‘Oh all right.’ René sighed. ‘But the dinner offer still stands.’
‘Better not,’ said Imogen.
‘You’ve successfully blown away my chances of sleeping with you,’ said René. ‘But eating with you – why do you reject that too?’
‘Because I feel it’s a prelude to seducing me anyway,’ said Imogen.
‘Absolutely not,’ he told her. ‘If you say no, you mean no. And if you don’t want dinner, that’s not a problem, but please don’t say no because you think you’d owe me something afterwards. You don’t belong to me, Imogen.’
Imogen looked into her half-empty coffee cup and said nothing.
‘Imogen?’
She could hear his voice but she couldn’t look up.
She’d felt secure every time her mother had said it. But now Vince’s voice was in her head saying the exact same words.
You belong to me.
And they chilled her.
‘Chérie, are you all right?’ René put his hand over hers and jerked her back to reality.
‘Yes, yes, I’m sorry.’ She blinked a couple of times and moved slightly so their hands were no longer touching. ‘I go off into a world of my own occasionally.’
‘There’s nothing bothering you?’
She shook her head. ‘Everything’s fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘I should get going.’
‘Do you want a lift home?’
‘Not at all,’ she replied. ‘I have the bike with me, after all. Céline’s bike,’ she added. ‘She says she doesn’t mind, but to be honest, I find it slightly weird knowing that I’m getting around on your ex-wife’s bicycle.’
‘There’s nothing weird about it,’ said René. ‘Better that it’s being used, no?’
‘I love the way the French can compartmentalise things,’ she said. ‘She’s your ex, it’s over, the bike doesn’t mean anything any more.’
‘Why should it?’ He looked genuinely astonished. ‘It’s only a piece of machinery.’
‘True. And I couldn’t do my job without it. But it’s still a bit, oh, I don’t know – comme un cheveu sur la soupe.’
René chuckled. ‘It doesn’t matter whose bicycle it was. Besides, Céline and I never made love on it or anything. It’s a means of getting around, that’s all.’
‘Making love on a bike sounds painful.’ Imogen’s eyes twinkled.
‘You’d be surprised,’ said René.
She smiled. It was a long time since she’d had fun and banter in a conversation with a man. It was a long time, she realised, since she’d had a conversation in which she wasn’t subliminally afraid that she’d say the wrong thing and provoke a rage.
I should have left him sooner, she thought. I should have known what was happening to me. I should have seen it. I’m such a fool.
‘And now I really do have to go,’ she told René. ‘I’ll see you on Monday.’
‘OK.’ He stood up as she did and gave her a farewell kiss on the cheek. ‘Take care.’
‘You too.’
She hopped on to the bike and cycled back across the bridge into France. When she arrived at the apartment building, she hurried up the stairs, warm from her exertions. She changed into the inexpensive swimsuit that she’d finally got around to buying and went out to the pool. There was nobody around and she managed six lengths before flipping on to her back and floating beneath the clear blue sky.
You belong to me. The words came back to her again. Strong and insistent. And she let the memories take hold.
Chapter 18
Somewhat surprisingly, it was the memory of Carol that came to her first. They were alone in the house together, and it was such a rarity that Imogen realised Agnes and Berthe had deliberately gone out so that her mother could talk in private. Carol sat down beside her and told her that she and Kevin wanted to get married.
‘Do you love him?’ Imogen asked.
‘Yes,’ replied Carol.
‘More than Monsieur Delissandes?’
‘I didn’t love Monsieur Delissandes.’ Carol’s cheeks reddened. ‘At least, I thought I did, but he wasn’t mine to love. It was a dreadful mistake, Imogen, and I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused.’
‘Why did you have the indiscretion with him if you knew he wasn’t yours?’
Carol sighed. ‘I wanted to belong to someone,’ she said.
‘You belong to me,’ Imogen told her.
‘Of course I do, but that’s different. I wanted someone to share my life with.’
‘But you would never have been able to share your life with Monsieur,’ Imogen pointed out. ‘He was married to Madame. He belonged to her. And Charles and Oliver. So why did you think—’
‘I wasn’t thinking,’ said Carol. ‘I don’t know what came over me.’
‘You thought you loved Monsieur and now you think you love Kevin.’
‘I do love Kevin,’ said Carol. ‘He’s kind and generous and he loves both of us too.’
‘Does he? Really?’
‘Yes.’
‘This isn’t a choice, is it?’ Imogen asked. ‘You’re telling me, not asking me.’
‘Kevin will be a good husband and a good father to you.’
‘Kevin isn’t my father,’ said Imogen. ‘So he can’t be a good one to me.’
‘It’s true he’s not your dad,’ agreed Carol. ‘But he is a father. He has Cheyenne. He loves her and he’ll love you too.’
‘I don’t need him to love me,’ said Imogen. ‘I have you and you have me. Why do you want someone else?’
‘You and I will always love each other,’ Carol said. ‘But one day you’ll leave home and find someone of your own to love.’
‘So you’re planning for the future?’
‘I guess so,’ agreed Carol.
‘What if I don’t find someone?’ asked Imogen.
‘You will.’ Carol was certain. ‘You’ll find someone and you’ll want to be with him all the time and you won’t give me a second thought, because that’s what loving a man is like.’
‘Is that how you felt about Monsieur? You didn’t give a second thought to anything then, did you?’
‘I had loads of second thoughts,’ Carol said. ‘I ignored them. Which was the stupid thing.’
Imogen sat in silence as she weighed up everything her mother had said.
‘I’m not sure I want to find someone like that,’ she said eventually.
‘You’ll find him,’ Carol said. ‘Or he’ll find you. And you’ll be happy, Imogen, I promise. One of my favourite philosophers says that “being deeply loved gives you strength, and loving someone deeply gives you courage”, and I think he’s right.’
‘Is that how you feel with Kevin? Strong and courageous?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s a good thing, I suppose.’
Carol nodded. ‘Yes, it is.’
‘OK,’ said Imogen. ‘In that case, you should marry him. But …’ she looked at Carol, ‘would it be OK if I stayed with Agnes and Berthe afterwards?’
‘No!’ Her mother was aghast. ‘When Kevin and I get married, it’ll be a whole new family. Me and him and you and Cheyenne, all together.’
‘It’s just … I’m not sure I want to be another family,’ said Imogen. ‘When I was very small, we were part of Berthe’s. And then the Delissandes’. And then Agnes and Berthe again. Now you want it to be with Kevin and Cheyenne. It’s exhausting. It would be simpler for me to stay with Agnes and Berthe because we can still be a family and they won’t look for a man to love. They love each other instead.’
‘This is the last time, I promise,’ said Carol. ‘And you’ll like having Cheyenne as a sister.’
Imogen made a face. ‘She thinks she’s trop cool.’
‘She’s a nice girl and you’ll have fun together,’ insisted Carol. ‘Besides, you know quite well that Agnes and Berthe are going back to America at the end of the year, and you can�
��t go with them.’
‘Why not?’
‘Do you really want to move somewhere else?’ asked Carol. ‘Do you honestly want to leave me?’
Imogen shook her head. She and Carol were a partnership. They belonged together. But she was afraid that with Kevin permanently in the picture, her relationship with her mother would change. His feelings, and Cheyenne’s too, would have to be taken into consideration. And Imogen was pretty sure that they wouldn’t want to go back to Hendaye some day like Carol had promised. Although the memories of her time at the Villa Martine were beginning to fade, she still felt as though she had unfinished business there. She still hadn’t said goodbye. It seemed to her now that she never would.
The two girls were bridesmaids at the wedding. Imogen had to admit that it had been exciting to get dressed up for the day. It had been fun to giggle with her soon-to-be stepsister and have glamorous photographs taken, although – unlike Cheyenne – she eventually got bored with the interminable posing. But the day itself had been better than she’d expected and there was no doubt that Carol seemed to be very happy.
It might turn out OK, she confided to Berthe later that evening. There were probably worse people in the world than Kevin. And Cheyenne made her laugh, especially when she made cheeky comments about other people’s looks. But from Imogen’s point of view, living with them wasn’t going to be the same as living with Berthe and Agnes.
‘Of course it won’t,’ said Berthe. ‘You’ll be a family together.’
‘Oh, I know,’ said Imogen. ‘Mum keeps telling me that.’
She didn’t say that she’d once said the same about the Delissandes.
Berthe hugged her and told her that she’d be very happy with her mum and Kevin and Cheyenne. And she might have been, Imogen thought, if six months after their marriage Carol hadn’t gone to the doctor looking for a tonic for the exhaustion that had taken hold of her, and ended up being treated for a cancer from which there had been no recovery. Imogen was shocked and disbelieving when Carol told her. She went to the nearby shopping centre and bought a dreamcatcher, hoping that it would trap the awfulness of Carol’s illness, but it made no difference. She wondered if it was because, unlike Madame Delissandes, she didn’t really believe in the dreamcatcher.
Agnes and Berthe came back for Carol’s funeral. Imogen, grief-stricken and tearful, wanted to return to the States with them, but Kevin was adamant that he was her guardian and that she should finish her education in Ireland.
‘Your stepfather is right,’ Agnes told her gently. ‘It would definitely be better for you to stay with him and Cheyenne. Besides, he loves you dearly. And he was wonderful to your mum, you said so yourself.’
‘I know. But now she’s gone and I’m not important.’
‘You most certainly are,’ said Agnes. ‘Kevin cares about you, you know he does.’
‘You mean you and Berthe don’t care about me enough.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Feels like it.’
The truth, however, was that Agnes and Berthe had had long discussions with Kevin about Imogen’s future, and they agreed with him. Nothing would be gained by uprooting her again. She was better off in Dublin. And so after a couple of weeks they kissed her goodbye and left her behind.
Nobody could have been kinder or more patient with her than Kevin. Even Cheyenne dropped the slightly patronising air she sometimes adopted towards her stepsister. But the next twelve months were difficult, and Imogen struggled with missing Carol, missing Agnes and Berthe and feeling like the interloper in Kevin and Cheyenne’s lives.
Every night she tried to do what Carol had always told her to do and count her blessings. But even though she listed Kevin being nice and having redecorated her bedroom as one of them, and Cheyenne’s gifts of eyeshadow and mascara as another, she still couldn’t help finding a greater number of things to be worried and upset about. What bothered her most was the feeling that Carol had received a cosmic punishment for her indiscretion. Carol (and Madame) had often spoken about karma, good and bad. Her indiscretion with Monsieur had been really bad karma. So it stood to reason, if she believed in it, that her punishment would be really bad too. Imogen rationalised that this couldn’t be completely true, yet she felt that if she herself could have gone back to Hendaye and apologised to Madame Delissandes for what Carol had done, everything would have been all right. She worried that her mother’s illness had been caused by the anger that Lucie had felt. She worried that Lucie was angry with her too. Even worse, she worried about Oliver and Charles’s feelings towards her. Each time she had a headache or felt a little unwell, she was afraid that bad karma was out to get her.
It took her nearly a year to put things into perspective. During that time she hadn’t been stricken by a deadly disease, which was yet another blessing. She couldn’t honestly say she was happy, but nor did she feel as lost as she had before. Her life was quieter and calmer, and she felt calmer inside too.
But she should have known it would be a temporary situation, she told herself one night, because nothing ever stayed the same for her. This time the disruption was that Kevin met Paula Curtis, a PR consultant from Birmingham who was in Dublin doing some media work for the company where he worked. Suddenly Paula was coming over to Dublin every second weekend and sleeping in the bedroom with Kevin, something that gave Imogen a knot in her stomach and made Cheyenne grit her teeth.
‘What do you think is going to happen?’ Cheyenne asked her one night.
‘I think it’s another indiscretion,’ Imogen said.
‘Huh?’
‘A big mistake.’
But no matter what she and Cheyenne thought, Kevin felt differently. And a little over two years after Carol’s death, he announced that he and Paula were going to get married.
‘Three wives,’ Imogen muttered to Cheyenne one evening. ‘This is ridiculous.’
‘He’s my dad, but he’s a bozo,’ Cheyenne said. ‘Plus, last night I heard him talking to Paula about moving to Birmingham.’
‘Birmingham!’ Imogen was horrified. ‘But that’s England. I don’t want to go to England.’
‘I was a bit shocked when I heard it first,’ said Cheyenne. ‘It might be fun, though. There’s a lot more going on in England than here.’
Imogen felt like closing her eyes, putting her fingers in her ears and pretending that nothing was happening around her. Then Kevin called both of the girls together to confirm the move.
‘But you’ll be uprooting me,’ Imogen pointed out. ‘You wouldn’t let Agnes and Berthe uproot me to go to the States. I clearly remember you saying that.’
‘You’re older now,’ said Kevin. ‘You can cope better.’
‘What about our education?’ she asked.
‘We won’t go until after you’ve both completed your Transition Year,’ said Kevin. ‘And then you can do A levels in Birmingham. Paula has already checked up on good schools in the area.’
‘But everything will be different!’ cried Imogen.
‘A smart girl like you won’t have any problems,’ Kevin assured her. ‘Aren’t you already a straight-A student, for heaven’s sake?’
Imogen did well at school because she liked the time on her own that studying allowed her. Sitting in a quiet room, reading her textbooks, was soothing. But despite her grades, she wouldn’t have called herself a straight-A student. She wasn’t academically gifted. She just worked hard. If they moved to England, she’d have to start again. Why did adults think it was OK for her to have to do it over and over?
Kevin brought them to the city for a visit, which changed Cheyenne’s mind completely about the move.
‘I liked it,’ she told Imogen when they got home. ‘And what about that brilliant new shopping centre that’s opening soon? It’ll be way better than anything we’ve got.’
‘I don’t care about shopping centres!’
‘Well I like the idea that we’ll be close to some really good clothes shops at last.’ Cheyenn
e flicked her hair out of her eyes.
‘I promise you, it’ll be great,’ said Kevin. ‘And you can come back to Dublin for college if that’s what you want, Imogen. When the sale of this house goes through, I’m going to buy an apartment so there’ll always be a place for us here.’
Imogen was mollified slightly by the thought, but she still didn’t want to go. The decision was made, however, and once again she packed her case. Even though this time she had Cheyenne as support, she couldn’t help thinking that her life was all about being pulled in directions she didn’t want to go by people who didn’t care how much it upset her. And she was tired of counting her blessings and looking on the bright side and trying to make the best of it. None of Carol’s clichés were working for her. She wanted a life of her own and a place to call home. She didn’t care if she never found anyone to love. It seemed to her that love messed up everything. She was better off without it.
The way she looked at it afterwards was that she got through the Birmingham years. She tried not to feel as though she didn’t belong, but it was difficult. In Ireland she’d felt French and in Birmingham she felt Irish. She couldn’t remember how she’d felt in France. It had never been something she’d had to think about.
Cheyenne loved Birmingham. She embraced their life there and made lots of new friends. Imogen, on the other hand, was always thinking about where she’d go next. She did well in her exams and had offers from a number of universities, and although she briefly thought about the Sorbonne in Paris, she decided that she’d return to Dublin and do her European studies there. The decision was partly to do with economics – it would have been prohibitively expensive to go to Paris when in Dublin Kevin’s apartment was available to her for free.
She moved in during the summer, unpacking her things before placing the framed photo of her and Carol taken on the beach at Hendaye on a shelf. The photo captured the eggshell blue of the sky and the azure of the sea, as well as the golden beach and – most importantly – the beaming smiles of her and her mother. Every time Imogen looked at it she felt safe and secure and at home. And every time she looked at it she promised herself that she’d have a home of her own one day, where she would live by herself and there’d be no chance of any indiscretions to ruin it all.
The Missing Wife Page 17