Hot Basque: A French Summer Novel 2

by Laurette Long

  When the knife finally clattered to the floor, they were both covered in blood. And then, suddenly, all the strength seemed to drain out of her, and she slumped to the floor, head bent, hair falling across her face.

  Edward grabbed a towel, made a tourniquet and bound the cut on her left wrist, cursing and swearing, sweat running down his face. She didn’t appear to have any other serious injury, the blood on their clothes was from the one wrist. It was only when he had finished checking her inert form that he realised that he himself was bleeding from a couple of places where she had swung the sharp blade to fend him off. He dabbed at them, they were superficial. It was Annabel he needed to attend to. He picked her up in his arms and carried her through to the living room. His cheek throbbed where she’d managed to bite him, he felt as though he didn’t have an ounce of strength left in him.

  As she lay on the couch, eyes closed, he sank down next to her, and dialled for an ambulance, cursing Annabel, cursing Claudio, and most of all cursing himself.

  29 BIARRITZ, FRANCE. JUNE

  Caroline had last heard from Edward shortly after he’d arrived in London. He’d phoned her from the taxi, said he’d be in touch later, was going to call Julian. She’d waited up, left messages on his mobile, and finally fallen into a troubled sleep still fully dressed.

  The ring of her phone woke her. She sat up, switched on the bedside lap and squinted at the clock. Half past midnight.

  ‘Edward?’

  He could hear the worry in her voice.

  ‘Did I waken you?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. What’s going on, I’ve been trying to reach you, I was getting worried.’

  ‘Caroline, sweetheart, I need you to listen. Sit down, take a deep breath, and listen. OK?’

  As he described the events of the evening, Edward paced up and down the courtyard of the hospital, watching the ambulances come in, lights flashing, doors sliding back before the vehicles had come to a stop, stretchers being carried out, instructions shouted.

  In the bedroom Caroline was pacing too, pressing the phone to her ear, eyes wide. She’d been unable to prevent the cry of horror when Edward told her that Annabel had tried to take her own life. Her skin was covered in gooseflesh in spite of his words of reassurance.

  ‘The doctors say she’ll be fine. She’s all stitched up, sedated. Thank God I managed to get the knife away from her, otherwise I think she’d have finished the job.’

  He paused.

  ‘Oh Caroline.’

  His voice was thick with regret.

  ‘I’m so terribly sorry. It was my fault, showing her the photo. But I never dreamed she was going to react like that.’

  Her stomach was roiling, acid coming up into her throat, but she heard the distress in his voice and groped to find her own words of comfort.

  ‘Edward, darling, listen to me, it’s not your fault. You didn’t have an affair, you didn’t wield the knife. This is Annabel. I know her, remember? What was it you said, yesterday? About her being unpredictable? And after everything she’d done, somebody had to confront her, try to pick up the pieces. None of us would have imagined she’d react like she did. This is a whole new ballgame.’

  As she spoke the words, Caroline though back to Annabel’s fits of rage as a child, and later as a teenager, which always left the household reeling. She would stamp and scream and throw things, but her rage had always been directed towards an external source, Margaret, Caroline, a friend who had let her down. She’d never shown any signs of wanting to hurt herself.

  Caroline’s mind flashed on another scenario–what if Annabel had gone for Edward, instead of herself? What if it had been Edward who ended up lying in the kitchen covered in blood? She started to shiver, tried to control herself, to concentrate on what Edward was saying. His voice was rapid, agitated, like someone coming down from a high.

  ‘I think it was the, the pure humiliation. She was in such a state I didn’t even recognise her at first. She looked ugly and raddled, like a junkie. God knows when she’d last had a shower, the whole place stank, there were bottles everywhere, cigarette butts. I was so mad I just flung the photo at her. And then she flipped.’

  He moved to one side as a team of paramedic rushed past. Hospitals. He hated the places.

  ‘I’ve never seen anything like it, it was so quick, like a film. I completely misjudged her reaction, I could kick myself. The thing was, I’d got fixated on the idea that whatever happened she mustn’t be allowed to take Joshua. She’s always been good at wriggling out of situations, and I knew that the photo was proof, the incontrovertible proof she was mixed up with this Claudio guy. This time, I thought, she hasn’t got a leg to stand on, she’ll just cave in. I was so convinced of my case, so damned righteous, plus I was still fuming after the call from Julian, that bastard carrying on with the other wife as well. I–’

  ‘Wait, what did you say? What other wife?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘He didn’t tell you, Jules? About the other woman in the picture, the one coming out of the lift?’

  She stopped her pacing, wondering what was coming next.

  ‘It was Klaus’s wife, Susie. Klaus, his partner, you remember we met him when we were in Frankfurt?’

  ‘Oh no.’

  Caroline sat down abruptly.

  ‘You mean, he was there with the two of them?’

  ‘God only knows, he probably thought he could carry on a double game, must have been so pleased with himself, out of one bed, into another, two unsuspecting husbands miles away, sick bastard, getting off on a power trip. But somehow Annabel must have found out, gone to confront him at the Ritz.’

  ‘I can’t believe any of this is happening.’

  ‘Neither can I, and I was there. I’ll never forget the look on her face, I could barely control her, she was like a demon, I thought she was going to...well, anyway, she’s in hospital overnight, obviously, I’m going to stay here, see what they say tomorrow morning.’

  ‘I’ll come over. I’ll get the first flight I can. Just hang on till then.’

  ‘No darling, listen, Julian’s coming over, I’ve just got off the phone with him, I had to let him know first. I told him you would stay in Biarritz and take care of the baby. I realise Annabel’s your sister, but Julian’s her husband and he’s the one who’s going to have to make the decisions. Is that OK sweetheart?’

  She would have to stay in Biarritz and look after the baby.

  She felt a wave of unexpected euphoria. She wouldn’t have to deal with Annabel. She had to look after Joshua. She could stay here in Villa Julia, hundreds of miles away from the chaos and turmoil in London, looking after Joshua. The wave of euphoria was followed by a crushing wave of guilt.

  ‘Are you sure? Can you manage? What about Julian, he must be reeling. He’s been in his room all evening. Do you think I should go and check on him, see if he’s OK?’

  ‘Could you? He sounded completely shell-shocked when I told him. How much more can he take? But she’s still his wife, he’s the only one who has the legal right to decide what happens next.’

  Caroline swallowed the lump in her throat. What kind of state must her sister have been in? Had she even given a thought to her husband? To her child?

  She tried to focus on what Edward was saying.

  ‘...an appointment tomorrow with GG, he’s a famous divorce lawyer now, handles all sorts of high profile cases. When Jules and I discussed it, just before I left, we both felt pretty sure that after the Claudio fiasco Annabel would agree to giving him custody, so long as the price was right. So now Julian’s coming over we’ll see GG together, see what he advises. But I think this will only strengthen his hand, Julian I mean, I can’t see the courts handing over a six-month-old baby to an unstable mother. Sorry, I know it’s rough on you.’

  ‘No, we have to think of Joshua first. She never was particularly maternal anyway, we all knew that. And, you know, what we were talking about last week, she really does need help. I only hop
e something can be done for her.’

  After ending the call with Edward, Caroline sat down and burst into tears. The tears turned into sobs, then into hysterical gulps. It had been an endless day. Every muscle in her body ached. She longed to be with her man, to feel his arms around her, to feel safe. When she was all cried out, she sat for a few moments, then wiped her eyes.

  Julian. What on earth must he be thinking, feeling? It was enough to drive anyone mad. She wiped her eyes again, and pushed herself to her feet.

  The house was in darkness, the staircase lit by moonlight. Taking care not to tread on any creaking boards, she went softly down to the first floor. As she rounded the banisters, she noticed Julian’s bedroom door was partly open, the soft glow of lamplight spilling out. A murmur of voices came from inside.

  She moved down the corridor, then hesitated. Maybe he was with Nadia. Maybe the baby had woken up. If they were trying to get him back to sleep she didn’t want to go barging in. She’d just take a peek, perhaps it would be better to leave things till morning.

  Another couple of steps brought her to the half-open door. Julian’s bed was unmade, a suitcase stood open on a table, a couple of shirts laid across it. Papers were scattered around, a passport, keys. Where was the baby? She edged closer. She could just make out the French windows standing partly open to the warm night, reflecting the scene inside. Two shadowy figures stood near the bed, a man and a woman. They were talking, in low voices.

  The woman put her arm round Julian’s shoulders, murmured something.

  A feeling of relief washed through Caroline. She could go back to her room, sink into bed, close her eyes and try to pretend this awful day had never happened. Someone else was taking care of poor Julian.

  As she was turning to go back upstairs his voice reached her ears, muffled, but full of pain.

  ‘...enough time...been going on for months, I can’t take any more...’

  She saw a sudden movement, then froze, unable to move, unable to drag her eyes from the scene.

  Caroline watched, transfixed, as Julian pulled the woman into his arms and with a groan of anguish bent to press his lips to hers in a passionate kiss.

  30 BIARRITZ, FRANCE. JUNE

  Caroline dropped Julian at the airport for his early flight, the two of them tense and silent for most of the ride. He got out of the car carefully, like a man with an injury, his movements slow, his face lined and weary and infinitely sad. He turned towards her as she came round to the passenger side.

  ‘Thanks Caroline. I don’t know what I’d do without you and Edward.’

  ‘Just hold on Julian. Just hold on. Remember Joshua needs you to be strong.’

  ‘You’re right. I’m letting myself go, not good enough.’

  He shook his head, pulled back his shoulders and stood up straight.

  Caroline took a step forward, hugged him close.

  ‘Well, I’d better be off.’

  He gave her a wan smile, and a final squeeze before heading inside the terminal. She watched him disappear through the doors, then got back into the car and drove off. As soon as possible she pulled over to the side of the road, switched off the engine and rested her head on the steering wheel.

  A few minutes. A few, calm, peaceful minutes. Time to pull herself together, to collect her scattered wits.

  A plane took off with a roar of engines, climbing steeply into the sky, on the first phase of its journey. She watched the undercarriage retract, her thoughts going back to her arrival here last summer.

  It had been Julian who’d come to pick her up, she’d been so nervous at the idea of the holiday, and there he was, reassuring, sweet Julian, hugging her tight, telling her how pleased he was to see her, how nice she was looking. A different Julian, relaxed, tanned, and carefree in spite of the problems that she knew existed in his relationship with her sister. She remembered thinking how handsome he looked, his movements swift and athletic as he swung her luggage into the boot; his aristocratic profile as he sat behind the wheel, manoeuvring the sports car through the holiday traffic; his enthusiasm as he filled her in about the twins, about the villa, about what a great time they were having.

  Thinking of his spare, bowed figure pulling his case towards the terminal this morning a wave of sadness engulfed her. Annabel...she thought of her sister, imagined her lying in a hospital bed, white bandages concealing her bloody wrists.

  Her tired brain refused to adjust to the scene she’d witnessed last night. After hurrying back to her room, heart pounding, she had tossed and turned for hours, then finally, as dawn was breaking, had dropped into a troubled sleep, only to be woken by the alarm clock she had set to take Julian to the airport.

  Another plane roared overhead, arrowing upwards into the cloudless sky. Holidaymakers on their way home. She glanced at her watch, started the engine, pulled out into the traffic. The drive back to the villa was on autopilot. She had just turned through the gates when her phone rang, snapping her out of her reverie, setting her nerves jangling.

  It was Antoine.

  ‘Caro–is it a bad time to talk? Only I’ve not heard anything since you rushed off yesterday morning. Is everything OK? With your sister?’

  For a moment she was completely disoriented.

  Was it only yesterday morning that she’d been at the café with Antoine? Such a lot had happened. And what was she going to tell him about Jill? She took a deep breath.

  ‘Oh Antoine. It’s such a mess. Annabel’s in hospital.’

  Antoine’s exclamations came over the phone as she filled him in on the main details.

  ‘I’ll come round straight away.’

  ‘No Antoine!’

  He caught the panic in her voice.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound rude or ungrateful, it’s just...none of us got any sleep last night and...’

  Her voice trailed off.

  ‘Don’t worry la rose, I understand, but I feel awful thinking of you all trying to cope, are you sure there’s nothing I can do?’

  ‘I’m sure. But you are so sweet to think of it. Why don’t I ring you later, when we’ve had time to get out heads round things?’

  They’d agreed and Antoine had rung off.

  Caroline slumped against the car. Madame Martin’s little Fiat was parked to one side. When she’d left to take Julian to the airport, no-one had been up. She’d scribbled a note saying that Annabel had been taken ill and was in hospital and Julian was flying over to London. She had kept it deliberately vague. Smoke and mirrors.

  Jill and Nadia were in the kitchen, fussing with the baby. Madame Martin was preparing a puree of carrots and courgettes.

  They all looked up as she came through the door and stopped what they were doing.

  ‘He got off alright?’

  Jill’s face was pale. Both she and Nadia had deep shadows under their eyes. Madame Martin was wearing a look of the deepest concern.

  Caroline realised the three women were staring at her fixedly, waiting for news.

  ‘Yes fine, he’s OK. You know. He’ll ring when he arrives.’

  ‘And Annabel?’

  Caroline turned to Jill.

  Annabel.

  ‘Appendicitis.’

  The word rolled off her tongue with no problem.

  ‘Nothing serious, but Julian thought it was best, you know, to go over there.’

  ‘And Monsieur Edward?’

  She plastered a bright smile on her face, turned to Madame Martin.

  ‘Work. The usual suspect. You know how it is Madame Martin.’

  Madame Martin muttered something under her breath about ‘scandalous, hard-working people couldn’t even enjoy a well-deserved holiday these days’ and set about beating the life out of her purée.

  ‘I’m just going to go up and get a shower, see to a couple of things, didn’t have time this morning, that’s if everything is OK here?’ said Caroline. ‘Madame Martin, do you need me to give you a hand with anything first?’

  Madame Martin
gave Caroline a look. It was a look that said whatever it was that was going on, she’d been dealing with family emergencies for forty years, and nothing, but nothing, was going to faze her now.

  Caroline escaped upstairs and collapsed on the bed.

  31 LONDON, ENGLAND. JUNE

  ‘Edward! Julian! Good to see you. Come in, come in.’

  GG had started to put on weight round the middle. As he shook hands with Julian, the pair made a striking contrast. GG’s face had lost its boyish chubbiness and was now uncompromisingly fleshy. He had a double chin, a receding hairline but his smile was as warm as ever. He was impeccably dressed in a Savile Row bespoke suit with waistcoat, and brogues polished like mirrors. Julian, on the other hand, looked as though he’d just come back from a month trying to climb Everest and not succeeding. His face had caught the sun in the last few days, but though he’d put on a bit of weight, his cheeks were still gaunt, and the shirt he’d chosen to wear for their appointment was loose around the neck. His eyes, Edward noted with concern, looked even more sunken and red-rimmed that when he’d arrived at the villa.

  ‘What can I get you?’ said GG, ushering them towards two deep-buttoned leather club chairs.

  Their friend had gone for a decor reminiscent of the time-honoured gentleman’s club. Not a sliver of glass to be seen, except for the Georgian decanter and tumblers; not a glint of metal save for the silver gleam of the Patek Philippe pen lined up precisely with a calf-bound diary. Discreet lighting from silk-shaded lamps fell gently onto the polished surfaces of antiques: a large rosewood desk, an eighteenth century oak table, Sheraton chairs. A handsome long case clock ticked soothingly in the background. On the floor, a thick Persian rug in rich reds and blues swallowed the sound of their footsteps.

  Settling himself in one chair, Edward caught the delicate scent of roses coming from a silver bowl, reminding him of his evening in the garden with Caroline only a couple of nights previously. The perfume of roses, the smell of beeswax, the faintest hint of cigar smoke all mingled to create the unmistakeable smell of luxury and fine living.