A French Affair

by Susan Lewis

  ‘It’s you who’s the frigging muppet, not me. Oi! Beautiful! Fancy a drink?’

  At that moment, to Jessica’s relief, a taxi came round the corner, and running into the road to wave it down, she jumped in and slammed the door.

  After giving the driver her address, she sank back in the seat and closed her eyes. The goldfish bowl of London. Even after eight months of not appearing on TV, this still happened. Rarely as bad as this, it was true, but to be recognised at all had never been a pleasure for her. Now it was anathema, mostly because it made her long for France and the freedom she’d known there, the joy of anonymity . . . Quickly pushing the memory aside, she looked out of the window. It did no good to dwell on it. It was over, this was her life now, as it had always been.

  Eventually the ghastliness of the last few minutes began to trickle away, like the rain down the windows, and as she gazed out at the slate-grey sky and snarling traffic she began going over the meeting she’d just come from, which had transported her to turn-of-the-century Paris and all the chaos and colour of the Bateau-Lavoir . . .

  Her mobile rang and seeing it was Nikki she quickly clicked on.

  ‘So how did it go with your publisher?’ Nikki demanded straight away.

  Pleased that she’d remembered, Jessica said, ‘Well, the good news is she liked the draft of the first few chapters.’

  ‘See! I told you she would. You’re brilliant.’

  ‘And you’re not biased?’

  ‘I’d tell you the truth, and you know it. So what’s the bad news?’

  ‘There isn’t any. Or none I can think of.’

  ‘OK, so don’t stretch yourself, because I’ve probably got it for you.’

  Jessica’s heart immediately contracted. She was so afraid of any more disasters befalling her family that she was almost constantly on edge now.

  ‘Freddy and I have been invited down to Somerset at the weekend, and I think I’m going to go. I know that’s leaving you on your own with Dad, but not really . . .’

  ‘Darling, you have to go,’ Jessica told her. ‘You’re entitled to your life, and I promise you, I can cope.’

  ‘Are you sure? Has he gone to work today?’

  ‘He went in for a few hours, but he’s probably at home by now.’

  ‘Well, at least that makes three days in a row, and he was talking to Freddy last night about reading the news again. So I really think things are starting to look up.’

  ‘They are, and you have to stop worrying, darling. He’ll make it, he’s already the best part of the way there, and now you’re at uni, that’s where you need to be focusing.’

  ‘Yeah, well, he’s my dad, so I can’t help worrying, can I? Oh hang on, someone else is trying to call me, it’ll probably be Freddy so I’ll ring you back.’

  After clicking off the line Jessica sat with the phone in her lap, thinking about Nikki and how hard Charlie’s breakdown had been for her. Never in her life had she seen her big, strong daddy even cry, never mind fall apart, and that was virtually what had happened these past three months.

  The first sign of how serious it was going to be had come about a week after they’d returned from France, when Charlie had been rushed to emergency with what they’d feared was a heart attack, but had turned out to be an acute stress reaction. He’d then remained in hospital for several days until they’d managed to reduce his blood pressure, and run tests on his other organs. All the results had been satisfactory, but since that time he’d been unable to work, or even function at his normal level.

  ‘OK, I’m back,’ Nikki said, when Jessica answered her phone again. ‘What was I saying? Oh well never mind, I just wanted to find out how you got on . . . Oh yes, and to let you know that actually you won’t be on your own at the weekend because Grandma’s coming up with Maurice, so I don’t need to feel too guilty about leaving you.’

  ‘You shouldn’t anyway,’ Jessica responded. ‘You’ve been wonderful these past few months, I don’t know what I’d have done without you, and I know they haven’t been easy for you.’

  ‘They haven’t been easy for you either, seeing Dad like that, but he’s getting better . . .’

  ‘Of course he is. Everything will be back to normal in no time at all now, but I wish you’d agree to some counselling too. You’ve seen how much good it’s done Dad, talking it all through . . .’

  ‘I knew you were going to do that,’ Nikki cried. ‘But like I keep telling you, I’m cool, OK? I don’t need it . . .’

  ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of. You lost your sister, and now all this with Dad . . .’

  ‘Yeah, and what about you? Do you think it’s doing you any good, talking to someone about what you’re going through?’

  ‘Of course it is, I’d probably have gone off my head by now, if I weren’t.’

  ‘OK, so what do you talk about?’

  ‘Natalie, of course. And you, and Harry and Dad.’

  ‘What about Lilian? Do you ever discuss her?’

  ‘From time to time, naturally.’ There was no need to tell Nikki any more than that. It was already enough for her to know what Charlie was trying to come to terms with where Lilian was concerned, without complicating the issue anyfurther with Luc. ‘Anyway, the kind of things I’m discussing are personal to me,’ she said. ‘You need to talk about you, and your feelings and fears and . . .’

  ‘I know, I know, but I’ve got you, and I can tell you anything, so I don’t really want to talk to a stranger.’

  Jessica sighed, but decided not to push it any more for now, even though she knew how hard Nikki was finding it to accept what her father had done to her mother, as well as to her sister. Had Charlie not suffered such a severe reaction to it himself, Jessica doubted Nikki would have been anywhere near as forgiving as she had. Even so, his actions were almost certainly taking their toll on her in ways that neither of them were fully aware of yet. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Will you be home for dinner?’

  ‘Yes, but I don’t want to discuss anything like this with Freddy there, or he’s going to think we’re all nuts.’

  ‘From that,’ Jessica said with a smile, ‘I take it he’s coming for dinner too.’

  ‘Yeah, but he won’t be over till nine. Is that too late for Dad?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think so.’

  ‘Cool. I have to go now. Love you. And well done about the book. I’m really proud of you.’

  Still smiling, Jessica rang off, then finding her thoughts drifting where it would be better not to let them go, she began debating whether or not to ring Charlie. In the end she decided not to. If he was already at home she’d find out soon enough, and right now she’d rather remain hopeful that he’d managed to stay even longer at the office today than he had on the previous two days.

  To her surprise, and relief, she found the house empty when she got there, but within minutes she was starting to worry. She hadn’t spoken to Charlie since he’d driven away at ten that morning, and it was unlike him not to be in touch for so long.

  ‘Oh hi darling,’ he said when he answered his mobile. ‘Sorry I haven’t called, I got a bit caught up here. I’m at the studios, talking about my big comeback.’

  ‘Really?’ she said warily. ‘Was that a planned meeting, or just something that came up?’

  ‘A bit of both. We’re thinking I could do a couple of shifts as early as next week. Nothing major, a midmorning or mid-afternoon slot.’

  ‘Do you feel up to it?’

  ‘I’ve been trying to tell you for a while that I do, but you all keep worrying about me. Not that I don’t appreciate it, because I do, but there has to come a time when I start taking care of you all again.’

  Pulling away from that, Jessica said, ‘Have you spoken to the doctor about this?’

  ‘If you mean the GP, no, but I will. And the shrink says it’s time I started asserting myself. So that’s what I’m doing.’

  Having to concede that he really had seemed stronger lately, which might be thanks to
some new antidepressants, she didn’t argue any further. In fact, if she only had herself to consider, she had to confess she was more than ready for him to go back to work.

  ‘Have you spoken to your mother today?’ he asked.

  ‘No, but I hear she and Maurice are coming for the weekend.’

  ‘With a surprise, apparently. My guess is he’s popped the question. What’s yours?’

  ‘Since he’s been popping it for years, the surprise would be that she’s accepted.’

  ‘Good point. She wants us to go down there for Christmas, by the way.’

  Once again Jessica felt herself backing away, not because she didn’t want to spend Christmas with her mother, but because she simply didn’t want to think about Christmas at all. ‘Why’s everyone talking about it already, when it’s still seven weeks away?’ she grumbled.

  ‘And when you’ve got a fortieth birthday between now and then. Don’t think anyone’s forgotten, because we haven’t.’

  Even though she knew it was meant to boost her, it simply made her feel worse. ‘I’m more concerned about you than birthdays or Christmases,’ she told him. ‘What time will you be home?’

  ‘In about an hour, I should think. I’ll call when I’m on my way.’

  After putting the phone down she replayed the voicemail messages, then realising she’d have to go and pick Harry up soon, she began making a list for the supermarket.

  It wasn’t until she was halfway through that it occurred to her Charlie hadn’t asked about the meeting with her publisher. Not that she was particularly surprised, but it did annoy her, for it was another example of how self-absorbed he’d become. Or perhaps the omission was deliberate, since he now knew about her feelings for Luc, after she’d admitted to them during one of their joint therapy sessions. Being aware of how much help Luc had given her in the early stages of the book, there was every chance Charlie was viewing it as some kind of threat. If she was right, then he clearly wasn’t ready to tackle the issue, since he’d never mentioned it again. It was as though the subject had never been raised, and a part of her wished it hadn’t, for she’d only ever wanted to keep her feelings private, in the way they’d always been with Luc.

  Still, at least she wasn’t hiding anything now. No secrets, no lies, which was what had got them into this terrible mess in the first place – and why the therapist had encouraged her to be truthful. Nevertheless, she hadn’t confessed to how much time she spent with her book, or how important it had become to her. What happened during those solitary hours when she allowed herself to recall how her ideas had first come together, and how much else she and Luc had shared, was hers and hers alone.

  Seeing the time, she quickly grabbed her purse and ran out to the car. As pleasurable, and sometimes even vital, as her memories were, keeping her family together and making sure they all got through this must come first. And it did, she made certain of that, but there were times when she had to admit it wasn’t anywhere near as easy as it should be, in fact it was so hard she often wondered how she made it through a day. However, no-one had any way of knowing what was going on inside her, so, mercifully, only she knew just how desperate she sometimes felt.

  An hour later, Harry came bounding out of school, socks bagging around his ankles, coat half off, and mud all over his legs, which he hadn’t had time to shower off, because . . . He couldn’t remember why, but anyway, he needed to get home really quick, because Dad had sent a text to say he was thinking about reading the news.

  ‘He doesn’t mean today, darling,’ Jessica told him, as she began reversing between all the other mothers’ cars out onto the street, ‘and we have to go to the supermarket now.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Harry protested. ‘I hate going there.’

  As he folded his arms and scowled Jessica threw him a look, knowing he wouldn’t stay mutinous for long, and sure enough before they even reached the end of the road he was telling her more about his busy and challenging day.

  As he chattered – and shouted – on, full of triumph or indignation or bafflement, she reflected on how, in his innocent and lovable way, he’d got her through all the terrible moments of loneliness and self-pity that had crept up on her when Charlie was at his worst. Without Harry she wasn’t entirely sure anything she was doing now would even make any sense, for his unfailing happiness and ready affection was the only real joy in her life. His was also the energy that kept the house alive, and the humour that held them all together, and even the love that made them all one. Unlike Nikki, he seemed unaware of the tension between his parents, and therefore was only concerned with reading to Charlie, lying beside him to watch TV, or simply being himself with his mother. Préjugée as she might be, Harry was the most adorable little person in the world.

  ‘Mum, can we have cabbage pizza for dinner?’ he asked, as they drove into the supermarket car park.

  Jessica looked at him askance.

  He struggled not to laugh.

  ‘How about marmalade pasta?’ she suggested.

  ‘Oh no! Yuk, yuk, ugh. I’ll be sick.’

  ‘But cabbage pizza would be fine?’

  ‘No! I’m just joking to make you laugh. I love it when you laugh.’

  Since that could only mean she wasn’t doing nearly enough of it, she scooped him into her arms and kissed him hard. ‘I promise to laugh all weekend when Grandma and Maurice come to stay,’ she told him.

  ‘Oh! Are they coming? Cool. Your phone’s ringing, Mum. Shall I answer? Hello. Jessica Moore’s phone, her son and hair speaking.’

  His cheeky little smile started to wane as he listened to the voice at the other end, then passing the phone over he said, ‘It’s someone called Desmond. He wants to speak to you. Oh look, there’s Mark Greenaway, can I go and see him? I’ll come straight back.’

  As he leapt out of the car Jessica put the phone to her ear. ‘Desmond,’ she said, to Charlie’s agent. ‘What can I do for you? If you’re looking for Charlie . . .’

  ‘I wanted to speak to you first,’ he interrupted. ‘Is this a good time?’

  ‘I don’t know until you tell me what it’s about.’

  ‘OK, here goes – now it’s out that he’s been going into the office . . .’

  Cutting in right away she said, ‘What do you mean “out”?’

  ‘There’s something in the Standard tonight,’ he warned her. ‘Not a big piece, but someone’s obviously got hold of the fact that Charlie Moore’s on the mend, so I wanted to find out from you how he really is before I start filling up his days.’

  God, how she hated the way the press took such an interest in every little detail of their lives. ‘It’s true, he’s improving,’ she responded, not prepared to go any further than that.

  ‘Enough for me to approach him with all the usual kind of stuff, guest-hosting news quizzes, chairing debates . . .?’

  ‘Why don’t you put it all in an email,’ she interrupted, ‘and I’ll discuss it with him later.’

  ‘Will do.’ He took a breath. ‘There is something a bit, well, different,’ he went on cagily. ‘I don’t think you’re going to like it much, but here goes . . . I’ve had a call from the exec producer of The Morning Programme, asking if you and Charlie will consider being interviewed about how you’ve coped with losing a child. You know, the initial shock, the grief, what Charlie’s just been through, how you’ve kept your marriage together when so many don’t in these situations . . .’

  ‘Desmond,’ she cut in sharply, her head already spinning with rage, ‘there is absolutely no way in the world I am ever going to appear on TV to discuss my family’s difficulties . . .’

  ‘I thought you might say that, but I’m just the messenger, remember, and I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t put the whole package to you . . .’

  ‘I’m not interested . . .’

  ‘They’re offering full editorial control, network transmission, obviously, and a fee that’s well into five figures.’

  ‘I don’t care if it’s into ten
figures, the answer’s still no. Now please don’t let’s discuss this any more. Harry’s about to get into the car and I don’t want him listening to any of this.’

  ‘OK. I’ll send the email to Charlie, and sorry if I’ve upset you.’

  After ringing off she waited for Harry to collect a trolley, then bracing herself for the usual go-round of unwelcome recognition while doing her shopping, she followed him in through the automatic doors. Why the heck, she was asking herself angrily, was everyone so damned determined to pry into her private life – publishers, producers, analysts? Didn’t they understand, for God’s sake, she just wanted to be left the hell alone?

  Charlie’s sunken eyes, with their tired, purplish shadows and bloodshot whites, seemed both bemused and defiant as Jessica turned to him in amazement. ‘Are you out of your mind?’ she cried, trying to keep her voice down, since they were in the study and Nikki, at least, was somewhere nearby. ‘You can’t seriously be thinking about doing it.’

  ’I don’t see what the problem is,’ he replied, trying to sound assertive. ‘I mean, I understand why you wouldn’t want to do it, because you’ve always been publicity-shy, but it’s not the same for me. And they’re right, it might help others to know what we’ve been through.’

  Jessica could hardly believe her ears; she felt so enraged that she had to turn away and go to stare out at the rain for a moment in an effort to calm down, or she might just have hit him.

  It was Saturday morning now, which meant he must have been thinking this over since the email had arrived on Thursday. Realising that this was the direction his mind had been taking, when he had to know how strongly opposed she’d be to it, was making her angrier than ever.

  ‘Darling, I’m sorry if this is upsetting you,’ he said, from where he was sitting at his desk, ‘but if you try to see it from my point of view . . .’

  Jessica spun round, eyes flashing. ‘I think it would be a good idea for you to see it from my point of view,’ she told him furiously. ‘Do you really imagine I want the whole world to know what happened when my daughter died, how her father was in bed with another woman, and not just any other woman . . .’