Gemini Rain (9 page)

They both met up nearly every morning when the local bread man called to the farm
and
when
Lauren was here in France. At first it was awkward;
a brief hello a small mention of the weather then Gabrielle decided to speak to her a bit more. Difficult was more the word than awkward, she was taught Spanish not English in school and being the only child, she left her education behind to help on the farm at the young age of twelve. But the two women both determinedly struggled along soon getting to talk about more than just weather conditions.

And how right the people in the village were, she was a widow and so young!

‘Je suis veuve,’
the young woman nervously stated when Gabrie
lle pointed to her wedding ring
.
‘
Well at least she got the pronunciation right
,’
Gabrielle thought as she patted the young woman’s hand, it was funny how after that short simple sentence Gabrielle felt the need to get closer, to protect and help this stranger.

Never saying how her husband died Gabrielle didn’t like to ask, one could see in the widow’s soft blue eyes it was too painful to talk about, perhaps that would come later when the memory wasn’t so f
resh. Gabrielle showed Lauren photos
of her own family speaking proudly of her three sons, especially David. Not that he was her favourite son, in the Corvassier household the love was shared equally and sides were never taken in discussions or arguments. An attitude Jean-Pierre strictly enforced even when it pulled on Gabrielle’s heartstrings.

Lauren had
never heard of David but later recognised two English films he played cameo roles in. Jean-Pierre liked her often meeting when she was jogging and he walking the dogs through the small forest. Sometimes he came out to the gate to join in their regular chat and eventually she came into the house for coffee and pastries, Gabrielle was proud the widow liked her pastries
,
‘
and my jam, don’t forget my jam,
’
even though she herself thought it too early for pastries. Every morning the young woman would now ask, ‘and what fattening delight have you got for me today then?’ it was a sentence she stated in French with perfection and Gabrielle always delightfully giggled.

‘
I must talk to Jean-Pierre and see if we should invite her to dinner, perhaps
we could then meet her children,’ t
hinking it would be nice to hear children’s voices once more she pulled herself up from her chair glaring at the telephone in the hallway wondering if she should try Joel’s mobile number.
‘
No wait, maybe David got full access and they are celebrating!
’
But she knew that was a dream as she had read the papers too.

Dejectedly sitting back down again she reminisced on happier times when all her family surrounded her. Claude still living at home, Joel with his wife just a stone’s throwaway and David with his family a ten minutes walk up the hill in the house he had built. Now Claude lived and worked in Marseille and David was getting divorced. 

She couldn’t believe it when he broke the news to her and then the bombshell, Francoise was moving to Barcelona with the children, immediately. She couldn’t take the news and burst out crying, so did David he go
t so emotional sometimes exposing
himself too much. 
‘
I’m unsure it was the sight of me crying or the breakdown of his marriage whi
ch upset him most,
’
she thought. 
Then came the questions and the blame, Jean-Pierre was sitting silently in his chair when David broke the news his lack of reaction told her that he already knew.

‘You knew this was happening?’ she accused her husband, ‘Why couldn’t you tell me? Am I not to be trusted? I could have helped!’

‘Maman nobody could help, it’s between me and Francoise,’ David said.

‘And the other women,’ she rebuked.

‘Gabrielle!’ Jean-Pierre was shocked.

Gabrielle remembered the hurt look on David’s face, how she wished she never said those words. But it was true; she didn't know where he got his ideas of marriage. Okay, for this day and age he was
very
young when he got married and so unexpectedly, but that didn’t explain his adultery.

Remembering the call from Paris as if it was yesterday, he was just finished his National Service and sounded so happy, ‘Maman, I’ve just got married.’

‘Ah congratulations. To who?’ she replied.

He fell in and out of love so often, she wasn’t sure who he had married and at nineteen years of age too. How she wished he got married here, a white wedding now that would have been wonderful, just like Joel’s. But Gabrielle soon got to know and love Francoise; she was beautiful and intelligent
with a degree in languages. Six
years David’s senior it was an unusual match, but you could see she was his rock someone he could totally trust but now, now it was over. 

At nineteen he was just starting his career in acting, ‘A young rising star, a genius,’ the French critics later described him but that relationship soon turned sour. His temperament and constant outbursts didn’t help
and
his want for privacy when it came to his wife and children, or rather Francoise’s need for privacy.

Gabrielle wished he could control his temper, but he was a perfectionist considering criticism
or advice
by any director he happened to work with an insult to his work. There was many a film where he would walk out only to return if the director or producers bowed to his demands. Sometimes they didn’t and the papers would have yet another headline to write. The public loved him, his style of acting, his rebelliousness to all the masters before him; every film or theatre project he took part in was a success and how Gabrielle loved to walk down to the village knowing someone would stop her to talk of her famous son and his latest film.

Would that all end now or will he continue working? He had threatened at one stage to retire and maybe start again with his family in Barcelona but Francoise wouldn’t hear of it she had enough, wanting to start her new life alone, anonymous. She always hated the publicity and when Chantal was born she was happy to live here with David’s family around to support her while he worked in Paris or another country. But the reporters would never leave her alone constantly hounding her for a reaction to the latest news of David’s philandering, whether they were true stories or not. 

‘
Ohh w
hy won’t they call!
’
She stared at the telephone again, begging it to ring.

Jean-Pierre entered the kitchen from his workshop just as the phone sounded; it was like an alarm bell louder than usual. Both looking at each other expectantly, the silent question hovered between them - who was going to answer?

‘You answer it,’ Gabrielle didn’t want to talk to another reporter or so-called friend of David’s. Jean-Pierre just shrugged and walked towards the hallway.

Walk quicker!
The
scream reverberating around her brain but never finding an escape route through her mouth.

‘Hallo,’ he tried to sound steady. ‘Ah, Claude,’ he had his back to her, straight, confident. His shoulders slumped she knew immediately it was bad news, his head jerked up, ‘Oh, Mon Dieu!’ he sounded shocked.

‘Oh, Mon Dieu!’ she repeated after him, her hands clasping tightly together.

Chapter 7

Dublin –
Paul was disheartened with his whole body
now
expressing this sentiment
. This was not the reaction he expected actually
he admitted to himself
he wasn’t real
ly getting any form of reaction. Now
beginning to regret starting the conversation over dinner, they always agreed never to discuss work
or anything relating to that topic. A
t mealtimes
it was
just jovial chat of funny events and news of the day.

It was a rule they made
, after many a hard lesson learnt,
from the first time they lived together.
Living together
, Paul remembered the struggle they had making that decision.  So many
friends and family
would be hurt if anybody found out,
and running a close second was
including
the risk to
both of their careers.  How they first met was throug
h their work, even though
each of their careers were
so different and yet connected.  Both knew instantly but never said anything because of
their positions in life and their chosen careers
.  A few hints, a few near misses and finally they arrived at the same conclusion, relief swept through them as soon as they
both
felt safe and admitted their feelings for each other. And now, nobody knew of their relationship except a special and small group of
family and those few
friends who also understood the position they found themselves in.  Some of those friends were in similar situations too.  Soon they got used to their double lives as if it was a natural par
t of their relationship, with Marc
keeping
his
old apartment as if they were never together. 

‘
No, I’m regretting bringing up the conversation altogether regardless of the time of day,
’
Paul came back to the present moment.  At first he forced himself to be confident in disclosin
g such information to his lover
but now his line of thinking
was losing confidence
and his words were tu
rning to desperation
.  He stuttered through the last couple of sentences as he noticed the
continued
lack of response from his partner.

It took him two days to build up the courage to even mention the subject, he couldn’t understand why he was hesitating and when he finally did, it flowed out of him like blood from a bullet wound. He never held information back like that before at least not from the person he considered his counsel, his soul mate. But then he never thought the day would come that he would have to recount a memory he placed safely and securely in the echoes of his heart and mind. Like the first night with
hazel eyes
it’s one of those treasures he felt confident nobody would ever discover about him.

             
‘It’s in the past,’
trying some persuasion but Marc’s
hazel eyes bore into him from across the small, intimate circular table, ‘long before I met you, even long before I knew anything about where my life would lead.’

There was still a prolonged silence as Paul
gave up and
threw his fork on the table despondently, genuinely annoyed with the lack of response, the eyes were the only inkling that what he’d just admitted was actually sinking in. ‘What the hell else do you want me to say?’

             
‘Paul I don’t know what I want you to say, and I… I don’t know what to say either. I don’t even know if I wanted to
hear what you’ve just said,’ Marc’s
voice wavered. ‘I knew there was something there between you two but this…’ the direction of those hazel eyes dropped tow
ard the table, ‘do you still…. d
o you love her?’

             
‘Yes,’ Paul whispered an honest reply as he stared into eyes that were a full combination of shock, pain and sympathy.

             
‘Oh,
Christ Paul!’

Paul watched as a face that normally showed warmth and affection was now engulfed in tormented red. 

             
‘We’ve been together for nearly three years now, how could you keep this from me!’

             
Paul felt panic rising in his stomach, ‘but not in the way you think, not the way you and I … we shared something special, Lauren’s always been there for me you know that and me for her I think, now we need each other aga
in and… and I need you too. I need you t
o understand, to help.’

But yet another funeral silence fell onto the table, the music softly playing in the background was like a distant hum coming from a neighbour’s house. Dispelling all pride he had inside him Paul begged the person sitting opposite him, hoping for some respite.

             
‘Do you know what you’re asking me to do? Do you realise the risk we’ll be taking? Do you realise the position you put me in? What do you not understand Paul, think of the consequences.
Christ , I don’t believe this.’ Marc
turned to look out the kitchen window unable to look at Paul, unable to think straight.

             
Gingerly Paul replied, ‘but we’re used to taking risks, aren’t we?’ Noticing a cheeky half grin rising on his friend’s mouth Paul relaxed a little, ‘do you fancy taking another?’

             
Sitting back in the chair Marc
looked up to the heavens then gave a half nervous half adventurous laugh, ‘are you getting bored with our lifestyle Mr. Minister for Justice?’