“Oh, Clare, now that ...” He turned round and threw up his hands. I knew nothing annoyed him so much as this.
“I’m sorry, Laurent. Yes, I am worried about Jeanne. I am also worried about Lisa.”
“Lisa! For God’s sake, Clare.”
“What do you know about Lisa?”
“Know? She came from an agency, highly recommended. You think Lisa wants to harm the children too?”
“Lisa got out of the boat, didn’t she? Didn’t you think that was odd?”
“No, I didn’t. It was cold once the boat was on the water. I was glad she decided not to come because I was worried about Fabrice; the older children are hardier. You think Lisa sat there unscrewing the bolts?”
“Not in the boat,” I said thoughtfully, “but couldn’t she have done it while you went to fetch the men to help you?”
“No! I, I never thought of it. I mean, the children were with her.”
“Running in and out, no doubt?”
“Oh, Clare, stop it. Nicolas Bourdin could have, if it comes to that. We all went and had a coffee while he helped put the sails up, and I saw Fabrice and Lisa back off home. Now I don’t suppose you suspect Nicolas Bourdin?”
“Laurent, let me stay?”
“Of course you can stay. I want you to stay. I don’t want you near your husband. I don’t like him. I don’t like his being here.”
“Oh, Laurent, you can’t say you don’t like Tom. What did Tom do to you?”
“Yes, you’re defending him immediately, don’t you see, Clare?”
“But I don’t think you’re being fair. I’d say that about anyone, not only Tom. He’s just arrived. You don’t like him because he’s my husband!”
Laurent seemed to swoop down upon me before I’d finished speaking and scoop me up in his arms. His kiss was savage and exciting, and I responded to it. The sexual tension we had created between ourselves made it unavoidable.
Or that’s what I thought when I tried to rationalise it afterwards; but what actually stopped the embrace was the sound of the door opening and Michelle standing there, her cheeks flaming, staring at us.
CHAPTER 14
I got Tom out of the chateau very quickly. I’d simply brushed past Michelle without even trying to explain. What could I say? How could I explain what even I did not fully understand? Thank heaven Tom wasn’t with her, but was still in the salon standing by the window, looking angrily out over the bay.
We picked up Tom’s suitcase from Madame Gilbert who was extremely intrigued by the whole thing and tried to persuade us to stay longer. We said very little as we walked through the town but Tom voiced his approval of the house.
“It’s better than that chateau,” he said, throwing his case carelessly on the floor. “That house gives me the creeps.
“The chateau? But it’s beautiful. I adore it.”
Tom smiled. “One more example of our failure to agree.”
His words angered me. “Tom, why did you come?”
“Well, you wrote to me, didn’t you? I did as you asked. I went to see Cliff and I wanted to see how you were. You may not remember it now, but your letter gave the impression of someone seriously alarmed. Unexplained deaths, witches, and God knows what.”
“Are you going straight back?”
“That depends upon you.”
“Tom, I’m not staying here with you.”
“Oh?”
“I’m staying at the chateau.”
“So you are involved with the handsome Marquis?” he said softly. “I wondered about that as soon as I saw you together.”
“On the contrary. I am not at all involved. Besides he won’t be there. I want to keep an eye on the children. I really am worried about them, Tom, after yesterday.”
“And is it your business?”
“Yes.” I lit a cigarette and sat down by the stove, shivering slightly, whether from nerves or the cold I wasn’t sure. “I’ve made it my business. Jeanne doesn’t seem fit to be in charge of the children. At the very least she’s mystical, and at the most, dangerous. And as for Lisa, she can hardly speak French and seems totally disinterested in their welfare.”
“I was observing Jeanne,” Tom’s voice thawed and became chatty. “She is a very odd woman, I agree. She is withdrawn, almost schizophrenic.”
“That would explain a lot,” I said quickly. “A schizoid personality. Oh, Tom, I think you’ve got it! The only thing is, she is fairly consistently like that. They usually vary, don’t they?”
“There are different degrees. Jeanne may be only mildly disturbed; I wouldn’t know unless we had her properly observed and examined, which we can’t.”
This was Tom at his best.
“I’ve missed you, Tom,” I said suddenly. “I’ve missed this part of our relationship which is so good – the exchange of ideas.”
“We should never have married,” Tom said, “then we would have been lovers forever. Jacob Bronstein said that to me only a couple of days ago.”
I was totally uninterested in the views of Tom’s boss, who I felt exerted too great an influence over him.
“Let’s talk about Rose,” I said coolly. “What did you find out?”
“I didn’t find out all that much. Cliff, her boyfriend, is away in Northern Ireland. He’s a soldier and was sent there shortly before Rose died. I was able to see his mother, which was very interesting. She said Rose was always a strange girl and she wished her son had fallen for someone else. Oddly enough, she also used the word ‘bewitched’ to describe Rose and thought she exercised an undue amount of influence over Cliff.”
“Mothers are like that, of course,” I murmured, thinking of Tom’s mother, who was overbearing enough to drive any self-respecting daughter-in-law to drink.
“She was sure Rose would never marry Cliff but entertained ideas above her station, as it were. Temperamentally, she said, they were unsuited, as Cliff is a very extroverted sort of boy, a real commando type, and Rose had a secretive quality about her.”
“Attraction of opposites. Rose was also very pretty. According to local gossip, she had a gentleman friend here as well.”
“Really? Well, Cliff’s mother didn’t like her, and I don’t think she’s sorry she’s gone. However, she told me something else that was interesting. Before Cliff went to Ireland and until Rose’s death, she began writing to him much more often than before.”
“Had she any of the letters?” I asked eagerly.
“No. Cliff took them all with him, and the others she’d sent on. One was quite a bulky packet.”
“That would be the pages,” I said.
“Quite. She didn’t know anything about that.”
“So how have you left it?”
“Well, when I got home I wrote to Cliff. I said that we weren’t quite happy about the circumstances of her death and could he add anything. I also asked about the missing pages. I had to send it to some mysterious army address. All we can do is wait to hear from him.”
“Mmmm.” I was very thoughtful.
“There’s just one other thing that will intrigue you,” Tom said. “Rose’s mother was a well-known medium.”
“Was?” I said excitedly.
“She died a couple of years ago. That’s what made Rose so restless and Cliff so protective of her.”
“How very interesting,” I said, and described something of the eerie atmosphere of Rose’s room.
“You mean you actually feel a presence?” Tom said incredulously.
“Oh, no, no, nothing like that, but, yes, I do feel that something unexplained is there. It has a very curious effect on me. It’s one of the reasons I want to go back to the chateau again, and your being here has given me an excuse.”
“Besides decency,” Tom said, smiling suggestively.
“Oh, decency, hell; but, Tom, our relationship is ambiguous. Let’s try to sort that out first.”
“The sex was never ambiguous.”
I stood up quickly. “We’ve got to so
rt the whole thing out, Tom, and then we’ll see. Either we come together for good or we part for good.”
“And what do you think will happen?” Tom’s voice was low.
“I don’t know, Tom.”
When I got back to the chateau with my case, Laurent had already gone; the children were still in the schoolroom, and except for Madame Barbou humming in the kitchen all was quiet. I had a curious feeling of excitement as I went up to Rose’s room – my room.
It was very cold in the room. I shut the door and stood where I was, as though looking for something. The bed had been freshly made and the room cleaned. It was impersonal, like a room in a hotel. With my things I would make it my room, as Rose had made it hers. I unpacked and put my cosmetics on the dressing table, my underclothes in the chest of drawers, my dresses in the wardrobe. When I’d finished I looked around again. That was better, but it was still very cold. I couldn’t understand why it was so cold when the rest of the house was so warm.
Suddenly there was a soft breeze; the curtains stirred, though the window and door were closed. I felt chilled and apprehensive.
Rose.
“Rose,” I whispered. “If you are there, will you can you ... tell me what I should do.”
Nothing happened. The room grew imperceptibly warmer. I went over to the window and felt the central heating pipes. They were warm, but not hot. Perhaps for some reason they’d been turned off and the heat was just beginning to circulate again.
I looked out of the window. It was dusk and the lights of Port Guillaume were beginning to twinkle across the bay. There was one very bright light in particular that shone through the trees, higher up than the others. I opened the window and craned my head forward. Could that be Mr. Schroeder’s light? I thought it was, and then suddenly something he’d said that day on the beach seemed to assume an enormous importance in my mind. I wondered why I hadn’t remarked on it before; it must have been lurking in my subconscious.
When I’d asked him if he knew the de Frigecourt family, he’d replied, “Yes, before the children were born.” Yet all the time he’d appeared to have assumed the children were mine. But he’d known I wasn’t a de Frigecourt. He’d known then that the children weren’t mine, that they were members of the family. This was also assumed when I’d seen him at his home. “How are the children?”
“Their mother has died” and so on.
I shook myself and closed the window. “Clare Trafford, you are making mysteries,” I told myself. “If you go on like this, Tom will have you put in the nut house, and not before time.”
Jeanne greeted me coolly, I thought, at tea. The children appeared delighted to see me and plied me with questions about Tom.
“But if he’s your husband, why aren’t you with him in your house?”
“Because we don’t live together.”
“Why not? Husbands and wives always live together.”
“Are you divorced?” Noelle asked knowingly.
“Tish, be quiet,” from Jeanne, looking at me disapprovingly. Jeanne would certainly not approve of divorce. I glanced at her before replying. One had to be honest.
“We are not divorced yet, but we may be.”
“Is that what he’s come to see you about?”
“In a way.”
It was quite a neat answer, also a solution to these endless questions. It would stop everyone speculating as to why Tom was really here. Lisa was late to tea. She sat down, her face flushed, and was awarded a disapproving glance from Jeanne. She made no excuses, drank her tea quietly, and afterwards took the children into the television room.
Between Jeanne and me the air was heavy with things unsaid. We tinkered around with our teacups before Jeanne spoke.
“About the binoculars,” she said quietly. Her voice had a slight tremor in it.
“Yes, I wondered about those.”
“I really didn’t see the accident.”
Now that I knew the yacht had gone twice round the bay I was more ready to believe her, but I said nothing. She seemed to think that my silence was an accusation.
“I thought they were coming round the bay again. I put the binoculars down and prepared to go out. I didn’t look out of the window again.”
“Does it much matter what I think, Jeanne?”
Jeanne flushed. “Yes. I know you don’t like me and I want you to.”
“Why?”
“I still have this strange feeling that you will bring me harm. That is why I am uneasy with you.”
“Can’t you be more specific, Jeanne? This does intrigue me, as I wish you no harm at all.”
“You will be the instrument of it.”
I pulled my chair nearer to hers and lowered my voice. “Jeanne, if you are so close to the Maid that her spirit lives within you, as you say it does, can you tell me more about her? So much of her life is a mystery. If you could perhaps help me with my book?”
Jeanne, I saw, was looking at me nervously.
“I mean, there are so many unexplained things. For instance, why did she refuse to say the paternoster when asked to at her trial?”
“If you have studied the proces you will know that Jeanne d’Arc maintained her independence throughout.”
“Yes, but this was considered proof that she was a witch. Witches were supposed to be unable to recite the pater without stumbling.”
“Oh, she knew that, but she wasn’t a witch. So it didn’t matter to her what people thought. Besides, she knew she was going to die, so when and how death came didn’t much matter. It was the will of God. Maybe when you’ve finished your book, Clare, we can talk about it again and you can raise the points that worry you.”
“But it won’t be finished for ages.”
“In that case, I may not be here to help you.” She drew back her chair and got up, but her words chilled me.
“Why, Jeanne, are you leaving?”
“It is up to God,” she said. “Only He knows.”
I sat smoking furiously for a while after she’d gone. Jeanne was obviously some kind of religious nut, but there was nothing consoling in that. Like her namesake, she was so utterly certain about what she was doing. She’d told me nothing new about the paternoster, but it was consistent with the Maid’s character and with hers.
I drained my last cup of tea and was about to go up to my room when Michelle Bourdin walked in, unannounced. She looked surprised to see me, then embarrassed.
“Oh, Clare, I didn’t expect to see you here. I’d heard Laurent had gone and I looked in to see how things were.”
“Are you worried, too, Michelle? Come have some tea. It’s a bit cold. Shall I send for some fresh?”
“Oh, no. Are you staying on here, Clare?”
“Yes, for the time being. I can’t set up house with Tom, you see.”
“Yes, I do see,” Michelle said in a sarcastic tone of voice I’d never heard from her before.
“There is nothing between Laurent and me, Michelle, a kiss isn’t anything much, you know.”
“So Laurent said.”
“Oh, he did explain?”
“Not really. I don’t think he thought it any of my business, which it isn’t, of course. He simply said it wasn’t what I thought and walked out of the room.”
“I’m sorry, Michelle. That’s all I can say.”
“You’ve got two men,” Michelle said bitterly, “and you can’t make up your mind! I haven’t even one. I’ve spent my whole life working hard and studying, and where does it get me?”
“That’s a silly thing to say, Michelle. I’ve spent all my life studying, too. I can’t help it if I’ve left my husband and if Laurent and I are partly attracted to each other.”
“Partly? What does partly mean?” Her voice was shrill.
“It means partly. It’s a flirtation; nothing will come of it.”
How could I tell her that if Laurent wasn’t for me, I didn’t think he was for her either? But any further conversation on this subject was suspended for the t
ime being as the door opened and Jeanne came in, looking angry.
“Have you seen Philippe?”
“He’s in the television room with Lisa.”
“No, he is not. He said he wanted to work on his French verbs.”
“Well, he’s working on his French verbs then.”
“He is not. He is not in his room or in the schoolroom. I said I would give him extra coaching this evening for which he had to come up to my room.”
I was apprehensive but nothing more. Even a clock striking in this house scared me these days; I seemed to have developed an extra sensibility that was permanently tuned in to the possibility of disaster.
We all went into the television room, where Lisa and the other two children were watching the set. Lisa dragged herself reluctantly to her feet and managed to tell us that Philippe had never gone into the room with them but had gone upstairs saying he had to work.
“Let’s divide the house among us,” I said, “and let’s get on with it.”
By eight o’clock that evening, everyone in Port St Pierre knew that Philippe de Frigecourt was missing. After we’d searched the house, and there was plenty of area to cover, I went down for Tom, who had happily settled in as if for a long stay.
“You do have an exciting time,” Tom said, striding in front of me towards the chateau. “Maybe you should become a policewoman when the faculty chucks you out because you haven’t finished your book.”
“It’s not funny,” I said grimly. “He’s only eight.”
Michelle’s father was also at the chateau when we got back, and the first thing we did was to call Laurent in Paris.
Laurent was not in. No one knew what to do. The policeman who’d been alerted scratched his head saying nothing could be done in the way of an outside search until dawn. Jeanne, ashen-faced, sat staring in front of her, and Lisa did what she could to keep the other two children occupied. Madame Barbou kept us supplied with food, but no one was hungry except for Tom, who ate several large chunks of bread with meat. I watched Tom with loathing as he ate.
Rose, Rose Where Are You? Page 15