She chuckled inwardly, as she imagined Louis, comfortably sitting on the sofa, jumping in the conversation only if he could provoke further controversy or heighten the speakers’ level of engagement. He would have had just a great time, smoking slowly his long tapered cigarette until the smoke hid the twinkling in his eyes and the lazy smile on his lips. She missed him so much. She was having a very difficult time accepting that he was forever gone, that she would never share any more stories with him, never laugh with him, never cry on his shoulder again. At 11 pm, aided by Lily, they put their exhausted parents to bed and the last wake revellers into a cab. Sophie put Stephanie to bed and shared one last cigarette with Lily on the veranda, looking at the unusually star-filled night and the pale moon overhead. Tomorrow would be a very long day indeed and neither knew whether they could weather the storm, all the while knowing they had little choice in the matter.
At breakfast the next day, they all looked like zombies, going through the motions of kissing each other good morning, while their mother brushed off their embraces with too-busy-to-deal-with-you looks. The coffee did not taste quite right and the buttered toasts and warm croissants remained untouched. They could hardly look at each other and their father, Pierre, avoided everyone’s gaze. At 9:30 am sharp, they grabbed their hats and piled silently in the waiting black limousines, which had been ordered the day before. When they arrived at Saint Sulpice, their brother’s favourite church – he had often joked that it had been built with him in mind, since it stood for the church of lost causes – they were stunned to discover an unusually large crowd milling around the esplanade in front of the church. Some of the faces even looked familiar. Disconcerted, they checked their watch one more time. They could not possibly have arrived late to their own brother’s funeral, could they? Had they been so stressed out that they did not pay attention to the simplest of things, which was the time? Very agitated, their father left them to go and get Le Monde at a nearby kiosk to check through the death chronicles. Then the bells rang. Slowly at first then yanked at full force. The sound was deep, solemn and gloomy.
Then a coffin, lifted on the shoulders of what appeared to be teenagers, came out of the church, and soon was followed by another one and then another one: to their collective amazement, seven in all came through the portals of the church. Stephanie suddenly remembered how, three days earlier, the front-page news had described the horrible climbing accident in the Alps, which had claimed a total of seven lives in one afternoon. She recalled reading that the funeral for the four boys and three high school girls would take place at St Sulpice, but had never dreamed it would occur on the same day she would bury her only brother. She took a deep breath barely able to register the unfathomable tragedy of these multiple deaths, a mere accident when the mountain cliff gave way under the feet of the neophyte climbers, for no apparent reason.
Sophie blinked twice and the plaza seemed to empty instantly and just for a minute it seemed, they were alone, the 5 of them, cloaked in ache and misery, standing under the gaze of God, on the uneven cobblestones, so close and yet so many miles away from each other, each barricaded in their own rambling thoughts and bottomless pain. Then, slowly, the esplanade seemed to fill up again, but the faces, this time around, were unmistakably familiar. The noise of cheeks kissing, of murmured hellos, of subdued condolences filled the air. Stephanie wondered why people repeated “I’m so sorry” over and over again, since it was quite obvious that it was not their fault and that they could not do anything about it. She pestered at the stupidity of the conventional phrase but was hard pressed to replace it by something more appropriate. Lily stood ill at ease, trying to focus on faces she could not place, often wondering who those people were, where they had come from and why they were so nice to her. Their parents had seemingly disappeared in the social whirlwind.
Standing apart from the crowd, Sophie had stopped to observe a group of young people, who seemed to grow larger by the minute. They had their heads down. Most were smoking. With their punk hair, piercings and leather jackets, yet well-cut designer jeans, they stood out from the otherwise very elegantly dressed crowd. She idly wondered whether they were all Louis’s friends. Certainly they could not be part of her father’s work colleagues nor that of her mother’s social circle. She suspected the rough crowd would not qualify as Lily’s nor Stephanie’s cup of tea either. Of course, she never thought her sisters boring, but certainly they weren’t the type to fret with this motorcycled, tattooed and unorthodox bunch. How was she going to keep them away from her parents, even though deep in her heart she knew they had every right to be there? In truth, though Sophie was absurdly pleased that her brother had counted so many friends and that they had cared enough to come even though he wouldn’t have seen any of them for the best part of a year. However, she also knew her mother looked upon this day as her day and that she would take offense to the obvious show-and-tell of the not-quite-acceptable side of her brother’s life. Bravely, she walked over to the tightly huddled group and introduced herself.
“Hi, I’m Sophie, Louis’s sister,” she announced bravely.
“We know who you are,” replied a woman whose skin was so pale as to look translucent, so visible were the veins running beneath it.
“We’re all very sorry for your loss. We loved him very much, you know. Your brother was such a luminous individual. We’ll all miss him. We regarded him as a bit of a leader…” her voice trailed and Sophie was quick to change the subject.
“Thank you so much for coming. Do you know where to sit?”
“Don’t worry,” replied a large man in his late forties, bald except for his triumphant moustache, with a helmet under his arm. “Louis was like a brother to us. And like brothers, we shared many things. We’ll sit at the back. We wouldn’t dream of embarrassing you or your family at a time like this. Nor soil Louis’s memory for that matter. But you will understand that we couldn’t stay away and that we had to pay our respects, regardless.”
Sophie nodded and spontaneously reached out and kissed him on the cheek.
“On Louis’s behalf, I thank you.”
Lily, who had observed the scene, hoped that her sister had found the right words. Meanwhile, Stephanie, standing on the church’s front steps, was frantically signalling for them both to come in.
The hearse had just pulled up. Out of the back of the car, four men carried the same coffin they had seen the day before laying in the funeral home. They let it rest on a stand so that the six official ball bearers could pick it up. The coffin was covered with a carpet of hundreds of tiny white orchids mixed with jasmine which Stephanie had thoughtfully ordered three days before and had just arrived from Singapore that morning, being delivered directly to the Pere Lachaise. It was her last homage to the brother she adored, and the tapestry of delicate flowers was so stunning that her mother could not offer any last minute objections. The scent was heavenly. The thick carpet of flowers effectively covered the obnoxious padlocks which had mesmerised them the day before. Thus none could have guessed that they had been substituted for brand new ones, nor that the official seals on the edge of the lid had been broken and hastily replaced by poor imitation wax.
Lifted on the shoulders of male members of the family, the heavy Cherrywood casket slowly made its way through the front doors of the church and down the aisle, while the attendance began to take its seating. Stephanie, Lily and Sophie sat shock still in the front pew with their parents by their side. Theo sat with them as well. Sophie had grasped her father’s hand as soon as they were asked to sit, while Lily and Stephanie took their seats on either side of their mother. The mass went for two very long hours, moving eulogies being read one after the other. They did not think their father would be able to read his but his long habit of public speaking served him well on the day. His strong baritone voice echoed in the nave of the church and bounced inside his daughters’ hearts for whom the bleak reality of the moment had finally started to take hold. From that point on, all through the
condolence line and through the wake afterwards, the three sisters smiled mechanically, walking through a thick fog, nodding when probed, answering automatically, and returning hugs and accolades from people they would not remember the next day nor the day after that. They vaguely recalled seeing Jade throughout the day but none paid attention to the young woman, too shaken by their own grief.
Attending the funeral, sitting discreetly at the back, in front of Louis’s friends, Jade, moving like a shadow, had followed everyone to the cemetery. The doors to the family’s mausoleum were already ajar when they arrived. The steps outside were covered with wreaths and flowers, with folded letters and colourful tiny umbrellas painted with undecipherable signs and writing. Unexpected rings of jasmine with colourful tails of papered flowers hung on the lower branches of the elm which cast its shadow on the monument. Stephanie idly wondered whether Jade had been responsible for the exotic Thai touch to this otherwise western ritual, and tried to catch her eye but she could not find her. In a barely audible voice, Sophie had read a poem in homage to her brother’s life, which was carried away by the afternoon breeze. Family and friends had gathered around the coffin, already set to be dropped into the ground. When poems and tributes ended, each in turn threw a fistful of dirt on the now bared coffin and said their last adieu. The sadness was palpable. Jade could not wait to leave yet, at the same time, she had relished these last minutes with the man she had loved so dearly. But survival was the name of the game and she had to remember that it was just a job and that she was never supposed to fall in love with her victims. She remembered his smile though, the torrid nights in each other’s arms and the utter dependency she had maintained him under. Not without a gesture of remorse, she threw in turn a handful of dirt unto the casket and then began turning away, when Pierre gently put a hand on her shoulder.
“Do come back to the house with us. There is room in the car with Lily and her sisters.”
Jade had wanted to tell him that she had no intention on coming back with them but the plea in his eyes was unmistakable.
“Alright, I will,” she answered shakily, her hand clasping the talisman at her neck for reassurance.
It was well after 10:00 pm when she returned to her hotel. A note had been left at the front desk with her proposed itinerary for the following day. She was required to confirm it in the morning. There was also a note to call Paul at his house. Jade undressed, took a long shower, and her hair wrapped in a towel, she rang Paul.
“Are you alright? Are we still on schedule? I’ve received a copy of your itinerary. A chauffeur will be waiting for you on arrival and take you first to your mother. I suggest you spend a couple of days with her and then come back to town. I’ve wired a substantial amount of money into your account, so if you need anything in duty free, don’t hesitate.”
“Thank you,” she replied in a tired little voice. “Everything went well. Louis’s father talked to me for a long time at the wake. He wanted me to comment on every page of the journal I brought. It was really a good idea, but I felt so sorry for him. He spoke of his son with such melancholy. It was all very sad.”
“Well, I agree it wasn’t something you’ve endured before” he agreed, “but you know it had to be done: it’s the circle of life. You know that Louis will enjoy an even better life. Go to bed. Thank you. You’ve performed beyond all expectations: this was an unusual case. I’ll see you in a few days and we’ll talk about it to your heart’s content, with a solid bottle of Megong whiskey and some relaxing smoke.”
She agreed, wished him good night, brushed out her hair and slipped into a lacy silk nightgown, relishing the feel of the sensuous fabric against her skin. She would pack in the morning, confirm her flight and take a cab to the airport. Meanwhile, she felt particularly lonely and she needed to ward off the loneliness. As she fell asleep, she would have given anything to be lying next to Louis, her fingers tracing elaborate designs on his tanned skin, while murmuring Thai terms of endearment. She wondered whether she would call Louis’s family from the airport or just disappear. She would decide once tucked safely away in the First Class Air France lounge at the airport. Her dreams that night were a blissful blank.
The day after the funeral, the Cluny household emerged late from their fretful sleep, emotionally battered and physically drained. Throughout breakfast, their mother managed nonetheless to keep up a sort of a monologue, reliving blow by blow the events of the day before. Sophie and Lily’s head pounded, yet even the Berocca fizzy vitamins Sophie never travelled without failed to play their magic trick on their overall worn-out state. They all sported dark sunglasses, which did little to hide the fatigue behind the lenses, or the pallor of their skin, or the blotches on their cheeks. Sophie alone had taken a shower and made an effort, having changed into a simple but well-cut marine blue cotton skirt and a polo shirt of the same colour. Lily and Stephanie were still loitering in pyjamas. Likewise, their mother, wrapped in a cream silk kimono which highlighted the pastiness of her looks, was drinking her coffee absentmindedly, holding her cigarette in the other hand. It was clear from his obvious agitation that their father was itching to do something, in fact anything to escape the oppressive atmosphere.
“Anyone heard from Jade this morning?” Pierre finally asked, looking around the table.
“No,” replied Theo immediately, “I’m quite surprised too since it’s almost 11 am. I thought she said she’d come over. Perhaps we should check in on her.”
Pierre took the opportunity to leave the room and softly closed the door to the study behind him, dialling the hotel’s reception seconds later.
“May I speak to Jade…” he had begun, as soon as the hotel operator had switched him to reception. However, he stopped mid-sentence realising that he did not know her last name.
“Madame,” Pierre continued, embarrassed, “I’m sorry, I’m drawing a temporary blank. Can you put me in communication with Room 13, please?”
“I’m sorry, monsieur,” replied the receptionist graciously, “but the young lady checked out a few minutes ago. I heard her order a cab for the airport.”
“Did she leave a note?” he asked surprised by the news, his tone suddenly anxious.
“Non, monsieur, nothing at all but my shift only started a few minutes ago. Should I ask the night manager?”
“No, it’s quite all right. Thank you,” Pierre added as an afterthought, putting down the phone. Unbelieving, shaking his head, he walked back into the kitchen to find it empty. Everyone seemed to have taken his or her coffee unto the veranda where the morning sun did its best to relieve the slight chill in the air.
“Did Jade inform anyone she would be leaving today?” he demanded.
Surprised by this turn of events, the three sisters looked up and shook their heads simultaneously.
“Well, it’s just as well,” interrupted their mother. “What would we have done with her for another day or another two days? She’s better off going back to her family and grieve with them. On second thought, it’s strange though that she didn’t tell us” she admitted.
“Would we have remembered, really?” challenged Stephanie, exasperated by her mother’s callousness. “Did we really pay her any attention? Did we stop and ask her for one second how she felt? Did we ask her anything about her and Louis?” She exploded into tears and Sophie gently cradled her in her arms.
“Don’t be so melodramatic darling,” replied their mother frowning at the outburst. “All I’m saying is that it would have been harder for her to stay here than go to where she can receive emotional support.”
“Maybe we could write her a note,” suggested Sophie.
“What a good idea,” quipped Stephanie. “Who has her address? I’ll write it into my Blackberry right away, lest I forget.”
They looked at each other shamefaced, shaking their heads.
“Do we at least know her full name?”
They all admitted to have forgotten it in the midst of all the emotions. Stephanie said that the ad
dress would probably be written somewhere in the diary and they frantically checked, but it was not.
“Well, I can always call back the hotel and ask for the address she left on her registration form,” said Pierre stonily.
In spite of his pleadings though, the hotel refused to give him the information he requested due to hotel regulations in protecting the identity of their guests. They decided that there was nothing left to do until she contacted them.
“It’s much better, this way,” assured their mother, looking at her inconsolable daughters, sitting closely next to one another on the couch, a mohair blanket throw drawn up to their faces.
“After all, we didn’t know her from a bar of soap. What did she want from us? What did she expect by coming here? If you just stop and think, we only have her word that she was Louis’s fiancée… He never said anything to me and if it were that serious, I’m sure he would have mentioned it…”
All of a sudden it occurred to Pierre that his wife may have said something to the young woman, offending her unwittingly and causing her to leave early. Thus, he added coldly looking at his wife.
The Samui Conspiracy Page 7