Peach (58 page)

There was a special room in the villa where Leonie’s collection of clothes spanning seventy years were stored, including her favourite couture gowns and all her fabulous stage clothes. Like Caro, she had thrown nothing away and it was from here that Peach had chosen her wedding dress.
There
was the one she was looking for, the thinnest gold tissue pleated and designed by Fortuny that had clung to her body like a second skin! It was her first stage costume. Oh, how afraid she’d been that first night, and how reluctant to face the prying curious eyes of the audience who had come to see the notorious mistress of the Duc de Courmont! The young black panther at the end of the golden chain in her hand had shivered with fear too but neither of them could have had their freedom until she stepped into that spotlight and sang. She could still feel the sweat trickling down her back and hear the animal’s low growl as her song ended and the spotlight closed leaving them in darkness and the endless seconds of silence before the great roar of applause. It was all so long ago … but this was the dress to wear today, a dress to wear to drink champagne. A celebration dress.

Cool and perfumed from her bath, barefoot and dressed in her beautiful exotic gown, Leonie sipped her champagne, smiling as she fed the rose-coloured biscuit to her cat. She felt so happy this evening, so very happy. But how quickly the hours were flying by. The sky was losing its calm blue and taking on the pearly hazy look of evening. Where had the time gone, oh where had it gone?

She watched the sun change from gold to bronze and to a smooth scarlet disc and then she walked slowly along the terrace towards the steps that led to the curve of beach below. For once the little cat didn’t follow her and Leonie glanced back to smile at her.

The setting sun had laid a long golden-red track across
the glittering satin sea and Leonie stood at its edge, letting the small waves wash across her feet. Then with her arms flung wide so that the sleeves of her golden robe spread like a fan she waded into its coolness, following the path to the sun. As the water deepened she turned, floating on her back in the gleaming golden-red sea. She could feel the sun’s heat on her closed eyelids, she could feel its red heat consuming her … Sekhmet was reclaiming her and she was becoming one with the sun-god Re, as it was always meant to be. She was his mistress, his consort, his lover and she was entering the tunnels of night with her love. Leonie was floating, safe in her lover’s arms, towards infinity and another new dawn.

Peach couldn’t stop crying. They’d returned from their honeymoon in Japan to find Maman and Papa waiting with the news of Leonie’s death.

“We didn’t telephone you because we knew that Grand-mère would not have wanted to spoil your happiness, and besides there was nothing you could have done. There’s to be a service in her memory tomorrow at Notre Dame. Oh Peach, you can’t imagine how many tributes she has received, not just for her talent and her beauty, but for her generosity and her charity, and for her courage! Newspapers around the world have written her obituary. Leonie was a remarkable woman.”

“How can you talk about her so calmly,” cried Peach, the pain of her loss still searing her, “when you know we’ll never see her again?”

Amelie bit her lip to stop the tears from flowing and glanced helplessly at Gerard.

“Your mother is trying to adjust to her loss, Peach, just as you will. You’ll cry away your pain and grief and then you must try to come to terms with it.”

Noel waited silently by the fireplace as Gerard sat beside his sobbing daughter, trying to comfort her.

“But you said they never found her,” said Peach. “Oh Papa, what if she’s not really dead after all, what if she just went away …?”

“But that’s all she has done, darling, she’s just gone away, and you’ll find her again everywhere you turn, in your memories.”

“Peach darling,” cried Amelie holding her in her arms, and crying too, “we must think of Jim now, and try to help him. He’s desolated …”

Peach looked at Noel, thinking how she loved him, imagining life without him … and Leonie and Jim had been married for
fifty
years, how must it be for Jim”

“If there is anything I can do,” offered Noel. “Perhaps Jim would like to stay here …?”

“Not here,” said Amelie quickly. “Jim has always thought of this as Monsieur’s house … but thank you, Noel.”

“Now, Peach,” said Gerard, “Lais and Ferdi are already here, at the Ritz, and Leonore is arriving tonight. Your mother has arranged for a reception here, after the service. I’ll give Noel the details.”

“I’m sorry we had to bring you this bad news on your first day home,” said Gerard to Noel later.

“I’ll take care of her, sir,” promised Noel, “and although
I barely knew Leonie, I can imagine how deeply you all feel her loss.”

“It’s a sad business. See that Peach gets some sleep, if you can.”

The great grey cathedral was hung with embroidered silken banners and decked with flowers. The scent of Leonie’s favourite jasmine hung in the air and sunlight brightened the great rose window as the pure voices of the choir boys soared in an anthem. Peach stood stiffly at Noel’s side, dressed in black with a broad-brimmed hat shading her wan colourless face from curious eyes, and he clasped her hand in his comfortingly, lending her his strength. He scanned the crowded church, marvelling at the power the strange indomitable old woman commanded to summon presidents and royalty, as well as those who had simply admired and loved her, to a service in her honour. And afterwards, as they sipped Leonie’s favourite champagne in the house that Leonie had once longed to call her home, he observed the faces of those who cared for her. There were the Sisters who looked after Leonie’s orphan children at the Château d’Aureville and some of those children, now grown and with their own families, and there were men and women whose lives she had helped to save through her Resistance work during the war. There were theatre managers and conductors, musicians and stage-door concierges, titled families of Europe and simple families from the south who had worked for her and loved her, and those who lived in the village and had felt the quiet benefit of her generosity and kindness. Leonie commanded them all.

“She would have enjoyed this party, you know,” noted Jim approvingly, “it would have pleased her to see them all here, and it comforts me to know how many lives she made just a bit brighter by her presence.”

Afterwards, when the family were alone, he told Peach that the villa was hers. “Leonie wanted you to have it when we were gone,” he said gently, “and I can’t bring myself to live there without her—so now it’s yours.”

“But, Jim, where will you go?” asked Peach. “It’s your home.”

“Don’t worry about me, it’s all been arranged. I’m moving into Lais’s old penthouse apartment at the Hostellerie. After all, it’s no good an old man like me living alone and I’m sure to find a bit of company there when I feel like it.”

Peach had never thought of Jim as being old and she looked at him, shocked by the truth. It just wasn’t fair, she thought angrily, people shouldn’t get old, they shouldn’t have to go away and leave those who loved them … tears sprang to her eyes again.

“Don’t cry, Peach,” murmured Jim soothingly, “I shall be happy thinking of you at the villa and so, I’m sure, would your grandmother.”

Sitting between her sisters as the lawyer told them the contents of Leonie’s will the following day, Peach could barely control her trembling. This was the worst part of all … dividing up Leonie’s beautiful things, the jewellery she remembered her grandmother wearing all her life, her beautiful collection of clothes, her treasured objects … a terrible thought struck her suddenly and she grabbed Lais’s hand, panicked. “The cat,” she cried, “where is Leonie’s cat?”

“Chocolat disappeared the same day as Leonie,” whispered Lais. “Oh Peach, I’m so sorry.”

Peach didn’t want to hear any more, she didn’t want to know who should have which possessions—she just wanted it all to be the same as it was … never changing, always there. Sobbing, she ran for the door with Noel after her.

Closing their bedroom door behind him, he watched as
Peach raged around the room, screaming her anger and hate at fate and at time and at death and then he took her in his arms and held her close. “It’ll be better, Peach,” he said calmly, “it’ll be better now, you’ll see.”

Peach sagged against him, her despair and anger spent. She felt secure in his arms, protected from the hazards of life and death. “Oh Noel,” she sighed tiredly, “whatever would I do without you?”

Noel could never quite get used to the grandeur of the de Courmont mansion. Even after two years of living there he still felt like a guest in its lofty panelled rooms. Nodding to the concierge at the gate, he drove the new car into the courtyard as the butler hurried down the steps to open the door.

“Is my wife home?” asked Noel, standing back to admire the car.

“Madame is in her sitting room, sir.”

“Then would you ask her to come down here, please. Tell her it’s a surprise, Oliver.”

“Of course, sir. And may I congratulate you sir, the ‘Duke’ is magnificent.”

“Thank you, Oliver.” Noel prowled around the car, checking it from every angle. Its long sleek lines, the rich gleaming dark blue paintwork and soft pale leather proclaimed it a thoroughbred. It was the car he had always
longed to design, the reply to all those years of compromise. The “Duke” was the car of his dreams.

“Noel, it’s wonderful,” called Peach hurrying down the steps toward him.

Noel pointed to the satin bow decorating the wheel. “It’s a present,” he said, “the very first ‘Duke’ is for Monsieur’s granddaughter.”

“Really? It’s mine?” Peach ran her hand delightedly across its shining surface. “But this is
your
car, Noel, more than anyone’s. The first should be yours.”

“I reckon old Monsieur had as much to do with it as I did and as his granddaughter and chairman of his company, you get the first ‘Duke’—and the numberplate.”

Peach ran around to inspect it. “D
UKE I
,” she cried, pleased.

“And there’s something special inside,” added Noel, opening the door for her.

The car smelled luxuriously of new leather and flowers. Sitting in the superbly comfortable driver’s seat Peach looked around her. A small wing-shaped Lalique vase, an exact copy of the one in the first de Courmont, held a single spray of jasmine.

“I had it copied especially for you,” said Noel. “No other car will have one.” He looked at her eagerly, hoping she was pleased.

“And there was always a spray of jasmine in the vase for Leonie,” said Peach. “You think of everything, Noel Maddox!”

“Then you like it?”

“It’s wonderful! Thank you, not just for the lovely car but for everything you’ve done for de Courmont! You’ve put the company back on its feet financially because of the ‘Stallion’.” Her hand rested on the leather steering wheel centered with the de Courmont family crest. “And with this car
you’ve taken de Courmont back to the top—Monsieur would be proud.”

Noel grinned at her, relieved. “Then do me a favour, lady,” he said, climbing in next to her, “take me for a ride.”

People turned to stare as the great car purred up to the Paris traffic lights, waving as they recognised Peach from the television advertisements. “You see how they like it,” she cried exultantly, pressing her foot down on the accelerator and heading for the open countryside. Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony blasted through quadrophonic speakers as the car ate up the miles and Noel sat back, enjoying the controlled power of the engine he knew so well, noting how the new aerodynamic shape kept wind-resistance to a minimum, making the ride virtually noise-free. A million details that he’d checked a thousand times ran through his head and he ticked them off one by one. The car was as near perfect as it could be.

Peach swung into a side road and from there along a rough country lane. A broad glassy river lay in front of them, swept by green willows and reflecting the pale evening sky. Pulling on the handbrake she leaned back against the cushions with a satisfied sigh. “Oh how perfect, how absolutely perfect!” she cried. “You deserve a medal for this, Noel.”