A French Affair (61 page)

‘Darling, you mustn't think like that,' Jessica broke in. ‘Whatever Lilian's done, it's not her baby's fault, nor Luc's, and he counts in this too, remember?'

Nikki sighed. ‘Of course,' she said glumly.

‘And I'm sure,' Jessica continued, ‘if Lilian had lost the baby we'd have heard, because bad news has a way of travelling, so let's try to wish her well, shall we?'

Nikki looked into her eyes. ‘I wish I was more like you,' she said.

Jessica smiled as her eyes twinkled. ‘It wasn't so long ago you were dreading being anything like me,' she
reminded her, glancing over her shoulder as the doorbell rang. ‘That'll be the taxi,' she said. ‘Did Freddy come home with you?'

‘No, he'll be here in about an hour. Where's Harry?'

‘At the Critchleys for the night. Are you going to be OK? I can always cancel if you'd rather I stayed with you.'

‘Don't be daft. I'm fine. We can chat any time, I'm not leaving home yet.'

‘Well there's a relief,' and with a quick kiss on her cheek, Jessica slipped into her black velvet coat and Jimmy Choo slingbacks and went downstairs to answer the door.

An hour later she was at the edge of a very elegant crowd in a private function room at the Ritz, where several recognisable faces were mingling with the less well known, though in many cases far more powerful. Since she'd lately started to prefer these kinds of affairs to the more intimate occasions where well-intentioned friends kept grilling her about what she was doing now, how she was coping, or whether Charlie really had fully recovered, she was reasonably at ease. Just as long as no-one told her how marvellously brave they thought she was, or how fabulous she was looking, considering, or what an inspiration she could be to others, the evening should go well, she decided.

Though Charlie had come to meet her as soon as she'd arrived, sweeping her proudly into the midst of the crowd, he'd abandoned her again soon after to carry on mingling, and watching him now, blending so effortlessly with the crème de la crème of the media world, she felt a fondness for him much like when she watched Harry mixing with his friends. He was so at
home with all these people, while she felt she had almost nothing in common with them.

Catching him watching her and realising he was concerned about her standing alone, she found her way to his side and smiled up at him.

‘Are you OK?' he asked anxiously.

She nodded. ‘Are you?'

‘Pretty good. This is an amazing turnout, isn't it?' His eyes swept the crowd. ‘Just about everyone who's anyone is here.' Then drawing her to one side, he spoke quietly so as not to be overheard. ‘Have you been introduced to Ernest yet?'

‘No, not yet,' she whispered, glancing over at the stocky billionaire whose newly woven hair and gleaming capped teeth were not exactly, she felt, a testament either to taste, or wealth. ‘But don't worry, when I do I'll be sure not to mention either his coiffeur or his dentist.'

Once that would have made Charlie laugh, tonight it seemed not to click, as he said, ‘He's taking us for dinner later.'

‘I know,' she reminded him.

‘I mean, just us.'

Jessica looked at him curiously. ‘How generous,' she commented, not entirely sure why she wasn't thrilled.

‘I had a quick meeting with him before the party,' he said. ‘He wants me to take over the running of his Premium Channel in New York.'

Jessica became very still.

‘I know, it was a big shock to me too,' he said, ‘but I've had a bit more time to get used to it, and frankly, darling, it could be exactly the kind of fresh start we're looking for. Away from here, no more memories, a totally new environment . . .'

‘Stop,' she said breathlessly. ‘Just stop.' For one awful moment, as the room started to tilt and fade, she thought she was going mad.

‘Are you OK?' he said. ‘What is it?'

‘Please tell me you haven't accepted,' she said.

‘Not without talking to you first, obviously, and nothing's official yet, but think of it, darling . . .'

‘No Charlie, I can't,' she said. ‘I don't even want to have this conversation.'

‘No, obviously now isn't a good time,' he agreed. ‘I'm sorry. I just wanted to warn you what we're probably going to be talking about over dinner.'

‘I'm glad you did,' she said, ‘because I really need to go home now.'

‘For God's sake, you can't.'

‘I can, and I will. Try to stop me and I'll scream,' she warned as he made to grab her arm.

Immediately he let her go, then seeing Ernest Schultz's wife heading their way he quickly assumed his boyishly charming smile as he held out a hand towards her. ‘Flora, I don't believe you've met Jessica. Darling, this is Flora Schultz.'

Out of politeness Jessica abandoned her flight and allowed herself to be drawn into a few minutes of small talk, dimly realising that she might actually like this slightly overweight, gregarious woman with an irrepressible twinkle and flashy red lipstick, were she not still so stunned by Charlie's news.

In the end, once she'd managed to stop reeling, she agreed to go for dinner as arranged, and to her relief the subject of Charlie's new position didn't come up – she suspected because he had asked Schultz to postpone it – so the evening passed in a reasonably enjoyable way.

It wasn't until they arrived home that Charlie mentioned it again, as she'd known he would. ‘I understand it came as a shock,' he said, undressing for bed, ‘but once you've had some time to think about it, you might feel differently. And there's no rush.'

Unable to imagine feeling anything but even colder to the idea, Jessica decided not to respond.

‘He's invited us both to New York in February,' Charlie continued, from the bathroom, ‘staying at his Upper East Side apartment, or at a hotel, if we prefer, and I suspect no expense will be spared. I can't see any harm in accepting that, can you?'

Jessica continued to stare into the mirror.

‘OK. Let's not discuss it any more tonight,' he said, coming back into the room. ‘We're both tired and I've got a seven o'clock start tomorrow.'

As they got into bed Jessica turned her back and allowed him to pull her against him as he often did. They never made love, as far as she knew his medication was still making it difficult for him, and she could only feel thankful for that, because she really didn't want to. However, tonight it seemed he wanted to kiss her, or maybe even take it further, because he was pressing his mouth to her neck and trying to ease her over onto her back.

‘Charlie, I'm too tired,' she said and moved away.

For several minutes he lay still, saying nothing, then rolling over to his side of the bed he whispered goodnight in a way that brought an ache of guilt to her heart. However, it was never easy pretending an affection, or a passion she didn't feel, so tonight, at least, she wasn't even going to try.

‘THERE ARE NOT
many people I'd allow to drag me out of doors this early in the morning,' Veronica grumbled, as she and Jessica trudged away from Maurice's grand old Georgian house towards the open countryside. ‘Or in this freezing weather,' she added dismally. Then, eyeing up an approaching stile with marked distrust, ‘Do I have to climb that?'

‘Unless you want to jump it,' Jessica retorted.

Veronica couldn't help but laugh, and allowed Jessica to take her hand as she gingerly mounted the rickety wooden bars to manoeuvre herself down the other side.

It was just after ten o'clock on Boxing Day morning, and though the temperature was hovering around zero, sunlight was streaming from a clear blue sky and pooling over the meadows, making everything look fresh and vibrant as though nature was painting itself in oils.

‘I think lunch went very well yesterday, don't you?' Veronica commented chattily, as they fell into step on a hard, muddy trail. ‘We certainly had plenty to eat,
and it was a lovely idea of yours, darling, to send goats and chickens to Africa for the people there, I didn't feel half so guilty about our little feast once you told me that. I must make sure Maurice and I do the same next year. Did you say it was through Oxfam?'

‘That's right,' Jessica confirmed, linking her mother's arm and watching her breath puff out in small white clouds. ‘So now, come on, spill the beans,' she said, keeping the pace going. ‘I've waited all these years to know the truth, so I'm not going to let you fob me off any longer. Who is – or was – my father?'

‘Oh dear.' Veronica instantly sounded troubled. ‘It's that therapist of yours, isn't it, making you ask.'

‘He thought it would be a good idea, yes, but honestly, Mum, it would be nice to know.'

‘No, it wouldn't,' Veronica assured her.

Jessica almost laughed. ‘He can't be that bad, surely?'

‘I don't know. I mean, I couldn't . . . Oh dear, Jessica . . .'

‘Just tell me his name,' Jessica prompted.

‘What good do you think it's going to do?'

‘I can't answer that without knowing who he is, but if you're afraid I might go knocking on his door and disrupting his life, that's really not my intention. I'm just trying to get some clarity, as the therapist put it, and shake out all the skeletons . . .'

‘Ugh!' Veronicaresponded with a shudder.

Rolling her eyes Jessica said, ‘OK, let's try this another way – I'm intrigued to know who he is and why you never named him.'

Sounding very unhappy now, Veronica said, ‘I couldn't. I mean, I really couldn't, because I haven't lied to you, darling, I honestly have no idea who he is.'

Jessica's heart gave a beat of shock. ‘Do you mean you were raped?'

‘Heavens no.'

‘So it was a one-night stand while you were drunk?'

‘No. No. Nothing as sordid as that. It was much more . . . Well, much more fun.'

‘I'm listening,' Jessica said dryly.

‘Well, if you're sure you want to know . . .'

‘I am, so keep going.'

‘OK. It happened one crazy summer – well, it was February, actually, but it was very hot where we all were, in the Caribbean, so it seemed like summer. It was a week-long party at the most marvellous villa owned by some South Africans, I think, or maybe they were Australian, I can't really remember, because there was lots of marijuana going round, and alcohol and all kinds of other drugs, and no-one was really taking any notice of who was popping into bed with who – well, often we didn't bother about the bed, because no-one was wearing any clothes anyway, so we just did whatever took our fancy wherever we were . . .'

‘You mean it was an orgy.'

Veronica seemed startled. ‘Yes, I suppose it was, now you come to mention it,' she said. ‘And it was immense fun. We were all so young and beautiful and liberated and it was so very hot . . . I remember this one particular day in the pool . . .'

‘I don't think I need any details,' Jessica interrupted. ‘So what you're saying is that my father could be any of a dozen or so men whose names you never knew even at the time?'

Veronica blinked with dismay. ‘Put like that it doesn't sound very good, does it?' she said. ‘But they were all jolly nice and whoever he was he was
obviously very tall and good-looking and intelligent, because look at you. You hardly resemble me at all.'

Jessica was shaking her head in amusement and despair. ‘I should have known it was something like that,' she said. ‘I suppose the real mystery is why you decided to keep me.'

‘Oh, there was never any doubt about that,' Veronica assured her. ‘Once I knew I was pregnant . . . Well, I have to admit, it did shock me a bit at first and I did wonder if I could cope, but then I thought of how lovely it would be to have a baby, and I was right, because I had you and you were more than lovely . . .' Her voice dropped a little as she added, ‘And I was worse than useless. Just thank goodness for Grandma and Gramps, or I dread to think what a mess I'd have made of you.'

Though Jessica laughed, there wasatightening in her heart as she thought of what a mess she was inside.

They walked on in silence for a while, watching birds flitting in and out of the hedgerow one side of the path, while everywhere else remained perfectly still.

‘Has Charlie mentioned any more about New York?' Veronica finally ventured.

Jessica's spirits sank. ‘Only insofar as he thinks we should book flights soon, if we're going to go in February.'

‘It's a marvellousopportunity for him.'

‘Yes.'

‘But you don't want to go.'

Jessica sighed. ‘No, I don't,' she replied. ‘I like New York, but not to live. And there's Harry's schooling to think of – do we really want him growing up in America? Then there's Nikki. I know she's thinking of
moving in with Freddy, but I'm not sure either of us could bear being so far apart. Not yet, anyway.'

Veronica pursed her lips thoughtfully.

‘On the other hand,' Jessica went on, ‘I can hardly say I'm happy in London, so maybe I should give it a go.'

Veronica cast her a glance. ‘What do you really want to do?' she asked quietly.

As Jessica thought about all the answers she could give to that – to write, be a good mother, repair her marriage – she knew there was only one that was true, but there was no point admitting to it when it could never be.

‘Mm, I thought so,' Veronica said.

Jessica blinked. Had she spoken without realising?

‘You want to go back to Valennes,' Veronica said. It wasn't even a question. ‘Charlie told me a while ago about Luc. He wanted to know if you'd confided in me. You hadn't, of course, and I think he took that as a good sign, but he was wrong. You're finding this very hard, I can tell.'