Christmas in Bluebell Cove
Page 4
‘Supposing I said you had to come with me? That you couldn’t please yourselves. What would you do then?’
There was no reply forthcoming and she went into the kitchen and stood gripping the edge of the worktop until her knuckles shone white. Kirstie came to stand beside her and said awkwardly, ‘We could still go to Paris for our holidays, Mum.’ To Ben, who had sidled in behind her, she added, ‘We would like that, wouldn’t we, Ben?’
He nodded. ‘Yes, as long as Dad is there too.’
‘So it’s all right if I go back without you, is it?’ Francine asked, and was rewarded by consternation on both their parts.
‘No! We want you to stay with us. Don’t go back to Paris,’ Ben begged.
‘Why didn’t you tell me before that you weren’t happy there?’
‘Well, we were at first. It was exciting, different, it was like being on holiday, but Bluebell Cove is where we want to live.’
Francine thought wretchedly that to a lesser degree than her own the children she adored had been made to feel homesick to satisfy her own longing. There was no way she could continue to inflict that on them, so what was the answer?
Go back to France alone? She couldn’t bear the thought of it. But if she didn’t do that, it would be a case of returning to Bluebell Cove defeated by her own shortsightedness, and Ethan wasn’t going to welcome her back with open arms, was he? She’d felt like an intruder from the moment of arriving.
Two pairs of eyes were watching her anxiously and she managed a smile.
‘All right,’ she said comfortingly. ‘I’ll think about what you’ve said and see what I can do, but why didn’t you tell me this before?’
Ben didn’t reply, he just stood looking down at the floor, but Kirstie had an answer for her. ‘Because you kept crying all the time, Maman, that’s why.’
They were off sledging again once their stomachs were no longer empty, with a strict warning to be back before it was dark. The moment they’d gone Francine put on her outdoor clothes and went into the centre of the village with a heavy heart, passing the surgery on her way and wondering what Ethan was going to say when he knew that she’d coaxed the truth out of the children.
He would have to be pleased, it went without saying. Only she was devastated by what Kirstie and Ben had said.
When she went into the estate agent’s the face behind the counter wasn’t that of anyone she knew, for which she was thankful. The doctor’s wife enquiring about rental property in Bluebell Cove when from all accounts she’d moved to France would have caused raised eyebrows, though no doubt it would soon get around no matter who attended her behind the mullioned windows that looked out onto the busy main street.
‘Do you have any properties for rent?’ she asked a smartly dressed young assistant.
‘If you’d asked that in summer, the answer would have been no,’ she was told, ‘but at this time of year we do have a few. Top of the list is thatched Thimble Cottage, detached, fully furnished, with three bedrooms, bathroom with shower, sitting room, dining room and kitchen. All beautifully set out to match the age of the property. It is centrally situated next to the church. Are you familiar with the village at all?’
‘Yes,’ she said flatly.
‘Thimble Cottage is available for twelve months. I’m not sure about afterwards,’ she was told. ‘Would you like to view it? I can take you now if you like.’
‘Yes, that would be fine,’ she agreed. ‘If I am interested, I would want to move in immediately.’
The young assistant nodded. ‘That would be no problem. Shall we go? I’ll lock up here for a while.’
Francine had seen Thimble Cottage many times over the years but had never been inside, and when she did her first thought was that the estate agent hadn’t been wrong in the way she’d described it. It was a very attractive property and might go some way towards lifting the gloom that had descended on her after talking to the children.
‘This will suit me perfectly,’ she said. ‘I’d like to rent it for the twelve months it is available, so can we go back to your office and get it sorted?’
When the children came up the drive they were smiling and rosy cheeked from their exertions, but when she opened the door to them the uncertainty was there again in their expressions and any doubts she might have had about what she was intending disappeared.
But it was not yet the moment to tell them. Ethan had to be told first and though she was expecting him to be pleased that she’d had to give up some of her original ideas, she wasn’t sure if he would be happy to have her back in the village, complicating their lives even more by living across the way from him.
When he came in it was half past six and she asked, ‘How was your day?’
‘Long and busy,’ he said evenly, and went upstairs to change.
The children had already eaten. They’d been too hungry to wait and so it was just the two of them sitting down to the food she’d cooked.
When the meal was over and he was relaxing by the fire, she said tentatively, ‘I’ve got something to tell you.’
‘I hope it isn’t that you’re planning to take the children back to France before New Year,’ he said immediately, ‘because I won’t allow it. Mum and Dad will be bitterly disappointed if they’re not here when they arrive.’
‘Do you honestly think I would do that, knowing that they are coming?’ she choked out.
His expression was bleak. Returning from a busy day at the surgery and finding her there would have been wonderful if the circumstances had been different. As it was, it had been bitter-sweet and he told her levelly, ‘I didn’t honestly think that you would ask for a divorce, Francine, but you did, so don’t blame me for being concerned about what you might spring on me next.’
‘What I have to tell you is the exact opposite to what you were thinking,’ she said in a low voice. ‘I’m not taking them back to France at all, except maybe for the occasional holiday. Are you pleased?’
He was observing her in jaw-dropping amazement.
‘I might be if I knew why you’ve come to that decision, and then again, I might not. So what is going on, Francine? Is it because of what they said last night? Have they been on about it again?’
She shook her head, ‘No, not exactly. I asked them outright if it was true and they said it was. They want to stay here—and want me to stay here too.’
‘I see,’ he said slowly, ‘and what did you say to that?’
‘I didn’t say anything. Instead, I went out and did something. I’ve rented Thimble Cottage for twelve months and am going to live there with the children during the week, which is your busiest time, and will fly to Paris every weekend when they can stay with you. That way we will all be happy. Kirstie and Ben will be where they want to be, you will see a lot more of them. And I—’
‘You will be sacrificing your dream for their sakes and mine.’
‘I’ll still have some of it if I go to France every weekend.’
‘You could have done that in the first place Francine.’
Ignoring the comment, she begged, ‘Just tell me that what I’ve done is all right.’
‘Yes, I suppose so, except for one thing. Why rent the cottage? What is wrong with living here during the week before you go jetting off to Paris?’
She shook her head. ‘It will be easier for us all, doing what I suggest.’ She glanced towards the sitting room where Kirstie and Ben were watching television. ‘So shall we tell the children and put their minds at rest? They were both reluctant to repeat what they said last night, but wanted me to know that it was how they felt.’
‘Yes, all right,’ he agreed, ‘just as long as you are sure you want to do this.’
‘It was the only solution I could think of.’
‘Mmm. I suppose so,’ he said dryly, and thought there was another one that she obviously wasn’t going to consider. She could come back to him and tell him that it had all been a mistake.
But he knew that wasn’t how she fel
t and he wasn’t sure how he felt either. She’d been his love, the light of his life, and he’d lost her. Not to another man, but to a country and a house.
The children were slow to show their delight at the new arrangements until Francine held them close and told them that she was looking forward to living in Thimble Cottage, but would be going to Paris every weekend.
‘So, you see, the three of us will live in the cottage during the week, and when I’m away at the weekends you will stay here with Dad,’ she explained. Ben gave a whoop of delight, but Kirstie’s expression was still anxious.
‘We did like living in France, Maman,’ she said guiltily. ‘It was just as nice as here. What we didn’t like was Dad not being there with us, and you not with us when we’re here in Bluebell Cove. That’s what was wrong.’ A smile broke through. ‘But what you’ve arranged will be super because we’ll be near you both, and when you go over there at weekends we’ll know that it isn’t for long. So when can we go to see the cottage?’
‘In the morning,’ Francine told her, ‘and I think it will be fun for all of us, don’t you?’ she asked, turning to Ethan who had remained silent during her chat with the children.
‘Yes, hopefully,’ he replied as if ‘fun’ was a word that had disappeared from his vocabulary.
When they’d left them they could hear Kirstie and Ben talking about the cottage non-stop and Ethan wished that he and Francine could discuss things in their lives with as much enthusiasm, but it was as if they’d lost the art of conversation.
She’d given up her dream for them, he was thinking bleakly, the dream that she’d risked everything for, and he wanted to hold her close and comfort her in her moment of generous about-face.
He wondered sometimes if she realised how much she’d hurt him, but it wasn’t the moment for that sort of thought as the children’s happiness was washing off onto him and Francine was smiling as if she hadn’t given anything up at all. Was it too much to hope that was how she really felt?
‘When are you intending moving into Thimble Cottage?’ he asked.
‘Some time during the next few days, but I think the children should stay here until your parents have been. I’ll pop across to see them, of course, but won’t get in the way now that I’ve somewhere to—er—’
‘Escape to?’
She nodded. ‘I’ve asked for that, I suppose. How about calling it a place where I can keep a low profile?’
‘Not in Bluebell Cove,’ he said with a dry laugh. ‘There will be lots of folk going past to get a look at the doctor’s French wife’s new home once the bush telegraph gets going.’
‘I’m sure I’m not so interesting.’
‘You’d be surprised.’
‘So do you approve of what I’ve arranged for us all?’ she questioned again.
‘Shall we say that it’s better than what we’ve had for the past few months and leave it at that,’ he suggested, and went upstairs to bed with the thought in mind that at least he wouldn’t be lying awake at night knowing that Francine was in the spare room and having to fight the longing to go in there, pick her up in his arms, take her to the bed where she belonged and wipe out the long lonely months he’d existed without her by making love to her.
It was going to be a strange set-up that she’d been arranging while he’d been at the practice, but Kirstie and Ben seemed to welcome the novelty of living in Thimble Cottage, Francine was more relaxed, and as for himself at least she would be where he could see her, know that she was safe and well, which would do for now, but the future felt as if it was shrouded in mist.
CHAPTER THREE
FRANCINE had taken Kirstie and Ben to see the inside of one of the prettiest thatched properties in the village the next morning and they’d loved it, which was one worry off her mind.
The fact that it was just across from the home where they’d been brought up suited them fine. They didn’t see their mother moving into it in the same light as Ethan did. To him it was a relief that Francine was going to spend most of each week in Bluebell Cove on the children’s behalf, but he also felt it was farcical.
He was torn between hope and anger at the latest turn of events. Hope because he thought that maybe Francine was being forced to take a fresh look at her priorities, and anger because by taking the children to live virtually on their own doorstep, another move for them, she was going to cause more disruption in their lives.
Had she so little love left for him that she couldn’t stay in the same house? That she’d had to find somewhere away from him to keep a low profile, as she’d described it, for the time she was going to be in Bluebell Cove before jetting off to her dream home in Paris every weekend?
She’d been devastated to learn that the children weren’t happy there and had been quick to find a solution, but there had been no consideration for him in it, just their welfare and what was most convenient for her.
Aware of Ethan’s feelings, she’d left moving in until the morning of New Year’s Eve, and as he’d been on the point of leaving for the surgery on the last day of the old year she’d asked if he minded if she took some sheets and towels with her.
‘For goodness’ sake, Francine, you can take whatever you like, they belong to you as much as me,’ he’d said, adding with dry irony, ‘I’m sorry I won’t be available to carry you over the threshold. If I don’t see you again today, just a reminder that Mum and Dad are coming tomorrow and they haven’t committed any crime as far as you are concerned.’
‘I’ll call round for a chat.’ She’d promised without meeting his glance, ‘and, Ethan, I’ll make a casserole and a dessert for lunch if you like.’
He’d managed a smile. ‘I would appreciate that. It will allow me more time with them. I feel that I don’t get to see them often enough.’
She’d turned away, but not before he’d seen tears on her lashes, and he’d cursed himself for being a tactless fool. Francine would never again have any prime time with her parents. They’d been taken from her in the worst possible way.
He’d stepped forward, wanting to hold her close and wipe away her tears, but she’d moved out of his reach and said flatly, ‘You didn’t understand then and you still don’t. I can tell by the way you look at me, Ethan,’ and leaving him to start his day with those comments ringing in his ears she’d gone upstairs to continue her preparations for the move across the way.
In spite of how she was feeling, Francine was smiling for the children’s sake as they helped her move into the cottage. They thought it was going to be great having two homes where they could keep swapping from one to the other.
Ben and Kirstie would catch the school bus each morning as they’d always done while in Devon, and then on Friday nights would move in with Ethan for the weekend. Soon she would have to get in touch with the school where she’d enrolled them in France and explain the situation.
How Ethan was going to feel about the arrangement long term she didn’t know, but ever since their separation ‘long term’ with regard to anything had ceased to have any meaning.
She’d asked for a divorce out of a need to clear the air, expecting him to flatly refuse. When he’d agreed without argument she’d been devastated. So he really didn’t care any more, she’d thought bleakly. Yet he’d been just as responsible as she was for the stalemate situation they’d found themselves in. Maybe he’d been looking for a loophole to give him his freedom and unknowingly she’d provided it.
From that moment on she’d put all the idyllic years they’d spent together out of her mind, and after that last rejection had concentrated on the divorce with just one thought in mind, the desire to bring back some life to the sad and empty house that had once been her home—
All her plans were falling apart, she reflected as she concentrated on the process of moving in. She’d just moved into one house and now she was moving into another because she couldn’t bear to think of how wrong she’d been in taking the feelings of Kirstie and Ben for granted to such an extent.
She’d told him that it was because of the children that she’d come over for Christmas, but she’d needed to be near him more than words could say, even though she’d known it wasn’t going to be a ‘merry’ Christmas for ether of them.
During the rest of the day she moved the children’s school clothes and their books into the cottage, ready for the start of the new term early in January, and made up the beds. Then went to do some food shopping on the main street of the village with top of her list what she’d promised Ethan she would make for lunch when his parents came the following day.
After tomorrow it would be time for her first weekend in Paris, which meant a flight to book, so after she’d been to the butcher’s she went into the travel agent’s next door and made a reservation for the first flight out on the Saturday morning, hoping that she would be leaving the children content and Ethan maybe mellowing a little.
She slept better that first night in Thimble Cottage. Maybe it was because she wasn’t achingly aware of Ethan just a few feet away in the main bedroom of the house where she’d lived happily with him since they’d married.
Here there would be no awkwardness at mealtimes, or surging desires of the night as it had once been when the slightest caress would kindle the magical chemistry that had been one of the foundations of their marriage.
She would be near him in presence during the coming months, but far away in everything else, and if she hadn’t discovered the children’s true feelings about what might end up as living with each of them in turn once the divorce came through, she would have been far away from Ethan long term.