Hothouse Flower (61 page)

What if Gabriel had been alive still?

The thought was too horrific to contemplate. She had to believe he hadn’t been, or she would truly go mad thinking of him suffering alone. She had to trust Xavier and believe he was speaking the truth.

And what of his actions afterwards? What of his disappearance for twelve months, leaving her to believe he too was dead?

If Xavier had come home and admitted his dreadful mistake, could she have forgiven him? She could not answer.

Julia stopped pacing and dropped down into a chair.

Were the extreme circumstances a valid excuse?

And what of Kit, now Xavier was back?

She put a hand to her forehead. It was too much, all too much …

She jumped as she felt a hand placed on her shoulder.

‘Julia,’ he crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his, ‘I am so very, very sorry for what I have had to tell you tonight. I understand how painful it is for you to hear what actually happened. I can never forgive myself. But, please, can you understand, the only reason I have come back is to make amends? Because I know what I did was wrong, and because,’ he bent to kiss her hands, ‘I love you,
chérie
, I love you so much. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me for what I have done?’

Julia looked down at him, at the desperation in his eyes. She stood up. ‘I can’t talk any more tonight. I’m so tired. I need to sleep. Take the spare room for now, please.’

She walked past him silently, into the house.

For the next two days, Julia stayed in her room, ignoring Xavier’s pleas to talk. She had to process the enormity of what she had learnt, and she needed time alone to lick her wounds. She slept for hours at a time during the day, then woke in the cruellest, deepest hours of darkness to face the nightmare.

On the third morning, Julia allowed Xavier into the room. He was holding a tray of fresh croissants, jam and coffee.

‘I have brought you some breakfast,
chérie
. I am so worried you do not eat.’ He put the tray on the bed and gazed down at her exhausted face. ‘My Julia, I cannot bear I put you through this terrible pain.’

Julia watched him pour some coffee, and sat up when he handed it to her.

She sipped it silently, trying to rouse herself.

‘I’m meant to be going back to England,’ she said flatly.

‘
Non!
’ Xavier looked horrified. ‘Surely, you will not go now? Julia, you are in no state to travel, and we must at least talk?’

A sudden yearning for the peace, calm and tranquillity she had known with Kit at Wharton Park brought tears to her eyes.

‘Xavier, I –’ she sighed, unable to voice the tumult of her emotions.

‘Julia,’ he implored, ‘please, I make only one request of you: I beg you, stay here with me, at least for a few days. Let me love you, help you come to terms with the terrible shock I have given you. If, at the end of that time, you still wish to leave, I will not stop you. But surely we owe it to our
ange
, as his mama and papa, at least to try?’

It was the one thing Xavier could have said to stop her boarding a plane immediately.

‘I have mourned him alone for months,’ she said quietly.

‘Then give me the chance to mourn him with you. I need to mourn too. Don’t leave me, please,
chérie.
I could not … I could not go on.’

Julia looked at him, and saw the desperation in his eyes.

‘All right. I will do as you ask and stay here. For now.’

Xavier threw his arms round her, spilling coffee all over the bed linen.

‘
Merci, mon amour
. I promise you will not regret it. So, my Julia, what would you like to do today?’

‘ “Do”?’ she asked, baffled by the very idea.

‘Yes, I think it would be good for you to get out of the house, go somewhere away from the … memories. We could go …’ Xavier shrugged, ‘and take a walk along our favourite beach, and perhaps have lunch together?’

‘I –’

‘Julia, please,
mon amour
.’ Xavier studied his hands, speaking quietly. ‘I understand how much pain I have caused you with what I had to tell, but is there not the smallest part of you that is glad to have your husband back? Did you – mourn me too?’

‘Of course I did! I was beyond –’ Julia swallowed, ‘beyond comfort for months. You have no idea of the hell I went through! And when I finally did start to accept, and think there may be a future for me, then you walk in and … oh, Xavier,’ she put her head in her hands, ‘I don’t know … I just don’t know how I feel.’

Despite her determination, her tears could not be abated. Xavier took her in his arms and held her, stroking her hair.

‘I know,
mon amour
, I know. But I swear to you, I will make amends, take care of you, comfort you through this, do anything to help you. You are not alone any more. I am here. Surely we need each other?’

‘Yes, but …’ The ‘but’ was so complex, Julia could not even begin to express it.

‘I really think it is a good idea to leave the house for a while. If you are not comfortable, I will bring you home immediately.
D’accord?
’

She sighed, too numb to care where she was, just wishing someone could tell her how to stop the awful dragging feeling that had lodged in her stomach since Xavier told her what had happened to her child. She felt she was mourning him all over again.

‘
D’accord.
’

‘
Bonne.
But first,’ Xavier sighed deeply, ‘I must go to the
gendarmerie
and show them that I have risen from the dead.’

‘Your death certificate is on the desk in the study. Perhaps you should take it with you,’ Julia said drily.

He looked down at her as he stood up. ‘You know that I may face charges.’

The thought had not crossed Julia’s mind. ‘For what?’

‘For dangerous driving or possibly even manslaughter. But I must do this. I will go now. Get it over with. I am frightened,’ he admitted.

Julia saw the look in his eyes, a look she knew well: it meant he wanted her to go with him. She ignored it and climbed out of bed.

‘I’ll see you later,’ she said, disappearing into the bathroom.

Julia was at the piano, hoping it might offer the solace she craved, when Xavier arrived home. He stepped into the sitting room, a smile playing on his lips.

‘
Voilà!
It is done! When
Monsieur
the Inspector saw a man in front of him holding his own death certificate –’ Xavier chuckled. ‘
Chérie
, I wish you could have seen his face!’

‘I’m sure he was shocked.’ Julia felt discomfited by Xavier’s high spirits.

‘He doubts there will be charges, as there were no witnesses to the accident. He accepted my explanation without question. Apparently, I am not the first driver to have left the road in that spot. He said there could be a secondary charge of faking my own death, but only if money from our insurance policies has been issued. Has it?’ He looked at her with concern.

For once, Julia was glad of her reluctance to complete the paperwork associated with her husband’s ‘death’. ‘No,’ she answered quietly.

Xavier looked relieved. ‘So!
C’est parfait!
You cannot be charged either.’

Julia looked up at him. ‘
What?
’

‘Do not worry,’ he kissed the top of her head fondly, ‘it is a minor detail, but proves we weren’t working in partnership to extract money.’

Julia covered her face with her hands and shook her head. ‘Please, Xavier! We are talking about the death of my –
our
– child, not an elaborate financial fraud!’

‘
Pardon, chérie
, for being insensitive. It is only this stupid French bureaucracy. Now,’ he pulled her hands from her face, ‘let me please take you out to lunch? Perhaps it is right to look at the positive as well as the negative,
oui
? And the positive is –’ he tipped Julia’s chin up to kiss her on the lips – ‘that I am a free man, back from the dead, and reunited with my beautiful wife.’

54

The pretty, coastal village of Gigaro nestled on the opposite side of the peninsula from St Tropez
.
Standing in a designated nature reserve and set back from the major road linking the Riviera resorts, it managed to retain its age-old charm. Its picturesque, open-fronted restaurants dotted along the unspoilt beach were a well-kept local secret.

Xavier walked into
La Salamandre
with Julia trailing disconsolately behind him. She watched as Chantal, the owner, stared at him as if she was dreaming.

Xavier nodded encouragingly. ‘
Oui, Chantal, c’est moi!
’

Chantal put her hand to her mouth. ‘But …
Mon Dieu!
I cannot believe what I am seeing! How?’

Xavier put his arms round her. ‘It is a long story, which one day I will tell you. But for now, could we have our usual table and a
pichet
of rosé please?’

When Chantal left to fetch the wine, Julia looked across the table at Xavier.

‘What are you going to say when people ask you where you’ve been?’ she asked, her voice drained of emotion.

‘I must simply tell them the truth,’ Xavier shrugged. ‘That I was so mad with grief, I disappeared.’

Julia gazed at him. There was a nasty little thought that had been nagging all morning. She had to say something to him. ‘You do realise this is manna from heaven for the media, don’t you?’

‘You are right, my Julia.
Voilà!
’ Xavier slammed his hands down on the table. ‘I will call a press conference, invite the vultures to come and peck at us for one time only. Yes, that is the answer! We will contact Olav and he can arrange it.’

Xavier reminded Julia of a train at full speed; she understood his joy and relief at returning from exile, but could not keep up with him. Press conferences – and the champagne that arrived courtesy of Chantal – were completely beyond her. She could only focus on her child’s poor, burning body, alone in the forest, with the fire raging around it. Xavier seemed positively lit up at the thought of all the press attention. She’d forgotten what a peacock he could be.

‘Please, Xavier, I can’t face the media yet,’ she pleaded.

‘Yes, of course, you are right. My apologies,
chérie.
To use an English phrase, perhaps I am running before I can walk. But how can I help a small feeling of happiness when I am here looking into my wife’s beautiful eyes?
Santé
.’ He clinked his glass against hers.

‘I can’t … feel happy. How can I, when I have only just learnt the truth about Gabriel’s death?’

Xavier reached for her hand, and she gave it to him reluctantly. ‘Julia, please believe me, it was a terrible accident. And I will never forgive myself. But I have punished myself, and you, enough. What more can I do? Tell me, my Julia, and I will do it, I promise.’

‘Nothing,’ she agreed with a sigh, ‘you can do nothing.’

Julia was awoken the following morning by hammering on the front door. She walked sleepily into the hall to find Xavier had already opened the door – to a sea of faces, cameras and dictaphones.

As flashbulbs went off in Julia’s startled face, she darted into the sanctuary of the sitting room, begging Xavier to close the door. She sank on to the sofa, shaking and breathless. Eventually, she heard the door close, and Xavier came to find her.

‘Have you got rid of them?’ she asked him desperately.

‘
Chérie
, I am sorry this has happened so soon, but it cannot be helped, you know that. You are famous and I am your husband. They will not leave until they have their story. So, the sooner we get it over with, the better. I have told them we will come outside in half an hour to give an interview. That will satisfy them.’

‘Surely it’s you they want to speak to?’ Julia groaned. ‘Do I have to?’

Xavier put an arm round her. ‘You know it is you they really want. You are the one who makes a good photo for the front page. It is the price you pay for being rich and famous,
n’est-ce pas
? Now, I must go and shower.’ He looked at her, sitting in the ancient, washed-out T-shirt she liked to sleep in. ‘Perhaps you should too.’

Julia did as she was asked and let the photographers snap her with Xavier’s arms round her, planting a loving kiss on her lips. When asked how she felt about her husband’s miraculous return, she said she was very happy to have him back.