Hot Basque: A French Summer Novel 2 (27 page)

Caroline dropped Julian at the airport for his early flight, the two of them tense and silent for most of the ride. He got out of the car carefully, like a man with an injury, his movements slow, his face lined and weary and infinitely sad. He turned towards her as she came round to the passenger side.

‘Thanks Caroline. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Edward.’

‘Just hold on Julian. Just hold on. Remember Joshua needs you to be strong.’

‘You’re right. I’m letting myself go, not good enough.’

He shook his head, pulled back his shoulders and stood up straight.

Caroline took a step forward, hugged him close.

‘Well, I’d better be off.’

He gave her a wan smile, and a final squeeze before heading inside the terminal. She watched him disappear through the doors, then got back into the car and drove off. As soon as possible she pulled over to the side of the road, switched off the engine and rested her head on the steering wheel.

A few minutes. A few, calm, peaceful minutes. Time to pull herself together, to collect her scattered wits.

A plane took off with a roar of engines, climbing steeply into the sky, on the first phase of its journey. She watched the undercarriage retract, her thoughts going back to her arrival here last summer.

It had been Julian who’d come to pick her up, she’d been so nervous at the idea of the holiday, and there he was, reassuring, sweet Julian, hugging her tight, telling her how pleased he was to see her, how nice she was looking. A different Julian, relaxed, tanned, and carefree in spite of the problems that she knew existed in his relationship with her sister. She remembered thinking how handsome he looked, his movements swift and athletic as he swung her luggage into the boot; his aristocratic profile as he sat behind the wheel, manoeuvring the sports car through the holiday traffic; his enthusiasm as he filled her in about the twins, about the villa, about what a great time they were having.

Thinking of his spare, bowed figure pulling his case towards the terminal this morning a wave of sadness engulfed her. Annabel...she thought of her sister, imagined her lying in a hospital bed, white bandages concealing her bloody wrists.

Her tired brain refused to adjust to the scene she’d witnessed last night. After hurrying back to her room, heart pounding, she had tossed and turned for hours, then finally, as dawn was breaking, had dropped into a troubled sleep, only to be woken by the alarm clock she had set to take Julian to the airport.

Another plane roared overhead, arrowing upwards into the cloudless sky. Holidaymakers on their way home. She glanced at her watch, started the engine, pulled out into the traffic. The drive back to the villa was on autopilot. She had just turned through the gates when her phone rang, snapping her out of her reverie, setting her nerves jangling.

It was Antoine.

‘Caro–is it a bad time to talk? Only I’ve not heard anything since you rushed off yesterday morning. Is everything OK? With your sister?’

For a moment she was completely disoriented.

Was it only yesterday morning that she’d been at the café with Antoine? Such a lot had happened. And what was she going to tell him about Jill? She took a deep breath.

‘Oh Antoine. It’s such a mess. Annabel’s in hospital.’

Antoine’s exclamations came over the phone as she filled him in on the main details.

‘I’ll come round straight away.’

‘No Antoine!’

He caught the panic in her voice.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful, it’s just...none of us got any sleep last night and...’

Her voice trailed off.

‘Don’t worry
la rose
, I understand, but I feel awful thinking of you all trying to cope, are you sure there’s nothing I can do?’

‘I’m sure. But you are so sweet to think of it. Why don’t I ring you later, when we’ve had time to get out heads round things?’

They’d agreed and Antoine had rung off.

Caroline slumped against the car. Madame Martin’s little Fiat was parked to one side. When she’d left to take Julian to the airport, no-one had been up. She’d scribbled a note saying that Annabel had been taken ill and was in hospital and Julian was flying over to London. She had kept it deliberately vague. Smoke and mirrors.

Jill and Nadia were in the kitchen, fussing with the baby. Madame Martin was preparing a puree of carrots and courgettes.

They all looked up as she came through the door and stopped what they were doing.

‘He got off alright?’

Jill’s face was pale. Both she and Nadia had deep shadows under their eyes. Madame Martin was wearing a look of the deepest concern.

Caroline realised the three women were staring at her fixedly, waiting for news.

‘Yes fine, he’s OK. You know. He’ll ring when he arrives.’

‘And Annabel?’

Caroline turned to Jill.

Annabel.

‘Appendicitis.’

The word rolled off her tongue with no problem.

‘Nothing serious, but Julian thought it was best, you know, to go over there.’

‘And Monsieur Edward?’

She plastered a bright smile on her face, turned to Madame Martin.

‘Work. The usual suspect. You know how it is Madame Martin.’

Madame Martin muttered something under her breath about ‘scandalous, hard-working people couldn’t even enjoy a well-deserved holiday these days’ and set about beating the life out of her purée.

‘I’m just going to go up and get a shower, see to a couple of things, didn’t have time this morning, that’s if everything is OK here?’ said Caroline. ‘Madame Martin, do you need me to give you a hand with anything first?’

Madame Martin gave Caroline a look. It was a look that said whatever it was that was going on, she’d been dealing with family emergencies for forty years, and nothing, but nothing, was going to faze her now.

Caroline escaped upstairs and collapsed on the bed.

‘Edward! Julian! Good to see you. Come in, come in.’

GG had started to put on weight round the middle. As he shook hands with Julian, the pair made a striking contrast. GG’s face had lost its boyish chubbiness and was now uncompromisingly fleshy. He had a double chin, a receding hairline but his smile was as warm as ever. He was impeccably dressed in a Savile Row bespoke suit with waistcoat, and brogues polished like mirrors. Julian, on the other hand, looked as though he’d just come back from a month trying to climb Everest and not succeeding. His face had caught the sun in the last few days, but though he’d put on a bit of weight, his cheeks were still gaunt, and the shirt he’d chosen to wear for their appointment was loose around the neck. His eyes, Edward noted with concern, looked even more sunken and red-rimmed that when he’d arrived at the villa.

‘What can I get you?’ said GG, ushering them towards two deep-buttoned leather club chairs.

Their friend had gone for a decor reminiscent of the time-honoured gentleman’s club. Not a sliver of glass to be seen, except for the Georgian decanter and tumblers; not a glint of metal save for the silver gleam of the Patek Philippe pen lined up precisely with a calf-bound diary. Discreet lighting from silk-shaded lamps fell gently onto the polished surfaces of antiques: a large rosewood desk, an eighteenth century oak table, Sheraton chairs. A handsome long case clock ticked soothingly in the background. On the floor, a thick Persian rug in rich reds and blues swallowed the sound of their footsteps.

Settling himself in one chair, Edward caught the delicate scent of roses coming from a silver bowl, reminding him of his evening in the garden with Caroline only a couple of nights previously. The perfume of roses, the smell of beeswax, the faintest hint of cigar smoke all mingled to create the unmistakeable smell of luxury and fine living.

Three storeys below the sounds of central London could scarcely be heard. You could easily imagine yourself in a novel by Dickens or Trollope, had it not been for the sleek laptop that now appeared on GG’s desk.

Yes, GG had done well for himself. Divorce was a lucrative business and their friend was in high demand.

‘Tea, coffee, something stronger?’ He checked his watch. ‘Sun’s almost over the yard arm chaps. I’ve got a rather tasty 30-year-old malt if either of you fancy it?’

Edward’s saliva glands responded eagerly, but like Julian he opted for coffee. It was four o’clock, and they were both dead on their feet.

In spite of the fact the doctor had said it was fine to go home, Edward had spent the night at the hospital, dozing intermittently on an uncomfortable plastic chair. He’d just taken time to return to Julian’s flat for a shower and a change of clothing before Julian arrived, glad of the break from the hospital smells and noises. He’d cleaned himself up as best he could but still Julian had been shocked when he saw the bite on his cheek and discovered that Edward had not gone entirely unscathed in the struggle the previous evening.

‘OK, so fill me in.’

Julian put down his cup, leaned forward.

‘There have been developments. Since we spoke.’

‘Ah?’

GG leaned forward also, mirroring Julian’s pose and steepling his hands as though inviting him to pray.

‘Perhaps it’s best if I let Edward explain.’

Julian leaned back as though suddenly overcome with exhaustion.

Edward and GG exchanged a look.

‘Right.’

Edward recounted the events of the previous evening, ending up with the news that Annabel was still in hospital, still sedated. From time to time GG scratched a note on a pad. The benevolent priestly look gradually disappeared and when he finally put down the pen, his twinkling eyes had become sharp.

‘First Julian, let me say I’m very sorry to hear all this. It must have been a hellish few months.’ He paused. ‘I know you’re probably still in shock, but have your feelings altered in any way? Do you still want to start proceedings for a divorce, given this new development?’

Julian was silent for so long that Edward thought he’d fallen asleep.

‘It might sound hard, what I’m going to say. But what happened last night has made me more determined than ever. If you think, GG, as we discussed on the phone, that custody of Joshua will be awarded to me, of course I know that nothing is ever 100 percent certain, then yes, I’d like to press ahead as soon as possible. I don’t want Annabel anywhere near my son.’

His voice choked and he glanced at Edward

‘She didn’t just harm herself last night. Edward took some damage as well.’

GG, who had noticed the plaster, raised his eyebrows and looked at Edward, who simply shrugged.

‘Minor cuts. But I’m stronger than she is. If it had been anyone else...I think Julian’s right to be worried. I think she’s a risk to the boy. Could be a risk.’

‘Well then. I think the first thing to do in that case is to make sure a restraining order is put in place. Now, let’s think about the rest. What are the options and how best to proceed.’

Caroline was waiting for Antoine on the
place Bellevue
, the large square near the Casino which overlooked the cliff path. She leaned on the balustrade, gazing out over the sea, then turned to study the iconic building on her left, dazzlingly white against the cloudless blue of the sky.

It had first seen the light of day in 1857, when tourism was booming in Biarritz. As well as cafes, restaurants and gaming rooms, the original Casino was able to host balls, concerts and plays in its grand public rooms. But in 1886 a terrible fire broke out, leaving it in ruins. The following year saw its first reconstruction; by the summer of 1887, the Casino had risen from its ashes and was once again open for business. During the century that followed its fortunes had varied; bits added on and taken off, the interior transformed. It had even served as a military hospital during both World Wars.

Its latest makeover had started in 1996, just over a hundred years since the reconstruction of 1887. It had taken three years to complete, respecting its different architectural elements, Second Empire, Art Nouveau, neo-classical, and creating a vast and luminous indoor space inspired by the sea which broke at its feet. The interior restoration included an art gallery and a conference centre. Viewed from the square, the long rectilinear building ended in a striking rotunda whose myriad windows glittered in the sunshine, reflecting the dancing light of the water below. When night fell, the same windows blazed dramatically in the darkness, creating the illusion that the building was, as someone had aptly described it, an ocean liner berthed at the edge of the Atlantic.

Today a lively breeze shook the banner which hung above the entrance, advertising an exhibition of paintings by Frida Kahlo
.

Caroline fought back the urge to forget everything, to stride across the square, step through the doors into another world, another reality seen through the eyes of the painter, to lose herself among the brilliantly-coloured flowers and plants where surreal and exotic men and women played out their roles in a cycle of life which was universal in its stories of suffering, passion and betrayal.

So many things had happened during the last few days.

She had spoken with Edward earlier. Julian had arrived in London, been to the hospital, seen Annabel, talked to the doctors. Edward had been brief and hurried on the phone, saying he’d fill her in later, there were lots of things to do before they had their appointment with GG later that day. She shivered. The situation would move to a different level once the law was involved; affairs would take on a momentum of their own.

Tomorrow Edward would go to Wiltshire and break the news in person to Margaret and Birdie. Caroline’s conscience pricked her at not being there to tell them herself. But maybe it was better this way. The pair of them looked on Edward as a sort of superman, who had miraculously swooped out of the skies, landed in front of Caroline, and picked her up and carried her off on a marvellous adventure. They had the utmost faith in his powers. If he told them he would take care of everything, they would believe him.

Her man. Once again, she was without him. How long would he have to be away? How long until she could see him again? Her heart ached. And what of Jill, and her man? Was it all over now, for the two of them?

She remembered that first evening at the villa, Jill tottering on the steps, a look of panic on her face. Antoine, leaping up so fast he knocked his chair over. The sparks had flown from the start, the electricity crackled. The language barrier had been swept away with a magnificent flourish as the budding lovers invented their own unique method of communication. Amid the horseplay, the jokes, the singing and dancing a spirit of carnival had seized control that night, making them drunk and giddy.

And then Jill’s face yesterday.

She turned back to the stone balustrade and looked out at the sea once more. Wasn’t fixing your eyes on a far horizon good for the soul? Ships passed, distant smudges in the blue. Sailboats shot through the swells. Tourists strolled along the path that ran along the edge of the beach. The giant hydrangeas, their blooms a sea of opalescent pink and blue, rolled down the cliff. There was a freshness in the air, the trees still a bright green, the colours vibrant. Gulls whirled and swooped, the breeze carried the sound of excited laughter from children building castles on the sand;

‘
La rose
.’

She turned. Antoine approached in swift panther strides, gathering her into his arms for a long, heartfelt hug. He pushed his sunglasses up on top off his head and gave her a searching look. His dark eyes were similar in colour to hers, people had often remarked on it, though the contrast of her blond hair gave the impression that hers were even darker. She noted the shadows on his face and thought that he was probably making the same observation about her.

‘Are you coping? How bad is it?’

‘Come on, let’s walk, and I’ll fill you in.’

Antoine listened in silence as Caroline spoke. When she’d finished, he stopped and gave her another massive hug.

‘
Pauvre Julian. Pauvre Edward. Pauvre toi
.’

He released her, looked at her intently.

‘So, first of all, can I do anything? I can go over if they need any help. Sure, I know they don’t need an interpreter. But I can drive, and I can cook. Make sure they’re eating properly, none of this fast food rubbish. They need to keep their strength up.’

Caroline smiled. Antoine, Madame Martin and Birdie all belonged to the same school of Gastronomic Therapy. In times of crisis, head for the kitchen and cook up a storm, make sure everyone’s bellies were full. No good decisions were ever made on an empty stomach.

‘Thanks Antoine, you’re a star. But for the moment, we’re all more or less standing by. When Edward phoned this morning he said Annabel had spent a good night, she’s sedated of course, as far as I understood, Julian’s planning to move her to a private clinic for treatment, then–well, it’s wait and see.’

Antoine nodded.

‘She needs treatment. I know a bit about what they’re going through, it’s not easy dealing with somebody who’s set to go off like a bomb any minute.’

Caroline raised her eyebrows.

‘The other night? Melodie?’

‘Oh, not just the other night. It’s been going on for weeks. Ever since the thing I was telling you about the other day.’

They had arrived at the
vieux port,
where they decided to stop and have a drink.

Antoine ordered a coke, Caroline a Perrier.

‘I’ve been wondering how it all ended, the night she came to your place.’

‘Not well.’

Antoine grimaced.

‘You sure you want to hear it? Don’t you have enough on your plate?’

‘Honestly? I could do with the distraction. And anyway, my feminine curiosity is killing me. I want to hear the end. What happened, about Chadi I mean? Did he get arrested?’

She’d been hoping that’s what Melodie had meant the other night; that Antoine himself hadn’t got involved with the police.

The look on his face wasn’t promising. He blew air through his pursed lips, slipped his sunglasses on again and gazed out at the harbour.

‘Where was I exactly? Yeah, stuck with Melodie, not knowing what to do for the best, that’s right. I finally managed to calm her down, made her a tisane, fixed up a bed for her on the couch, told her we’d deal with it all in the morning. Did I tell you all this? Right. I went into my room, sat on the bed, thought about phoning Chadi. I tell you
la rose,
I didn’t know what to do, I’d had a lot to drink, wasn’t really thinking straight. The more I thought about it, the more it didn’t sit well with what I knew of him. Chadi, he’s not a violent bloke. But that mark on her face, it wasn’t just a slap. But then I knew he’d drunk too much, we’d all drunk too much, maybe he didn’t know what he was doing. Or maybe it was some sort of accident, you know, he got mad, threw something at the wall, it hit her accidentally. Still, I couldn’t see it. Anyway, finally it all got too much, I got back into bed and was out like a light in minutes.’

He paused.

‘The next thing I knew, there’s someone in the bed with me.’

‘Oh no...’ Caroline pulled a face. ‘I sort of guessed that was coming.’

‘Well, no guesses as to who it was. She was stark naked, and I–’ she saw a blush start under his tan–‘I sleep in the buff, sorry about that detail, but just to put you in the picture, you know, there we were, the pair of us...’

He cast a helpless look at Caroline.

‘Jeez
la rose
, I’m a man. I’m still half-asleep, half-dreaming, I realise there’s a naked woman in my bed, rubbing up against me–sorry, sorry, I’ll spare you the details.’

Yes, Antoine was a man. She could imagine exactly how it had all gone down. He looked like a dog who’d been caught stealing the Sunday roast.

Caroline groaned. In spite of herself she wanted to know the rest of the story. It was all horribly fascinating.

‘Go on then, what happened next? Just, blur the finer points, though.’

‘Blur. OK. Well...things were hotting up, my mind wasn’t, let’s say, functioning one hundred percent, I’m not trying to make excuses
la rose
, you know on one level I did know what I was doing, but as I say, I’m a man, not a saint, in spite of all my mother’s best efforts, but anyway, there we were and suddenly there’s this banging on the door. Again. And suddenly I came to my senses. I thought what in hell am I doing? And as I’m thinking this I’m leaping out of bed and pulling on some shorts, and it’s Chadi at the door, he comes bursting into the living room and would you believe it,
la Melodie
, at the same time, she comes swaying out of the bedroom, still not a stitch on her, except for her shoes. Incredible. The woman gets out of bed and the first thing she does is reach for her shoes! She could have grabbed a sheet, a towel, but no, in she comes in these red shoes with these stiletto heels and nothing else. I remember noticing she was pretty knock-kneed, actually.’

Antoine’s face was a picture. Caroline’s lips twitched. He really had a gift for description. It was all very much like a scene from a stereotypical French farce.

‘He didn’t say a word, Chadi, just stared at her with his mouth open, well we both had our mouths open, then all of a sudden he whirled round and bam! gave me a punch in the eye, I can tell you it’s true what they say, I saw stars. He laid me out flat. He’s got these really big hands you know, you noticed them yourself, all those trees he’s chopped down, he’s as strong as an ox. I couldn’t move. It was like a horror film in there, I thought Chadi was going to haul me up and wallop me again, and Melodie, she was screaming blue murder and saying she’d get the police but she needn’t have bothered, the poor neighbours, they’d had enough. By the time I got my wits back, Chadi had left and there were two cops standing in the doorway.’

Probably in kepis, pushing bicycles, with whistles in their mouths thought Caroline trying her best to keep a straight face and not give in to the tide of giggles that was steadily rising.

She closed her eyes, pushed the images to the back of her mind. This was serious. If they’d arrested him, poor Antoine would have a record. Not good.

She opened her eyes, gave him a sympathetic look.

‘That’s what she meant the other night, when she said the police were on your doorstep?’

Antoine nodded. He looked at Caroline, put his head on one side, trying to fathom her reaction.

‘It could have turned out really bad. Can you imagine what my mother would have done if they’d thrown me in jail? The minute they’d let me out, she’d have killed me. But–’ his face lit up in a guilty grin–‘I recognised one of them, we used to play on the same
pelota
team, when we were at the
lycée
. I hadn’t seen him for a while. We shook hands, I apologised, explained what had happened, didn’t mention Chadi by name of course, anyway, after some storming up and down and arguing Melodie agreed not to press charges.’

‘Oh Antoine. Was she still...in her red shoes?’

‘Oh that, I tell you, it took the three of us to get her into a sheet. No sooner had we got her rolled into one end she rolled out of the other.’

Caroline pressed her lips together in vain. The laugh burst out.

Antoine threw her a look that was half-rueful, half-amused.

‘Well, at least I cheered you up a bit.’

Her shoulders were shaking. The whole thing suddenly struck her as hilarious.

‘Sorry, I think it’s the nervous tension. It’s not really funny, I know, Antoine. Well I mean, it is, the way you tell it, but you must have had a scare, as well as a black eye.’

She couldn’t get the image out of her mind, Chadi with his big gardener’s hands socking it to Antoine in his boxers while Melodie screamed blue murder in her high heels. The giggles started again. She made an effort to pull herself together.

‘Look at it this way, at least it wasn’t too serious. I mean there was a sort of happy ending.’

Antoine reared up in his chair like a meercat, his eyebrows shooting into his hairline.