by Jody Klaire
Rebecca nodded. She was sick and tired of it too. None of it made sense and they should have been together years ago. Why were they overcomplicating everything? They were both unhappy, both pining, and both driving her nuts.
“I say we stage an intervention when he gets fixed up.” Rebecca prayed that he would be fixed up. The old guy was awesome.
“This will be a good idea.” Babs screeched them to a halt next to the ambulance and they hurried into the house.
“Pip?” Rebecca searched the rooms for them. “Pip?”
“In here.”
They hurried into the kitchen and saw the ambulance crew firing conversation to and fro while placing a mask over Berne’s father’s face. Pippa had a bottle in her hands. She gave it to the men who nodded and wheeled the old guy past them, one working while the other pushed.
“Pip . . . you need to sit there, I’ll make tea. Babs, will you call the family? You can articulate a lot better.”
Babs saluted and hurried off with her mobile. Rebecca searched the cupboards finding an “allez les bleus” mug and settled the kettle to boil.
“You want to tell me?”
“He was gasping, he slumped over, and then he was quiet.” Pippa rubbed her arms. “I did CPR the best I could. My arms feel like they are going to fall off.”
“You know what the ambulance men said?”
Pippa shook her head, staring down at the table. Rebecca focused on the kettle, irritated that Pippa had been alone to deal with it.
Babs rushed into the kitchen. “I will take Berne, her mother, and Vivienne. They are in the village.”
Rebecca glanced a smile at Babs, then caught her at the door. “I love you too. You know that, right?”
“I do now.” Babs planted a lingering kiss on her lips and hurried out.
Rebecca touched her tingling lips, headed into the kitchen, and grabbed the bubbling kettle.
“Tea,” she murmured at Pippa, placing it in front of her. “You need to wash up?”
Pippa nodded, blinking back tears. Rebecca helped her up and into the bathroom, flannelled off her tear-stained face and tried not to show how worried she was herself.
She led Pippa back into the kitchen, picked up the tea, and headed into the living room.
“Bound to have films, right?”
Pippa nodded and Rebecca sat her down, placed the cup in her hands, and rifled through the films on the shelf until she got to one that she knew would bring a smile to Pippa’s face. It was all she could do but it was better than nothing.
THE LIGHTS OF the hospital were glaring. The sterile smell was nauseating and the feel of the place just made Berne feel woozy.
Her father had been in theatre for hours. There had been no word on how he was. Her mother had sat praying in the corner. Vivienne had attached herself to Berne’s arm. The Vivienne she’d been with for so many years would not have even sat beside her. It felt strange but she shoved it to the back of her mind and was just thankful for the comfort. Erique had taken to wearing out the corridor. His boots squeaked on the floor.
The doctor finally joined them in the room, and Berne was sure it was some horrible dream.
“Madame Chamonix. Pierre is out of surgery now. He will be with you very soon.” The doctor smiled. “I have had to fit a pacemaker but he is a strong one.”
The relief of everyone in the room flushed out in one sweeping breath. Berne felt Vivienne squeeze her arm.
“No doubt someone was watching over him today, non?” the doctor said.
Berne had no doubt of the fact. Her father had suffered a stroke, had that funny turn up on the scaffold, and now, perhaps at last, there was a way to stop such things happening.
“He will pull through well?” Erique asked, his hands tucked into the belt of his uniform. “The nurse said he had stopped breathing.”
The doctor nodded. “His heart had stopped completely. Like I said, he is very lucky.”
Not sure that she understood, Berne looked at her mother and brother but they seemed to wear the same blank expression. “How did he survive if his heart stopped?”
“A woman gave him CPR until the ambulance crew arrived.” The doctor smiled, bouncing from his heels to the balls of his feet. “You do not know of her deeds?”
“Woman?” Berne’s mother had still been with Monsieur Coin and Vivienne. Berne had been chasing a rogue puppy.
She glanced at Erique who shrugged. “Who was it?”
The doctor shook his head. “I do not know. She found him and kept him alive. Perhaps you ask the ambulance team. They will know more.”
Erique wasted no time. He strode out of the room. Berne untangled herself from Vivienne, went to her mother, and took her hand. “Will he be awake soon?”
“Non, it will take some time. He will be monitored. There is nothing much you can do for him at the moment. Go home, rest. He will be awake some time tomorrow.”
Berne looked at her mother who emphatically shook her head. “Is there a bed, a room that my mother can sleep in?”
The doctor seemed prepared for the answer. “I will have the nurses bring one in.” He smiled at her mother. “But please, rest. He is in safe hands now.”
The doctor left and Erique strode back in. His face unreadable as if he was trying to keep it all together.
“What did you learn?”
He shook his head. He let out a few long breaths and met her eyes. “The ambulance crew have finished but they wanted to come, to see how he was getting on.”
“That is sweet of them,” her mother said, still thumbing over her rosary.
Erique nodded. “They said that when they got to the house, a woman was single-handedly performing CPR. She had been doing it for at least twenty minutes.” He thumbed to the doorway. “They thought they might need to resuscitate her.”
“Who was she?” Berne had a feeling it was probably Babs. No doubt she would have known what to do and been calm enough to execute it. She frowned. Surely Babs would have said. She’d gone in search of coffee an hour ago. Her thinly veiled irritation at Vivienne hadn’t been helping.
“From the description . . .” He smiled at her. “Pippa.”
Berne blinked a few times. She knew Vivienne was watching her. “Pardon?”
Erique smiled. “Wavy dark hair, attractive, was talking to herself and to Papa.”
That certainly sounded like Pippa. Had she really saved Papa?
“Who is Pippa?” Vivienne asked. Her look told Berne that she had her suspicions.
“A neighbour.” Berne ignored the tut from her mother.
Before Vivienne could ask anymore, her father was wheeled in by the medical staff. The methodical beep beep of his heart monitor filled the room.
Vivienne was still expecting answers. Berne couldn’t help but think of how things would have been if . . . if . . . “Pippa . . . it was her?”
Erique nodded, tears in his eyes. “She didn’t stop at all. Twice now she has been a hero.”
Berne bit her lip and stared down at her father. Pippa had made sure her father had a fighting chance. She’d been through so much all those years ago that Berne didn’t think it was possible. She smiled. Apparently it was.
“Berne,” her mother said, making her look up. “Go to her, we will be here.”
Vivienne got up from her seat. “Why don’t I go with you?”
“It’s not—”
Her mother cast a weary glance at Vivienne. “If today doesn’t remind you of how important it is to treasure those you love and hold them close, what will?” Tired but wise, her mother’s eyes filled with love. “Give her a million bisous from me.”
Berne glanced at Erique, who nodded, and got to her feet. “I will. I’ll do that.” She kissed her father on the forehead, burst out through the door, and jogged down the corridor.
She needed to find Babs. She needed to get back to Pippa. She hurried down the stairs not listening to Vivienne’s questions, to her demands. Pippa had saved him. She’d s
aved his life.
“Merci, Pepe . . . merci.”
Chapter Twenty-four
REBECCA AND I had stared at French television for what felt like days. It was probably more like an hour and a half but it really did feel like a lot longer. What was it with time? How could hours feel so massively different in length?
Desperate to know how Monsieur Chamonix was and if he had made it, zoning out was the only thing I was truly capable of doing. My arms were so tired and achy that I could barely lift them to reach for my drink. When I did, they shook so much that I spilled half of it over myself.
A lot of it was shock.
“Vivienne went with them, didn’t she?” I didn’t know why it popped into my head or if it should really matter. It was surreal that I hoped she was with Berne. I didn’t want her to be alone. I wanted her to have support. It didn’t matter from whom.
Rebecca pulled out her mobile. “Yeah.”
The television program was dreadful. This one actress was so poor that she kept doing a flickering look from side to side with her eyes. “Think she’s forgotten her line again.”
Rebecca sniggered. “Either that or someone has let off a stink.”
“Oh look, she’s after the CEO now.” I snorted. “I mean what woman really puckers her lips out like that?”
Not normally one for picking holes in people, I put it down to the fact that I was worried. I wasn’t mean and I never ever wanted to be like Catherine. My darling sister’s parting e-mail had been so full of anger that I’d not bothered to read on after the third line.
Sad thing was, she and my mother seemed less of a problem now they were so far away. I had reached the point that I’d realised how much happier I was not having to pretend anymore. It made me feel like I’d released a dead weight.
In other words, good riddance.
The news flicked onto the screen and the reporter cycled through the events of the day. Apparently lots of drama had happened in a sport, I presumed football, and lots of suited men were being photographed leaving a court. It must have been relatively important because Rebecca muttered, “Terrible,” at the set once or twice.
I didn’t hear it. I was thinking about Monsieur Chamonix and hoping that he was okay. He loved football, he would have been shaking his head at the television too if he was here.
Rebecca went to stand then yelped and hopped about. She frantically rubbed at her calf.
“Come here.” I patted the couch next to me and she plonked down. I rolled up her trouser leg and manipulated the muscle with my fingers as Rebecca studied my face. I broke out into a smile. “You haven’t had this since you stopped training.”
She sported a lovely blush. “Yeah, I know. Should have taken it more easy.”
“You’re training again?”
Rebecca had retired from triathlons when she had damaged her ligaments and had to have knee surgery. It had put her off and she’d never found anything she enjoyed as much to replace it.
“I know, I know. I only got the urge a couple of days ago. Babs went for a run and . . . I guess I got the urge to do something myself.”
Working the muscle, I kissed her on the kneecap. “Well done. I’m glad you’re doing something for you.”
“You’re not mad?”
I shook my head. “At least I’ll have company if you compete this time.” I tried and failed to keep the grin off my face. “You know, because you love her.”
Rebecca groaned. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”
“Alas, your secret is out.” I met her eyes. “She’s good for you.”
Rebecca grinned. “You really want a laugh?”
Anything not to have to think about waiting, about Monsieur Chamonix. I prayed he was okay, he had made it.
“Hit me.”
Rebecca turned to the TV and searched until she found what she was looking for. On came the crazy TV show with the pouty-lipped woman.
I chuckled. “She’s your new embarrassing crush or something?”
Rebecca flashed her grin at me. “Oh no. Pippa Saunders . . . meet your rival . . . Vivienne.”
I turned to the screen and burst into laughter. What was Berne thinking? “Was she drunk?”
“Now, now . . . Miss Fish Lips is very charming when her face moves.”
I’ll bet. Why had Berne put up with her being nasty? “I can be mean to her on Berne’s behalf, right?”
Mean fish-lips-viper who had hurt Berne so much. Viper who was with Berne now. Boo.
“Yeah, talk about being in love with yourself. The woman went on and on.”
“Did Babs ever tell you why she caught Berne’s eye?”
Rebecca nodded. “She’s a legend, I guess. Pictures of her a few years ago showed that she was far hotter back then too. Maybe she ended up looking like she was inside.”
“Poor Berne.” I didn’t like to think of her having to suffer the woman’s wrath. “I don’t think I can cope with her having to put up with it.”
“Then do us all a favour and do something about it?”
I looked at her.
Rebecca shrugged. “Look, I love you, but stop with the drama already.”
Consider myself told. “You and Babs both feel that way?”
Rebecca nodded. “Tell her, Pip. Tell her.”
The woman, old fish face, on TV made me feel like I might just have a chance to win Berne back. I mean, the lady was probably saner, richer, and more well respected than me but I could build stairs and rewire stuff badly.
“Guess I should listen to you then, huh?”
ANY THOUGHTS OF reconciliation were put to one side as Berne came through the front door. I scoured her face for signs of hope that her father had pulled through but she said nothing until Babs . . . and Vivienne . . . hurried in behind her.
“Did you try to help him?” Berne asked, her voice hoarse, her exhaustion etched lines on her face.
I shoved my hands in my pockets unsure of her mood, bracing myself for the worst. Please let him be okay, let him be alive. “I tried to.”
“They said you did this for over twenty minutes . . . alone?”
Had it been that long? It didn’t matter. I would have done it until my arms had fallen off if it had given him a chance. “Is he . . . did they . . . ?”
The lump in my throat robbed me of my speech, so I gripped my own neck for support. I must have looked like I was trying to strangle myself.
“He has a pacemaker, they save him. The doctor says you made this possible.” Berne searched my eyes. I could see Vivienne watching me like a hawk, watching her. Berne walked to me and wrapped me up in a hug. Her tears broke free as I held onto her.
“You saved him. Merci. Merci.” She sobbed the words into my shoulder, her body wracked with the tears.
Babs ushered a scowling Viper over to the drinks cabinet.
“Couch,” I murmured to Rebecca, who nodded and helped guide me towards it. “Thanks.”
I’d never seen Berne emotional. Never had her cling to me for support. I wanted to cuddle the worry from her. “Did you see him?”
“Oui. They say he will wake tomorrow.” She sniffed and sobbed. I held on, rubbing her back, cuddling her close. “Maman wishes you to know her gratitude also.”
“You don’t have to thank me for anything. There was no way I was letting him go.” I nodded up at Babs, who motioned to a whiskey bottle. Vivienne looked like she may throw her glass at me. “For a start, the Lyon game is coming up soon, isn’t it?”
Berne chuckled. “No doubt he will be grateful for this.”
“Let’s hope they actually win then.” I took the glass of whiskey from Babs and handed it to Berne.
Manners told me to let go and remove myself so that Vivienne could sit beside Berne. It took every ounce of dignity I had to do just that. I took a glass from Babs. I needed it. In fact, I needed the bottle.
“I’m not sure . . . er . . . Vivienne, isn’t it?” I asked, pretending like I didn’t know who she was.
/> “Oui.” Vivienne took her seat beside Berne, her hand on Berne’s knee. A definite “back off,” in her eyes.
“Berne told me you live in Marseille so . . . I guess you wouldn’t be happy if Lyon won.”
Vivienne had a way about her. Her scarf draped over her shoulders, her styled hair dyed within an inch of its life. Her lips looked even more rubber in real life.
“I do not care for such things,” Vivienne said, her eyes on Berne who knocked back her whiskey.
Babs poked her tongue out at Vivienne behind the couch. Rebecca stifled a chuckle.
Berne stared off into space. Vivienne glared at me. Rebecca and Babs glared at her. I stared up at the ceiling. This wasn’t awkward, was it? Nope.
Whatever I was feeling, Berne needed us all to support her, whatever we felt about each other. I cleared my throat and turned to Berne. “No doubt your mother is going to be at the hospital the whole time, right?”
“Oui, they are giving her a bed.” Berne sighed and stared down into the empty glass. “The last time she barely ate.”
“I was thinking we can make up some food for her?” I looked up at Rebecca who gave me a thumbs up. “That way when your father is up and about, he can eat something he likes.” Babs took Berne’s empty glass. “Winston can make it there and back, so I’ll shuttle you when Babs is in work.”
Vivienne cleared her throat. “Why? When she could stay in Marseille?” She tucked a hair behind Berne’s ear. “She prefers the city. She can be driven from there.”
Apparently Berne couldn’t speak for herself anymore. “I’m sure anyone would but Berne’s father was working on the house. So I’m guessing Berne will be taking over?”
Take that, Viper.
“Ah so you are Rebecca’s mistress?” She smiled the kind of sly smile that made me want to throw my whiskey at her. “Peggy, non?”
“Pippa.” I squeezed the glass. Berne met my eyes. She needed me not to throw things. I downed the shot instead, then spluttered.
Babs raised her eyebrows at me.
“Not anymore,” I said with as much confidence as I could. “She prefers shorter women.”