by Anna Cleary
He remembered it all with a curious tug in his chest, though it seemed smaller than he’d thought, apart from the tree, which could have done with a prune. Marie led him across the courtyard and into another part of the house. She knocked on a door, then showed him into a long, light room with a glass ceiling at one end.
A strong aroma of paint and turpentine assailed him, and one part of his brain registered numerous canvases stacked against the walls.
His mother was standing by a sturdy work table, wiping her hands with a cloth. She continued to wipe as he approached her, and he saw with a shock that her hands were trembling. Then he realised that all of her diminutive frame was atremble.
He felt such a rush of emotion that for a moment he couldn’t speak. He noticed that her soft eyes were moist, or it might have been his own.
‘Bonjour, Maman,’ he said hoarsely. ‘I am sorry… So sorry…’
‘Oh,’ she said, dropping the cloth and holding out her hands. ‘Joey. Here you are.’
Mirandi waited and listened to music for nearly an hour, then got out of the car and strolled up and down the street. After several turns, she heard someone calling and saw a woman beckoning her from Joe’s mother’s gate.
Smiling uncertainly, she walked back. The woman introduced herself as Marie. ‘Madame would like you to visit with us, if you please, mam’selle.’
She beamed. ‘That would be lovely, Marie. Thank you.’
Marie showed her through the villa to a small sheltered loggia with two open sides giving magnificent views of the Mediterranean. Joe and his mother were seated at a table charmingly set with three places.
Joe rose when Mirandi stepped out onto the flagged floor of the balcony, and swiftly took her hand. ‘Maman, this is Mirandi. Mirandi, may I present Mme Bonnard.’
Joe’s mother greeted her warmly and invited her to sit. Throughout the lunch she listened with great attention to everything Mirandi said, though her eyes rested fondly on her son’s face more often than not. Joe laughed often, and Mirandi couldn’t help but be aware that sometimes both his and his mother’s eyes seemed to acquire a moist shimmer.
There was much unspoken emotion in the air, though Amelie still managed to insert some penetrating questions into the conversation vis-à-vis Mirandi’s work, her living arrangements in Sydney and her family history, dating back before the invasion.
In some ways the gentle interrogation was so typical of Mim’s whenever Mirandi had taken a friend home for tea, Mirandi felt quite comfortable with it.
There were several points in the conversation when Amelie’s gentle glance shifted from Joe to Mirandi and back, and Mirandi knew there was no doubt in the Frenchwoman’s mind of her passion for Joe.
After the lunch, Amelie began to wilt a little, and Mirandi remembered siesta was the custom in Provence. Comprehending at the same time, Joe exchanged a glance with Mirandi and they took their leave, each of them shaking hands with Amelie and being kissed on both cheeks.
There was more kissing at the front door, and Amelie held both of Joe’s hands and said, ‘Come again, my son. Please.’
The plea was heartfelt, and Mirandi understood it was a wrench for them both to part after having found each other again for such a brief time. Perhaps that was why Joe was nearly as silent on the journey back to Sancerre-sur-Mer as he’d been on the journey to Antibes, though this time his silence had a different quality. Often Mirandi felt his gaze drift her way as though she was in his thoughts, and once or twice his hand strayed to touch her.
That evening when she was packing her suitcase and arranging what she needed to wear on the plane, he came into the room with a pensive frown.
‘Ah…I’ve been thinking.’ He dragged a hand through his hair. ‘You know…one visit with my mother in twenty years doesn’t seem very fair to her, does it? Who knows when I’ll have the time to come back here?’ He shot her a glance, drifted across to the window and gazed out.
‘I know,’ she said warmly. ‘It was so wonderful meeting her. It’s a pity we don’t have more time.’
‘It is. Yes, it is,’ he agreed with enthusiasm. ‘That’s why I’ve been thinking… At least one of us will have to go back or the firm will think we’ve absconded.’ He gave a small laugh.
He turned to face her, his face filled with a light she hadn’t seen before, then advanced and took her shoulders in his hands. For some reason her heart started to sink. ‘Sweetheart, how confident do you feel about flying back to Sydney on your own?’
‘Oh.’ Her heart took a definite plunge, but she knew when it was time to put on a bright face. ‘I’m fine with it. Course I am. Hey, an intrepid traveller like me?’ She grinned to demonstrate her complete lack of concern. ‘Why, how—long do you think you might stay?’
‘Probably not long. A few days, a week? Two? Just long enough—so I can get to know her again. Do you under stand?’
‘Of course I do, Joe. It’s a wonderful idea, and very important.’
‘I knew you’d understand.’ He looked suddenly twitchy, as if he was somehow all up in the air. ‘Are you sure you don’t mind? You won’t be nervous on your own?’
‘Nervous? Moi?’
Terrified more like, because she could see where this was heading. His newly discovered French side was taking over and he would never come home.
‘Don’t you worry about me,’ she lied with phony bravado. ‘I have nerves of steel. I’m a market analyst now, remember?’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ he said heartily. ‘And don’t you worry. When you go to work next Monday morning Patterson will show you to your new office.’
‘Will he?’ Suddenly she felt almost faint. Everything was already arranged. He’d been on the phone to Patterson, spoken to people at work. The reality of work was looming and she’d have to face it without Joe.
She might have to face everything without Joe. Life. The future.
It was an emotional farewell at the airport in Nice, on her side at any rate. Joe kept putting his arms around her and kissing her, and she had to fight to hold herself together. What if she never saw him again? Stranger things had happened.
When he kissed her goodbye for the last time, she said, ‘You will come home, won’t you?’
‘You’d better believe it.’
And he laughed. But it was a happy laugh. Not the laugh of a man contemplating a separation from the woman he loved. Whereas she… All she could think of was how would she be without him now? How would she sleep?
It could very well mean she wasn’t the woman he loved.
On the plane she tried to console herself with the reflection that Joe had conquered some demons on this trip and would be much the happier for it. Happier but in France, her evil genius chipped in.
She was surprised when she finally landed at Sydney airport to see Ryan Patterson waiting for her. Patterson, of all people. Joe had organised it from France, Patterson told her. To ease her back into her job.
If that wasn’t a sign she didn’t know what was. If ever there was a man Joe had shown no confidence in whatsoever, Patterson was the man. And now she’d been handed over to him.
It was the old story. There was a new woman in Joe’s life, and it wasn’t Mirandi Summers.
She visited Mim and her father and told them she’d been to Provence with Joe. They both looked startled over the sponge cake and teacups to hear of Joe’s successes, and Mim exclaimed, ‘Joe Sinclair? Who’d ever believe he’d amount to anything?’
Her father lifted his brows at Mim. ‘Joe? No, no, you’ve got him wrong, Mim. Joe was a bright lad, and good-hearted underneath. He knew how to keep his word.’
Mirandi’s ears pricked up. ‘What do you mean by that, Dad?’
Her father sent his sister a look and Mim frowned and gave her head a very slight shake. Not so slight that Mirandi missed it, though.
Her curiosity piqued, she looked from one to the other evasive face. ‘What?’ she prompted. ‘What is it?’
Her father�
�s eyes met Mirandi’s then slid away. ‘Well…’
Mirandi’s heart started to beat really fast. ‘Is this…is this something about Joe and me, Dad? Something I don’t know about?’
Embarrassed, her father looked down at his teacup. ‘Well, it was only ever intended for the best for both of you. Joe needed to establish himself. He had no one else…’
‘He had me,’ she said quietly, her pulse suddenly booming in her ears.
Her father lifted his rueful gaze to hers. ‘You were too young, love, to take on that job. I’m sorry you—went through a bad time, but I acted for the best. I couldn’t have—we could never have guessed how hard you’d take it.’ On the edge of her vision Mirandi noticed Mim dab at her eyes, while the captain went on, ‘We thought…we honestly thought you’d get over it in a few weeks at most, once you started at uni.’
Mirandi could feel herself turning white, but she held herself together. ‘What did you do? You went to see Joe? You said things to him?’
Her father sighed. His bluff face was so kind, so wise, and sometimes so wrong.
‘It wasn’t like that. I just—pointed out to him how young you were. He—saw the force of my argument. And I was right, you know. Look how well you’ve done. You’ve both done.’
‘You hurt him, Dad,’ she said hoarsely. ‘You hurt him.’
Mim started to weep quietly and Mirandi rose abruptly to her feet. ‘I’ll have to think about this.’
‘But you’ve found each other again, haven’t you?’ Mim cried after her when Mirandi was rushing out the front door. ‘Isn’t that what you came to tell us?’
‘I don’t know,’ Mirandi said.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HER emotions ran high for days, but when Mirandi had digested the shock she eventually stopped agonising. It was of no use to blame them. At least she understood now so many of those oblique things Joe had said to her. Her father had done it out of love, and who was to know how things would have turned out otherwise? Joe might have dumped her soon enough anyway.
She let them invite her around for Sunday dinner and showed them some of her photos. At least now she was in charge of her life, and she could choose to be with Joe and no one could prevent her. Except for Joe himself, of course. She couldn’t repress a pang of fear at the thought.
She had other reasons to be emotional. For one, she was yearning for Joe night and day. She knew she was probably being irrational, but her imagination had been going berserk since that last goodbye. Sometimes at night when she was sprinkling her pillow with tears, she told herself that, after all they’d been through together, in the end the love of her life had relegated her back to being a mere employee.
Her new job could probably be quite interesting once she started concentrating on it properly. Somehow though, without Joe, even the new office had lost its relish. The meetings weren’t nearly as intriguing knowing that Joe wasn’t lurking about threatening to stride by looking autocratic and dripping with hotness.
As well, a couple of her colleagues who’d thought she was a lowly assistant were quite snotty when they discovered she was a bona fide MA with her own office. At least Ryan was supportive. She thanked him for it one day and he said cheerfully, ‘Boss’s orders. I’ve been instructed to look after you.’
What? He’d been instructed to be her friend?
She could have burst into tears on the spot. She’d never felt so alone. Though, forcing herself to look on the bright side, she probably could have picked herself up and sashayed around the office like a goddess if only she hadn’t always felt so deathly tired. In fact, it wasn’t impossible she was coming down with dengue fever. Who knew what a woman could catch in the Mediterranean?
Joe emailed her often, but it wasn’t the same. Anything could be said in an email. It wasn’t like looking into the person’s eyes. To prove her point she emailed back with bright snappy chatter about how fantastic everything was. How absolutely fine she felt. How bursting with ideas she was for running the company.
Joe’s week had stretched into three the day the bombshell dropped. She was standing in her office reading through some policy files when Ryan Patterson dropped in and told her that Joe had resigned from the firm.
She simply froze. The blow was so extreme she felt unable to speak, just forced a shattered smile for Patterson, then as soon as he left the room she had to rush to the bathroom to throw up.
How could Joe not have told her? He’d emailed her only the day before. To resign. Just like that, without warning. Her worst, most maniacal fears were realised to the fullest extent. Provence had crept into his heart and he couldn’t tear himself away.
For the rest of the week, bereft of her lover, her faith in humanity destroyed, she walked through the days like an automaton. An automaton that needed to throw up every morning, that was.
On Saturday, grateful for the reprieve from having to put on a cheery office face to confound those witches on the fourteenth floor, she stayed in bed. There was something in the bathroom she didn’t want to see.
At least the girls she shared with were away for the weekend, thank goodness. It didn’t matter how blotchy and miserable she looked, so she gave herself up to an emotional binge and let the floodgates open wide. Fifty billion megalitres of water exploded over the floodway.
This was why, when the security intercom buzzed, she ignored it. It repeated several times, and then whoever it must have been was either let in by other tenants or had given up and left. Not that she cared. They wouldn’t be buzzing for her. No one would ever buzz for her again.
She was dragged from her soggy tissues by the sound of someone brisk hammering on the door of the flat. Someone with a deep, commanding voice.
‘Mirandi? Mirandi, are you in there? Sweetheart, are you all right?’
Her heart boomeranged around her chest cavity and she sprang up out of the bed. ‘Oh…’ She started a wild run for the door, but bumped into an armoire and stubbed her toe on the dressing table. Catching sight of herself in the wing mirrors, she shrieked, ‘Oh, no.’
Limping and running, she made it to the front door without bouncing off any other pieces of furniture, and halted there. ‘Joe? Is that you?’
‘Of course it’s me.’ He sounded slightly bewildered by the question. ‘Who else?’
‘Can you give me a minute?’
There was an incredulous silence, then she felt sure she heard him sigh.
‘A minute. Fine. All right.’
She turned for the bathroom, remembered she couldn’t go in there, and made for the kitchen sink instead. Forget hygiene. This was an emergency. She splashed her face and dried it on a tea towel, then hurried back to the bedroom to do her best with make-up.
Transformed to some degree, a minute or so later she opened the door. Well, all right, it might have been several minutes.
Joe was slouched against the wall in the hallway with his eyes shut.
‘Hello,’ she said, hoping she didn’t still sound bleary. ‘Sorry to keep you.’
He opened his eyes and sprang to his feet, and his eyes lit up.
They truly did.
Before another word was spoken he grabbed her and dragged her against his lean sexy bones in the most comprehensive embrace, showering her with kisses and growling things like, ‘Oh, I’ve missed you. Oh, it’s been so hard. Oh, to feel you. To hold you. I’ve needed this. You’ll never know.’
Her heart spilling over with joy and relief, she didn’t attempt to discourage his flattering words, but when he walked her backwards into the flat and directed her with an unerring instinct towards her bedroom she felt it was time to draw a line in the sand.
‘It’s good to see you too,’ she panted. ‘I thought you weren’t coming back.’
‘I know you thought that,’ he said with a hearty laugh. ‘Your emails were full of it.’
She raised a brow at that. As far as she knew her emails had been models of restraint. ‘Well, but… What did you expect? How did you think I
would feel? What’s all this about you resigning?’
He made an exasperated, ‘Tsk. Who told you that? I bet it was Ryan Patterson. It was supposed to be top secret until I had everything tied up.’
‘Well, didn’t you think I might be interested?’
‘Of course I did, sweetheart, of course, but…’ They’d reached her bedroom by this time, and he steered her towards the only surface where someone might sit, which was the bed. Her rather rumpled bed.
He didn’t appear to notice that, though. It seemed he only had eyes for her. He gazed tenderly at her and softened his voice as if she were an invalid. ‘Well, sweetheart, I know how you worry and I wanted to tell you face to face. I gathered you were feeling a little down and I thought it might upset you if you heard the news without knowing the full story.’
Hope rose in her heart. ‘What is the full story?’
He sprang up and started striding about and flinging his arms about as he talked. ‘Well, in the first place it was about this firm. I haven’t always been happy with the direction things were taking.’ He halted to look at her, the light of excitement blazing in his eyes. ‘I’ve been feeling restless for some time. You know, some of the things the board are so keen to support aren’t really my thing. So I’ve decided to start my own firm.’
‘Wow.’ She widened her eyes. ‘Well, that sounds good.’
Smiling, he sat down beside her. ‘I knew you’d be right there with me. I feel pretty good about it. I emailed my resignation to give them time to digest it before I came back. Some members of the board have already tried to talk me out of it, but I think this is the right time to make the break. I feel as if everything has come together for me at this point in my life. Do you know that feeling?’
Her heart skipped a massive beat. ‘Well…’
He seized her hands in his strong, warm grasp. ‘I’m not sure if this change started with my having to go to Monte Carlo, or with finding you again, but it’s all worked together and it’s been the most special time. Honestly, my darling girl, I feel as if I’m floating on air. And without you, none of it would have happened.’