A Perfect Home (44 page)

‘Are you enjoying yourself, darling?' her mother asked.

‘Yes,' replied Claire. ‘It's lovely.'

‘You certainly had no shortage of men wanting to dance with you,' her mother said, nodding towards the dance floor.

‘I'd no idea what I was meant to be doing. The dances are so complicated.'

‘You looked like you were making a good job of it from where I was sitting.' Her mother's eyes twinkled in amusement. ‘I think François, the potter, rather likes you. He hasn't taken his eyes off you since you had your dance with him. I thought he was going to come over and punch the mayor when he was flinging you around.'

‘Mum! Are you trying to play the matchmaker?' Claire asked in mock incredulity.

‘No, I wouldn't dream of it. But it's been a while since you and William separated. Don't you ever think about finding someone else?'

‘Look who's talking,' Claire smiled. ‘You were on your own for twenty-five years before you met Brian.'

‘I was just a miserable, bitter old grump of a woman. Don't be like me, darling. Don't leave it so long. You have so much to offer.' She put her arm around Claire's shoulder. ‘My beautiful, clever daughter. I only want to see you happy.'

Claire sighed. ‘I am happy, Mum. I have my gorgeous children, my own business, a lovely home, my garden. I don't need anyone else when I've got so much to make me happy.'

‘It's just sometimes I see such sadness behind your eyes and I wonder if you've been hurt more than you let on. You're well rid of William and that stuck-up mother of his.' Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of her. ‘I hope you don't regret your divorce.'

‘I'm fine, Mum,' Claire said. ‘I think I hurt William more than he hurt me.' She looked into the distance, beyond the dancers and the twinkling lights, into the darkness. ‘I can't imagine falling in love with anyone again, having those intense feelings for another man, the desire to share my life with anyone else. Maybe you only get one chance at love in your life and mine just slipped away.' She took a sip of wine.

‘I'm living proof that you
do
get another chance,' said her mother. ‘This whole day is proof of that for me and for Brian.' She gently stroked her daughter's face. ‘Go and ask François for another dance and make your old mother very happy.'

‘Mum,' Claire warned. ‘I don't want to encourage him, or any other man. Anyway, tonight isn't about me. It's about you.' She stood up. ‘Why don't you come and dance with me instead, and we can try to work out some of these mad dance steps together?'

Claire and her mother walked hand-in-hand towards the dance floor. The music had grown louder. A robustly built woman with red hair piled in curls on her head began to sing.

‘I hope you know how lovely you look,' Claire said, above the sounds of the accordion and the woman's soulful voice.

‘Yes,' replied her mother, smiling. ‘I can't count the times Brian has told me today.'

‘He's a lucky man to have you.'

‘No, I'm the lucky one,' Elizabeth said as she put her hand lightly on her daughter's waist to begin the dance. ‘And I believe that one day you'll be just as lucky too.'

‘Can I cut in?'

The voice came from behind her, but Claire felt her heart lurch in recognition and she hardly dared to turn around. She registered her mother's curious face, her polite smile for the stranger.

‘Yes, of course you can,' Elizabeth said and let go of her daughter, moving to one side to be swept up by Brian and waltzed away. Claire wondered if she was about to faint but suddenly she felt strong arms take hold of her, starting to gently move her across the dance floor to the rhythm of the music. She forced herself to look up into the face of her dancing partner. It swam in front of her as she tied to focus, tried to comprehend whom she was looking at.

‘What are you doing here?' she whispered.

‘Looking for you.'

Stefan bent his head and kissed her softly on the lips. She felt as though she was melting.
This must be a dream
, she thought, and found herself kissing him back. It felt so easy, so delicious.

She pulled away abruptly.

‘How on earth did you get here? Why are you here?'

She stopped, motionless in the middle of all the moving couples on the dance floor and looked up at the face she had never expected to see again. His hair was shorter than she remembered and speckled with strands of grey. He wore a collarless white linen shirt and jeans. A fine layer of stubble covered the lower half of his tanned brown face.

‘I'm sorry. I know this must be a total shock.' He had to shout above the music. Other dance couples were staring at them, irritated that they were blocking the dance floor. ‘And I'm sorry for kissing you like that. I couldn't help it. You look so beautiful in white, like the day I first saw you in your garden. Do you remember?' He took her hand. ‘Can we go somewhere quieter to talk?'

Claire started to let him lead her from the dance floor then suddenly reality came flooding back – what had happened, what Stefan had done to her, done to her life. Anger swelled inside and she stopped and snatched her hand away.

‘No, we can't talk. I never want to see you again, let alone talk to you.'

Stefan moved towards her and she stepped back. He looked upset.

‘I've driven for ten hours to get here. Couldn't you at least give me a few minutes?'

Claire desperately tried to decide what to do. Force him to leave and try to forget he'd been there or let him stay to reopen old wounds and memories so painful she hadn't even dared to think about them for three years?

‘You do realise that you're gate-crashing my mother's wedding?' she said.

‘I know. Sally said it would be all right.'

Claire felt her head spinning; she wished she hadn't drunk so much wine.

‘Sally told you where to find me? How do you know Sally? I'm sure she'd never have told you where I was.'

‘Could we go somewhere more private?' Stefan reached out and touched her arm.

‘Don't touch me,' she blurted out, pushing him away. ‘Don't think you have any right to touch me, or any right to be here at all. What do you want? Why have you come here?' Claire was shouting now. She was vaguely aware that the music and the singing had stopped, that the other guests were watching, listening; she could see Elizabeth and Brian, their faces alarmed. Claire didn't care. ‘How dare you walk into my life again after everything that happened? How dare you just appear like this from nowhere and expect me to want to talk to you? You turned my life upside down, destroyed everything in it – my home, my family, my heart. You did that and look at you now: standing here like nothing happened at all, remembering how we first met, asking me if I remember it too. Of course I remember it and I wish it had never happened. I wish you'd never walked into my garden. I wish I'd never met you at all.

‘You have no idea what I had to go through to get to where I am today – while you've been swanning around the world, no doubt seducing other naïve women in their idyllic homes and then going home to your girlfriend. Or is she your wife?'

‘I don't have a girlfriend or a wife.'

‘I saw you with her.' Claire's voice was getting louder. ‘You lied to me. You led me on. You let me fall in love with you, risk everything for you, and all along you were seeing someone else.'

‘Claire, I …'

She wouldn't let Stefan interrupt, tears were rolling down her cheeks; she tried to brush them away with her fingers. ‘Do you know what happened? Do you know what William did to the house because of you – because of us?'

‘I know,' said Stefan. ‘Sally told me. It must have been terrible.'

‘Terrible!' shouted Claire. ‘Yes, of course it was terrible. The whole house up in flames, gone forever; all those rooms you photographed, gone, all our possessions destroyed. The children could have been killed.' She pushed up the soft translucent sleeve of her cardigan and held up her arm in front of his face.

‘Look at these scars. And these are only the scars on the outside. You hurt me, Stefan. You hurt me more than you'll ever know and the last thing I ever want to do is see you again.'

Brian stepped forward and put his arm protectively around her.

‘Do you need help, Claire? Shall I ask this man to leave?'

Claire looked around her and suddenly felt embarrassed by her very public outburst.

‘What's going on, darling?' her mother asked, coming to join Brian by Claire's side.

‘If I could just have a chance to explain, to tell you what really happened.' Stefan's dark eyes held Claire's own. Powerless to look away she remembered how he made her feel. Emotions buried long ago came flooding back. Suddenly someone was pushing through the crowd of people.

‘Sally, what on earth are you doing here?'

Sally's face was flushed; she sounded out of breath. ‘You've got to talk to him, Claire. Please give him a chance to explain what happened.'

Claire looked into Stefan's eyes again; they seemed to plead with her.

‘Please, Claire, he needs to talk to you.' Sally gave her a hug and then a little shake. ‘I wouldn't have come all this way with someone who drove like a maniac and talked about nothing else but you for seven hundred miles if I didn't think that it was important for you to hear what he's got to say.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘For God's sake, just talk to the man.' She practically pushed Claire and Stefan from the dance floor.

‘OK,' Claire sighed.

Stefan followed as she led him away from the inquisitive eyes, out of sight, to the side of the house. An antique lantern cast a flickering light across the cobbled drive.

‘Claudia!' Claire exclaimed, as she saw the car parked in front of her. The top was down. She reached out and touched the shiny bonnet; it felt hot.

‘She's done really well,' said Stefan putting his hand beside hers on the car. ‘She's been locked up in a garage for years and then suddenly I'm driving her like a madman across France to get to see you. Do you want to get in?' he asked, opening the passenger door. Wordlessly Claire slipped on to the smooth red seat. Stefan got into the other side and they sat in silence for a while. The music in the garden had started up again.

‘Are we going anywhere?' Claire asked tentatively.

‘Do you mean in the car?'

‘Of course. What else would I mean?'

‘Something more allegorical?'

Claire said nothing, suddenly Napoleon jumped in and sat beside Claire as though ready to set off for a drive in the car.

‘A friend of yours,' asked Stefan.

‘My new man.'

‘What's he called?'

‘Napoleon.'

‘I won't pick a fight with him then,' he leant across Claire to scratch Napoleon's head, then sat back.

‘I like your shop and café,' he said after a few moments. ‘Nice fairy cakes.'

‘Thank you,' she said, staring straight ahead of her, watching moths as they buffeted around the lantern, then realising what he'd said, ‘You've been there?'

Stefan nodded, ‘I wondered if you're still using locally sourced ants in your pies?'

‘Sorry?'

‘The squashed ants in your mincemeat. I never eat a mince pie without thinking of you.'

Claire laughed; she couldn't help it. She stopped laughing and looked at him.

‘What do you want, Stefan?'

‘I'm so sorry about everything,' he said, holding her gaze. ‘I've been abroad. I had no idea about what happened. I'm so sorry,' he repeated. ‘It's all been such a mess.'

Suddenly tears were falling from Claire's eyes again. Stefan reached across her and produced a large white handkerchief from the glove box. She wiped her eyes with it and she could smell Stefan on the cotton – lemons, sandalwood. It filled her with a longing to touch him. She resisted and tightly scrunched the damp handkerchief between both her hands.

‘I don't know why you've come back,' she said, looking out across the garden. ‘I've spent so long trying not to think about you.'

‘I've spent so long thinking of little else but you,' he said. He took a deep breath and sighed. After a few moments' silence he said, ‘You were wrong. She wasn't my girlfriend, or my wife – the woman you saw me with. She was my sister.'

Claire looked at him.

‘She came to see me that night after your husband had found my texts and phoned me up.'

‘William told me that he had. I couldn't bear to ask him what he said.'

‘He told me that he loved you, that you were the most precious thing in his life.' Stefan sighed before going on. ‘He said he'd made mistakes, that he hadn't appreciated you and that you'd been working on your marriage since the summer, I think he even mentioned counselling. He said you were happy very together and he begged me to leave you alone, to give him a chance to keep his marriage and family together. He was sobbing; it was heart-breaking to listen to. He told me he was going to show you just how much he loved you.'

‘Is that what he was trying to do when he set fire to the house?' said Claire grimly.

Stefan looked at Claire with a shocked expression, ‘I didn't realise he set fire to the house.' Claire nodded and Stefan ran his fingers through his hair and let out deep breath. ‘He was in a terrible state. I promised him you wouldn't hear from me again.

‘I'd already decided I would leave the country if you didn't want to see me. I'd already started packing because I doubted very much you'd say yes. After I spoke to William I phoned my sister to say goodbye, she came over and we had a bottle of wine and in the end she stayed the night; there was so much to arrange, the flat to sort out, I wanted to put Claudia in a lock-up, I needed my sister's help. That was who you must have seen at my flat, it couldn't have been anyone else.' Claire looked at him; she thought about the woman that she'd seen at the window, she had been tall like Stefan, dark like Stefan, wavy hair, just like Stefan's would be if he let it grow. Claire felt her head spinning again. If she had known that was his sister she would have got out of the car and rung the doorbell and everything would have been so very different.