La Vie en Bleu

by Jody Klaire

  “She’s making the arrangements,” Babs translated. “You have me to help you now, my little English lemon slice.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was me or was Babs getting more food orientated with the names.

  “I like the sound of that, my little French merlot.”

  Did merlot go with lemon? I wasn’t a wine connoisseur at any stretch but I was sure that wouldn’t go at all.

  “Can you just tell me if I need to dress up?” I asked. “I mean, is it a posh event or are we talking casual?”

  Rebecca poked me in the ribs. “Pip, I don’t think Berne minds what you wear.”

  “I want to look good for her, okay.” That realisation was new but boy, I wanted Berne’s jaw to drop when she saw me. I wanted her eyes to be riveted to me the entire evening.

  “You already seduced the chilli peppers out of her, Pip. She’s smitten, yours, signed up and ready to tango.”

  “Where did tango come into it?”

  Rebecca shrugged. “It went with the chilli peppers.”

  While Berne chatted away, motioning for Babs to join her in her conversation, I turned to Rebecca. “I want to win her back.”

  Understanding why she would be a little confused, I didn’t baulk too much at her “huh?”

  “She’s with . . .” I still couldn’t even utter the name. “Her . . . and I need to prove to her and myself that I can do this.”

  “You slept with her, that’s pretty conclusive.”

  I wished I had more time to tell Rebecca everything, to sit down and talk it through with her. I made do with the shortened version. “I didn’t just leave because of the crash—”

  “Which I knew.”

  She did? Maybe I should steer away from crime as a future career as I was apparently so transparent. “Catherine caught me kissing her. She threatened me. I left to protect Berne and made us both miserable for over a decade.”

  Rebecca pulled me into a hug. “Babs thought it was something like that. She knew you wouldn’t have gone without a fight.”

  When did Babs figure this all out and why hadn’t she said anything? “She knew about Catherine?”

  Rebecca pulled back to look at me. “No, she thought it was your mother. I have to say I went with her too. Catherine, really?”

  “The one and only.”

  “What did she say?”

  Not really wanting to go through the whole thing again, I leaned my head on Rebecca’s shoulder. “She made a convincing threat. Can I say that for now? Enough to terrify me into going back with her.”

  “What a bitch.” Rebecca growled to add impetus to her thoughts. “And to think, I was always nice to her.” She shook her head. “She never said a thing to me, two-faced bitch.”

  “I concur. Either way, the second I tell Doug I’m leaving him for another woman, I’ll have to face her.”

  Rebecca gave me a quick squeeze. “You’ll have me, the French equivalent of a miniature tornado, and Biceps Bebe right behind you this time.”

  I chuckled at the description. The wave of love and comfort that washed over me threatened to make me crumple into tears all over again. Decorum, Saunders, attempt it at least.

  “Speaking of Babs, how did it go?”

  A rakish grin dimpled Rebecca’s cheeks. “I think I see your point with French women.”

  There was something else I needed to know. “Who made the first move?”

  Rebecca raised her eyebrow. “Why?”

  Balls, she was onto me. “Simple question.”

  “Liar . . . why?”

  This was the problem when she knew me so well. I sighed. “I said she would break first.” I hoped her competitive edge would surface. “England to win.”

  “You bet on us?” Rebecca put a hand over her heart. “I’m shocked . . . and so very, very proud.”

  “So?”

  She wagged her finger in the air. “Who broke first for the story on the French shirt.”

  Balls again.

  “Fine.”

  Rebecca folded her arms, that smug grin back in place. “Cough up.”

  With an exaggerated “urgh” to voice my disgust, I kept my eyes on Berne as I spoke. “The night we first . . . got together . . . I . . .” Here came the heat in my face again. People must think I had intermittent sunburn. “It was the six-nations rugby. Guy, who was one of the contractors, dared me that if the French beat us, I would run down to the beach at midnight forfeiting the loser’s shirt.”

  Rebecca sucked in the air through her cheeks. “Allez les Bleus that year?”

  Nodding, I kept staring at Berne who was now staring back with curiosity.

  “It was so close. France scored in the seventy-ninth minute . . . and I had to do the forfeit.”

  Rebecca again sucked in the air. Me and nudity were not normally acquainted.

  “Guy was, shall we say, interested in me and demanded I have a referee to prove I’d done it.”

  “Poor guy.” Rebecca folded her tattooed arms.

  “Yes, well . . . I said Berne.”

  I could still see her shocked expression. She had told me she was gay, I’d never said a word back. It was a split second decision which led to lingering looks. Just like she was now, back then Berne was trying to understand what was on my mind. I was trying to read what was on hers. Terrifying, exhilarating, and etched in my mind.

  “So she walked me down to the beach front and told me that I didn’t have to do it. She would stick up for me.” Always the champion. “Instead of answering, I kissed her on the lips, pulled off my top, and ran like an idiot.”

  Rebecca chuckled. “I bet she loved that.”

  My laughter had filled the cold night air, soft sand under my trainers. Berne caught me, conveniently, next to a set of rocks. My shirt had dropped somewhere during my sprint. I had no idea where.

  “I asked her if I could have her shirt. She had a vest on underneath and I was terrified I’d be locked in a French police cell.”

  “Yes?” Rebecca was now well and truly loving the story, eyes glinting. If I was honest, it felt good to share it.

  “She told me that I could earn it if I kissed her again.” Her husky voice, stars up above, that hunger in her eyes. She knew she had me defenceless. Nowhere to run and happy to give in.

  “Oh, I like her more and more by the minute.”

  Turning to smile at Rebecca, I lowered my voice. “No way was I losing twice in one night.” I wagged my finger. “Oh no. I wanted to win back some dignity for us.”

  “Atta girl,” Rebecca said, leaning closer. We must have looked like we were in a scrum. “So, what did you do?”

  “I made sure that she was asking me to take her top off . . . very sure.” I shook my head at the memory, must have been the wine. “And . . . well . . . she gave it to me.”

  “The top or—”

  “Both.” I cleared my throat, ignoring Rebecca’s open-mouthed expression. “I was nineteen and slightly tipsy. Now, so who kissed who?”

  Rebecca closed her mouth, then opened it, then closed it again.

  “You asked for it. Where Berne’s concerned I’m without restraint.” I sighed, seeing Berne saunter towards us, her hips swinging to and fro. She walked like a sprinter in the Olympics, which explained why I seemed quite drawn to the event. “So, who kissed who first?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “One, stop gawping and two, wow. Where has this side been and why wasn’t it in my bed?”

  “Funny.” I poked her in the arm. “Spill it.”

  “I kissed her.” She grinned my way. “But not before she kissed me.”

  I hugged Rebecca like we’d won a match and gave her a big squeeze. “That’s my floozy.”

  “Thanks, hussy. I take inspiration from you.”

  “Are you ready to leave?” Berne asked, hovering nearby. “I can wait if you wish to . . . er . . .”

  I wandered to her and kissed her cheek. “It’s okay. I was just telling Rebecca about my French shirt.”

 
; A large smile crossed Berne’s lips which told me that I may have just earned that shirt after all.

  Chapter Seventeen

  THE GENTLE CHATTER of birds in the trees filled the barmy air. Le Vent was behaving for the morning as Berne watched her brother Erique pull into the campsite in her truck.

  He’d been working overtime to earn his promotion and it felt like months since she’d seen him. He cocked his head as he came to a stop. She knew she must look different to him. She felt different. Terrified but hopeful. After Vivienne had told her she didn’t need her, Berne had not felt the sting she’d expected. She felt free. Last night, this morning, Pippa’s words all made her feel as though there was a true possibility now. Maybe.

  “Ça va?” Erique pulled her into a hug, his strong arms squeezing her with such care. She relished it. “You look happy?”

  Berne shrugged but she knew her eyes twinkled. She knew by the suspicion in his that he could tell.

  “If I did not know better, I would say—ah.” The answer to his questions wandered out with Babs and Rebecca. “So she returns!”

  Berne smiled, following his gaze. Erique had always liked Pippa. It probably helped that she was incredibly attractive but then, who wouldn’t be attracted to her. Pippa’s dark tousled hair flopped into her eyes, her toned legs, and a—

  “Cha-cha, who are you drooling at now, hmmm?” Babs said with a scowl.

  Berne snapped her gaze up from where it had rested and met Pippa’s eyes. Amusement filled her smile and Berne cleared her throat as she focused on Erique.

  Erique grinned down at Babs as she launched herself into his arms. “Always you, you know this.”

  Babs kissed him on the cheeks and jumped back down. “Look who sailed down the river. Seems her heart paddled her back home, non?”

  Erique flashed his best grin at Pippa. “Oui, oui . . . and she has grown some womanly wiles . . .” He wolf-whistled, earning a laugh from Berne. “Bonjour, Mademoiselle Saunders,” he purred, bowing low.

  Pippa giggled and gave a curtsey. “Bonjour, monsieur, you are looking as handsome as always.”

  Erique stood up straight and proud, then gripped her into a hug. “You are staying for a while?”

  Berne saw a flicker of panic in Pippa’s eyes. “I have to go back and talk to someone . . . but I hope so.”

  Erique smiled with true warmth at her. He wouldn’t ask her too many questions. He seemed content that she was here. His gaze moved to Rebecca who loitered at the back.

  “Bonjour,” he said, holding out his hand.

  “Hi, I’m Rebecca . . . Pippa’s long-suffering friend.”

  She clasped his hand instead of offering a kiss and her French screamed Englishwoman. Erique’s eyes twinkled as he gave her hand a squeeze.

  “It is terrible to suffer such beauty,” he said with his best charming grin.

  Even Rebecca seemed won over by his words. Her laugh rumbled out of her lips and she kissed him on the cheek. “For that you get one.” She held up a finger. “Only one or Babs will pout.”

  Babs nodded.

  Erique shook his head at Babs and turned to Berne. “Maman wants you to help with the table. Most of the decorations are up already.”

  “Ah oui,” Berne answered. “We go now?”

  Erique motioned to his truck and Babs, Pippa, and Rebecca climbed inside. Berne helped him to stow the boats on the trailer. She knew he was watching her.

  “So she returns?”

  Berne smiled but kept silent.

  “For you?”

  Wasn’t that the answer she would love to be sure of? “That remains to be seen . . . mais . . . she says so.”

  Erique cocked his head. “You do not believe her?”

  Berne walked around to his side and lowered her voice. “She returned with a fiancé, a man. She tells me that she loves me still but there were many scars when she left.” She sighed. “I have no doubt in her love. It is whether it will overcome her fears.”

  “What happened to her?” Erique frowned, his eyes filled with concern. “You were so happy.”

  “Her sister.” She could hear the venom in her voice. “She made Pippa believe that a complaint would be made to the police about me. That the contract would be cancelled.”

  “They would not have believed it.”

  Berne yanked at the strap in her hands, the boat groaned under it. “We know that but a nineteen-year-old girl did not.” Meeting his eyes, she blew out a breath. “And she confirmed that she was there . . . at the roadside.”

  “So it was her?” Erique looked up to the truck. His eyes filled with loss, with pain. “It . . . it . . . must have been hard for her to process.”

  “I do not think she has.” She held onto his arm and squeezed it. “I think she has mixed it up with leaving me.”

  Erique rolled his large shoulders back. His usual way of trying to shake off emotion. “I can get a number, a good one. He helps many of the officers. He helped me.”

  Berne smiled at him. “If she stays for long enough, I would be thankful for the help.”

  They finished securing the straps and checked the boats over. Berne hesitated as she looked at the passenger side door. Fear rippled through her.

  “Ça va?”

  “What if she does not leave this man?” Berne shoved her hands in her shorts’ pockets. “What if she goes back to him when we arrive in Ajoux.”

  “He is there?” Erique’s eyebrows shot up.

  She felt a swirl of excitement, nerves, worry, fear. “They bought the old cottage.”

  Erique slunk to one side, his hand rested on his hip. Normally it would be resting on his gun. Her main vision of him was in uniform. She’d wanted to be just like him. “You and Papa are working on that house?”

  “Oui.”

  He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Merde. You know how to tangle the webs, non?”

  Berne laughed and she hopped into the passenger side as Erique jumped in and started the engine.

  “I am not a lunatic like Babs . . . mais . . . I will try not to be too boring for you,” he said over his shoulder to Rebecca.

  “I’ll take safe and seat belts,” Rebecca answered with a curt nod. “Safe, slow, with seat belts.”

  Babs’s “Non?” made everyone laugh as they made their way through the gorgeous landscape.

  Berne watched Erique drink in the scenery. He spent so much time in the city, working long, long hours, that it was a pleasure to see him come home. No matter where he was stationed, the Ardèche was in his heart just as it was hers.

  “Oh, wow!”

  Rebecca’s awe energised them all as they pulled into the town. It was some event this year. There may have been only a handful of aging residents living in Ajoux but they knew how to put on a show. Every building in the square was decked with lights, flowers, and banners. Paper decorations hung from strings tacked between buildings. Tables were spread out, gazebos over for shade, and a large pile of firewood was stacked in the middle for the evening.

  “How is work?” Berne whispered to Erique as they got out of the truck next to the house.

  “I got the promotion.” He smiled. “I have not told them yet. Leave it to dinner, oui?”

  Berne squeezed him. “You deserve it. I had no doubt.”

  She knew that she said such things often to him, but the smile from him told her it never grew old. “Merci, it will be nice to move off the front line now.”

  An understatement, but nevertheless.

  “Berne,” he said before she went to join Pippa who leaned against the wall watching. “Does she know?”

  Berne shook her head. Her hand ran over the small of her back. “I am not sure what to say.”

  Erique’s unimpressed look made her flinch. “The truth, Bebe.”

  “Not even Babs knows.” She glanced at Babs who gazed up into Rebecca’s eyes as she waved her arms about with enthusiasm. “She thinks I travelled with Vivienne.”

  “Well, it is a time fo
r celebration. Let them celebrate your triumph over the odds, non?”

  Berne shrugged. He knew her far too well. She had managed to keep it from Pippa last night but should it . . . whatever it was between them . . . continue, the truth would come out. She’d hated the way Vivienne had recoiled from her the first time she saw it. It had reduced her to tears. It had shattered her confidence. She wasn’t foolish. Pippa may have the same reaction. She tensed. She didn’t think she could bear that same look in Pippa’s eyes.

  Berne found those bright, twinkling eyes on her. A smile on Pippa’s lips. Pippa wasn’t Vivienne. It would feel good to let it out. She rubbed her back again. At least she hoped.

  I WATCHED ERIQUE stare after Berne as she rejoined us and caught a glimmer of sadness in his eyes. Wanting to ask him what had caused such a thought, I went to go to him only for him to shake his head and turn away.

  “Is Erique okay?”

  Berne must have been daydreaming as she offered a blank look and a smile.

  “What is going on in that head?” I asked, brushing her hair away. “Is Erique alright?”

  “Hmmm?” Berne focused on me, breaking from her thoughts. “Oui, he is well. He has gotten promoted. He wishes to surprise my parents.”

  “But?”

  Berne squinted. Where was she off in her thoughts?

  “Berne . . . is something wrong?” That familiar spike of fear panged through my stomach. “What’s the matter?”

  She led me away from Babs and Rebecca, who had been roped in by an elderly neighbour to hang his lights. She took my hand. “May I tell you something?”

  “Of course. You can tell me anything . . . anything at all.” I squeezed her hand, my words whooshing out.

  We rounded the back of her house and Berne lifted up her shirt.

  “Um . . . are we going for exhibitionism?”

  Her chuckle lightened my panic but the solemn look in her eyes brought it straight back. She took my fingers and held them over her spine. I’d felt a ridged smooth section in the night but had been quickly distracted. It was a long ridge.

  “At the beginning of the year, I work with my father on an old chateau,” she said. “He was on a scaffold and he had . . . well . . . a moment.”