Wish You Were Here (7 page)

Finally, we reached what was clearly the master bedroom, with a four-poster canopied bed, complete with a little crown at the head of a sweep of heavy red damask. Open French windows issued on to a balcony with a tiny iron table and chairs. Bougainvillea trailed off the balcony rail.

‘Oh!' I gasped.

‘You like it?' Thérèse smiled.

‘I love it!' I assured her, but then realized she was not addressing me. Thérèse was gazing intently at James.

‘We do so 'ope you will be 'appy here, Jaimes,' she said earnestly, pronouncing it with a soft ‘J', ‘and enjoy very much your stay. We are so very grateful.'

‘Very grateful,' Michel echoed. It was almost the first time he'd spoken. He had an unusually deep voice. ‘My niece, she is so special and precious to us all. The only
child in the family, you see. We are indebted. You saved her life. You are a great man.'

In all his years as a doctor, I don't suppose James had ever been paid such a compliment. He went the colour of the damask draped over the bed. The rest of us gawped as Thérèse and Michel stepped forward solemnly and ceremonially to kiss him three times on each cheek.

‘Oh, well, no, really, it was nothing. Anyone could have done it,' James blustered, scratching his pink cheek.

‘Not anyone. Only a very eminent physician, such as yourself,' Thérèse told him, her amber eyes shining up into his. ‘I 'ave looked you up on the internet, and you 'ide your light. You are famous in your field.'

‘Good heavens, no. Hardly.'

‘Books published.'

‘Well, a paper, in the
Lancet
. I wouldn't call it a book. Pamphlet, perhaps. OK, a small book.' James ran his hand delightedly through his hair. Hopped about a bit.

‘I should like to read it, Jaimes.'

I bit my lip to stifle a laugh. Knew, if she called him Jaimes again, I was in trouble. I couldn't look at the children. But Thérèse hadn't finished. She tripped prettily out to the balcony and plucked a sprig of bougainvillea which she then proceeded to tuck into the buttonhole of James's shabby, ancient linen jacket. She stroked the lapel reverently. ‘There,' she murmured. Was she going to kiss that, too? ‘And now' – she glanced around at the rest of us, as if emerging from a reverie – ‘
à bientôt.
We leave you.'

With a last charming smile, she and her husband departed, the latter, as he shut the door behind them, casting me another of his dark looks, as if confused by the
wife of such a great man. Why so scruffy? So smelly? So … English?

The moment they'd gone, Thérèse having assured us that supper would be ready in an hour, the children mobbed their father up. ‘Oh, so totally heroic, Dad, like, an EpiPen to the leg, so hard,' before disappearing off to argue over bedrooms.

To say that James had a spring in his step would be putting it mildly. He positively bounded around the room, taking off his jacket, but being careful with the buttonhole, emptying his suitcase, humming all the while, pausing occasionally to glance in the mirror and smooth back what remained of his fair hair from his high forehead.

‘Lovely girl, that.'

‘Very,' I agreed. ‘Lovely couple, actually.'

‘She had such a charming way about her, didn't she? Very like her sister, in fact.'

‘Really?' I said lightly, forcing myself not to say darkly,
I wouldn't know
.

‘Yes. They've both got this endearing way of being terrifically sincere and making one feel really …' He searched for the word.

‘God-like?' I hazarded.

He grinned. ‘I'll take that.'

Still humming merrily and refusing to be deflated, he placed his battered old sunhat on a chest of drawers, hung his shirts in the wardrobe, removed the flower from his jacket and popped it in the vase out on the balcony, and then broke out, dear God, into the aria from
The Pearl Fishers
.

Later, when I'd reallocated the children's rooms, telling
them they couldn't possibly take the best ones and must leave the nicest for Sally and her boyfriend – the very idea of Sally sleeping with anyone made my eyes pop – which was next door to ours, and no, not the second best either, that was for Grandpa, and generally shuffling them off to the far end, making sure Tara stayed firmly up here opposite us, I had a shower and changed into something cooler. It was still incredibly hot at seven in the evening and, as I put on a flimsy dress, I was pleased to see that the fake tan appeared to have worked its magic. The wobbly bits seemed marginally less off-putting and, if I walked slowly in my swimming costume to the pool, I decided, so as not to jiggle the cellulite, I might not frighten the natives. I smiled to myself in the mirror as I added a slick of lipstick and a dash of scent, then headed downstairs for a much-needed drink.

Supper was already underway, judging by the delicious smells wafting from the kitchen. As I passed through, out of habit I offered to help, but was told firmly ‘
Non, merci!
' by a smiling Thérèse as she chopped garlic efficiently, gold bangles jangling. Redundant, I stepped outside on to the vast crenellated terrace. I stopped, momentarily, to let the low sun bathe my face, feeling its warmth, then helped myself to the most sumptuous basket-weave armchair with creamy calico cushions, still in the sun's rays. As I settled back happily, closing my eyes, Michel appeared, as if by magic, to ask huskily what I would like to drink. James had gone for a prowl around the grounds after his shower and I dithered now, held by those mesmerizing dark eyes, wondering what was on offer.

‘The champagne is delicious,' he purred.

‘Well,
that sounds perfect, Michel,' I said, trying not to behave like a sixteen-year-old ingénue and to get a grip. I had actually been on holiday before. Stayed in nice hotels. ‘Let's open that, shall we?'

He disappeared with an enigmatic little smile, and I couldn't quite decide if it was a smirk or a smoulder. Was he laughing at me, or flirting? The former, probably, as he no doubt spotted that I was way out of my depth. I determined to be a bit more assertive and, when he came back with a bottle and some glasses on a tray and slowly poured the champagne, handing it to me, I sipped it speculatively as if determining how good it was.

‘Lovely,' I declared eventually. I put my head on one side, giving him an appraising look. ‘I imagine we've rather ruined your quiet summer, Michel. Just what you need, a crowd of unexpected guests to cater for!'

‘Not at all. We depend on people passing through for company.' His eyes didn't leave mine for one moment. ‘It can be very quiet, just the two of us, in such a large house. Lonely. Particularly at night.' He meant the evenings, of course, his English not being up to the finer nuances of the language.

‘Yes, I can imagine. Although I gather you have your own cottage?'

‘The lodge, yes. You passed it at the top of the drive.'

‘Ah, yes. Of course.' There was a pause. It went on for longer than was entirely comfortable. ‘Won't you sit down?'

He was still standing over me: not hovering uncertainly, more from a position of strength, making me feel uneasy.

‘Thank you, but I must help Thérèse in the kitchen.' He inclined his head with a little bow but, again, there was
something mocking in the gesture, and the eyes were definitely amused. I wondered if he was goading me on to make amused eyes back, twinkle knowingly, so I deliberately didn't, knowing it was the sort of thing Lizzie would do. Also, I remembered Mum telling me that all Frenchmen were scallywags and I made up my mind not to make a fool of myself.

‘Oh, good – is this for us?'

The teenagers were upon me, wrapped in towels, fresh from the pool, hair dripping, faces still damp. I made them take the cushions off the chairs before they sat in wet costumes but enjoyed seeing them lounge delightedly about, then leap up again and line up for champagne as I filled their glasses. Rory sweetly remembered, before he sat down, to ask if I needed a top-up, but was much more relaxed, I thought, in swimming trunks and a T-shirt, laughing with Toby. And since our life had so little jam on it, I was delighted to see them all revelling in the lap of luxury for once, realizing that the exquisite canapés were actually for them too, reaching for them eagerly, telling me excitedly about the amazing pool, which I'd seen from my window.

‘Infinity, Mum, so the water literally laps at the edge and seems like it's going to spill out. You feel like you're falling into the valley.'

‘It's constantly topped up, automatically,' Toby told us, his huge frame in a large armchair somehow looking better here than it did in London, in our semi. More space for it, perhaps. And, of course, they'd all be brown soon, had caught some colour on their faces already. Suddenly I warmed to these boyfriends of these daughters of mine.
They were just young lads, someone's precious boys, as mine were my precious girls, and I determined not to be judgemental, not to live my daughters' lives for them. Just because I'd made mistakes, it didn't follow that they would, and anyway, it was unlikely either of these boys would break their hearts as mine had been broken at their age, I thought, watching Rory gaze adoringly at Tara. If anything, it would be the other way round. I must stop being so vigilant, so constantly on the lookout for a bastard. These two had far more of James about them in terms of temperament than the man I'd been supposed to marry, the man I'd been engaged to, which was a very good thing.

And much as I'd wanted to invite friends, now that we were here on our own, it was nice to be just us, I thought, as I listened to them chattering away about a bar they'd found, made from logs, down on a terrace below in the olive grove. Yes, to be a family, and to expand into a house and a sun that wasn't usually ours: to eat and swim and tan and laugh together – I wanted that. As James came up the sloping lawn towards us, eyes as alight as his children's at what he'd found while patrolling the boundaries, exploring the gardens, I was so pleased for him, too. If anyone needed a little ego massage it was James, and I resolved to tell him tonight that what Thérèse and Michel had said was true. That he was the cleverest man – after all, hadn't he graduated at the top of his class at St Thomas's when he was twenty-four, then watched, as less able but more obsequious men, adept at oiling the management wheels, had swept past him? I resolved not to make fun.

As he approached the brow of the hill and the terrace, he stopped. Turned around, back to a sound in the
distance behind him, and shaded his eyes. I followed his line of sight. Below us, on the valley floor, a dusty white lane snaked its way between the vineyards, the same one that had brought us here. It clearly carried barely any traffic but navigating it now was a small red Polo with a bulging suitcase on its roof. You could almost hear the music blaring from here: almost smell the cigarette smoke from the pair of them, hear the gales of laughter. I smiled. Mum and Lizzie. Who got on like a house on fire and always had done – Lizzie being the daughter my mother should have had – and who had come out a couple of days before us, to stop, sensibly, for a night or two on the way down, but had been told in no uncertain terms not to arrive at the chateau before us. They'd done quite well, I thought: shown unusual restraint, leaving a respectable hour or so for us to meet Michel and Thérèse and settle in. I smiled. Probably been in a bar around the corner all the time.

I guessed Mum was behind the wheel, as the car was shifting and she only had one speed: ninety. That went for her life, too. Throttle out, foot down. Full on. Of course Lizzie admired her, who wouldn't? But she hadn't been brought up by her. We were always moving apartments, moving schools, I was constantly walking into strange classrooms, sitting down at a desk beside yet another slightly guarded child, no brothers or sisters to share the experience with, to moan with later over tea. Mum's boyfriends coming and going. But why hadn't I forgiven her? Why hadn't I grown up about all that? I'd had an awful lot of love, too. Watching Mum and Lizzie make their no doubt hilarious way towards us, I determined I would, this holiday. Make a new start. Try to see her as Lizzie and my
girls – and even James, to an extent – did. As a free spirit, someone to be admired and cherished, not as an irresponsible irritant, an extra child.

The car disappeared from view for a bit but then reappeared as it came round the corner. Down the poplar-lined drive it bounced, before sweeping into the gravel around the fountain. I put my drink down and prepared to go and greet them. As I got to my feet, smoothing down my dress, Lizzie, surprisingly, emerged from the driver's side. My mother, in a bizarre pair of mauve dungaree shorts, got out of the back. Then the passenger door opened and a strange man got out from beside Lizzie. This was not Jackson. He was tall and rangy and very suntanned. He wore a pink shirt and bright-blue linen trousers and was attractive but probably older than he looked, despite the leather bracelets dangling from his wrist. He gazed around appreciatively, as they all did, not yet spotting us at the side of the house on the terrace.

Mum's hand shot up when she saw me. ‘Darling!' she called. ‘This is just totally and utterly divine!'

As she came tripping across the gravel towards us in pretty gold sandals, Lizzie turned and took a bag out of the boot. The stranger helped her with it and they exchanged smiles.

The children glanced round at me enquiringly. I shrugged, lips tightening. Amelia's mouth twitched.

Slowly, I went to meet them. Lizzie was laughing up at the man now, and pointing at the conical towers in delight. Then she spotted me coming towards her and waved, leaning in to her new companion, obviously telling him who I was. Oh, she was the limit, I seethed to myself. The
absolute limit. Jackson couldn't come, so she'd brought someone else – not even told me! Knew I'd say no, probably. Lord knows what James would say. As they came closer, though, I stopped. My mother had paused to let them catch up, and suddenly it was she who was linking arms with the pink-shirted one. She who was gazing adoringly up into the leather-braceleted one's eyes as they came across to the terrace.