by A Kelly
‘I have a feeling she wanted to be with her mother.’
‘Well her mother can come here.’
‘It’s not that easy. She has dementia.’
‘No! Poor Summer!’ Cornelia shook her head. ‘Where is her mum?’
‘The Hunter Valley.’
‘I have an idea!’
Summer sat with her mum watching a replay of The Polar Express. She was surprised that Scipio had agreed she should go to St Therese without him, without too much persuasion. Perhaps he wanted to spend time with his daughter alone. Summer herself wished she could’ve been in two places at one time. She missed Scipio terribly.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to have afternoon tea at the hall?’ Summer said.
‘I’m sure, love.’
The nurse had said they’d be singing carols and there’d be pavlovas and Christmas pudding, and apparently they would cut up the gingerbread house.
Above the TV audio playing the dialogue between the train conductor and the boy, a faint O’ Holy Night weaved into the air. It was sung by two or three people in the hall and it didn’t sound like nurses and residents singing. No one had said they were bringing in the pros.
‘Did you hear that, Mum?’
‘What?’
‘There…’
‘O’ night divine…’ Louise softly sang along.
‘Yeah,’ Summer said. ‘Do you want to check it out?’
‘No, I’m fine here, love.’
Silent Night and Joy to the World followed, and then that was it, the entertainment seemed to have stopped.
Summer sighed. ‘I’ll make more tea.’ She went to the kitchen and boiled the kettle. Suddenly she heard a knock on the door.
‘Don’t answer it, Mum!’ Summer shouted and ran to the front door. She peeped through the window.
‘Mrs Rideau, someone’s here to see you.’ It was a nurse, and behind her stood Santa and his elf, each carrying a guitar.
She opened the door. She should’ve been laughing – Santa’s hat barely clung to his head, his jacket was about to burst the seams at the shoulders and arms, and his pants hung above his ankles. Instead she cried and trembled so hard she couldn’t come to hug the man she’d missed.
‘Merry Christmas, Summer,’ Scipio said, and with his guitar hung on his back, he hugged and kissed her.
‘I love you so much,’ she whispered, still trembling. ‘Did Rudolf bring you here?’
Scipio nodded. She turned to his elf, Cornelia. The girl was perfectly colour-coordinated – a green hat, green dress, red belt and a pair of red ballerina flats.
‘Merry Christmas,’ Cornelia said and hugged her.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ the nurse said and withdrew.
Seeing Scipio and Cornelia, Louise beamed. ‘Who is this handsome man? Oh! He’s the singer!’
‘This is my daughter Cornelia.’
‘You’re the prettiest elf I’ve seen!’ Louise said and hugged Cornelia.
Her mum switched off the TV as they sat around in the living room.
‘We’re getting married, Mum,’ Summer said holding Scipio’s hand.
‘That’s wonderful. I thought he was the singer,’ Louise said. ‘Do we have biscuits?’
‘Don’t bother, Louise. We’re the entertainment for today, so sit back.’
‘What’s your favourite Christmas song, Louise?’ Cornelia asked.
‘Hark! The Herald Angels Sing.’
Scipio began with an instrumental chorus, solo. Louise couldn’t help looking at him, really looking at him. When Cornelia started singing, both Summer and her mum gaped in awe. Summer had never heard a voice so mesmerising. Scipio joined in in the second verse, and then let Cornelia conclude with a powerful crescendo.
Summer and her mum clapped and cheered.
‘Thank you! Thank you!’ Scipio said. ‘This next song is very special. We’ve practiced a few times.’ Scipio looked at Cornelia who nodded with a smile. ‘Hopefully we live up to your expectations. For you Louise, and for Summer, my fiancée, here is All I Ask of You.’
How did he think she could survive listening to this? Scipio had given her shelter, light, freedom… She wanted to fall onto him and kiss him and hold him, and shake him and tell him she loved him, over and over. But she sat still, letting her mum enjoy the moment, perhaps thinking Pierre was sitting beside her in a Broadway theatre.
At the end of the song, as Summer and Louise clapped once more and wiped their tears, Scipio rose, followed by Cornelia. He reached out to Louise, inviting her to stand up and Cornelia did the same to Summer. The four of them huddled together. Summer hadn’t felt so much warmth at Christmas, nor in this room that was supposed to be full of ‘demons’. For the first time in years she felt she had a family.
27
France
Scipio, Summer and Cornelia were ushered to Chateau de Launac dining hall by a smiley young girl who spoke English well. Scipio beamed as eyes kept rolling his way, their way. In his hand Summer shyly smiled. She wore a red sequined gown, draping over her torso perfectly, while the skirt hugged her hips and flowed to the floor, with a side slit up to the top of her right thigh. Initially Summer had picked a pale long-sleeve dress – because, ‘This will make me invisible.’. Right then Scipio had pursed his lips and begged: ‘I know you don’t like me showing you off… but this time, please let me get away with it.’
The three of them were seated with two other couples who, unlike the smiley usher girl, didn’t speak English at all. Thanks to Summer, neither of them needed to use sign language and he, a man from Penguin, felt he actually belonged there. Summer talked warmly to those strangers, telling them she had French heritage from her father, currently worked as a secretary (omitting ‘legal’) and loved bird watching; Cornelia was an emerging singer who gave her time generously to the community, she explained; and Scipio ran a pet shop that put their customers first (as in the pets over their human owners), and did great work to care for animals in need. Although Scipio relied completely on Summer’s translation, looking at how people smiled and nodded at him and Cornelia, he knew Summer had let the two of them shine without appearing snobbish.
‘Stay still,’ Summer said to Scipio and used her napkin to wipe his lips. ‘Cream.’ She smiled sweetly.
‘Is it impolite to kiss one’s fiancée at the table?’ Scipio whispered.
Summer simply turned slightly and gave him a kiss. ‘Still taste of crème anglaise,’ she quipped.
He couldn’t help feeling like the luckiest man on earth.
After dinner the guests were invited to the open bar.
‘How are my favourite people?’ Carlton suddenly came over with open arms. Earlier in the ceremony he had acknowledged them, but he hadn’t actually talked to them.
‘Congratulations, Carlton.’ Scipio gave him a manly hug.
Cornelia almost jumped at her brother. She hugged him all the way. ‘I’m so proud of you!’
‘Congratulations,’ Summer said, shaking his hand.
‘We haven’t been properly introduced. Summer Rideau?’ Carlton said her name in a proper French accent then kissed her hand.
‘It was a beautiful ceremony this afternoon,’ Summer said.
‘I guess you were the only one who understood what was said.’
Carlton then whispered something in French, jokingly it seemed, then kissed her hand again. Summer just smiled tentatively.
Scipio pulled her close as Summer withdrew her hand from his stepson.
‘Where’s Laura?’ asked Cornelia.
‘Mon chéri!’ Carlton called Laura who was talking with other guests. After Laura greeted Scipio and Cornelia, Carlton quickly introduced Summer, in French.
‘Nice to meet you,’ said Summer.
Laura said something to her in French.
‘You’re very kind,’ Summer replied, once more in English.
‘Sorry ladies and gent, it’s time for our dance,’ Carlton said, and whisked his bride to the dance f
loor.
The bride and groom danced to La Vie en Rose, kissing, whispering and giggling. Right then Scipio thought perhaps Carlton could be a good husband after all. He just wished he’d had a lot more time with his son leading to this moment.
After the first dance, others joined the newlyweds including Cornelia, who seemed to be showing the flower boys and girls how to dance.
Scipio gave his hand to Summer. ‘Would you?’
She blushed. They held on to each other and looked into each other. A few songs later, Summer tilted her head to listen in; one line in the song seemed to make her gleam. She exhaled long and placed her head on Scipio’s shoulder, her eyes closed. ‘How wonderful is this?’ she murmured then looked up at him. ‘Did you know what it said?’
The song was French.
‘… it said, “as long as my body trembles under your hands, I don’t care about anything else”.’ Her lips parted and Scipio kissed her, passionately, unashamedly.
‘France is beautiful. You’d never want to live here?’
‘We lived in Paris when we were toddlers. My mum’s friends were saying how lucky we were. But my mum hated it. She took us to Penguin to get away from the city.’
‘Your mum was weird.’
Summer smiled. ‘Then so am I. My heart lives in the south.’
Summer couldn’t help feeling smitten. A dance? To Hymne à l'amour? With Scipio in a tuxedo?
She smiled at her own reflection in the bathroom mirror. After touching up her make-up and hair, she adjusted her skirt and twirled from different positions, watching closely to make sure the scar on her left thigh couldn’t be seen anywhere (even though her skirt had a right-side slit). She was glad Scipio had talked her into the bold, sexy dress.
As she walked out of the powder room, she saw Carlton motioning her to come with him. ‘Please,’ he whispered when she first refused.
‘What is it, Carlton?’ The smell of alcohol was strong on him.
‘You look so beautiful. How lucky is Joseph?’
Summer walked away, but he quickly pulled her behind a wall of plants.
‘Carlton, you’re married.’
‘Yeah. It doesn’t mean I can’t say you’re beautiful.’
‘Don’t make me hurt you.’
‘My heart is already broken,’ he said. ‘He has you and I don’t.’
‘Carlton! One last time…’
‘I’ve got to have you…’ He reached for her exposed thigh.
Summer grabbed his wrist and twisted it. Carlton grimaced while releasing a silent scream. Slowly she let go. She turned around and walked tall although the feeling of his fingers on her skin disgusted her. She re-joined the party where she found Scipio chatting with Cornelia.
‘I was telling Cornelia about your mum’s “escape from Paris”.’
Summer laughed.
‘Well, France is nice if you’re a tourist. To be honest I wouldn’t live here,’ said Cornelia.
‘Good point,’ said Scipio.
Summer took Scipio’s hand and said softly, ‘I’m tired.’
Scipio put his arms around her. He knew she’d only had a few hours sleep since they’d arrived in Toulouse. ‘Okay. Let’s say goodnight to Carl and Laura then. Cornelia, you can stay if you want to.’
‘No, I’ll come with you guys.’
They caught Laura chatting with the master of ceremony. Seeing her guests waiting, Laura excused herself.
‘Merci d'être venu. You stay in motel?’ Laura asked after Scipio had told her they were leaving.
‘Air BnB,’ Cornelia said. ‘Where’s Carl?’
‘He’s in the toilettes. You need taxi?’ Laura said. Cornelia nodded. ‘Um… there, talk to that woman. She will call taxi.’
‘Joseph! You’re not leaving, are you?’ Carlton came from behind them. His voice caught the attention of a lot of people.
Scipio gave him a hug and said, ‘Be good.’ Then he shook Carlton’s hand – only for Carlton to flinch. ‘Sorry, you’re okay?’
Carlton rubbed his wrist. ‘Occupational hazard of partying. I’ve been holding up a champagne glass too long.’ He laughed.
‘Take it easy, Carl!’ Cornelia said and hugged her brother.
‘Cornelia… you look so much like Mum,’ Carlton said and put his hands on her cheeks. ‘You know…’
Scipio pulled Cornelia aside. ‘You’re drunk.’ He ushered his daughter towards the exit.
Summer followed and Carlton walked alongside her. He whispered, ‘Tu es délicieux même si tu es mauvais. Tu seras à moi!’
‘Enculé,’ she whispered back and caught up with Scipio.
‘What did he want?’ Scipio asked, keeping watch on Carlton.
Seeing he had his stepdad’s attention, Carlton winked and yelled, ‘I’ll see you soon, Joseph. I’ll see you soon.’
Summer said, ‘He just said I looked nice.’
Carlton had said she was delicious, despite being bad, and that she would be his. And she’d called him an arsehole.
28
Sleeping beauty
Summer was glad she was back in Penguin. She’d missed the air, the simpleness and her hard bed. Since Bobby had been out of the picture, Summer had split her time between the Beam House and Scipio’s. On the flight back from France she’d told Scipio how badly she wanted to ‘sleep like a plank’ again, and he understood. However, she’d ended up staying with him as he’d become violently ill thanks to a dodgy bacon and egg sandwich from Launceston.
Today Scipio had gone back to work and Summer, taking a day off, managed to steal a couple of hours to nap on her bed. She woke up to Scooter jumping on her.
‘Scoot!’ Summer chucklingly grumbled as the mutt licked her face. ‘You’re hungry?’
Scooter looked at Summer.
‘What?’
She barked.
Faintly Summer heard something buzzing. It wasn’t her phone; it couldn’t have been Scipio’s as he’d rung her earlier.
After looking around, she found the source of the noise. It was in the wardrobe – the phone Bobby had given her. Someone had fully charged it, and someone was calling. Shaking, she answered.
‘You never signed the divorce papers,’ Bobby said.
‘You’ve got your money. I thought you were a man of integrity.’
‘You couldn’t let go of Summer Washington after all. Was she your best creation? Or perhaps you simply can’t let me go?’
‘It’s just a piece of paper, Bobby. Doesn’t mean a thing to me.’
‘What happened to your Joseph last week? Food poisoning, was it?’
Summer almost growled. She could hear her own heartbeats as she paced her bedroom looking for something to punch. Scooter followed her every step, and when Summer stopped the mutt sat rigidly and looked at her with her front paws moving anxiously.
Summer said: ‘You know I’m not a desperate type. But when I am, I will take matters into my own hands. I was capable of marrying you, I am capable of destroying you.’
‘It was probably just a bad egg! It wasn’t me. I swear. But it could’ve been.’
The rhythm of his breathing made her sick. He was about to throw a punchline.
‘Fuck, Summer, you have 500K more! US dollars! And you miserably, helplessly bargained with me? Seventy k, you pleaded, as if your world would be over after that.’ Bobby continued, ‘I have a lawyer too, you know. Like your Bernard, but mine is a bit sneaky, so he wouldn’t mind snooping on your legal and financial affairs.’ He paused. ‘Heh! He’s actually a genius!’
Bobby had described someone as a genius before – almost the same way. Cesario, the drug lord Bobby had dealt with and, dared she say, worshipped.
Summer said, ‘I don’t know how your lawyer got that figure. Listen to me: I don’t have it!’
He continued, ‘You want to keep your beloved Joseph safe? All of it, Summer. One week. And I’m not bargaining this time!’
Summer slumped to the floor and dropped the phone. With that,
Scooter put her front right paw on her lap. ‘Oh Scoot… what the hell is going on?’
‘Bernard!’ Summer shouted into her mobile phone. ‘You can’t do these things behind my back! Where the hell did $500,000 US come from?’
‘Summer, who told you?’
She didn’t answer.
‘Your father had an investment in DC – which he opened under his, Jake’s and your names. When Jake passed away, he changed it to his and your names. When your mother fell ill, he cashed some of it and opened a new account just for you. I wasn’t aware of it until recently. It wasn’t in his will; it wasn’t recorded anywhere.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me about this?’
‘That investment matured a couple of weeks ago, and it automatically rolled over before I could do anything. I didn’t need anything from you, and am I right in thinking you didn’t want to know anyway?’
‘You didn’t want me to give it to charity?’
‘There’s nothing you could do right now. But yes, perhaps, I don’t think giving it to charity is the right thing to do. I told you once, I don’t trust your judgement. But it’s your money.’
‘And you shouldn’t have trusted yours, either! You did something that allowed Bobby’s lawyer to track it down.’
‘Shit! Shit!’ Bernard shouted. ‘I simply put the instructions in so it doesn’t roll over when it matures next time. So you yourself can decide. That sneaky lawyer, Alex, must’ve sniffed the movement.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Alex, well, Alejandro Marin.’
Summer nodded to herself. ‘I need the money now.’
‘You can’t – at least not within three years. They’re noncallable bonds.’
Once again Summer wished she’d had something she could destroy. Even in death Pierre could still cause her grief!
Summer watched Scooter lapping her dinner. Scooter’s eyes rolled at Summer every few seconds, as if the dog felt pressured to eat quickly. But Scooter chewed her meal as she always did, at her usual pace. Close to 10 o’clock, the pair headed to Scipio’s house anticipating he’d come home soon after his guys’ night with Caine.