by Susan Lewis
Jessica’s eyes were shining as she looked at him, then Antoine cried, ‘Jessica! Please can we ’ave a drunk?’
As the adults started to laugh his expression turned to one of confusion, then clearly offended he punched his sister who was laughing too, though it was doubtful she knew why. ‘Tu m’a dis de dire ça!’ he protested.
‘C’est toi, pas moi!’ she shouted, thumping him back.
Before it could go any further, Luc caught them both by the arms and pulled them apart. ‘I think it is better if I give you a drink at the studio,’ he said, emphasising the word so Antoine would understand his mistake.
‘Est-ce que l’on peut faire la course jusqu’à la maison?’ Elodie cried, jumping up and down. Can we have a race up to the house?
‘A race? In this heat?’ Luc objected.
‘Mais il fait moins chaud maintenant.’ But it’s not as hot now.
‘Maman, puis-je y aller aussi?’ Hugo asked. ‘Je veux faire la course, moi aussi.’ Mummy, can I go too? I want to be in the race.
‘You want to be in the race?’ Daniella laughed. ‘Non, chéri, tu es trop petit.’
Hugo looked devastated. ‘Mais ce n’est pas juste,’ he protested. ‘Je veux faire la course avec Tonton Luc.’ But it’s not fair. I want to be in the race with Uncle Luc.
‘And so you shall,’ Luc declared, scooping him up – and plonking him in Daniella’s arms he turned round so she could put his chubby little nephew on his back. ‘And what is more, Hugo, we shall win,’ he informed him.
At that Elodie and Antoine erupted in protest and made for the door, hotly pursued by Rousseau.
Luc turned back to Jessica. ‘Come for dinner,’ he said, and a moment later he was going after the twins.
Amazed at how he could find the energy in so much heat, Jessica went to watch them charging through the vines in a race that appeared as full of cheating as it did shouting, thumping and stumbling about in the dirt. When finally she turned back inside, still laughing at what was developing into a very noisy dispute over who’d actually won, Daniella was perched on the edge of the table sipping her wine.
‘Please tell me if you’d rather carry on working,’ she said. ‘I can always leave you in peace.’
‘Oh, no, really, I’m enjoying having some company,’ Jessica assured her. ‘Would you like to sit outside? You might have noticed I have a parasol now.’
A few minutes later they were half-sitting, half-sprawling each side of an old wrought-iron table, with a large cream-coloured parasol shading them from the glare of the early evening sun. ‘I think,’ Daniella said with a smile, ‘that you are beginning to feel quite at home here, non?’
‘Very much,’ Jessica agreed. ‘Thanks to you and Fernand, and now Luc. Lilian’s very lucky to have found herself such a lovely family. I always hoped she would, though I can’t help wishing sometimes that she wasn’t so far away.’
It was a while before Daniella spoke again, and when she did she seemed almost to be in tune with Jessica’s thoughts as she said, ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Lilian told me that part of the reason you come here is because you are having some difficulties with Charlie.’
Jessica looked down at her glass, aware of how those difficulties had increased now that she knew about the car. ‘No, I don’t mind,’ she answered. With a sigh she gazed out across the valley, to where the woods were turning into a fiery cluster on the horizon. ‘Things haven’t been right between us since Natalie died,’ she said. ‘At first it seemed to bring us even closer together, but then for some reason it started to change . . . I’m not sure if it was him or me . . . It was probably both of us . . . Did Lilian tell you about the other woman?’
Daniella nodded. ‘But it was a long time ago, non?’
‘Apparently. It still means he lied though, and now I’ve just found out he’s been holding something else back from me.’
Daniella frowned.
‘Luc told me there was a car here that morning.’ Her eyes stayed on Daniella’s. ‘Did you know?’ she asked.
Daniella seemed uncertain. ‘Do you mean the one who belonged to someone who was lost?’ she said.
Jessica nodded. ‘Apparently that’s the story my mother gave, but I don’t believe it.’
‘So who do you think it was?’
‘I’ve no idea, but I have every intention of finding out.’
‘Jessica, if you just listen to yourself you’ll understand exactly why I didn’t tell you,’ Charlie cried when she challenged him later. ‘I knew you’d read more into it, and end up in the very state you’re in now.’
‘If I’m in a state it’s because you lied . . .’
‘I didn’t lie, I simply judged it better not to tell you something that meant nothing . . .’
‘It amounts to the same thing, and you know it.’
‘No, I don’t. You’ve been twisting yourself up in knots ever since Natalie died, refusing to believe anything anyone tells you . . .’
‘I’m not discussing it with you any more,’ she said savagely. ‘I want my mother’s number.’
‘You can’t call her while you’re in this kind of mood.’
‘Give me the number, Charlie.’
‘Jessica, you’ve got to stop this. I’ll give it to you when you’ve calmed down . . .’
‘Charlie! I don’t want to argue about this . . .’
‘I don’t have it right now. I’m still at the office and it’s at home.’
Since there was no arguing with that, except to accuse him of lying again, she forced herself to stop pacing and let her head fall forward. A moment or two later, managing to sound slightly less angry, she said, ‘So you believe the car belonged to someone who was lost?’
Sounding incredulous he said, ‘Why wouldn’t I? It’s happening all the time around there. It even happened to us, last Christmas. You must remember when someone knocked on the door . . .’
‘Of course I remember, but doesn’t it strike you as a bit too much of a coincidence that some tourist should bowl up in his car on the very morning my mother was planning to take Natalie into the village for lunch?’
‘I hardly know what to say to that,’ he responded. ‘Whether or not you think it’s stretching belief, it happened. You said yourself, Luc saw the car.’
‘But not who was in it, so we only have my mother’s word it was a tourist. My mother, Charlie! Someone who’s never been reliable in her entire life, and who now, very conveniently, has to be protected from any kind of stress so we can’t ask her any more questions. Surely to God you can see I might have a point.’
‘If I thought so I’d pursue it myself,’ he told her earnestly. ‘But all you’re doing is proving to me what I feared all along, that going back there is adding to your confusion and not helping at all.’
In the end, having to accept she was going to get no further tonight, she rang off and went upstairs to change for dinner. Just thank God she was spending the evening with people who didn’t seem to think she was going off her head, or that she was an hysteric to be wary of, because the thought of sitting here alone tonight wasn’t filling her with as much pleasure as it had before.
Once she managed to pull her thoughts from the quagmire of doubts that seemed to be getting deeper and murkier all the time, she realised how much she was looking forward to seeing Fernand, whom she hadn’t seen for several days, and to talking to Luc about books and wine again, and to Daniella about opera. It would be a little oasis of sanity in what was starting to feel like an unnervingly alien world.
Immediately he’d finished talking to Jessica Charlie dialled the number in Capri, only for it to ring and ring, giving him no opportunity to leave a message. Having no choice but to ring off in the end, he repocketed his mobile and decided to try again as soon as he got home.
It wasn’t so much that he didn’t want Jessica to talk to her mother about the car, it was more that he considered it only fair to warn Veronica to expect the call.
However, when h
e tried again later there was still no reply from the villa, but at least there was some comfort in knowing that if he couldn’t get through, Jessica wouldn’t be able to either. So after leaving a message on Jessica’s mobile with the number, he took himself off to bed, knowing already how unlikely it was he’d be able to sleep.
‘Jessica? Is that you?’ Lilian said drowsily. ‘What time is it?’
‘Sorry, I’ve woken you.’
‘No, it’s fine. I had a really late night. Is everything all right? It must be almost midnight there.’
‘Yes, it is. I’ve just had dinner up at the manoir.’
Sounding much more awake now, Lilian said, ‘You’re calling about the car, aren’t you? Luc said he’d told you.’
‘So do you understand why I’m worried? Angry, even?’
‘Yes, of course, but it wasn’t that anyone was trying to hide anything from you, we were just hoping to avoid you turning it into something much bigger than it was. Have you spoken to Charlie yet?’
‘Yes, and I’m sure you already know what he said, because you’ve probably worked this out between you . . .’
‘Jessica. This is me you’re talking to. You can’t seriously imagine we’d ever do anything without your best interests at heart? We were just trying to stop you from putting yourself through any more torment . . . This poor guy, whoever he was, was lost, your mother didn’t speak Danish, or Dutch – she never was sure of his nationality – and so he left. Luc happened to look down that way at the time the car was there. If he’d looked a little longer, he’d have seen him and his wife driving off again.’
It all sounded so reasonable the way Lilian was telling it that Jessica was starting to lose sight of why she was so suspicious. ‘You have this from my mother,’ she said, remembering.
‘Of course. But there’s no reason to disbelieve her . . .’
‘Except she was planning to go to the café for lunch, and I think whoever was in that car had come to drive her.’
It was a long time before Lilian responded, in a voice that was imbued with feeling. ‘It was a tourist, Jessica,’ she said. ‘Please try to accept that.’
‘Why? What makes you so certain?’
‘I just am. Darling, all this has been bad enough for you, so I don’t understand why you seem so set on making it worse. There was no foul play involved in Natalie’s death – even you accept it was an accident. There were no signs of anyone other than your mother and Natalie being at the cottage, and as far as everyone else is concerned, which includes everyone who was there that day, everything happened the way your mother told us.’
Jessica was tempted to tell her that Luc wasn’t entirely convinced about the tourist either, but in the end she only said, ‘No-one else has had a lifetime’s experience of my mother. I know when she’s not telling the truth, and I have to say this, Lily, I never dreamt you would take her side against me, especially over something like this.’
‘But it’s not about taking sides,’ Lilian protested. ‘It’s about loving and protecting you at a time when you’re at your most vulnerable.’
‘Protecting me from what?’
‘From yourself and any more pain. You’ve already been through enough, I just wish you’d stop trying to put yourself through even more.’
In the end, deciding it was pointless to go on trying to make Lilian see it her way when she was clearly determined not to, Jessica rang off and went to stand in the room Natalie had used. Maybe, in the days to come, she was thinking as she looked around at the moonlit shadows, she would manage to prove she was right and her mother was lying. Yet she had to admit it would be a truly pyrrhic victory if she did, for in her heart of hearts she wanted nothing more than the story of the lost tourist to be true.
Chapter Thirteen
WHEN LUC PULLED up outside the cottage the following morning Jessica was ready and waiting with a small attaché case containing the notes she’d made for her meeting with Monsieur Galeron at the gendarmerie.
‘Good morning,’ Luc said, as she got in beside him. ‘Did you sleep well?’
‘Actually much better than I expected,’ she replied, fastening her seat belt. Then, easing her hemline back down towards her knees, ‘Probably thanks to all the delicious wine Fernand treated us to last night.’
Appearing amused, he pressed his foot on the accelerator and the Mercedes began to glide up the hill. Once again the sun was blazing down on the landscape, baking the roads and scorching the vines, making her glad of the cool air that was filling the car.
‘Have you spoken to Lilian this morning?’ she asked, as they turned onto the top road. ‘Did she tell you I called her last night? Or this morning, her time.’
‘Yes, she did.’ He pulled in for Jean-Marc to come past in the vineyard camionette. ‘I think she’s sorry now that she didn’t tell you about the car before,’ he said.
‘She should have. Holding information back is never a good idea, because it’ll always come out in the end, and then it acquires the very significance she – and Charlie – were trying to avoid.’
He glanced over at her, then picked up speed as they left the hamlet behind to begin heading towards the village. ‘So do you believe it was a tourist now?’ he asked.
‘No. Do you?’
After a moment’s thought he said, ‘I think I’m probably more prepared to give your mother the benefit of the doubt than you are.’
At that a light of humour showed in her eyes. ‘Spoken like a true diplomat,’ she commented.
He laughed, then after easing the car out to overtake a tractor he said, ‘What news from the Médecin Légiste? Did you call this morning?’
‘I did, only to be told that there is no news, so I have to call again tomorrow.’
‘Bureaucracy moves slowly here in France, I’m afraid, particularly at this time of year.’
Knowing how true that was, she said, ‘Do you think I’ll get permission to see the report?’
‘Probably. If not, I’ll see what I can do.’
She gave him a quick look and wished she knew how to thank him without embarrassing them both.
Seeming to sense what she was thinking, he said, ‘My family has lived around here for a very long time, so we know many people, and sometimes favours are the strongest currency.’ Then, with a teasing look in his eyes, ‘But I think you understand very well the key to a Frenchman’s chivalry. You have only to say s’il vous plaît, monsieur, j’ai un problème, and we will all be knocking each other out of the way to try to please you.’
Loving the feel of the laughter inside her, she said, ‘I’ll be sure to remember that,’ then as his phone rang she turned to look out at the passing countryside, unable to stop herself wishing that their purpose wasn’t such a painful one when everything else seemed so simple and right.
Half an hour later Monsieur Galeron, a small wiry man with inky blue eyes and a curiously lopsided smile, was showing them into an interview room at the back of the gendarmerie. Apart from the language on the calendars and information sheets pinned to the walls, it was no different to any other police interview room with its battered table and plastic chairs, though she doubted British versions had quite so many overflowing ashtrays these days.
Since she’d guessed that Monsieur Galeron would feel more comfortable dealing with a French man, as opposed to an English woman – and Luc hadn’t disagreed – Jessica sat quietly listening for a minute or two as Luc confirmed why they were there. Though Galeron’s eyes came to her once or twice, on the whole they remained on Luc, until, giving her his whole attention, he said, in French, ‘I don’t think I can tell you anything that you do not already know.’
‘Perhaps if you can just talk us through it again,’ she prompted. ‘From the time you arrived at the house.’
He nodded gravely, and folding his hands, he said, ‘The paramedics were already there, of course, and by the time we arrived they had ascertained that your daughter was dead. One of them was taking care of your mothe
r. She was in a very agitated state . . . Shaking, unable to stop crying . . . Of course she was in shock . . .’
‘What was she saying?’ Jessica asked.
His eyes narrowed as he tried to remember, then realising why he couldn’t, he said, ‘She was speaking in English, so I am afraid I could not understand. It was only when Monsieur Véron came into the house that we were able to communicate with your mother. That was when we understood that your daughter had fallen over some newspapers at the top of the stairs. They were still scattered on the stairs, and the floor. She had been on the telephone at the time, as you know, because I believe she was speaking to you, so she didn’t see the papers.’
Jessica swallowed hard as she nodded. Her memory of those moments was still too vivid for her to bear without the horror of it making her shrink inside. ‘Was anyone else there?’ she asked.
Frowning with surprise he said, ‘You mean besides the paramedics and ourselves? No, there was no-one else, until Monsieur Véron arrived, of course.’
‘Did you check to see if anyone was upstairs?’
‘Yes, of course. We would be negligent in our duty if we did not.’
‘And no-one was?’
He shook his head.
‘My mother claims that she and Natalie went for a walk that morning,’ she went on. ‘Did you find any evidence of that?’
‘There weremuddy boots outside the door, and damp coats inside,’ he replied, ‘so it would appear that they did go out.’
‘Did she say where they went?’
He consulted his notes. ‘To the woods nearby, to find a bird’s nest,’ he replied.
Jessica blinked. ‘My mother was looking for a bird’s nest, in the rain?’ she said incredulously.
He shrugged and looked at Luc as though he might be able to throw some light on it.
Jessica looked at Luc too. ‘You did the translation,’ she said in English. ‘Does he have that right, about the bird’s nest?’
Luc nodded. ‘I confess I’d forgotten until now that it was the reason she gave for going out that morning, but certainly it’s what she said.’