Heaven Scent (58 page)

Xavier blew smoke into the air anxiously, his head in just as much of a spin as Ashton’s. Quite honestly, he had no idea how any of it was going to pan out. Right now, he was pissing in the wind and he knew it.

 

Feeling thoroughly uncomfortable, Guy knocked on the door of the house. He was certain he’d got the wrong address; he’d been expecting a grief counselling centre, not a pretty little cottage on the outskirts of Mougins.

The door opened and a grey-haired lady with a motherly smile greeted him. ‘I’m Elena. Do come in.’

‘I’m Guy Du—’

‘No surnames needed,’ she interrupted him with twinkling eyes. If she recognised him, she wasn’t letting on. ‘Just Guy is fine.’ She led him through to a sun-drenched salon, which was set up as a sitting room, with chairs and tables and refreshments on a simple, bare-wood dresser. A glass conservatory was attached to the side of the room.

Guy watched Elena as she bustled through the room, nodding at couples chatting and saying the odd word. Wearing a long green sundress with bejewelled flip-flops, Elena looked to be around fifty. It was only her grey hair that gave away that she might be older but she clearly wasn’t bothered about such things as hair dye. She was attractive but not self-consciously so and she looked more like a teacher than a grief counsellor.

Not that he had met many of those, Guy acknowledged to himself. Nervously, he ran a hand through his silver hair, not sure if he might look as though he had tried too hard with his appearance.

‘Coffee?’ Elena offered, holding a pot up.

Guy nodded and looked round the room. To his surprise, it wasn’t full of sad bastards crying into their cups, nor was anyone expected to stand up and talk about themselves, by the looks of things. That wasn’t to say there was a party atmosphere; some serious conversations were taking place and there were a few scrunched-up, soggy tissues in evidence. But the overwhelming sense Guy had was one of calm. The room, the garden it overlooked, Elena herself, everything was warm and comforting. He was relieved to find that he wasn’t remotely attracted to Elena; he didn’t want to get emotionally attached to her, he just wanted her help.

‘Not what were you expecting?’ Elena asked astutely, handing him a cup of coffee and gesturing to the milk and sugar. ‘Some sort of Alcoholics Anonymous set-up, where we all make you stand in the middle of the room and say “I’m Guy and I’m upset because so-and-so died”?’

Taken aback, Guy raised his eyebrows. ‘Well, yes.’ He met Elena’s eyes, seeing wisdom in them – that and a whole lot of living.

‘Ah, well, hopefully you’ll see that making people perform isn’t what counselling is all about.’ Helping herself to a coffee before leading him to a sunny corner and curling up on a chair, Elena fixed her eyes on him. ‘So, who did you lose? Your wife?’

Smiling at her directness, Guy gave her a brief outline. Maybe it was because he had made peace with himself about coming here or perhaps it was because he had almost lost Max, but talking about Elizabeth suddenly didn’t seem so painful. He spent the next thirty minutes talking about her, without even noticing how much time had slid past. Reaching the part where he was about to talk about letting his children down and realising he had been totally dominating the conversation, Guy came to an abrupt halt.

‘Sorry, I can’t believe I’ve been talking for so long!’ He felt faintly embarrassed, even though he had enjoyed reminiscing. He only usually waxed lyrical about business; discussing Elizabeth and his relationship was something he had avoided since her death.

‘Don’t stop,’ Elena urged him gently. ‘You were saying about your children . . .’

Guy hesitated. How could he own up to his appalling behaviour? What would Elena think of him if he told her what he’d put his children through over the past few years? About to tell Elena coming here had been a big mistake, he felt her hand gently patting his arm.

‘No judgements here,’ she assured him. Her expression became sombre. ‘When my beloved husband died ten years ago, I had a nervous breakdown and walked out on my job and my children while I went on a grief-stricken, self-destructive ride to hell. It’s not something I’m proud of but it’s something I’m now able to use to help others because I know how it feels to be swimming around in anguish, utterly unable to do anything but get through a day until blessed sleep comes around again.’ She eyed Guy with understanding. ‘I loved him so much, you see. So, so much.’

Guy nodded, biting his lip as tears threatened to fall. Thinking about Elizabeth again and how much he had loved her, he was almost undone. He felt so guilty about his children too, so thoroughly ashamed.

‘You should know that we . . . my family . . . are all back together,’ Elena went on. ‘It’s taken some time and I know you think they won’t forgive you but they will. Trust me, in my experience, almost anything that’s broken can be mended and put back together. You’d be surprised.’

Deeply affected by her honesty and courage, Guy stared down into his empty coffee cup. Forcing himself, he started to talk again in a halting whisper, lifting his eyes as he recounted his life After Elizabeth, the capital letters very much in evidence as he said it out loud. Continuing with brutal frankness, Guy began to realise that owning up to what he was feeling was half the battle. And frankly, he thought, if Elena could do it after what she had been through, then so could he.

 

It was early evening, an hour before they were due to leave. Seraphina found Cat listlessly staring out across the lavender fields.

‘I just had a text from my friend Bella,’ Cat said, sounding flat.

Seraphina frowned. ‘And?’

‘And I think she might be moving to Australia with her boyfriend Ben.’

‘Sounds like fun.’

Cat nodded. ‘I’m going to miss her, that’s all. I haven’t seen her for ages and now she’s leaving.’ Her voice caught in her throat.

Seraphina gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘Are you all packed and ready for Paris?’ Dressed in a pretty pink strapless dress and heels, Seraphina seemed strangely fidgety and Cat glanced at her, suddenly noticing how smart she looked.

‘Paris?’ She shrugged, glancing back at the view. Apart from a slight breeze, it was a perfect day – weather-wise, at any rate. It was sunny, warm and the air was dry and still. She wanted to remember La Fleurie this way forever when she’d left . . . drenched in July sunshine, the lavender fields were a dazzling display of violet, purple and lilac. Cat swallowed and spoke again. ‘I’ve always wanted to see the Eiffel Tower. I know it sounds touristy but it’s one of those things you want to do before you die, isn’t it? Well, it is for me, anyway.’

Deep down, Cat was absolutely gutted. She’d always wanted to go to Paris but not like this. The trouble was, she couldn’t think of a valid reason to back out. Saying she felt the whole experience would be too hurtful wasn’t going to cut it. Not unless she admitted how she felt about Xavier, and that wasn’t going to happen.

‘The Eiffel Tower is all right.’ Seraphina wrinkled her nose. ‘Personally, I think it’s a bit phallic.’

Not in the mood for jokes, Cat didn’t laugh. ‘It’s just one of those iconic, romantic places you see in movies and want to see close up.’

‘So why aren’t you doing a jig, then?’ Seraphina frowned at Cat’s outfit. She wasn’t sure cut-off trousers and a vest top were appropriate attire for what they were about to do.

‘Well, I’m pleased for Leoni, she’s been dreaming about this shop for years. And Xavier . . . the new fragrance will be a triumph, I’m sure.’

‘You’ll be around to see it, won’t you? After Paris, I mean?’ Seraphina was confused. ‘You’re coming back to La Fleurie – you must be.’

Cat shook her head. ‘I don’t think so. What’s here for me now? I need to go back home and stop outstaying my welcome.’ Unconsciously echoing Angelique’s words, Cat felt no bitterness about it; she just felt sad. Inexplicably, painfully sad.

Seraphina spun her round. ‘Er, me, Max, Father, Leoni. And, most importantly, Xavier. You must know how he feels about you!’

‘Apparently, he thinks I’m an idiot for dashing after Max the way I did,’ Cat responded crabbily. ‘Foolish, I think the word was.’

‘Really? He said that?’ Seraphina’s brown eyes were puzzled. ‘I can’t believe he would have said such a thing. Who told you that? Did Xavier tell you?’

Cat couldn’t be bothered to explain that it was Angelique. She stared out at the gorgeous view she wouldn’t be seeing ever again after they left for Paris.

‘You do know Xavier hasn’t been on a horse since our mother died?’ Seraphina announced, knowing she had to do something drastic to change Cat’s mind about leaving. Cat slowly turned to face Seraphina, her aquamarine eyes lighting up just a fraction.

‘That’s right,’ Seraphina continued emphatically. ‘He swore blind he’d never get on a horse’s back again after our mother’s death but as soon as he heard you were in danger, he tore down to the stables and didn’t even think twice about it.’

‘He was probably going after Max,’ Cat said, refusing to feel hopeful. After the chat with Angelique, there seemed little point. ‘It probably had nothing to do with me at all.’

Seraphina shook her head. ‘No, sorry. He was going after you. The emergency services had already been called by my father and they were heading towards Max. Xavier came after you, honestly.’

‘Why did Angelique tell Xavier I was out there?’

‘Angelique?’ Seraphina scoffed. ‘She didn’t tell him! My father told him after he’d had a stiff drink. He suddenly remembered you’d chased after Max and Xavier dropped everything and left.’

‘But Angelique said . . . she said . . .’ Cat was reeling. Her heart leapt but she didn’t want it to. It felt too bruised to be put through the wringer again.

‘Oh, don’t believe anything that nasty old witch told you!’ Seraphina said, checking her watch. ‘I think you have time to change so we’d better get a move on.’

‘Change? Why?’ Cat glanced down at her outfit. ‘I want to be comfy on the plane. I was going to change when I got there.’

Seraphina burst out laughing. ‘We’re not going on easyJet, you know! You can change when we get there but you can’t wear that on the private jet. Well, you can but you might feel a bit silly.’

Cat’s mouth fell open. ‘The what?’

Seraphina took her arm. ‘You know we’re rich, right? Well, over there in that hangar is a private jet.’

Cat couldn’t help smiling. Of course they had a private jet! ‘Is . . . Angelique coming with us?’ she asked, feeling the need to prepare herself.

Seraphina scoffed. ‘Of course not! She’s making her own way there because she’s a total diva. Anyway, you’ll want to look smart because we’re staying in the George V,’ she finished, grinning as Cat’s mouth fell open again.

Allowing Seraphina to drag her upstairs to get changed, Cat’s mind was working overtime. What else had Angelique lied about? Were any of her spiteful statements true? What about the ‘big announcement’ she said Xavier was going to make?

Cat gazed at her reflection as Seraphina hurriedly pulled out dresses for her to try. She had no idea what was true and what wasn’t any more but suddenly, all that mattered was seeing Xavier face to face and talking about it, whatever the outcome.

‘Hair up, I think,’ Seraphina suggested helpfully as she eased a white linen dress over Cat’s head. She quickly pinned up her tresses and covered Cat’s head in swirls of hairspray, hoping the simple but elegant chignon would last the night.

Cat shivered in anticipation. This was it; everything was riding on this trip to Paris.

The rest of the family were already aboard the private jet as Cat and Seraphina hurried past the lavender fields to join them.

On the short flight, Max and Madeleine sat together, chatting and listening to music. Max was still sporting an impressive bruise on his head, but a besotted Madeleine seemed oblivious. Seraphina sat across from them, drumming her fingers restlessly on the arms of her seat and leaning over to stare out of the window every so often. She clearly had something on her mind but whatever it was she was keeping it to herself, even though it looked as though it was killing her not to spill the beans.

Watching her, Cat had felt a moment of disquiet. Was Seraphina back in touch with Yves? Surely not; Cat was certain Seraphina had learnt her lesson. No, whatever was causing her to wriggle against her seat belt like a puppy straining at its leash had nothing to do with smarmy older men.

Anxiously, Cat glanced at Guy. Seemingly lost in his own world, he sat beside Delphine, staring into space but with a peaceful expression on his face. He was wearing a debonair silver-grey suit with a white shirt and baby-pink tie, and the black smudges beneath his eyes seemed to be fading and the taut line of his shoulders seemed more relaxed. He’d confided in her that he was attending grief counselling and she thought it was brave of him to finally confront his demons. Cat hoped it worked for him.

Guy was preoccupied but he was also calm for the first time in over two years. He had seen Elena on several occasions now and his head felt clear and focused. It was amazing how talking about his grief made it seem manageable somehow; how openly admitting how shitty he’d been feeling had made him feel so much lighter.

Glancing out of the window as the jet circled Charles de Gaulle airport, Guy remembered the most significant thing Elena had told him. Fixing her wise, kindly eyes on him, she’d told him that when he was ready to love again, he’d know. And she had said that when he did, he should also prepare himself for something new, instead of trying to replace Elizabeth. And even though Guy was sure he wouldn’t be ready to date anyone for a long time, the relief at hearing that he shouldn’t measure any other woman against Elizabeth had been huge. For some reason, Guy had assumed that if he could even bring himself to be with anyone else, the woman would seem a poor second to his beloved wife. He hadn’t realised that part of his healing process was letting go of the perfect memory he had created of Elizabeth. And that when he was ready, it was all right to allow someone totally different into his life.