Hate Bale
Page 25
“Absolutely! Blandine’s parents are lovely, aren’t they?” enthused Martha.
“They seem all right,” granted Lottie.
Martha’s future in-laws, Laurent and Patricia, the latter pronounced with four crisp syllables, were indeed charming. Laurent was newly retired, and Patricia ran her own business of jewellery creation, but only when she felt like it, and so the couple had been quick to volunteer to farm-sit for Martha the month she’d be away. Patricia had worked part-time in a hotel when her five children were growing up, so she was well up to the challenge of whatever the assorted guests in the holiday cottage might throw her way. Laurent was thrilled with all the animals, and Patricia had told Martha she didn’t think she’d be seeing much of her husband as he’d be outdoors with them all day. That appeared to be a good thing. Martha imagined that the pair were still adjusting to him being under her feet all day.
Roger had reduced Laurent’s workload by moving all the turkeys to a freshly fenced-off area in the remotest corner of his and Lottie’s five acres, where a large, brand new shed now stood. He’d become very attached to the brood in the incubator, and had lovingly raised them. After Martha’s accident, when it became apparent she’d be in hospital for the best part of a week, he’d moved the hatchlings into a run under a red lamp in his office. Lottie had told Martha how he’d sat up all night with one poorly one, and buried it lovingly in the rose garden when it gave up the exhausting struggle for life. With Lottie’s consent, of course, Martha had given all her turkeys to Roger as a thank-you for his part in her rescue. She’d treated Lottie to a weekend of pampering at a ridiculously expensive spa in the Auvergne. However, Martha hadn’t batted an eyelid when forking out the fee, although normally that sort of sum would have made her eyes water. She could hardly scrimp when buying something for the friend who had driven into a burning building to save her. Martha had been half-expecting to have to buy a new car for Lottie, although that would have meant emptying all her saving accounts. She’d been worried that Lottie’s insurance wouldn’t cover wilfully knocking a flaming door down, and then being driven into a tree by someone who’d hijacked it. She couldn’t leave her friend out of pocket when the reason the damage had happened was, ultimately, her fault. Fortunately it turned out that Lottie had an excellent insurance policy, not to mention an even better lawyer.
“Do you like this new car?” asked Martha, gazing out at the gleaming red bonnet in front and then casting her eye around the swish interior of the BMW X4.
“I really do,” beamed Lottie. “I wasn’t sure at first, mind. I almost wished I’d kept the old car. But no, I couldn’t have driven it again.”
The car had sustained very little damage from the impact with the tree, but the same couldn’t be said for the driver.
“Not after having a corpse in it,” Lottie continued and pulled a face.
Technically, the car had only had half a corpse in it – the bottom half. The top half had followed the man in red’s head through the windscreen and been sprawled over the bonnet when Jared had reached the scene. The man was already dead.
“If the idiot had only put the seatbelt on, he’d have walked away without a scratch!” she exclaimed. “I mean, these modern cars practically put the wretched seatbelt on for you, all the warning beeps and bings if you drive off without clunking and clicking.”
“I think he was in too much of a hurry to mow us down and then make his escape,” observed Martha grimly.
“Well, he shouldn’t have been!” fumed Lottie, banging the steering wheel in frustration. “Dying’s too good for him. He should have lived and suffered for what he did.”
“Yes, he should,” agreed Martha. “Especially as he had the wrong Bruno Saunier.”
That was the ultimate tragedy of the whole sad, evil affair. This Bruno wasn’t the boy’s grandfather: DNA tests had confirmed that. The man in red, whose name was now known to be Kevin Cellier, had tracked down the wrong person. Neither Bruno, his prime target, nor Daniel and Martial, the collateral damage, should ever have died. That had almost been too much for Martha to bear at first, especially as she’d so very nearly been added to that number. When Philippe had first broken that news, during one of his many long visits with Martha when she was still in hospital, she’d been inconsolable for hours. Tears prickled her eyes again now, six weeks later.
“Remy’s going to be all right.” Martha tried to inject some optimism into the conversation.
“Maybe he should have died too,” remarked Lottie gloomily. “Poor man, losing his beloved brother like that.”
“They were born tough in those days,” said Martha, still attempting to be positive. “He’s a strong person. He’ll obviously never be quite the same again, but life will go on for him. And he has his memories to cherish.”
“What a screwed-up waste of a young life,” sighed Lottie. “To be so bitter and hate-filled, and to feel so entitled to what he thought was the family money.”
Lottie braked sharply, having got too close to the car in front. Martha winced. Lottie was still driving like a lunatic, but thank heavens she was so determined, not to say reckless, behind the wheel or Martha might well be a pile of ashes by now.
“Oh, I never told you, did I?” said Lottie, unperturbed by the near miss. “Those Dutch people are buying the Saunier cottage, so that’ll be a nice sum going to Remy. It won’t buy him happiness but I hope he’ll use it to buy a nice new house for a fresh start and put that ancient farm on the market. With me, with any luck.” She grinned.
The grin didn’t fade. Martha guessed correctly what was coming next.
“Sooo. What are your plans regarding everyone’s favourite policeman when you get back from your holiday, and he gets back from his? You two are getting very pally.”
“We’ve been spending quite a lot of time together, it’s true,” admitted Martha carefully. “We’re taking things slowly and we’ll see how it develops.”
“Jeez!” exclaimed Lottie. “Snails from opposite ends of the planet will get together quicker than you two.”
“I don’t think the planet has ends,” observed Martha pedantically.
“You know what I mean. Stop pussyfooting around and shack up with the poor man!”
Martha turned her head to gaze out of her window and conceal the smile playing on her lips.
“We’ll see how it develops,” she repeated.
“Yeah, well, don’t take too long about it,” advised Lottie with a frown. “Are you still mad at him for tracking you?”
“I was never mad,” Martha corrected her. “Not even miffed.” How could she be when that tracking device he’d slipped up the handlebar had saved her life. If her rescuers had been much later in arriving, she’d have been toast. “He was concerned about me taking part in the race but didn’t want to outright forbid it or smother me. That was his way round it.”
Lottie gave a pfft of scepticism, then they drove on in silence for several minutes.
“So he’s going fishing?” Lottie asked next. “With some friend or other?”
“Yes. He’s looking forward to it.”
“And meanwhile you’re spending a fortnight in Australia, ten days in New Zealand and three in Singapore?”
“I certainly am.”
“I still think you’re mad.” Lottie was back in disapproval mode. “Not only going at this time of year, but while you’re still strapped up. I’m surprised your doctor’s letting you.”
“Gentle exercise is the best thing for my leg,” replied Martha evasively. “Everything’s healing nicely.”
Incredibly, and despite how awful things had looked after just being hit by the car, Martha really was well on the road to recovery. She’d had two operations to properly sew up and patch over the missing chunk of flesh from her leg that had been carried off on the corner of the Range Rover’s number plate. She’d suffered severe bruising to her bones but no fractures, at least not below the waist. She’d broken three ribs and dislocated her shoulder w
hen landing, and also sustained severe concussion. She was still rather stiff and sore but determined to stay as active as possible. Her doctor had not been at all keen on Martha heading off to the other side of the world, for common sense’s sake, but there was no medical reason to prohibit it. Martha was set on going, and the doctor knew a dogged woman when he saw one, and besides, the emotional benefits would boost her spirits, which in turn was bound to boost her rehabilitation. Martha had a stack of bandages in her suitcase, and as many painkillers in her handbag as she reckoned she could get through Customs without raising too many eyebrows.
“I think we did pretty well, for our first go at amateur detecting,” piped up Lottie suddenly.
Martha’s eyes flew wide. They’d been a total disaster, surely!
“You do?” She couldn’t keep the surprise out of her tone.
“Well, ok, I know we subsequently dismissed it, but we cottoned on to the Sauniers having a pile of money as being a possible motive before the police did.”
“True,” acquiesced Martha with a nod.
“It’s just that little worm Cellier had us fooled by cold-bloodedly and apparently randomly taking out other people. Oh, I hope he’s burning in hell right now,” she said with feeling.
Martha wished she could have hoped the same thing, but she wasn’t the tiniest bit religious. Kevin Cellier was nothingness now. Gone. Extinguished. His only punishment, which he’d brought about himself, was his early death. And as Lottie had said earlier, that seemed like the easy way out.
“I’m amazed he swerved to avoid that scary judge woman and didn’t just plough into her head-on,” remarked Lottie.
“Well, she is scary,” agreed Martha.
She’d had a lot of dealings with her in the last few weeks as the case was cleared up. Even when trying to be nice, the Vampire Judge came over as intimidating.
“She turned up at exactly the right moment, didn’t she?”
Martha merely nodded. They were nearly at the airport now and Martha was starting to feel very nervous. Lottie reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. She knew Martha wasn’t the most confident of flyers, but it wasn’t the long flight that was making her jittery.
They pulled into a dropping-off spot. Lottie fetched Martha’s walking stick from the boot and helped her friend out of the car. She looped the rucksack over Martha’s arms and pulled out and then passed her the handle of her case on wheels.
“How can you travel so light?” Lottie demanded. Martha had barely enough for a weekend away, in her opinion.
“I can’t manage any more than this, not with this thing in one hand.” Martha brandished her stick.
“You could have gone for a much bigger suitcase, you know. These four-wheel things are so easy to move around.”
“I’ve got everything I need,” said Martha firmly.
Lottie raised her hands in an ‘I give up’ gesture. “Just saying!”
The friends hugged and then Martha made her way carefully into the airport. She turned at the door and waved to Lottie, who was still there despite the queue of three cars waiting for her space. Lottie blew Martha a kiss, flipped a finger at the lead car that had just hooted in annoyance at her dallying for so long, hopped into the BMW and drove off.
Martha resumed her journey towards the check-in desk thoughtfully. She felt bad about if not exactly lying to Lottie, then being vague at best and considerably economical with the truth at worst. She’d confess all later and Lottie would forgive her. Eventually, and with conditions.
It seemed to take forever to get through check-in and the security checks even though, as a business-class passenger, Martha didn’t have to wait anywhere for long. For the sake of her leg she’d forked out the extra in order to travel in considerably more comfort. There’d been bargains to be had with travelling to the southern hemisphere in its winter time.
She hurried as fast as she could into the departure lounge for her flight, her nerves growing with every second. But it wasn’t anxiety about the flight.
Would he be here? Would he really, actually be here?
He was. She saw the back of his head. He was sitting in a row of seats by the window. He must have felt her looking at him, as he turned and saw her. His face lit up in that handsome smile that gave her butterflies now. Now that she allowed herself to love him. There was a portion of her heart that would always be exclusively Mark’s, but she had more than enough left for loving Philippe without leaving him short-changed.
Philippe enveloped her in a hug then kissed her.
As she’d told Lottie, Martha was going to Australia, New Zealand and Singapore and for the periods she’d specified, only in the reverse order. And Philippe was going fishing with a friend, namely her. He’d booked everything up for a day’s fishing in the Tasman Sea and Martha was tagging along for the ride. This first fortnight was for the two of them to cement their new relationship. They had talked endlessly during Philippe’s many visits to sit with her when she was still in hospital, and he’d been as constant a visitor as work permitted him to be since she’d been discharged and gone back home. His longstanding love for her had just grown deeper, and she’d at last allowed her attraction to him to blossom into love. She’d been reluctant for so long, not just because it seemed unfaithful to Mark but because she wasn’t sure she could bear to lose another life partner. However, her brush with death had reminded her she should seize the day. And who knew which of them would be first to go? She mustn’t let guilt and worry over an uncertain future spoil the here and now.
Philippe was flying home after New Zealand and Martha was spending the next two weeks with Lily. She wouldn’t be up to bushwalking or scuba-diving, but her daughter had planned a gentle-action-packed holiday for the pair of them. She’d break the news about Philippe during that time, and then to Jared and Lottie when she was back in France. For the time being it was their little secret. That way there were no one else’s expectations or possible censure to worry about, although Martha was sure her children would be happy for her. She knew Lottie would be, once she stopped being huffy at not being the first to know the news.
Hand in hand they pottered around the shops and then had a cup of coffee while they waited for their flight to be announced. At last the call came.
“All set for our big adventure?” Philippe asked.
He didn’t mean only this exotic holiday they were treating themselves to, and Martha knew that. He meant everything that lay ahead of them, hopefully for many, many years.
Martha nodded. “Bring it on,” she smiled. “I can’t wait.”
From the author…
Thanks for reading Hate Bale. If you found it entertaining, then I’m sure you’ll enjoy my other cosy mystery with romance and plenty of humour, Haircuts, Hens and Homicide.
I’ve also published two Christmas novellas in ‘The Twelve Wordplays of Christmas’ series, namely Anna Partridge in a Pear Tree and Two Myrtle Doves. There’s also Fa-La-Llama-La, another festive rom-com set in France, and its sequel Deck the Halles.
Find out about my real life in France in my memoir Heads Above Water: Staying Afloat in France and the sequel to this, Total Immersion: Ten Years in France.
All my books are available in paperback and as Kindle ebooks at all Amazon stores.
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
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