I will never forget your kindness. You will always be an angel, to me.
Nico
I too remembered so vividly the moonlight shining in through the expanse of glass, covering my body in soft shadows. Nico made me feel beautiful, truly beautiful, that night. In a way that I had never done before – revered, flaws and all. Time seemed to stand still for us both, as if it wasn’t real, but merely a dream.
I sit for a while, my mind in a whirl. Then I pick up the phone and dial Hannah.
‘Sorry it’s late, but I did as you suggested and I finally read Nico’s letter.’
She stifles a yawn and I realise I’ve woken her; I only hope I haven’t disturbed anyone else.
‘Was he begging you to return?’ she asks, suddenly alert.
‘No. But he’s saying he was in love with me.’
The seconds pass and I think Hannah is as stunned as I am.
‘You must go to see him, Fern, before you decide what you are going to do next. He has no idea what has been happening, or that you’re a free agent now.’
I close my eyes for a moment, blocking out the view of the twinkling lights in the distance, which seem to be dancing around in the darkness. Or maybe that’s just the effect of my tears.
‘I walked away from him because Aiden was waiting for me, Hannah. Throughout my life it’s been about love, duty and responsibility. I always thought those three things went hand in hand. I had no idea love could change; that it could wane and become friendship. With Nico it’s different. We never talked like lovers do because that wasn’t the nature of our relationship; our connection was on a more spiritual level. If he’s saying it was more than that, then he was lying to me all along.’
‘And how about you, Fern? Were you being honest? Is it possible that you couldn’t allow yourself to admit your true feelings? There’s no shame in that; you didn’t hold a grudge against Aiden with regard to Joss. These things happen and none of us can pick and choose our feelings; it’s instinctive when we’re drawn to someone.’
I think it’s time I told her my guilty secret, but I’m scared that putting it into words will sound damning.
‘Nothing happened between us, Hannah, but I allowed Nico to paint me in the nude. Oh, my reasons were genuine because I thought… well, it’s a long story, but it was supposed to allow him to finish off a painting of a woman sitting by the lake. It was beautiful, hauntingly so, but he wasn’t meant to be painting me, I was merely a model. In his letter he says it’s my portrait he has hung on the wall and I would never have agreed to sit for him if I’d realised that was his intention.’
‘I’m sorry you feel he used you, but if he is in love with you, can’t you forgive him? Why was it so important to him, anyway? I’m sure artists don’t finish every painting they begin – I know you don’t.’
It’s not easy talking about this as where do you start when Nico’s story isn’t simple to tell. It took me a long time to understand him.
‘His father never recognised him as a true artist, Hannah. Their styles were very different. For Nico to paint a portrait in the style of the old masters is about validation. As successful as he has become, losing both his parents means that a form of recognition he longs for will never come. Instead, he’s anxious to prove something to himself – that his father wouldn’t have found him lacking.’ I let out a long, slow sigh. ‘Nico wasn’t in love with me; he was in love with a muse and that’s what he’s holding on to.’
‘And now you’re understandably angry. It sounds like he has betrayed your trust, Fern, and that must hurt. Go back and demand that he take your portrait down. You have always been a very private sort of person and clearly he doesn’t know you. If you genuinely feel nothing for him other than compassion, then this is your last hurdle – jump it. If you want me to come with you on this trip, just say the word. Little Rae loves being in the car, although her things will probably fill the boot. But even a feisty Spaniard will quake before two angry women and a wailing baby.’
I smile to myself. It doesn’t seem all that long ago that I was fighting my sister’s battles for her and now here she is, rolling up her sleeves for me. A new mum is not to be messed with and our darling little Rae has brought out Hannah’s protective instincts, fuelled by hormones and that rush of motherly love. She looks like she could take on the world and win.
‘You’re right. It’s time to pay Nico a visit, but I need to confront him alone. He wouldn’t have done it to upset me, his letter is proof of that, but he doesn’t understand how hurtful this is, or how disappointed I am at what he’s done. Isabel said it’s beautiful, but that’s not the point. The point is that I did it for one reason only, because I thought it would help him to heal and it wasn’t never supposed to be a portrait of me.’
There’s a gasp. ‘You already knew the painting was on general display for everyone to see?’
‘Well, hopefully not everyone but on a wall in the château, yes. Isabel told me when I met up with her in London. I was caught up sorting things out after Aiden’s abrupt departure and it seemed the least of my worries. But thinking about people looking at my naked form, even if it is the work of an awe-inspiring artist, that isn’t me, Hannah. The very idea makes me want to curl up in a ball and hide myself away. I’ve just been pushing it to the back of my mind, but I hate feeling so exposed, so vulnerable. And Nico has done that to me, seemingly, without a second thought.’
‘Oh, Fern, I’m so sorry. This is the last thing you need right now.’
I know. What had become a rather magical memory for me, is now shattered beyond all recognition. How could I have been so naïve?
‘I’ll see if I can get a tunnel crossing tomorrow. With one overnight stay to break the journey there and back, and one night in the village close to the château, five days will do it and it will give me plenty of thinking time. I’ve not been able to settle since I arrived here, because I’ve been avoiding this and, deep down inside, I knew that. It’s like the last piece of the puzzle, which means I can then start afresh. When I return, there will be nothing left to clutter my mind and I can press forward in peace.’
‘Finally!’ She exhales, loudly, and I ease the phone away from my ear a little, trying not to laugh at her exasperation. ‘Travel safely, be firm and try to relax and enjoy the road trip. Springtime in Provence is lovely, I should imagine.’
Ironically, this time last year I was also at loggerheads with Nico, trying hard to convince him to listen to Isabel’s advice. No doubt, she’s steering him carefully forward in the right direction and now he’s able to ‘let go of his past demons’ there’s nothing to keep them apart. Unless he’s using me as an excuse in some ridiculous, self-destructive attempt to deny himself happiness. Art appreciation aside, if she understood the reason I sat for Nico, then she would most certainly agree he had over-stepped the mark.
I don’t like confrontation, but I won’t be used. And, yes, it will be nice to spirit myself away for a spell on the road; driving along with a little music blasting out and feeling the breeze through my hair might be just what I need while I rethink my life. Fortunately, I have many memories of wonderful times spent in France and I’m not going to let one little upset spoil that for me.
It’s time to let Nico know that his actions have broken any trust we had between us.
34
Where Angels Fear to Tread
It’s raining when I finally pull into the car park in front of the château. As I glance up at the windows my heart begins to pound inside my chest. The anger that was my companion for most of my journey seems to have disappeared and now I feel… vulnerable. It’s hard to make out anything as the windscreen wipers can’t cope with the torrent of water. It’s the sort of rain that falls like steely rods, relentless and seemingly never-ending. It matches my mood as the last part of the journey has given me a headache from the constant swoosh, swoosh of rubber against glass.
Well, I’m here now and as nervous as I feel, it’s time to right a wron
g. But what also became clear to me with every passing mile of the journey is that I need to stand, facing Nico and feel nothing. Then I’ll know I’m right and this was never meant to be. As I reach back to grab my jacket off the back seat, suddenly the passenger door is flung open. Ceana stands there, shielding me from the slanting rain with one of the retreat’s colourful umbrellas.
‘Well, this is a surprise. What on earth are you doing in this part of the world? Oh, I can’t believe it!’
She looks overjoyed as I squeeze into my waterproof and ease myself out of the seat to join her, trying my best to stay under cover.
‘Mind the puddles,’ she points out, staring down at my trainers. It wasn’t raining when I left Dijon this morning. With each passing kilometre, my anxiety levels continued to rise and now I feel slightly nauseous.
We link arms as we dodge the little dips where the water congregates and my mood begins to lighten.
‘Why didn’t you let us know you were coming?’ she asks, giving me a quizzical look.
‘It’s a short visit. I rang Isabel yesterday to check that Nico was here and not at the gallery, or at a function. She wasn’t around but her assistant confirmed Nico wasn’t there.’
‘Isabel?’ Ceana gives me a curious look as she steers me towards the day room.
Once inside we hang up our coats to dry and head into the kitchen, where Ceana pops the kettle on.
‘I assumed they spend a fair bit of time here these days. I couldn’t imagine Nico wanting to be away for prolonged periods.’
Ceana’s back is towards me as she grabs two mugs from the cupboard. Talking at me over her shoulder, her answer isn’t quite what I expected.
‘To my knowledge, she’s only seen Nico twice since you left. Once when he took a trip to the gallery for some big exhibition she’d arranged. And she came here to check up on him, I think it was late July last year.’
She hands me a mug and we take a seat at the breakfast bar along the back wall.
‘But I thought they were together?’
Ceana raises her eyebrows.
‘Really? All I remember is that when she was here, they had a big row. He’s not painting as much as he did, and she wasn’t very happy about that. But our new IT guy set up a separate website for Nico’s art classes and he’s started a programme for emerging artists. There are already plans in the pipeline to add another accommodation block next to our newest addition.’
Well, that’s an unexpected twist. But at the moment I can’t get past the eerie silence around us. ‘Where is everyone?’
‘Off on a coach trip to Nice. There have been a lot of changes around here since you left. We’ve had several new people join the team and things are much better organised, thanks to Pierce.’
‘Is Nico with them?’
‘No. He’s in his studio, I think. Why don’t you wander over to say hello? The others won’t be back until around nine-thirty tonight. This is going to put a big smile on a few faces, I can tell you. You are staying overnight, I presume?’
‘No. I’m… taking a little road trip, so my stops have been pre-booked.’
She screws up her face. ‘That’s a real shame. Now you’re here we won’t want to let you go that easily; we have a lot of catching up to do. How is Aiden and the family?’
I finish my coffee and take my mug over to put it in the dishwasher. It’s hard to look Ceana in the face right now.
‘Aiden’s fine. He’s travelling. We decided to call it a day, actually. Owen and Hannah are doing great, but always busy these days. So much has happened in this last year.’
Even from the other side of the kitchen, I can sense her reaction – she’s shocked. The sound of a stool scraping on the floor makes me turn and suddenly Ceana flings her arms around me.
‘I’m so terribly sorry to hear that, Fern. I did wonder when you went very quiet. Those early text messages were quite upbeat and then suddenly, well, it was obvious something wasn’t right. So, this is a little holiday then?’
We step back and her eyes flick over me as if she’s looking for answers about the real reason for my visit.
‘Sort of. A road trip to allow me some time to think. I’m considering going into partnership with another artist who runs a little gallery in Canterbury. It’s time to make some big changes in my life and leave the past behind.’
‘Well, I’m jolly glad you were able to at least pop in for a few hours on your trip. Nico will be delighted to see you. He had a real dip after you left, but Pierce had a plan. Pierce always has a plan,’ she laughs, good-naturedly. It’s good to hear her sound so content and optimistic.
‘So, he’s doing okay, then?’
‘Yes, I think you’ll see a difference. He enjoys running the courses. The set-up is much more focused and the people coming through are artists who already have some experience. It’s more structured and runs as a separate part of the business. He joins in a lot more with the group things in the evenings, too, and that was the reason for Isabel’s trip, I think, to try to put pressure on him. I thought she was being a little unfair; it’s nice to see him more relaxed, and happy. If that means less paintings to sell, then so be it. Money is no longer the issue it was and teaching seems to invigorate him.’
Relaxed and happy, well, that’s something.
‘Great. I’ll walk over and see what he’s up to,’ I reply, rather awkwardly. Why did I ever think this was a good idea?
She leans in to give me another hug. ‘I’m sad for what you’ve been through. That must have been tough.’
‘It was, but I’m over the worst. See you in a bit.’
‘Take the umbrella,’ Ceana calls out as I grab my coat and slip it on.
The umbrella is huge and as I step into the car park a sudden gust of wind turns it inside out.
‘Damn it!’ As I fight to stop it being ripped out of my hands, my hood blows backwards and the rain begins to fall in rivulets down my face. Suddenly a voice looms up, carried on the wind. Still struggling to turn the umbrella the right way out, two arms reach around me to grab it and I loosen my grip.
Nico stares at me, frowning, and I stand looking back at him as the clouds above continue to empty themselves with fervour. My hair is already plastered to my head and no doubt my mascara is leaving black tracks as it slides down my face. Clearly the umbrella is beyond repair and he shrugs, throwing it out of the way and pointing in the direction of the château.
‘I saw your car. I couldn’t believe it,’ he shouts over the noise of the heavy rain, as we walk as quickly as we can. It’s too slippery to run.
‘I’m on holiday,’ I yell back at him, and he looks up at the heavens and then shrugs.
‘When I saw your car, I thought I was imagining it and I had to check. Everything is all right, isn’t it?’ He leans forward, pushing open the heavy oak door to usher me inside.
I do a grand impression of a rag doll as I stand there arms straight, pointing down towards the floor with my body rigid. The water runs off my coat, puddling around me as I slip out of my squelching trainers.
‘Yes, well – I’m not sure. Sorry about the mess.’ I look back at him and see he’s even wetter than I am, as he wasn’t wearing a coat. Just a navy shirt that is now stuck to him as if it’s been glued onto his body. He looks even fitter than the last time I saw him. I was expecting… what, after hearing he’s not with Isabel? A broken man? Even more broken than he was when I first came here, maybe. Well, that’s definitely not the case and if I didn’t believe what Ceana was telling me, I do now.
‘Come on through to the studio. I’ll grab some towels.’
This is surreal, to say the least. As we walk along the corridor, a whole host of memories come flooding back in a surge. I gaze at the place where a drunken Nico slipped out of my arms and almost collapsed to the floor. I remember the excitement I felt each time my feet trod these old, oak floorboards late at night, my stomach tied in knots over whether my brush strokes would be good enough. Or was it as much ab
out the excitement of working alongside Nico? I push that thought aside. I’m here for one thing only and I’m not going to be put off by a bunch of random thoughts, even if they invoke some strong emotions within me.
The moment I walk in through the door to the studio, the surge of memories turns into a full-on tidal wave. The familiar smell is heavenly and short, sharp images shoot across my mind in quick succession. Things I don’t care to remember with such intensity and I’m glad Nico has left me alone. I expected to feel a little nostalgia, but not this.
A sense of panic begins to rise up through my core and settles in my chest. I can feel my heart beating way too fast.
As Nico hands me the navy-blue hand towel, I give him a nod of thanks, momentarily unable to speak.
‘It’s so good to see you, Fern,’ he mumbles. He makes no attempt to dry his hair, he simply stands there watching me as I wipe my face and try to soak up some of the water that has seeped inside the neckline of my jumper. ‘Are you well?’ he enquires, anxiously.
‘I’m good, Nico, thank you. You’d better change your shirt.’
He looks down at his body as if he wasn’t aware he was soaked to the skin and he smiles.
‘Of course.’
As I watch him walk down to the other end of the studio to grab one of his T-shirts off the rack, it’s like turning the clock back one whole year. Surreptitiously watching him out of the side of my eye as he slips the shirt off, he exposes a body that reflects how hard he’s still driving himself. Muscles he pushes to the limit each morning before he begins his working day. He told me once it was important to his mental health. I didn’t understand until he explained it to me.
‘I’m not my father,’ he’d said. ‘He was a man of excesses that destroyed his body and eventually his mind. Sure, I inherited his fierce passion and a sense of compulsion, but I’ll use it in a positive way. My body reflects my determination, but it’s easier to control the body than it is what’s going on inside my head.’
Summer in Provence Page 29