If Only You Knew

by Claire Allan

  It was then, filled with the confidence of several glasses of wine, that she turned to Ava and began to serenade her with a rather impressive (or so she thought) version of the theme from Fame complete with dance moves which weren’t as easy as they would have been had she not been wearing a full-length gown.

  “I’m sure we haven’t seen the best of you yet and I’m sure we will all remember your name,” Ava said, laughing, standing up to dance (just a little bit) in herpurple satin shoes before lying back on the bed as Hope continued her dance routine.

  When she was finished and slightly breathless, she manoeuvred herself carefully, so as not to tear the dress, onto the bed beside Ava and clinked her glass on her cousin’s again.

  “It’s been very nice getting to know you,” she said.

  “Oh, I agree. You’ve been very lucky,” Ava teased. “I am a babe!”

  “A complete and utter babe.”

  “With amazing preggo boobs,” Ava said, glancing downwards.

  “Yes, they are indeed amazing. But don’t take this the wrong way, they are not as fabulous as your shoes.”

  “Oh I know that,” Ava said. “The shoes are truly amazing.”

  Both descended into giggles and held hands as they lay on the bed before Hope spoke again. “Do you think we should go out there? The men will be expecting us?”

  “They seem to be getting on just fine,” Hope said, thinking of how they had left Connor and Jean-Luc discussing world politics and the recession.

  When they had got back to the house, Jean-Luc had offered to cook dinner and both girls had been only too keen to agree.

  “You can spend time outside and I will, as they say, slave over a hot cooker for you?” he said.

  “You know, the old Hope would have argued with you and insisted you sit down while I cooked but the new Hope is going to throw caution to the wind.”

  He took her hand and gently kissed her palm before looking deep into her eyes in a way that made her feel a little weak at the knees. “I like that you are throwing caution to the wind. And with my cooking, that may be needed. It is not true that Frenchmen are great chefs. But I will do my best.”

  She kissed him lightly on the lips, letting her kiss linger longer than she intended but enjoying the feel of his lips against hers.

  “Your best is fine by me. Your best is really very impressive.”

  “You have not tasted my chicken,” he said with a grin and Hope found herself laughing.

  “I’m sure it will be fine, but I intend to have a glass or two of champagne first so, I can let you into a little secret, I’m not really going to be bothered about how it tastes anyway.”

  “You are funny, Hope Scott.”

  She revelled in his laughter. “I hope funny ha ha and not funny peculiar?” she asked and the blank look on his face let her know that somethings were always going to be lost in translation.

  “So,” she said, “champagne!” Lifting a chilled bottle from the fridge, she popped the cork and poured three glasses, handing one to Jean-Luc and putting the other two, plus a flute of orange juice on a tray to carry out to the terrace where Connor and Ava were sitting.

  “I’ll come back and keep you company,” she said but he shook his head.

  “No, go on. Enjoy the view. I cook better on my own.”

  “You may just be the perfect man,” she said with a wink and walked out.

  After dinner, when the sun had set and the night air had become a little cooler, Hope sat on the terrace, close enough to Jean-Luc that when she wanted to – which was a lot – she could reach over to touch him. Ava and Connor sat on the swing-seat, wrapped around each other as they chatted. The chiminea gave off a warm glow and the terrace was basking in the light and scent of citronella candles mixed with the delicious aroma of Betty’s herb garden.

  The wine was flowing and the chat was becoming more animated and it was around the time Hope and Ava were regaling the men with tales from the attic that they decided the fashion show was a must. They hadn’t expected to leave the men for quite so long but once they were locked in Hope’s room, with the fabulous shoes and dresses, time got away from them until, dressed to impress – Ava in her pyjamas and her gorgeous deep-purple shoes and Hope in her stunning gown – they walked, arms linked, back onto the terrace.

  “Ta-da!” Hope crooned, twirling around while Ava tip-toed her way back to the swing seat where she sat down and wiggled her toes at Connor.

  “I think the fresh air might be getting to you,” he said with a grin.

  “Not at all,” Hope said. Turning to face Jean-Luc, she smiled. “What do you think?”

  “I think,” he said softly, “that you are just like a vision.”

  Hope stood for a moment and let his words wash over her. She had never been told she looked like vision before. She had been told she looked ‘a right sight’ on several occasions but never a vision. Looking at him, focusing on his eyes and the warmth in them, she breathed out and tried not to brush the compliment away or tell him he was off his head, or in need of glasses or similar.

  “Thank you,” she mouthed and decided there and then was the perfect time to throw caution to the wind and walk over and kiss him square on the lips.

  The cheer from the other side of the terrace let her know she was absolutely doing the right thing. Tomorrow she would face her real life once again when she flew back into a no-doubt rainy and dull Belfast but tonight she was enjoying the buzz of feeling as if she was finally back in the driving seat of her own life.

  “Did you ever hear Betty sing Oh Danny Boy?” she asked.

  Jean-Luc shook his head.

  “Oh but it was one of her favourites. I remember so vividly her crooning it to me when she had one too many glasses of wine. Ava and I promised that we would sing this one. I would advise you that if you are at all of a sensitive nature you would do well to leave the immediate vicinity or cover your ears. However, if you are willing to accept the following performance, and I use the word ‘performance’ loosely, in the spirit in which it is intended then please, enjoy.”

  “I’ll take my chances,” Jean-Luc said, sipping from his glass of wine before resting it on the table.

  “Did you have to say that?” Connor butted in. “I thought you might be with me on this one and run for the hills!”

  Ava laughed and nudged her husband square in the ribs before Hope threw him a bad look.

  “I could not like you, Connor Campbell, no matter how good you are to my lovely cousin.”

  “Don’t worry,” he replied with a smirk, “I’ll take my punishment like a man. I’ll sit here and listen and only complain once and, trust me, I’ll will my ears not to bleed at the high notes.”

  “A real comedian, this husband of yours, isn’t he?”

  “Why do you think I married him?” Ava said, reaching out to kiss him. “Although if he slags off my singing one more time I may have to divorce him.”

  Jean-Luc laughed and Hope looked at him, thinking this was the most relaxed she had seen him all week. And he was even more handsome when he looked relaxed. And even more sexy. She could have easily told Danny Boy to stick it and begged him to take her to bed one more time but no, she reminded herself gently, this was about Betty and it wouldn’t perhaps be respectful to her late aunt to spend her last few hours lost in a passionate embrace with Jean-Luc, even though she knew Betty had a lot of time for him.

  Okay, she thought, focus. Settling herself, she walked to sit beside Ava and Connor on the swing-seat.

  “I should warn you,” Ava said, “Connor is right. He didn’t marry me for my singing skills.”

  “You should know,” said Hope, “that Betty didn’t have a note in her head either but what she lacked in talent she made up for in enthusiasm. We’ll just give it our best.”

  So together they launched into a rendition of Danny Boy, which no one would ever forget. When they were done she noticed a tear of emotion in Jean-Luc’s perfect green eyes – she just w
asn’t sure if it was a tear of sadness or of mirth. She liked to think the former.

  An hour later the haze of the bottle of wine was upon Hope and the flames had gone from the chiminea, the last embers glinting now and then and the smokey smell hanging in the air. Her head was rested on Jean-Luc’s shoulder and Ava and Connor were lost in their own conversation.

  “I’m going to miss you,” he said, softly. “Strange, I know. I have only known you a few days but I know I am going to miss you.”

  She revelled in his words, and realised she was going to miss him as well. Maybe she would come back someday on her travels and see him. Suddenly the thought of leaving the house the next day was not the only thing which made her feel emotional and teary.

  “I’m going to miss you too,” she said, deciding that would do. She didn’t want to start launching into the where and the why. She was just absolutely astounded that just a week after she had walked out of a house in Belfast convinced she would never, could never, love anyone else other than Dylan she was having such strong feelings for a man she had only just met. “Maybe I’ll come back some time for a visit, if you’ll have me?”

  It was then he started and swore under his breath. “The letter,” he said.

  “The letter?”

  “I have a letter for you both from Betty. I was to give it to you on your last day. It’s in the car. It’s after midnight – that counts as your last day, doesn’t it?” With that he was gone, leaving Hope sitting by herself and Connor and Ava looking on a little confused.

  “He can run fast,” Ava said.

  “I have a letter for him,” Hope confided. “I’m supposed to give it to him after he gives us this letter.”

  “That Betty was a crafty old bat, wasn’t she?” Connor said with a grin.

  “You have no idea,” Ava said, standing up and walking towards the door. “I wonder what it says?”

  “Lord only knows what great big declarations she has made in this one. I’ll tell you something, when we go home, I’ll miss those letters. Do you think we found them all?”

  Ava shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe. Probably not. But I think we found the ones we needed to.”

  “I think you’re right,” Hope said. “Would have been nice to find a few more though. I’ll miss her and her batty ways.”

  “Every time you look at yourself in that dress you will think of her,” Ava said.

  “No, every time I look at myself in this dress I will think how amazing I look, and then maybe I’ll think of Betty,” she said with a laugh.

  But the truth was she was nervous. She didn’t know what the last letter from Betty would say and she was scared it would feel like a big, formal and final goodbye. She also had no idea what Jean-Luc’s letter said or how he might react to it. It made her feel a little uneasy if the truth be told. Especially with three-quarters of a bottle of finest wine in her.

  He walked back in holding one of the white envelopes they had come to know so well and held it out.

  “Which of you ladies would like to read the letter first?”

  Hope suddenly felt reluctant and shook her head, turning to Ava who was looking at her for some guidance.

  “You do it,” Hope said.

  “How about we read it together?” Ava offered gently. “Sure haven’t we found these letters are much less scary read together?”

  Hope felt her heart beat a little faster.“I’m not sure,” she stuttered, sitting down on the green tweed chair and holding her head in her hands.

  “It will be okay,” Ava soothed, “I mean there can’t be any more big confessions. She’s not your mum too,” she said with a wink while budging in beside her cousin and putting her arm around her.

  Hope watched as Ava took control of the situation, in the way she had always imagined Ava to be able to take control of a situation. She admired that. She felt vaguely jealous of it. She realised that when she was travelling the world on her own she would absolutely have to be like Ava. She must ask her how she did it. Focusing again on the letter and Ava, she noticed a slight tremble in her hand as she tore open the envelope and revealed the sheet of crisp, white paper with their beloved aunt’s handwriting.

  “Here goes,” Ava said.

  “Here goes indeed,” Hope replied, a deep breath.

  Chapter 36

  My darling girls,

  They say that goodbye is the hardest word to say . . . well, actually, I think they say sorry is the hardest word. Ironic that in these letters I’ve had to say both.

  This is the big goodbye though – the last letter. I almost don’t want to write it. I’m not ready to let go. But time isn’t on my side – not this time.

  So I’ll start with the sorry. I’m sorry if this week hasn’t been at all what you expected. I’m sorry for the upset I’ve caused but I trust you understand my reasons.

  I’m sorry for bringing you here under false pretences – but you understand why I needed you both to feel close to me.

  And now for goodbye . . .

  God, they say houses are only bricks and mortar and it is the people inside them which make the memories. I suppose that is true – to a large extent. This house wouldn’t have been a home without Claude. But you know, I like to think of it as more than that. I know that all sounds strange. I’ve asked you girls to come here and pack away my life and my memories. I’ve asked you to get rid of all those things I don’t need any more and I’m okay with that. I’m even okay with handing over the rings I wore on my fingers for all those years. Ava, I’m happy to have handed over those shoes. They deserve someone to wear them until they are ready to fall apart. I have a feeling you may well do that.

  But this house. This house is too hard to let go of.

  Ava, my darling, this house is yours now. I can’t tell you what to do with it, but I’d like to think you will come back here, often. A letting agent is appointed, through Jean-Luc, to let the house out when you are not here. All proceeds will go to you, and to Maisie. Mr Semple has the paperwork and he will be in touch in due course.

  You can come here every year. You can, please, bring your family. You can use this house as a base to travel around France or you can stay here and soak up the sunshine on the terrace. All I ask is that when you come here, just once, you stand on the terrace and remember Claude and me. And remember how much I loved you and how much I didn’t want to let you go.

  That is not all. Hope, this is for you also. What I would love is that if both of you had a little break in life – just something which could make your life easier. I didn’t leave this world a multi-millionaire or anything like that but I did have something – something a little more than just this house and something more than a pair of purple satin shoes – even if they are the most fabulous shoes in the world.

  I have a life insurance policy and some shares. It will amount to around £100,000 each.

  I’m sorry for not telling you before. I’m sorry for not trusting you with the information but I wanted to do whatever I could to make sure you both came here without distractions.

  As with everything, my gift comes with a condition. The condition is that you use the money to do something you will always remember. Do something which makes life memorable. Life is too short not to be memorable.

  With that, my girls, I bid you aurevoir. Please know that I was thinking about you, always and everywhere, in my last weeks.

  Live well,

  All my love,

  Betty

  xxx

  There was a silence in the room as the girls tried to absorb all that Betty had said. Ava felt her heart thud in her chest and she looked to Hope for some indication of how she should react.

  Hope was staring at the letter, her mouth open, her eyes streaming.

  “Oh shit,” Hope said.

  Ava looked at her, puzzled, her mind racing with 101 things. There was such sorrow that this was her parting shot from Betty but so much else to try and process. As she heard Hope repeat the “Oh shit,” she th
ought how inappropriate that was. Her reaction – her internal voice was screaming every swear word and every cheer and every expression of grief she could think of. This would change her life. Her life was changed. Her life was never going to be the same. Everything about this week had changed her. But this, this was something more. This was in basic terms the answer to both her and Connor’s prayers. This was everything. This was a holiday. This was not having to say goodbye to this house where she had finally connected with the woman who had given her life. This was money – money which could pay off a mortgage, or help Connor set up his business, or allow her to have time off with her babies. Things which would, undoubtedly, change her life for the absolute better. Things that would lift the pressure. Which would allow her to be her and not just some shadow of who she used to be – some person who was busy being everything to everyone else.

  “Oh shit,” she said as well, turning to Hope who was shaking her head – her hands shaking as she re-read the letter.

  “Oh my God,” Hope said, looking up, her face tear-stained while a smile broke broadly across it. “Oh my God. Can you believe it? Can you really believe it? Can you?”

  She looked almost comical, there in her ball gown, her hair slightly tousled and her lips stained red from the wine, but she looked stunning, her smile as wide as it could be even though there were tears streaming down her face.

  “What are you going to do?” Ava muttered, finding her voice without including swear words.

  “See the world. See all of it. Write. And be happy. And be so fecking happy!” Hope said, standing up and punching the air.“Betty!” she called. “I love you. I frigging love you!”

  Ava just sat, still feeling the shock wash over her, watching her cousin now dance around the room until she was aware of Connor and Jean-Luc smiling at them.

  Ava looked ather husband, trying to find the words to tell him that for now their financial worries were greatly alleviated and that she had a feeling things were going to be just fine.

  “Jean-Luc has told me,” he said, walking over towards her and pulling her into a hug. Whispering gently in her ear he told her he loved her and that he didn’t care what she did with the money as long as it made her happy. She pulled back from him and smiled, drinking in his eyes, his face and the softness of his smile. “We’ll be happy,” she said. “We’ll be very happy.”