Peach (34 page)

“I would never have told you—or anyone—
ever,”
confessed Leonore, “except that this letter came from Ferdi this morning.” She handed over the crisp white sheet of paper stamped with the heading, Hotel Ritz, Paris.

Leonie read it quickly. Poor Lais, oh poor Lais. And poor Leonore! How could this ever have happened! “And what do you intend to reply?” she asked Leonore.

“A few weeks ago, I would have
wanted
to see him, though of course I wouldn’t,” she admitted. “You can’t imagine what sort of state of mind we both were in, Grand-mère. It was like living a dream.”

“The dream where you finally had that which belonged to your sister,” Leonie replied cuttingly.

“Grand-mère, please, oh please don’t be angry. I know it was wrong. I’d give everything for it never to have happened—especially now.”

“Because of Jean-Paul?”

“Yes. And because of Lais. She’s so brave, and so—damaged. I couldn’t bear to hurt her. That’s why Ferdi must never come here, Grand-mère. He thinks Lais is dead. And Lais would never have wanted him to see her like this, she would hate him to know that she is a cripple.”

“Don’t ever call your sister that!”
Leonie had never raised her voice in her life to Leonore before and her granddaughter flinched. “The only thing that excuses you, Leonore, is that you took something your sister had finished with. Lais has never mentioned Ferdi’s name in all these years. It’s better to let things stay the way they are. Try to forget what you did.
Live your own life, not Lais’s!
There’s a wider world out there for you, if only you’ll take the chance and be your own woman.”

Leonore’s arms were around her, her tears wet against Leonie’s cheek. “I will, Grand-mère, oh I will. I promise.” She sounded just the way she had when she was a little girl, so young, so sweet.

Leonore simply had to write the letter before she saw Jean-Paul. Then she could go to him free from her guilty past. Her pen flew across the thick blue paper in a fast scrawl … “It’s not in your interests or mine, Ferdi, for us to meet. Please don’t try to see me … it was all my fault, I am the one who must apologise for making a fool of myself. Please don’t feel guilty about me. It is for the best. Leonore.”

She posted the letter to Ferdi in the box in the foyer on her way to the bar to meet Jean-Paul, watching it slide down the glass chute and out of her life. A glance at the hall clock told her she was an hour late, but Jean-Paul had promised to wait. A great feeling of relief lifted the burden from her heart as she hurried to meet him.

Ferdi drove slowly along the lower Corniche Road to Monte Carlo glancing occasionally at the red disc of the sun dipping into the already darkening sea. In a few minutes the vermilion and gold glow would change into the gauzy blue of a warm Riviera dusk.

It had taken a month of worry over Leonore’s letter before he had made his decision. Then, without giving himself time to reconsider, he’d packed a bag and jumped in the car and driven down from Paris. He had behaved selfishly in the past and once he had decided that Leonore had a right to his love and support, he couldn’t wait.

Now that he was almost there, his foot had eased off the accelerator and the big Mercedes idled along the winding road. It was returning to the Hostellerie he was afraid of. He’d walk into the pink marble hall and Lais would be there, lying in a pool of blood, Peach beside her, wailing those words into his soul, “She’s dead, Ferdi, Kruger shot her …”

Grimly Ferdi pushed his foot down, sending the car surging forward in a growl of power. He could put off the moment no longer.

A young parking valet in the pink shirt of the Hostellerie la Rose du Cap took the Mercedes from him and Ferdi walked slowly up the broad steps. Everything was different. The big plate glass revolving doors were gone and in their place heavy carved wooden ones stood open to the warm night. The reception counter had been removed and in its
place stood a graceful antique table and chairs. A young girl with polished bronze hair was sitting with her back to him, talking to the reception clerk. There was no one else around. Ferdi stared at the large handmade Portuguese rug that covered the centre of the big hall where Lais had fallen, its soft colours hiding the terrible memories. The hall was calm and serene, filled with the scent of flowers, and there was the sound of a piano from the bar.

It was as though nothing had ever happened. Life went on for those who were left, he thought grimly.

Waiting for Lais as usual, Peach turned from her conversation with the desk clerk, noting the man crossing the hall. It couldn’t be … it wasn’t possible … She could swear that it was Ferdi. And he was going to the bar—
to see Lais!
Oh my God!
After all these years
. Leaping to her feet she sprang for the door. She must get Grand-mère.

Walking into the buzz of conversation and laughter in the bar, Ferdi felt as though time had stood still. She sat on a high stool at the bar wearing a flowing dress of sea-green silk, her wild blonde hair flung back, laughing at a remark from someone in the crowd next to her. Someone was playing softly on the piano, singing Lais’s favourite song … “I get no kick from champagne …”

Standing at the door of the crowded room, Ferdi felt as though he were in a waking dream. The voices around him came from the end of a long empty tunnel. “Leonore,” he said puzzled. “Leonore?”

The crowd fell back as Ferdi pushed his way urgently towards her. With a jolt like an electric shock Lais’s eyes locked with his and she was suspended between dream and reality, drowning in memories. He had come for her. Ferdi had come back for her at last. Trembling she accepted his kiss.
“Leonore,”
he murmured, “I’m so very sorry.” Lais’s wide blue eyes, dark with shock, stared into his.

*  *  *

Ferdi paced the terrace of Leonie’s villa, listening grim-faced to the story of Leonore’s deception. “But the fault was not all Leonore’s, Ferdi,” said Leonie quietly, “you never came back to find Lais, never even wrote. You offered no explanation to us, her family.”

“I thought at first she was dead,” he groaned, “then I heard rumours, I went to Paris to find the truth. And when Leonore told me she was dead, she was only confirming what I already believed. I knew you were not altogether happy about the marriage because I was German … I thought you blamed me. And you would have been right.”

Leonie sighed. The whole sad saga had been one of misunderstanding. “The accident wasn’t your fault,” she said more gently. “When Lais told me that she loved you I gave you my blessing.”

Ferdi stared broodingly out to sea, hands thrust in his pockets.

“Do you really love Leonore
, Ferdi, is that it?”

“Leonore has been very good to me. I owe her the dignity of marriage.”

“You and Leonore both took what you wanted—or what you needed—from each other,” answered Leonie. Her slim hand slowly caressed the little brown cat on her knee. “And as you can see, Lais’s life is different now. She’ll not thank you for your pity.”

Ferdi stared at her, agonised. Leonie seemed to read his mind, unmasking him, leaving him defenceless.

“I shall take care of Lais,” said Leonie softly, “as I always have done. You are free, Ferdi, if that is the way you want it.”

Ferdi turned away from her. “Forgive me,” he said. He glanced back once when he reached the path. Silhouetted
against the light on the terrace, Leonie stared out to sea. There was something indomitable about her slender figure, a strength that Ferdi envied. Turning on his heel he strode on.

No one would tell her anything! Peach marched angrily along the path around the Pointe St Hospice, with Leonie’s cat, Chocolat, and her own cat, Ziggie, following at her heels like devoted hounds. Leonore had gone off to Switzerland with Jean-Paul the very next day before Peach had even had time to ask any questions. Jean-Paul wanted to show Leonore the village where the new hotel would be built. And Lais had locked herself in her penthouse with only Miz as her link with the world. When Peach had asked her grandmother where Ferdi was, and what he had said and what had happened, and all the dozens of questions that were popping in her brain like bubbles in champagne, she got no real answer. Just that, “it was a mistake on Ferdi’s part”.

“But what about
Lais?”
cried Peach. “Ferdi came back for her, after all these years.”

“I don’t know why he came back,” Leonie answered evasively.

“But
I
know,” said Peach, “I saw him in Geneva. I told him that he should at least come back to see her, to explain … to say he’s sorry.”

Leonie stared at her aghast.
“You
told Ferdi to come here? Oh Peach, what have you done!”

Tears stung Peach’s eyes as she clambered over the rocks, kicking angrily at pebbles in her path. What had gone wrong? Naturally it was a shock for Lais, but
Ferdi had come back
. Why couldn’t the years have been just swept away and everything be as it was before—the way it would be in the romantic novels she read at school? The truth struck her like a blow.
Ferdi didn’t want Lais because she couldn’t walk
.

She couldn’t bear it any longer. She
had
to find out the answers. And if Leonie wouldn’t tell her, then she must ask Lais.

Miz refused to let her in. “Lais doesn’t want to see anyone,” she told her. “I’m keeping her in bed today. The doctor says she needs a good rest.”

“But I need to see her,” begged Peach. “Please Miz. It’s only me—she’ll want to see me, I know it.”

“Not today Peach,” said Miz firmly, closing the door.

She tried the next day and the next. Then Lais sent a message asking to see her grandmother. Peach hovered anxiously outside the door waiting for her. “Well?” she demanded as Leonie emerged.

“She’ll see you now,” said Leonie, “I told her that you’d seen Ferdi in Geneva. She understands now why he came.” But Peach sensed that Leonie wasn’t telling her everything.

Lais was sitting up in bed wearing a plain white nightdress with her long hair braided into pigtails. She wore no make-up and her lips looked pale without her usual bright lipstick.

“It’s all right, Peach,” she said with a little smile, “it wasn’t your fault.”

“Oh Lais, I just don’t understand why he didn’t come before.”

“He thought I was dead,” said Lais softly, “all these years he thought I was dead.”

Peach stared blankly at her sister, a memory of her own words ringing in her ears … Lais was dying, there was blood everywhere, a wisp of smoke from Kruger’s gun still pointed at them … every detail sprang to her mind like a painting on a gallery wall … “She’s dead Ferdi,” her voice was saying. “Kruger shot her. Lais is dead …”

Ferdi hadn’t come back to find Lais because of her
.

“You mustn’t blame yourself.” Lais’s voice was calm. “Now his life can go on, and so can mine. All the ghosts are laid.”

Looking guiltily at her sister, Peach wondered.

Lais’s face was as pale as her hair as she lay on her special chaise-longue in her shady roof garden, an open book on her lap, pretending to read. But whenever Peach glanced at her Lais was gazing towards the blue horizon, with a remote expression, as though she were far away from here. She avoided the busy hotel and no longer went to the Terrace Bar at night. She ate in her suite with just Miz or Peach for company.

Peach knew that Leonie and Jim were worried about her. “I think we should send for Amelie,” suggested Leonie.

“The girl doesn’t need her mother,” replied Jim, “she’s pining for Ferdi.”

Peach thought if that were true then it was up to her to do something about it. It was she who had got them into this position, only she could get them out. If only Leonore were here to talk to! Peach just couldn’t understand why she’d gone away at such a crucial time.

It took her two days to compose the letter to Ferdi and when she finally posted it she immediately wished she could get it back. She had told Ferdi the truth. That Lais was no
longer herself, that she was pining for him. That now their ghosts were laid, couldn’t they at least write to each other … and that Ferdi must never tell anyone that she had written.