Yves was fascinated by her. There was something mysterious beneath her surface that he couldn’t fathom. She spoke little which came as a surprise. Most women he bedded never stopped talking. She was different to any woman he’d ever known. She gave herself so freely, holding nothing back and he revelled in her body which was so soft and voluptuous. He would have liked nothing better than to have stayed with her till morning, making love to her again and again, but there was no way he could stay out all night.
As it was, he knew Sophie guessed that he had a new mistress. She must not suspect that it was Jazz. They had an open marriage but there were limits. They’d both agreed that they could have other partners but somehow he knew that that didn’t include friends or people they both knew. Sophie would not be happy if she thought that Jazz was his latest conquest.
“Wednesday, same time?” he asked, showering tiny kisses on her face and neck.
She nodded silently, her eyes closed in pleasure. She didn’t know how she could wait over forty hours to be in his arms again. But she had no choice.
29
On Tuesday night, as Taylor and Marilyn were polishing off another couple of bottles of wine and a few lines of cocaine, Brandon was savouring the delectable Chantal. She was the perfect mistress. Her face lit up when he handed her the bottle of Chanel No. 5 perfume he’d bought for her.
“You don’t ’ave to bring me present,” she smiled at him. “Is enough you come.”
He loved her quirky English and her cute accent. She came into his arms and he nuzzled her neck. She smelled so clean and fresh. Her blonde hair felt like silk and her skin like velvet. She was too good to be true. Simple and uncomplicated, she wanted him for sex and nothing more. He was more than happy to oblige. There would be no messy emotional demands from her. “I love my ’usband. I very ’appy with ’im,” she’d said, laying her cards on the table the very first night they’d made love. He had no problem with that. They agreed they would meet in future on every Monday and Thursday night. It was a perfect arrangement for both of them.
The following night Marilyn was getting dolled up to meet Louis. Taylor was sitting on her bed watching as she primped and preened herself. She envied Marilyn’s lush curvy body and sexiness. No wonder men were so crazy for her.
“Can you ask Louis for some more cocaine?” she asked her friend, handing her €200.
“Honey, you ain’t used up all the last stuff he gave you, have you?” Marilyn asked her in a shocked voice.
“Yeah, well, I was feeling down at the weekend,” Taylor admitted.
“Well, I’d go easy on it honey, if I were you. It’s pretty addictive. But I’ll get some more from Louis for you, if you want,” she added, seeing Taylor’s desperate look. Pocketing the €200, she decided that she’d have to keep an eye on Taylor’s consumption of cocaine. She wouldn’t want that on her conscience!
Marilyn didn’t come home that night and when she hadn’t come back by two o’clock the following day, Taylor was in a panic. She had finished all the coke and she desperately needed more. She couldn’t think straight without it. She’d gone to the two American doctors and they’d both given her a prescription for Vicodin and Valium so she was okay on that score. Of course Marilyn had no idea that she was consuming them as well as the coke.
She left umpteen voicemails on Marilyn’s phone but still her friend didn’t contact her.
At around four o’clock Marilyn sailed in, as cool as a cucumber. Taylor was furious with her.
“Why didn’t you answer my calls?” she demanded.
“Hey, honey,” Marilyn drawled, “don’t get your knickers in a knot. I was havin’ the most fantastic sex of my life with Louis. You didn’t expect me to stop mid-orgasm, did you?” She laughed uproariously.
The image of her doing that made Taylor laugh too. “Did you get the coke?” she asked then, nervously.
“Sure did, hon, but you better make this last longer than the last lot. This stuff’s damn expensive.” She rolled her eyes to heaven.
Taylor grabbed the sachet from her and swiftly lined up the powder. Inhaling deeply, she felt the rush of blood to her head. She relaxed visibly then and poured them both a glass of wine.
“Brandon was wondering how long you’re thinking of staying in Paris, sweetie.” She looked at Marilyn.
“Well, hon, that depends,” Marilyn winked. “The way things are goin’ I reckon I’ll be movin’ in with Louis before long.”
Taylor felt a little put out. After all, it was she who had invited Marilyn to Paris in the first place.
“Don’ worry, chicken. Even if I move in with him, we’ll still see each other all the time.”
Somewhat mollified, Taylor thought that maybe it was for the best. At least it would get Brandon off her back.
“That would be great. When do you think it’ll happen?”
“I guess if I play my cards right it could be any day now.” Marilyn winked again.
Poor Louis, Taylor thought. He’ll be a wreck by the time she’s finished with him.
30
Ashling started her wine course on Thursday morning and from the beginning loved every moment of it. For the hundredth time she thanked her lucky stars that she’d studied French for all those years. There were ten students on the course and they ranged in age from seventeen to seventy. What a mix! It was fascinating.
It was a ten-week course and each week would have two hours of theory and then an hour of tasting. The first week they learnt all about the grape varieties grown in France and she was amazed at the sheer number of them. To think that they used thirteen different varieties in Châteauneuf-du-Pâpe – a wine she loved and one that was hugely popular in Ireland – was incredible.
The lecturer, François, a young man about her own age, was wildly enthusiastic and she found herself being caught up in his enthusiasm. Her brain was practically scrambled after the theory session as she tried to remember all that he’d said. She’d taken lots of notes so she’d be able to study them afterwards.
The tasting session was an eye-opener and she agreed with François that she’d never be able to take a sip of wine again without analysing it. It was hugely enjoyable and they all laughed when he told them that their homework would be to open a different bottle of wine every evening for the coming week.
“No problem there!” Ashling said, to the amusement of the other students.
There was another Irish girl, Nessa, on the course and she and Ashling naturally gravitated to each other. After the class, they went for a coffee together.
“My head is swimming,” Nessa laughed. “I need to sober up before I collect Cian from crèche.” Cian was her three-year-old son.
“I have a couple of hours yet before I collect my girls, thank goodness,” Ashling laughed with her.
“We are supposed to spit the wines out,” Nessa remarked.
“No way! And waste all that delicious wine?” Ashling cried.
“I didn’t notice anyone else using the spittoons either.”
“No, they’ve got more sense.” They both roared laughing.
All in all it was a very successful morning.
Pippa and Alex were having a wonderful time and adored Paris as much as Felicity did now. She was bonding with the girls more than she ever had and the three of them had some great giggles. She felt proud showing them around and secretly delighted at their amazement that she could even speak a little French.
“Mum, you’re a revelation!” Alex cried.
“Yeah, you’ve morphed into a really cool mum,” Pippa added.
God, was I such an ogress before, she wondered.
She took the girls shopping and even liked the clothes they were choosing. This was a first. She normally hated anything they liked. They grinned at each other, hardly able to believe it but not complaining. However, Felicity drew the line when Pippa wanted to have a tattoo.
“No, young lady, not until you’re eighteen! Then you can decide for yourself.”
/> “Cool,” Pippa said, winking at Alex. She couldn’t wait for her eighteenth birthday!
They were wearing their new gear on Thursday as they waited for the party to begin. Felicity had invited all the girls and of course that included Taylor. She was secretly relieved when Taylor called that afternoon to cancel. She’d become very strange lately. To tell the truth Felicity was beginning to dread her phone calls. She ranted on at times and Felicity often found it difficult to understand her. No, it was much better that she wouldn’t be there.
Jazz was the first to arrive and the girls thought she was ultra-cool. Ashling was next and then Sophie, looking as chic as usual. The girls were very impressed with her and thought Ashling was a sweetheart. Jazz was a little uneasy to be in Sophie’s company. She hadn’t met her in ages and had purposely changed her gym times so as to avoid her but Sophie was as friendly as ever, which made Jazz feel dreadfully guilty.
They all thought Felicity’s two girls were adorable and found them to be exuberant and full of fun.
“We can’t believe how much Mum has changed since coming to Paris,” Alex confided to Ashling.
“She’s super cool now and she looks brill,” Pippa chimed in enthusiastically.
“We can’t believe that she’s learning French.”
“And that she loves it,” Pippa said, with wonder.
Ashling was very proud of her friend and beamed with pleasure on hearing that her daughters approved.
Felicity had also invited Nicole – her French teacher and Ashling’s baby-sitter – so that Alex and Pippa could meet her. The three young girls were getting on like a house on fire.
Despite what she’d said, Felicity had asked Max to prepare margaritas for everyone before he got out of their way and they went down a treat. Even Pippa was allowed have a diluted version, wrinkling her nose up as she tasted the salt on the rim of the glass.
“Yuck! Disgusting!” she exclaimed, but still she sipped it and was a little tiddley after it.
Alex and Nicole laughed at her, feeling very superior at the grand old age of eighteen!
As usual, Felicity had prepared a fantastic spread.
“My diet will be ruined,” Ashling wailed.
“Nonsense, you can get back down to it tomorrow,” Felicity said, matter of factly, handing her a laden plate.
They had a really fun night and when Max came in to say goodnight he found them all a little giggly and having a great time. He was very proud of his wife.
Nicole was taking the girls out to meet her friends on Friday night. They couldn’t wait.
“I think it was a big success,” Felicity murmured to Max as she lay cuddled in his arms later.
“It certainly was, if all the laughter and giggling was anything to go by,” he replied.
But she didn’t hear him. She was fast asleep.
Pippa and Alex had a wonderful night out with Nicole and her friends. They were a big hit with the French boys who loved their English accents. They left, promising to join them on Facebook and to keep in touch.
They took the Eurostar back to London on Sunday where Felicity’s sister, Penny, was meeting them. They were desperately sad leaving Paris and hugged Felicity and Max tight as they said goodbye. Felicity couldn’t keep the tears in check as she waved goodbye to her babies. Thank God she was starting her cordon bleu course the following day or she’d have been totally miserable without them.
“I’ve never enjoyed a week so much,” she said to Max, as they drove back home.
He smiled. Neither had he and it was all because of her change of attitude. Gone was the nervy woman, always harping at the girls and in its place was this much more relaxed person who was fun to be with. The girls certainly had enjoyed themselves too and couldn’t get over the change in their mother. Felicity barely slept a wink all night, so excited and apprehensive was she about starting her cordon bleu course the next morning.
She arrived at the school at eight and was very impressed and not a little intimidated by it all. There were about twenty-five other students in the class and most of them were in their twenties, she guessed. There were two other women about her age there, and two men who looked to be in their forties. She was so glad that she’d had that makeover the week before last. She’d have felt a frump with her old hairstyle and her old mumsy clothes. She was surprised to see that there were more males than females there, but then all the best chefs in the world were men, weren’t they? The students appeared to be a very diverse bunch from all corners of the globe but she was pleased to note that everyone was speaking English. Thank God for that!
They were welcomed by the director who explained the syllabus to them. It appeared very daunting but Felicity was determined to make a go of it. It had cost a lot of money and she wanted to prove to Max that it was money well spent. Everything about the school was ultra-professional and she was delighted when she was given her chef’s hat and apron which she would have to wear at all times.
She and the two older women gravitated to each other and sat together for the first class. Sue was American and Becky was English, from London too. She was delighted to make their acquaintance. They had lunch together and she discovered that Becky was a widow and planned to open her own catering company back in London while Sue’s husband was a diplomat and she was doing the course as she had a lot of social entertaining to do.
The day flew by and Felicity was exhausted by four but she knew she was going to love it. Thank God she’d had the courage to go for it.
31
Taylor had been very anxious for Marilyn to meet Felicity.
“Her father is Lord Delmere and they have a magnificent estate in England,” she boasted. “She really is awfully posh. Wait till you hear her talk. She sounds just like the Queen.”
Marilyn didn’t like the sound of her one bit!
Taylor had rung Felicity two weeks ago to invite her and Max to lunch on the Sunday and had been very put out to hear that Felicity was going back to the UK collect her daughters. Then when she’d called and asked her to come last Sunday, she couldn’t, because her daughters were leaving for London. Bloody children! They were nothing but a nuisance, Taylor thought angrily.
“Back to visit the estate?” she’d asked Felicity, hoping to impress Marilyn.
“Not exactly,” Felicity had mumbled.
“Well, I have my best friend here from New York and I’m simply dying for you to meet her. How about coming shopping with us on Friday and we’ll do lunch,” Taylor said, enticingly.
“I’m dreadfully sorry, Taylor, but I’ve started my cordon bleu course and it’s from eight till four every day, so shopping is out of the question.”
“Can’t you take a day off?”
“Definitely not.” Felicity almost laughed at the suggestion.
“Well, maybe some evening then?”
“To be honest, I’m so bushed every evening that I’m only fit for bed.”
“Oh, I see.” Taylor was getting the feeling Felicity didn’t want to meet her at all. “She’s doing a cordon bleu course,” she explained in an aside to Marilyn.
Marilyn rolled her eyes to heaven. The only cordon bleu cooking she knew about was what she ate in the fancy restaurants she frequented. She, like Taylor, didn’t do cooking and knew that Felicity would most definitely not be her type.
“Well, how about lunch the following Sunday then?” Taylor wouldn’t be deterred. “And Max is invited too, naturally,” she added.
“That would be lovely, Taylor,” Felicity gave in.
Her friend was acting very weirdly. She thought she detected a slight slurring of her words. She’d been that way at Kieran’s party too. She wondered if Taylor had a drink problem. God love her, she thought charitably, I do hope not.
Felicity wasn’t telling a lie when she’d said she was bushed every evening. Nothing had prepared her for the intensity of the course and all the information that she had to take in. Of course, as Sue and Becky agreed, it had been a long time
since they had all been students so naturally it was more difficult for them than the youngsters. Felicity was relieved to hear that the other two women found it difficult also. It wasn’t just her. And she loved it – loved every minute of it! She fell into bed after dinner and slept like a baby till the alarm went off at six thirty the next morning. Max assured her that she’d get used to it and that it would get easier with time. She hoped so. She was also having her French classes with Nicole two evenings a week. She didn’t want to give them up as she felt she was improving rapidly.
Ashling and Jazz had both rung her to see how she’d got on at the course. It was so nice of them. She’d also received a Good Luck card from the two girls where they wrote that they were very proud of her. This touched her and she shed a few tears over it. She was so looking forward to their next trip in November.
Now she was sorry she’d accepted Taylor’s invitation. She’d really much rather put her feet up on Sunday afternoon and watch a film. Still, she had to keep a social life going or she’d have no friends left. She hoped Ashling and Jazz would be there.
When Taylor had mooted the lunch party to Brandon, he’d been surprised.
“We’ll invite Felicity and Max. Actually I’ve already invited them. Yves and Sophie, Jazz and that Australian friend of hers . . .”
Brandon blanched. “You haven’t invited them already?” he demanded.
“No,” she replied, surprised at his vehemence.
“Thank God. Who else were you thinking of?”
“Well, I suppose we have to have the Irish here . . .”
“You mean Ashling and Kieran?” he glared at her.
“Well, they did have us to his birthday party,” she said reluctantly, “and Marilyn and Louis.”
He didn’t ask who Louis was but could guess. It didn’t matter. But at all costs he had to avoid having Jazz, Yves and Sophie at the same table. The thought of it made him break out in a cold sweat.
A Year Like No Other Page 17