Biarritz Passion: A French Summer Novel

by Laurette Long

  She couldn’t face anyone, not even Claudie. She would tell them tomorrow, make an excuse about a crisis at Willowdale, her aunt ill with all the stress, book a taxi to take her to the airport. Just one more deception after all. She crept silently back up the stairs to the top floor and her bedroom. Once inside she closed the door and leaned against it. The lamp with its peach-coloured shade threw a warm glow on the satiny floorboards, and cast shadows on the Matisse print over the dresser.

  Caroline was full of immense sadness at the thought of leaving. This room, the villa and its lovely gardens, this elegant graceful town, her new friends. Her hopes of happiness. She looked at the picture again. The Dream. It was the last thing she saw before falling asleep. It had been the last thing she had seen the other night before her eyes had closed and she had dropped into oblivion, Edward’s warm body pressed against hers, his voice whispering into her ear.

  On an impulse she crossed to the wardrobe and took out jeans and a warm sweater. Lacing her tennis shoes she prepared for her last walk by the sea.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT. SATURDAY 17 JULY

  The night air came to meet her, cool and resinous. She threw back her head taking deep breaths. It had been raining again, just a shower from the look of it. Clouds scudded across the sky and a few clear patches shone milky white against the dark blue. She made her way down the hill, reached the cliff path, passed the hydrangea bushes holding up their massive blooms, ghostly pale in the semi-darkness. She stopped.

  Through the gusting of the wind she seemed to hear a strange music. At the turn of the path she paused, struck by the scene before her. The bay opened out below, its curving expanse filled with darkly swelling waves whose foaming edges crashed against the shore in clouds of high-flung silver spray. The black rocks that rose along the south side were caught in a bold white light, their craggy shapes, cascading with seawater, standing out starkly against the surrounding blackness. On the wind came once again that strange, distant music. As she watched, holding her breath, the scene before her changed, the rocks vanished, and the ocean, from the sand’s edge to the middle of the bay was bathed in an eerie green light. Her ears caught strains of the music again. Crystalline piano notes rippling in a heart-stopping cascade. This time she recognised the haunting melody of Debussy’s Clair de Lune.

  She stood there spellbound, the music drifting across the water as if from a phantom boat, the colours changing from green to blue and then to white again. Son et Lumière…she suddenly understood what she was watching, what she was hearing. She had never seen a Sound and Light Festival before. Vaguely she had imagined it to consist of a few spotlights trained on an ancient monument while an orchestral recording crackled tinnily in the background. Not this enchantment, the swelling music, the changing colours, an artistic harmony in celebration of nature’s majestic spectacle. Unable to tear her eyes away she continued downwards, closer to the beach. On the cliff walk couples leaned on the rail, arms entwined. On the sea front the usual noisy crowd that gathered in front of the pavilion was stilled. In silent groups they watched the raging splendour of the sea caught in a web of light from the powerful spotlights fastened high on the cliff tops.

  Bereft of all human intrusion, primeval in its force, the sea flung itself upon the beach, the thunder of its voice matching the crescendo pouring from the hidden loudspeakers. Her heart thumping with emotion Caroline headed for the rocky promontory in front of the Casino. She passed the deserted benches, the dark silhouettes of shrubs, feeling the wind tug at her with greater force. By a thicket whose stirring leaves gave off a smell of orange blossom she stopped, leaning on the barrier at the edge of the rock. Far below, the water boiled, hissing and sucking at the base of the promontory. Chin in hand she gazed out across the bay, hypnotised by the changing play of light, transported by the faerie sounds. She seemed to have been standing there forever before she realised that the tears were cold on her cheek, that she was chilled to the bone, her sweater no match for the wild wind and the flying spray. She wiped her face, rubbed her stiff fingers together and turned reluctantly from the sea.

  There were few people outdoors as she left the sea front. She could see customers inside cafés, drinking hot chocolate or shots of cognac, talking and laughing together. She was shivering, but her mood was strangely serene. There were no more tears left to cry. The emotional turmoil of the last few days had subsided, as if put into perspective by what she had just witnessed. She felt resigned to events. C’est la vie, as Jean-Paul would say. That’s life. Maybe she was in a state of delayed shock, maybe the terrible anguish was just sleeping, would return later with renewed force. She climbed the hilly streets that led to Villa Julia. As she came round the bend in the drive she noticed there were no lights on, apart from one single lamp that still shone in the salon.

  She closed the door softly behind her, and began to move across the hall. Suddenly a movement in the shadows made her jump. Putting a hand to her lips to stifle a gasp, she heard Edward’s voice.

  ‘Caroline? Is that you? We all thought you were asleep. I stopped by your room a couple of times this afternoon. You were flat out. I checked again, about an hour ago. When I saw the room was empty...’

  His voice was shaky.

  ‘I just needed some air.’

  ‘You’ve been out on your own, in the dark?’

  His voice was no longer shaky, but sharp with anxiety.

  ‘Just for a walk, down to the sea front, there were lots of people about. I am old enough to be out on my own if I feel like it.’

  He was taken aback by the defensive reply. The two of them stood there in the dim hall.

  ‘How are you feeling? Come in front of the fire, have a drink with me. I’d like us to talk, if you’re feeling up to it.’

  ‘I’m a bit tired. I should go up.’

  ‘Of course.’ His voice was full of disappointment. ‘You must be. These last few days have been as bad for you as they have for Julian.’

  Julian. How could he say his name, pretend to be concerned?

  ‘It’s just that, well, we haven’t had a moment to talk. Alone, I mean. Not since...the other night.’

  A wave of fury rose up inside Caroline. You want to talk? she thought. Right. We’ll talk.

  She followed him into the salon.

  ‘Is cognac OK?’

  She nodded and went to stand by the fireplace where the remains of a pine log glowed in the ash. They must have lit it this evening against the sudden chill.

  ‘You’re wet through!’ Edward touched her shoulder as he handed her glass. ‘Stay by the fire and drink this. I’ll get some dry clothes from your room.’

  ‘For God’s sake Edward!’

  The exclamation was out before she could stop it.

  ‘It’s nothing. Just a bit of spray. I was watching the waves.’

  He came slowly back towards her.

  ‘Is everything alright? Apart from Annabel, I mean.’

  She gave a derisive laugh.

  ‘I’m going home tomorrow. I’ve changed my booking.’

  There was an unbelieving silence.

  Caroline threw back her head to finish her drink and turned to put the glass down. Edward caught her arm, his grip hard.

  ‘Why?’

  The blue eyes blazed with emotion. Her heart responded like a traitor. She stared at Edward. Beautiful Edward. False Edward. They were well matched, he and her sister. What was it Hamlet said, that one may smile and smile and be a villain?

  ‘You bastard.’

  The look in his eyes changed. Shock. Hurt. Then anger. A look that Caroline had never seen before.

  ‘Sit down.’

  He pushed her roughly down onto the sofa and stood in front of her.

  ‘What I did, OK, maybe it was wrong, and...I apologise. But no matter what you think, I did it for you. Just for you. I thought that was what you wanted, what you needed. It seems I made a mistake. I’m sorry.’ He turned from her. ‘But I can’t believe you just called me a bas
tard.’

  What was he talking about? Caroline sat, confused, then the memory of their night together flashed into her mind. He thought she was referring to what had happened then. That wasn’t what she meant, what she felt, of course it wasn’t. And yet, a voice of reason intruded, it was a part of it, wasn’t it? He’d tricked her. He’d made her feel cherished, protected, as if she was the only woman in the world, the only woman for him, and all the time...He had behaved like a bastard.

  The air vibrated with tension. Caroline’s eyes shot sparks. She leaped to her feet, confronted him.

  ‘You used me!’

  ‘I used you?’

  For one moment he looked flabbergasted, then the anger returned, he took a step towards her and she flinched. Put up one arm.

  ‘Caroline!’

  He stopped abruptly, seeing her reaction. Without knowing how it had happened, his arms were round her, his voice murmuring into her hair.

  ‘Oh God, my darling, you didn’t think I was going to hit you? Caroline, my sweet girl, this is all a misunderstanding, what’s got into you?’

  He pressed his lips against her hair, held her tighter. For a moment she leaned into him, raised her face, how sweet it was how sweet. She twisted her head violently.

  ‘Let me go!’

  She spat the words.

  He dropped his hold, stared at her, ran his hands through his hair, that old familiar gesture.

  ‘I don’t understand. I don’t know why you’re playing with me like this.’

  He moved to the fireplace, rested his head on his arms, staring into the dying embers. Outside the wind sent a pine branch knocking at the window pane.

  ‘Playing with you?’

  Her voice rose, she was incredulous, she hated him. And she longed to feel his arms round her once more, to succumb to those sweet kisses.

  In a sudden explosion of rage she grabbed his arm. The words burst from her lips.

  ‘How dare you accuse me of playing with you? It’s you! Tormenting me, manipulating me, I was starting to believe–oh, why Edward why? I thought you understood me. I thought you had feelings for me. I thought...I thought that we were friends.’

  He didn’t move. She couldn’t see his face. She shook his arm again.

  ‘It really hurts. Yes, I know, I should be tougher, I should learn to play the games too, there are probably rules, you seem to know them, my sister’s known them since she was born. But I don’t want to play, Edward! Can’t you understand that? I don’t like the game! I find it cruel and selfish and shallow. OK so it’s my fault for being naive and stupid yet again, a fool. But what about Julian? He’s your best friend. Remember what you said about him that night in London?’

  Her voice quivered;

  ‘It was a magnificent performance. We were all taken in. Bravo.’

  She stopped, breathless, tears rolling down her cheeks, let go of his arm.

  Slowly Edward lifted his head, turned around. In the lamplight his face had lost its colour.

  ‘A fool? Yes that’s exactly what you are! Do you really, honestly, believe that I’m the lovely character you’ve just painted? What did you say? Shallow and selfish? And cruel? And what has Julian to do with it? What have I ever done to him, to you, to deserve such a damning judgement? What have I done? Tell me!’

  He grabbed her, gave her a little shake.

  ‘What have I done, Caroline? Except be nice to you, be attentive and careful—God! I’ve been so careful, since that first night, yes, I know I went too far then, I admit it, but ever since, I’ve treated you with kid gloves. I know you went through a bad time with Liam. It’s in the back of my mind every time I touch you, every time I look at you. I told myself I just had to play the waiting game, take things slowly, and little by little you’d trust me. The other night, all I wanted to do was make love to you, real love, both of us naked in your bed. Christ almighty. If any of my friends ever found out I’d spent a whole night with a beautiful desirable woman, and not even taken my clothes off—’

  He shook his head, gave a hard laugh.

  ‘And you accuse me of tormenting you?’

  ‘But I didn’t! I mean I did! I did want you, you know I wanted you. I would have given you everything that night! I really thought you liked me, more than liked me—’

  ‘Liked you! You idiot, I was hooked from the moment I saw you! In that awful T-shirt, your hair covered in twigs, and God knows when you’d last washed your feet. I wasn’t expecting it, it hit me right between the eyes, like being clubbed, you sneaked under my skin, I couldn’t stop thinking about you, what, did you really think our evening at the Delorme’s was pure coincidence?’

  They were both panting like gladiators. Caroline’s head was reeling. It wasn’t true what he said, how could it be true? The things he said, about her getting under his skin, it was another trick.

  She glared at him, eyes hostile.

  ‘So. Where does Annabel come in?’

  She spoke the words softly, with ominous calm.

  How could he look so astonished? She wanted to spring at him and scratch his eyes out.

  ‘Annabel? What the hell does Annabel have to do with any of this?’

  ‘So you deny it?’ She gave a sarcastic laugh.

  ‘Deny what? Caroline, I’m trying to keep my patience, I’ve told you how I feel about you, I’ve said more things to you than I ever admitted to any woman, but my patience is wearing thin, I’m beginning to lose my temper again, I don’t want to lose my temper but if you keep on talking in riddles like the bloody Sybil, I swear—’ he broke off, shook his head.

  OK, he’d asked for it. No more riddles.

  ‘First, the lunch at the Savoy. Yes, don’t look surprised, I was there, I saw you together.’

  She was ticking the points off on her fingers.

  ‘Then, the business at the coffee stand, when she was drunk. We both heard her, me and Jean-Paul. ‘You promised to take care of me Edward.’ That’s what she said. You can ask Jean-Paul. And anyone can see you’re attracted to her, the way you touch her, rubbing sun cream all over her...’

  Edward’s eyes had narrowed.

  ‘You’re jealous. Jealous of your sister. This is what it’s all about.’

  His shoulders had relaxed a fraction. A little smile was appearing at the corners of his mouth. Damn him, he was pleased! He thought she was jealous of Annabel, and that made him smile! She was choking with rage. But now Edward was holding up his hand, imitating her, ticking off points on his fingers.

  ‘Right. Let’s start with the lunch. Yes, I took her for lunch. Just the two of us. Why? Because I find her charming? Because I want to flirt with her? Wrong, Caroline, wrong. I took her to lunch because Julian asked me to. That’s right, look scornful, it suits you. But you see, whatever crazy idea you’ve got in your head, Julian is my best friend and, unfortunately for him, he happens to be madly in love with your sister. Your cold-hearted, spoiled little sister! Julian was away that weekend. He asked me to take her out. He didn’t, quote unquote, ‘want her to be lonely’. Lonely! I spent two hours singing his praises, telling her what a great person he was, eternally loyal, devoted in friendship, generous, thoughtful—’ Edward choked. ‘Two hours, during which poor lonely Annabel fluttered her eyelashes, accidentally brushed my leg under the table at least fifty times, and showed so much cleavage I thought her bloody boobs were going to end up in the Caesar salad!’

  A giggle escaped from Caroline’s lips. Horrified she put a hand to her mouth. Her mind was struggling to make sense of what he had just told her, to adjust her memory of what she’d seen to fit with Edward’s account of the situation but all she could think of were Annabel’s boobs falling into her salad.

  ‘Point two.’ Edward waggled a finger in front of her. ‘The other night. When she was drunk. Let me tell you how things really went after you and JP went back. OK, here’s faithful buddy Edward.’

  He threw himself into a pose.

  ‘Annabel old thing now that you’ve
thrown up all over my favourite Nikes can I just say a word? Please stop treating my best mate Julian like a dog. He’s feeling low, you’re the reason, and your response is to chop him in the balls. It doesn’t help.’

  Edward was getting into full theatre mode. Rather like Margaret, thought Caroline, before she could stop herself.

  ‘OK, now, this is Lonely Little Annabel: ‘Eddie darling you know I don’t mean it, but I’m in such a mess, my emotions, my hormones, and you know what Julian thinks about it all, and I’ve no one else to turn to, you did promise to help me, I just can’t afford it , these clinics are so expensive—’ he suddenly broke off, horrified. They looked at one another. The wind had gone out of his sails.

  ‘I know,’ said Caroline.

  ‘When did she tell you?’

  ‘She didn’t. It was the landlady of the hotel.’

  ‘Oh sweetheart, what a way to find out. After everything else, I’m so sorry.’

  She almost went to him then. But she remembered her sister’s words, her look, and pulled herself back sharply.

  ‘OK Edward. I accept that I misinterpreted a couple of things. But you see, there’s something I can’t forgive. You just said it again, Julian’s your best friend. So you encourage his fiancée to abort their baby, encourage her to split up with him, and then, when the time is right, you step in and take over where he left off. It was a good performance, Edward, in fact it was brilliant. I’ve never seen you act before. All this scheming Annabel stuff, all this ‘I’ve got you under my skin Caro.’ But I know Annabel. Whatever she wants she gets. That’s something I didn’t tell you about Liam. Oh she thinks I don’t know. But he told me. Left me a nice little message on my answering machine, at work as a matter of fact. Good job I came in early that day, before the others. Otherwise they’d all have known, about my fiancé and my sister and their sordid affair. And now it’s your turn. And do you know how I know this time? Because Annabel has just thrown it in my face! She’s just told me! All your little talks, your discussions, your secrets, how to deal with the ‘complications’. You’ve got it all planned.’