by Jody Klaire
“Do you regret loving me?” She rubbed her thumb over my hand. “Pepe?”
Low blow. Purring my name was mean and sneaky. How dare she when she was wearing someone else’s ring?
I tried to prise her off with my free hand but she caught that too and pulled me to her. “Do you love me no longer?”
Me? I wasn’t the one gallivanting around with another woman, was I? I wasn’t the one who had purred, “Tonight you are mine,” when I’d been happily engaged to Doug. What did she want me to say when she’d gone from that to calling me a friend?
I glared at the wall beside her, aware that her warm body was against mine. That her breath tickled my cheek, my lips.
“Say it,” Berne whispered. “Say what you feel.”
I shook my head. I couldn’t bear to think it let alone utter it out loud. Besides, I wasn’t giving her the satisfaction. No. I was keeping quiet. Share. Hah. I wasn’t giving her a peep.
“Open up to me. Scream at me. Shout at me. Let yourself feel.” Her hand slid from my wrist to my cheek. I shivered as a trail of goose pimples followed her hand’s journey along my arm, my shoulder, my neck. “Tell me what you want from me.”
Anger pulsed up. “What I want? You give a shit what I feel now?” I made the mistake of glaring into her eyes. Hers intense. Her lips parted. Her hand slid into my hair. My voice seemed to echo in the silence.
I tried to push away. My legs wobbled. My resistance wobbled. “You’re with her. You chose her.”
“I did not touch her.” Berne was far stronger than me. No matter how I braced myself, my hand on her shoulder, I couldn’t break free from her. The longer I stayed, the less I wanted to leave. “I would not do this.”
“You stayed. You stayed and Babs came back.” I gave another push, hoping she’d just let go. My body was betraying me. I knew it. She knew it.
She slid her other hand to the small of my back. “She is suspicious. She demanded we go away for some time together. I could not hurt her on her birthday, Pepe.”
I shut my eyes. Berne rubbed slow circles on my back. This was torture. “You’re telling me that at no point did you so much as kiss her?”
Nausea rippled through me. I tried to wriggle free. Berne pulled me closer, closer, within inches of her lips.
“Look at me.”
I shook my head, fixing my gaze to the wall behind her.
“Look at me.” This time her husky tone oozed through me. It crept through every pore, rippling over my skin, through my heart. Sneaky, mean, underhand tactics. “I am sorry. Pepe, I had to go.”
I clamped my eyes shut in protest. I was not getting suckered in. I could resist. I was angry. Really angry.
Berne leaned closer, her breath hot on my lips. “I say I was ill, that my back is bad. I make many excuses. I lied. I lied for you. I would do this always.”
“You did?” Relief gushed through me. I was starting not to care if she was telling the truth. I didn’t care if she was telling me what I wanted to hear. I felt like I was sprinting the way my heart was clattering about.
“Look at me.”
I peeked open one eye. If I was only looking at her with one then I wouldn’t give in. Nope.
“See it is the truth.” Berne slid her hand over my cheek, brushing over my closed eyelid, which opened on command. Traitor. “I love you, je t’aime, always.”
The ability to speak disappeared the more she murmured, the closer she got, her eyes filled with desire. “Say that you want me. Say that you are ready. Ask me.”
I clung onto her shoulder, trying to control myself. Futile was the operative word.
“Ask me,” Berne whispered.
Her lips were close enough that I could sink into them. That I could let go. She felt so steady, so strong. Catherine, my mother, all that rolled through my thoughts. I squashed them back. Focused on Berne. “I—”
Her mobile cut through the silence. A cheesy love song. Real Europop. Berne backed away. I felt cold in her absence. She never paid much attention to her mobile normally.
“Allo?” Her gentle tone made my stomach crunch into a tight knot. The kind of tone reserved for a lover. “Maintenant?”
Her gaze flicked to the door. Panic and something close to guilt flashed through her eyes. Viper.
“Oui, of course, I am . . .” She met my eyes. “Helping a neighbour. I will meet you there.”
I shoved my hands in my pockets. Nice, from friend to a neighbour. Viper was paying a visit. How wonderfully cosy.
“Oui, you know I do.” She finished the call and pocketed her phone. “Pepe, I—”
I held my hand up. “Your girlfriend is entitled to come here. I’m just a neighbour.”
Berne shook her head. Her eyes wide. “Non, you are everything to me. She has never been here. I do not know why she has come.”
“She’s fighting for you.” I shrugged. I didn’t blame Viper for that. “Least you can do is hear her out.” It sounded far too rational, far too calm. What I wanted to say was tell the three-legged, toothless wonder to get lost.
Berne stared at the door. “I will tell her about us . . .”
“You had all week to do that.” I folded my arms. “Spare me the ‘there was never a good moment,’ routine, okay?”
Berne’s mobile rang again. Same ringtone. It provoked the same startled reaction.
“Well, don’t keep the woman waiting.” I turned, picked up my toolbox, and marched into the room, which had once held a billiard table.
The door shut a few moments later and I slid down the nearest wall and buried my face in my hands. Vivienne could offer her far more than I ever could. The only reason they weren’t more seemed to be Vivienne’s reluctance to give Berne equal partnership. There was nothing like a bit of competition to realign a woman’s wishes.
I didn’t have anything to offer Berne. I didn’t even have a job. Rebecca was buying food. If she thought I didn’t know Doug was funding it, she was mistaken. Without my dear ex-fiancé, I was homeless, jobless, and about as useful as sun cream in a monsoon. Even though I loved her, I wasn’t the greatest catch. I wore fluffy pyjamas. I bet Viper didn’t. No, she was a suave actress. I bet hers was silk, lace, and minimal. I bet she didn’t find crisp crumbs down her front.
I closed my eyes, wondering quite how I’d gotten into such a mess. A few months ago, I was engaged. I’d been in line to populate the English rugby team. I’d been trapped and unfulfilled but wasn’t that better than this? Wasn’t it better than being alone and knowing the woman I loved was off to see someone far better for her than me?
It was official. If Viper was fighting back then I was stuffed. Royally stuffed.
Chapter Twenty-two
BERNE TRIED TO ignore her mother’s watchful gaze as she fixed Monsieur Coin’s back door. His destructive golden retriever was actually an eight-month-old puppy. He’d decided to chew his way out to the garden and Monsieur Coin’s backdoor was no match for the determined monster. It was a good thing he was so cute. She could hear him barking from her house most days.
“If she has come to visit you, is it not polite that you stay in the same place?”
Berne winced at her mother’s tone and focused on the lock she was fitting. “Papa is showing her the area.”
Berne felt her mother’s gaze intensify on her cheek and sighed. She stopped her work to meet her unyielding eyes.
“You have not told her of Pippa.”
Berne shook her head. “I thought it was over. When I called her, before the Ardèche, she was clear that she did not need me.” She rubbed her hand over her forehead unsure how everything had become complicated again. “Now she acts as though this was nothing.”
“You never speak of her.” Her mother sat on one of the half-chewed stools and smiled as it wobbled under her. “The pup is hard working, non?”
Berne smiled back not sure how to explain herself. She felt so disloyal. “The first time I realise that she still thinks we are together is when I received a
n invitation.” She went back to the lock, needing to do something to calm herself. “She never invited me before. She and Babs, they do not like each other.”
“Yet she invited her too.”
Berne nodded. “It was an important step for her. How could I not support her bravery?”
“Because your heart is with Pippa.”
There was no point in arguing. It was the truth. It had always been the truth. “She has done nothing wrong, Maman.”
“This isn’t about right or wrong.” Her mother shifted as the stool creaked. “You have no need to lie to her now. So why do you hesitate?”
The furry monster barked as Monsieur Coin opened the gate. A moment later, the elderly man was yanked through by a small lion.
Berne shook her head at the sight. “I am scared.”
Berne heard her mother approach and turned to see her wave at Monsieur Coin. He lay flat on his front in the grass, lead still attached.
“What scares you so?” her mother asked.
“What if she leaves again? What if she walks away?” Berne felt the familiar surge of fear. “She will not even tell me that she wishes to be with me, Maman. She hides her wishes, her thoughts. How can we be together if she cannot even tell me she’s angry?” Her screwdriver slipped off the head and gouged a chunk out of the wood. “She has a right to be so. She should be so. I know she is yet she hides it. She hides from me.”
“Maybe this is just her way?” Her mother laughed as the puppy bounced around play bowing and barking at his flattened owner.
“I know her. It is not her. I cannot stand to spend my life battling for her to let me inside. I want more.” She tested the lock, pleased that it worked. “I want all of her.”
“And you think she is not able to give you this?” Her mother watched her for a moment.
Berne sighed under the scrutiny. “I think that if she cannot do it now. She will never do so. Someone else’s thoughts, feelings will always dictate how she treats me.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “It is bad enough when Vivienne does this but when Pippa acts this way, it burns.”
“You would risk losing her for this?”
Berne shrugged. Seeing the way Pippa had been with Doug . . . how little they knew of each other. How muted Pippa had been. It had been painful to see. She never wanted them to be the same. “Vivienne said she’ll come out for me.”
Her mother sucked in a deep breath. “And what did you say to that?”
Berne was startled by the vehemence of her mother’s tone. “I did not know what to say.”
“Bernadette, you do not love this woman. You love another. There is only one thing to say.” Her mother put her hands on her hips. It was a gesture meant to scold but Berne found herself smiling. After seeing what Pippa had been through, she was blessed to have such a wonderful mother.
“I do not think you have called me this in a while, non?” Berne chuckled as her mother’s eyes twinkled.
“You’re not too old to be sent to bed without supper.” She wagged a finger at her in mock fierceness. “Whatever your fears with Pippa, you must be honest.”
Berne nodded. She knew that. She hated that she would now be reduced to unfaithful when she had been sure things with Vivienne were over. It was typical of Vivienne but it made her feel no less guilty. “So you do not think I should opt for security with a woman who has been loyal all this time?”
Her mother winced as the puppy pounced on Monsieur Coin, his trouser leg between his jaws. “Pippa has given up everything for you.”
“I know.” Giving wasn’t Pippa’s problem. Her courage to face her mother was incredible but she’d been forced into a corner. Would Pippa have done the same if her family hadn’t arrived? Would she ever have told them?
Vivienne had made it clear she wanted her. In return, Berne had lied, distanced herself, and thought only of Pippa. She owed Vivienne an explanation at the least.
The puppy de-shoed his victim and bounded off with his prize. Vivienne appeared at the gate. She walked straight past the prone man to the door without so much as casting him a glance.
Her mother patted her on the arm. “I prefer Pippa.”
Berne caught sight of the puppy bolting for the gate, which Vivienne had left open. She sprinted out into the sunshine after him.
“Berne?”
“Dog,” she managed as she ran up the path.
It was a convenient excuse. She didn’t know how to tell Vivienne. Perhaps it was much like Pippa facing her sister? She would rather appease and be miserable than face Vivienne in a mood.
Chapter Twenty-three
FOR SOMETHING TO do other than mope, I decided to take payment to Monsieur Chamonix. If I was honest, I was on a spying mission too. If Vivienne happened to be there and I happened to push her into a hedge or something then how could I help that?
So I packed up the teacakes that Rebecca had made for him and picked up his cheque. Doug had been good to his word and put the money into my account for me to pay the artisans. I noticed there was more than needed to pay everyone. I’d have to put it all back in his account. I could look after myself, sort of, a little, well . . . sometimes.
As I wandered up to the Chamonix household, I took a sharp breath. Perhaps Vivienne had offered her some kind of commitment at last? Perhaps she would be swanning around all the swanky places rubbing shoulders with the elite.
I ignored the deep throbbing that provoked. It hurt. How could thoughts physically hurt?
“Monsieur Chamonix?” I knocked on the door and pushed it open. Normally Madame Chamonix would be flitting around but she was clearly out somewhere. Maybe Viper had treated them to lunch somewhere. Three Michelin stars and food that looked like it belonged in a ration pack. I was going to make fish and chips tonight in protest. Real food. Real British food. Hah.
“Allo?” It was my best attempt at a French accent but it always made me sound slightly camp.
An odd gurgle came from the kitchen and I wandered in. “Oh shit . . . Are you . . . what’s . . . where?”
Monsieur Chamonix was hunched over the table, gripping his chest. I went to him. He lifted his head. His eyes bulged, his face red. He spluttered for air.
“Heart?”
Flapping about a bit, I tried rubbing his back, hoping that it would do something to help. It didn’t. He collapsed onto the table. Did he have tablets? How did I get tablets into an unconscious man?
I ripped my phone out of my pocket. It flew out of my clammy hand and clattered to the floor.
“Monsieur Chamonix . . . please . . . I don’t know what to do.”
I scrabbled around on the floor, pieced my phone back together and punched in Rebecca’s number. She’d know.
“Hello there—”
“Get Babs to call an ambulance. Berne’s dad. Heart.”
I hung up the phone and pressed my fingers to his neck. Oh shit, there was nothing.
“What do I do?”
Right. Think. CPR. He had a bad heart. It was bound to be his heart. I pulled him down onto the floor. I’d done first aid once for the office. What was it? ABC. Right A—Airway . . . okay, check his airway.
I rested his head back and stared down into his mouth. Apart from the fact he had dentures, I didn’t have a clue. There was nothing I could see.
B—Breathing . . . He wasn’t doing that. C—um . . . er . . . think.
Comfort?
I placed my jacket underneath his head. “That’s not going to help if his heart isn’t beating, you idiot.”
It seemed to help when I yelled out loud. C is for “Circulation!”
I blew out a breath. I’d done that.
“Then start CPR, numbskull.”
I pulled his shirt open and traced my fingers down. Was it on the sternum, below it? The dummy hadn’t had chest hair. Um . . . on it . . . I clamped my left over my right hand. Was it meant to be the other way?
“Who cares . . . pump!”
Like I’d done in first aid, way back
when, I pumped as best I could. How many repetitions was it? Ten? I’d go for ten.
I needed to . . . to . . . “Breathe. Help him breathe.”
Stopping the compressions, I went to his mouth and pinched his nose. Summoning as much breath as I could, I whooshed it out, looking downwards. His chest rose. Okay. Right. Start again.
Deciding on ten compressions to two breaths, I cycled back and fore.
Parts of my mind registered that, again someone was depending on me for survival. That again I was their only hope and again, I was making absolutely no difference at all.
“Keep going. Keep going,” I called out to myself. “Come on, Monsieur Chamonix . . . stay with me . . . please.”
REBECCA CLUNG TO the hand grip as Babs hurtled them up the road. An ambulance had whizzed past only moments ago. All they could do was pray that the old guy was okay.
“He has heart problems,” Babs muttered more to herself than Rebecca. “Berne is always telling him he needs to retire.”
“True, but what can you do, the old guy loves his job.”
Shooting a scowl Rebecca’s way, Babs lurched the car around a slower vehicle. “But the medical staff say he should not. And where is Bebe?”
Rebecca sighed. “Pippa texted me. Vivienne is in town.”
“What?” Babs took her hands off the wheel. Rebecca lurched across to grab it.
“Yeah. Real nice from Berne. Really classy.” She felt her anger bubble up. “She chased her enough. You’d think she’d be happy to get what she wanted.”
Babs tutted. “Pepe said that she needed space. You know that Vivienne is sly. Bebe doesn’t wish to hurt her. She said that she had not broken things off with her.”
Rebecca folded her arms. “No offence but no matter who said it, I would never stay away from you.”
“Je t’aime,” Babs whispered.
“Remind me of that when I’m smacking sense into Berne.” Then the realisation of what Babs had said hit her. She turned, knowing she was grinning. “You do?”
“Of course.” Babs shook her head. “I am about ready to do the same to them both. There is always an excuse, always a reason not to be together . . .” She snorted her disgust. “They have more drama than a football player on the ground.”