Hot Basque: A French Summer Novel 2 (33 page)

Margaret looked down, plucked at a thread in her skirt.

‘Alexandra was having an affair, with a man we never knew. How long it lasted, where it took place, we never found out. The only reason that Robbie knew was because one day Alexandra told him she was pregnant. By this time they were sleeping in different rooms and had had no sexual relations for several months. Robbie was distraught. But my brother was a loyal man, and brave, and, to cut a long story short, when Alexandra swore the affair was over, he persuaded her to keep the baby, promising to bring it up as his own child. And so Annabel was born, Alexandra bonded with her in a way she had never done with Caroline, and it would appear that, for two short years, their marriage was once again a happy one.’

She raised her head and looked at Dr Novak.

‘Who knows what might have happened? But what did happen was the accident. And so the two girls grew up, believing they were sisters. No-one knew, except Tessa and myself, no-one knows now, except for you. I have kept the truth from Annabel.’

Dr Novak said nothing for a couple of minutes.

‘May I call you Margaret? Margaret, you have carried a heavy burden and I am sure that your conscience has plagued you many times as to what to do with your secret knowledge.’

Again, that mesmerising light filtered into his eyes. He leaned forward.

‘Now, you are to stop worrying. You have told me something very important, and as Annabel’s doctor, it is now my responsibility. It is extremely useful information, as, without going into too much detail, your niece’s traumatic experiences of abandonment may be one reason that she is constantly seeking multiple sources of attention and affirmation to deal with such trauma.’

His strange eyes bored into her with the same other-worldly look as a saint in a medieval painting.

‘But the facts were already known to some degree. Annabel is aware of how her parents died. You, Margaret, are probably thinking that what happened recently may have been avoided if you had told her the truth about her parentage. That if you had told her the truth, she would have been aware, would have had a choice, and she herself would have behaved differently, not followed the same pattern as her mother.’

He reached out, took Margaret’s hand in his.

‘I am telling you, that might have been the case. Or, alternatively, it might have had a far worse effect on your niece. We are not gods, Margaret. We cannot change another person’s behaviour if that person is not willing to change. We can only do what it is humanly possible to do. You have done what you thought was right. You have done your best.’

They were all here. All, except one, thought Margaret looking around the room.

Caroline, Edward, Julian, Nadia and little Joshua.

Willowdale hadn’t seen as much excitement for ages. When Caroline had telephoned to say that she would be arriving with Nadia and Joshua, Margaret and Birdie had been overjoyed. Birdie had prepared the bedrooms with the help of Mrs Sykes from the village, made enough food to keep an army going for days, filled the house with vase upon vase of summer blooms.

It was so marvellous to have them here. Nadia, the little nanny, so good with Joshua; Caroline, looking quite lovely today in a white dress which showed off her tanned skin; Edward and Julian, the strain still evident on their faces but, even so, looking much better than they had just a few days ago.

And Joshua. When Margaret had put down the telephone after Caroline’s phone call, she and Birdie had scarcely been able to contain themselves. The bottle of Macallan had taken a severe hit. They were going to see Joshua for the very first time, would be able to hold him in their arms, coo over him, shower him with gifts and behave in general like thoroughly besotted Great Aunties should.

Since his arrival Margaret had spent hours in his room, sitting quietly, watching him sleep. From time to time Birdie would push open the door, tiptoe across the carpet and join her. There had been sighs and tears along with the smiles, and plenty of private thoughts.

This morning Edward and Julian had driven up from London for the final weekend when they would all be together. Caroline had washed her hair, put on her white dress. The look in her eyes when she heard the car pull into the drive had made Margaret’s heart overflow.

Afterwards, of course, it would all be over. Caroline and Edward would return to Toulouse and begin their new life. Julian and Nadia would go back to Frankfurt with Joshua. She had enquired discreetly as to how things stood. What, she asked Edward, had happened to ‘the gigolo’, as Birdie insisted on calling him?

The bird had flown. Claudio
Argiro had, it seemed, gone back to Italy. The great Gothic castle stood empty; the seductive stranger who had swept into the lives of the Frankfurt ex-pat community that spring had vanished more or less overnight.

A new life would begin for Julian and his son, a life in which Annabel had no further part, at least for the moment. Margaret’s heart was sore, but her innate good sense told her it was the only way, and admonished her to accept it, and get on with things.

‘Are you sure he’s not too heavy for you Margaret?’

Julian’s voice was solicitous.

‘He’s as light as a feather. And as good as gold, aren’t you Joshua?’

The subject of discussion looked up at Margaret and gave a beaming smile.

‘Did you see that? He really understands. He’s obviously highly intelligent.’

‘Of course.’

The reply came in a perfect chorus, and everyone laughed.

It would be so painful to see them all go. Her heart ached. These precious days had passed so quickly. But they would be back, she knew that. And, in a few days time, she would have other responsibilities.

Following her visit to the clinic and her discussion with Dr Novak, she had had a series of private conversations with Edward. Caroline and Julian were too closely involved, she wanted to discuss Annabel with someone who had a little more distance. At first Edward had been taken aback, but as they talked he had begun to see the sense in Margaret’s plan.

‘What are the other alternatives, Edward? One must make do and mend. This way will be better for everyone. And I’ve known Annabel since she was tiny, I think I can handle her as well as anyone. Which, I agree, is not saying much. But she does seem to be making such good progress under Dr Novak’s care. And the medication she is on seems to be helping too.’

Margaret’s proposal, after consultation with Dr Novak, had been that Annabel, on leaving the clinic, should return to Willowdale, to the family home she had known since she was a little girl. They would see how things progressed. Hopefully, she would gradually begin to lead a normal life, a little bit at a time. And, most importantly, she would take the train to London for regular counselling sessions with the doctor at his private practice in town.

‘You’re sure that such an arrangement will not put too great a burden on you?’ Dr N. had asked when they last met.

‘It would be a relief, frankly. A relief that we could keep an eye on her, Birdie and I, at least until she gets to the next phase, and you think she’s ready to move on. And it will be a relief as well to know that Julian doesn’t have to take responsibility about where else she might go, and that Caroline too can get on with her life.’

She paused, looked the doctor in the eye.

‘I’m tougher than I look, Dr Novak.’

‘Oh, I think I can believe that, Margaret,’ he had replied, with one of those amazing smiles in which his eyes seemed to light up with different coloured inner fires ‘of color glorious and effect so rare’.

And so, after Edward had argued the case for Margaret’s plan, and won round Caroline and Julian in spite of doubts and misgivings, it was agreed.

After all, as Margaret had said, what were the alternatives? And, said Edward, they could all be on standby to monitor the situation. If there was the slightest problem, the merest hint that it was all too much for Margaret and Birdie, they would step in, rethink, find another solution. But it did seem, as the days passed, that Annabel was getting better and better. Margaret and Birdie had been to see her twice more, and, as Margaret told Edward: ‘Frankly I’m amazed at the changes. It’s almost as though Dr
Novak has put a spell on her.’

It had been a difficult period for all of them. Edward had been commuting between France and the UK to help Julian with the practical arrangements so Caroline had taken the decision to come over to Willowdale, bringing Joshua and Nadia with her. She would be nearer Edward, Julian could visit his son, and, more importantly, she felt that her aunt and Birdie needed the psychological boost of getting to know the baby.

The Acapulco wedding plans had been cancelled, large cheques written and signed, profuse apologies made. Guests had been notified, airline tickets and hotel bookings cancelled. The Courtenay parents were livid with rage, refusing for the moment to have any communication with their son, as though somehow it had all been his fault.

‘They’ll come round,’ said Edward. ‘Give them time. They’ll want to see Joshua soon enough.’

Personally, he felt like driving to Umber Manor and telling the senior Courtenays a number of blunt home truths while admonishing them to stop being so bloody self-centred. Just like he felt a mighty urge to jump on a plane to Italy, hunt down ‘the gigolo’ and savour the ineffable satisfaction of breaking his handsome, supercilious nose. Preferably in public.

Fortunately there was plenty to keep both men busy, more meetings with GG to prepare the groundwork for the inevitable divorce from Annabel, and to settle the matter of Joshua’s custody.

Julian had not seen his wife since he had taken her to the clinic.

‘Dr Novak thinks it would be better not to, unless she specifically asks to see me,’ he told Edward and Caroline as they were having dinner one evening. ‘I get the feeling that I’m part of her problem.’

Caroline had put down her fork and laid her hand on his arm.

‘Join the club, Jules, join the club.’

She had not seen Annabel either. Her feelings about her sister were mixed, to put it mildly. But two things kept her grounded. The baby, whose needs had to come first, and the long conversations she was able to have with her aunt. Margaret had always been her lodestone, the one who showed her the way. Caroline savoured the days they were able to spend together in spite of the tragic circumstances that had brought them about.

***

Margaret’s mental efforts to slow down the universe did not work.

It was the last day of June. It was time to say goodbye.

As she and Birdie stood on the terrace watching Edward and Julian load luggage into cars, her heart was heavy.

There were hugs, kisses, more hugs, promises to phone, promises to return. She and Birdie were both clutching handkerchiefs and trying to look stalwart. Titus slunk between everyone’s legs, head down, ears drooping.

She had given one final hug to Caroline, then Julian was turning, coming up the terrace steps once more.

‘Margaret.’ He put his arms round her and murmured in her ear. ‘I just want to reassure you once again that I will take full financial responsibility for Annabel. And for anything else you ask me to. But, most of all, I want you to know that, whatever happens, you are Joshua’s Great Aunt. His beloved, irreplaceable Great Aunt. Don’t think that I will ever forget that. You and Birdie, his Honorary Great Aunt, will always be welcome wherever he is, and though he is a Courtenay in name, Willowdale will always be his true family home, the home of his heart. Thank you for everything.’

And then he was off, running back down the steps. The cars were moving, windows were lowered, goodbyes were called.

At last the tears could come.

Edward turned the key and pushed open the door. Inside, the flat was dim, but stripes of sunshine fell across the parquet through the closed shutters.

They carried their bags into the living room, then of a mutual accord, swerved in different directions to throw back the shutters and open the windows. Soon a fresh breeze was sweeping through the rooms, causing curtains to billow and doors to bang, and bringing with it the sound of traffic on the
quais
below.

Caroline stepped out on to the terrace and leaned on the balcony, looking out at the plane trees, drinking in the sounds and scents of a summer evening in the city. Edward came up behind her, slipped his arms round her and rested his chin on her shoulder.

‘Glad to be back? Sad to be back?’

‘Sad to leave Willowdale. Glad, oh so very glad, to be back home.’

The word sounded odd, but nice. Strangers had moved into her flat in England, Willowdale was far away, no regular weekend visits. Home, from now on, was this flat in the centre of
la ville rose,
the pink city.

‘Ah
ma ’tite chérie,
you do realise that this is it, now, don’t you? You’re stuck with me. No running off back to London of a Sunday night.’

‘How will I bear it? Stuck in the south of France with Drop Dead Ed? Forced to drink champagne and eat
foie gras
? Forced to look out at this miserable view, not a concrete office block in sight!’

He nuzzled her neck and they fell silent, feasting their eyes on the swiftly-flowing river, the bridges, the steeples and cupolas of the pink city.

‘Do you hate me for saying it was better not to see her?’

Caroline twisted round and looked at him.

‘No. And even if you’d said yes, Dr Novak would have said no. And it’s better like this.’

She stood on tiptoe and kissed the end of his nose.

‘You have a very noble nose, Rayburn. Positively Grecian.’

‘So I have been told many times, by female admirers. Ouch. You’ve got strong fingers for a girl. Ouch. And a strong thumb. If you pinch me again, I may have to punish you.’

Caroline looked at him from underneath her lashes.

‘Fancy punishing me in a hot shower?’

‘Oh what good ideas you have Goldilocks.’

***

Later, lying on the bed, Edward announced that he was starving.

‘I feel a hunger personality coming on. Do you want to go out for dinner my sweetheart?’

Caroline raised a limp hand, let it drop back on the sheets.

‘I’d rather stay here. Eat on the terrace. There’s probably something in the freezer.’

‘Great idea. You stay here, I’ll go and check.’

Where did the man get his energy? She felt as though she didn’t have a bone in her body. Tears came to her eyes, surprising her. What was that all about? Why the feeling of anti-climax?

Moments later he was back brandishing a freezer pack, neatly labelled in Caroline’s handwriting.

‘
Blanquette de veau
. March. I knew there was some reason I’d fallen in love with you. Apart from your sexy
derrière
and your endless Bambi eyelashes.’

In his other hand was a bottle of Iroulegy.

‘Think it’ll go nicely don’t you? Remind us of the Villa Julia. The good times.’

‘Perfect. And we can make a toast, to more good times. To better times.’

‘We can. We will.’

He didn’t miss the shadow that clouded her eyes before she turned her head.

‘But first MacDonald, bestir yourself. Get off that bed and slip into something sexy and post-coital while I open a bottle of bubbles.
Rendez-vous
in five, on the terrace. And bring your laptop.’

‘My laptop? Why?’

‘Mine to command, yours is to obey orders without question. On second thoughts, don’t make that outfit too sexy. We have work to do.’

‘Work??’ Caroline’s horrified shout followed him to the kitchen.

Now what? He couldn’t be serious.

She hauled herself off the bed, stepped under the shower again, turning the tap to cold at the end. That was better. A brisk rub with the towel, and she’d have enough energy to hold her glass. They’d see about work. She felt worked to death.

Edward was sitting at the table when she stepped on to the terrace. She was wearing short shorts and a close-fitting halter neck. He closed his eyes, shook his head.

‘Right.’

He reached for the bottle in the ice bucket.

Caroline slumped into the chair opposite him.

‘Mmm, I love that sound. Pop! Pop! Marvellous.’

She accepted the flute filled with pale golden bubbles.

‘Cheers my darling!’

They leaned in, touched glasses.

‘Here’s to new beginnings!’

They clinked glasses again.

‘Now, go and get that laptop.’

Caroline opened her eyes wide.

Edward nodded.

‘Go on. Chop chop.’

‘Oh Edward, you are joking! What’s so urgent it can’t wait until tomorrow?’

He grinned, reached out and touched her glass again. His blue eyes were intense.

‘How about...a wedding?’

Caroline’s eyes widened.

‘A wedding? Whose...’

She stopped.

‘The sort of wedding that could maybe, but very probably won’t, involve a kilt?’

He wagged his finger.

‘OK, very probably won’t. Definitely won’t. But, otherwise...that sort of wedding? Our sort of wedding?’

He looked at her, a teasing smile playing round his lips.

‘Edward!’

Fortunately he knew his sweetie and braced himself for the onslaught, otherwise she’d have knocked him off his chair and they’d both have ended up in the river.