving lights close to the boundary of the vineyard. Leaning her side against the tree, she allowed her thoughts to spiral: Lauren’s response, Eva’s silence, and Rowena’s death, and then dearest Emilie - so innocent and full of life. The pain of guilt had gone, but what had replaced it was even more excruciating. Lauren’s instant withdrawal had the same crushing effect on her as the accident had this time last year. The memories came flooding back. She couldn’t go there again. She fought the rising tears, but they were too insistent and left a cooling trail as they fell down her cheeks.
Lauren smiled as she watched her daughter exploring the new toy with intense interest. But she wasn’t focused on the bright dark eyes, dark brown curls, and giggling smile. The tightness in her chest had a sharp feel to it, and her imagination took her on a journey she hadn’t planned to make. All her logical thoughts stacked up to form the perfect argument she would be prepared to defend in a court of law, including her own transgression during the time she and Anna had been apart. But her reaction to Anna, that was something entirely different. She recognised her old self and she didn’t like it. She wanted to protect herself from the pain of the truth. But she couldn’t withdraw and shut herself out of the world again. She picked up Emilie and sat on the couch with her, reaching for her last bottle of the night, before bed. She’d get her settled into bed and then go and talk to Anna.
*
Eva jumped at the banging sound at her door. She wasn’t expecting anyone. A pile of black and white photographs lay strewn across the floor of her living room. She had been trying to put them into some sort of order, but she didn’t recognise most of the people in the pictures. The banging came again, this time more urgent. ‘All right,’ she shouted. Her right knee squeaked and groaned as she stood up and she rubbed her kneecap as she hobbled to the door. She’d clearly been scrunched up on the floor for too long she mused, as it dawned on her that it was long past 7pm. The thumping started again, just as she opened the door. ‘All right, all right,’ she said, looking directly at Carine.
‘You haven’t responded to your text messages all day and I was getting worried,’ Carine announced, pushing her way past Eva and into the flat. She placed a sack on the kitchen side, and two bottles of wine in the fridge. ‘What are you doing?’ Carine asked, as her eyes scanned the images and written labels scattered across the floor.
‘I need to find my father,’ Eva announced. Her tone was serious, and her glare carried an intensity and determination that Carine hadn’t seen in her before.
‘I didn’t realise…’ Carine started.
‘I don’t know where he is, or if he’s even alive, but I need to find out,’ Eva interrupted, needing to justify her actions, as she immediately returned to the floor, studied an image, and placed it in its relevant pile.
Carine watched the fiercely obsessive behaviour, unsure of whether to feel concerned or simply relieved that Eva wasn’t sat in a drunken stupor mourning the death of her mum. ‘Can I help?’ she asked, kneeling down next to Eva. She didn’t recognise anyone either, so would be of little help with the
sorting process. ‘I’ll make some supper,’ she said, but Eva was too engrossed to hear the words. Carine stood, and Eva grunted some form of acknowledgement. Carine wandered through to the kitchen, opened the wine and poured them both a glass. She placed a glass on the table for Eva and then went back into the kitchen to prepare supper. She kept a curious eye on Eva as she worked.
‘Did you find what you were looking for?’ Carine asked. Eva looked up from the floor. The wild passion had darkened her eyes and Carine felt a bolt of lightning strike her, right between the legs. The feeling caught her by surprise and she choked down the wine she had just slurped, nearly spilling the glass in her hand.
‘I think so.’ Eva stood with two photographs in her hand. One, of her mum with a man in what looked like a formal Army uniform. The second was of a young child in a pink frilly dress being carried by the same man. This time he was dressed in combat uniform, but there was no mistaking the striking resemblance between Eva and her father. She held out the photos, picked up her still full glass from the table, and took a long slug.
‘You have the same colour eyes,’ Carine said. ‘Distinctive.’ She looked Eva up and down, then back to the picture in her hand. ‘Same build too by the looks of it. Same fair hair.’
Eva drained her glass, picked up the bottle from the table and re-filled it. She hadn’t been aware of Carine working away in the background, but the previously bare table had been dressed for Christmas: a Father Christmas patterned tablecloth, red napkins, and two posh looking Christmas crackers. Even a candle had been lit as a centrepiece, surrounded by real holly leaves together with its red berries. The scene made her smile, but a wave of sadness overwhelmed her, and she couldn’t hold back the sudden rush of tears.
Carine placed the photos on the arm of the couch, deliberately out of direct sight and pulled Eva into her chest. ‘It’ll be okay,’ she said, softly, knowing that feeling okay was a poor compromise for feeling alive, and happy. She pressed a kiss on the top of Eva’s head and pushed the blonde straggly hair to the side of her face. The kiss to Eva’s lips flowed without thought. Tender, loving, fleeting. Carine released Eva, taken aback by her own unexpected display of affection. She cleared her throat. ‘Supper’s ready,’ she said. Her voice was broken, and she turned swiftly to avoid Eva’s gaze.
