Page 22 of A French Adventure
‘But we have to sell so we can both move on.’ Jeremy said angrily.
‘There is no “have to” about it for me.’
‘You’re just being difficult.’
‘Did you really expect me to agree to you getting your own way over everything? You chose to have the affair with that person I can’t bear to name but you expect me to pay the price and give up my home instantly because you want to move on. I’ll sign those papers when I have a plan in place for me – and not before.’
‘Bitch.’ And the line died before he could have heard Vivienne muttering a quiet, retaliating ‘Bastard’ at the man she’d once loved but now hated.
Vivienne closed her eyes and shook her head. What had their marriage become? Where had the man she’d been married to for so long gone? She’d never known Jeremy to behave like this before. He’d always been prone to a short temper when stressed but had been reasonably quick to calm down. At the airport when he’d told her he was leaving, he’d done it in a sad but composed way, blaming himself, but now she was refusing tomake life easy for him by agreeing to sell, he claimed she was being difficult. Perhaps it would be better if she simply gave in and signed the papers, try to stay civilised for the sake of Natalie and Tim. And sort her life out afterwards. But that would be tantamount to giving in to his bullying and she’d always hated bullies. No, she would sign the papers eventually, but she would hang it out for as long as possible.
Once the divorce happened, and happen it would, she had no doubt about that now, and the house was sold, she’d be a free woman to go wherever she wanted. Free to create a new life for herself. A life on her own terms. The only questions were, what would she do and where would she go?
Maxine dragged herself out of bed late Sunday morning after a restless night with very little sleep. A shower revived her somewhat and she made her way downstairs hoping Thierry wouldn’t notice the dark circles under her eyes that she’d done her best to conceal. There was no sign of him as she walked into the kitchen. A note was next to a bag of fresh croissants alongside the coffee machine.
Unexpectedly meeting an old friend for breakfast. See you later, T.
Maxine exhaled a deep sigh of relief. As much as she adored Thierry, and she truly did, she was grateful for his unexpected absence from the cottage this morning. She needed time alone to assimilate the contents of the two letters and to decide what to do about them. If anything.
The official letter with its unexpected, but also, if she were truthful, welcome news, was easy enough to deal with. Daiva Toussaint was dead. The man she had grown to hate with every fibre of her body was finally, permanently, out of her life.
It was the second letter in the smaller envelope that had truly blown her mind as she’d read it last night. That letter had the ability to turn her life completely upside down. Currently, though, her mind was in a whirling turmoil as to whether that would be a good or a bad thing. Was it thirty years too late? Would it be better not to respond? Importantly, did the person whom it concerned the most, even know it had been written? Let alone what it was proposing?
Before taking her coffee and a croissant outside, Maxine ran upstairs and fetched the white envelope with its letter to reread as she ate her breakfast under the loggia.
Maxine, if you are reading this you will have been informed that I am dead. I have no expectations that you will mourn me. This letter is to legally confirm permission and to instruct you to contact Leonie Toussaint. I hope you will put aside any reservations you may harbour and do the right thing even after all this time. She will need you. The lawyers will need to see this letter before they give you the contact details. Daiva.
Maxine placed the letter on the table and closed her eyes in despair. Only Daiva could have penned such a letter. Short, to the point and completely devoid of any emotion. The phrase ‘do the right thing even after all this time’ made her want to scream. He was the one who had originally done the wrong thing and then prevented her from doing anything about it. Anything. Right or wrong. But, as usual, there was no admission of guilt or an apology from Daiva. He’d told her once that his Indianmother had chosen his name because it meant ‘by the grace of god’. Maxine had never met anyone who deserved the name less.
Drinking her coffee, she wished, as she did so often these days, that Pierre was still alive. He’d know how to deal with this bombshell from her past. Help her decide what was the right, the best, thing to do. Her first instinct might be to take a leap into the unknown, make contact and hang the consequences, but so much could go wrong. Contacting Leonie Toussaint would mean opening up old painful wounds and Maxine wasn’t at all certain that her heart would physically survive another damning emotional attack that would surely reopen all the old scars that had left her permanently damaged.
‘That was so delicious,’ Olivia said, swallowing the last of her breakfast bruschetta. ‘Thank you for suggesting it. I know it’s simple to make, but somehow the Italian cook here turns tomatoes and mushrooms on sour dough toast into a real treat. I can’t remember the last time I had bruschetta here in the market. Probably with you before you went away. Talking of which, I need to apologise to you. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have needled you about your job. It was nothing to do with me.’ There, she’d apologised.
Thierry shook his head. ‘No apology needed, Tuppence. You were looking out for me, concerned that I was doing the wrong thing. If an apology is due, it’s from me to you. I can admit now that you were right. It wasn’t the job for me, but at the time chasing the big money…’ He shrugged. ‘It seemed the thing to be doing. Papa, he didn’t want me to take the job either,’ Thierry admitted quietly. ‘He told me several times that I wasn’t living the life he wanted for me. The one that would make me happy.’
‘I was so sorry about Pierre. I loved him too.’ Olivia reached out to touch Thierry’s hand resting on the table and he gave it a squeeze as he grasped it. ‘Do you have any plans for finding a job that will make you happy?’
Thierry shook his head. ‘I have a couple of ideas that I need to check out. There’s no rush. I have savings, and since Papa died…’ He shrugged. ‘Let’s say I can take my time deciding what to do. I know one or two things that I don’t want to do and the first is I don’t want to live in Asia any longer, and secondly…’ He took a deep breath. ‘I don’t want to be a player in a high-powered business world anymore. But as to what I do want.’ He gave her a quizzical look. ‘Not quite sure.’
‘Inheriting Aunt Daphne’s flower business got me out of the rat race that I hated,’ Olivia said quietly. ‘Being a florist wasn’t something I’d ever thought about doing, but I love being back in France and running the flower taxi. Maman isn’t so thrilled and seems to be increasing her efforts to find me a rich husband so I can give it all up and settle down to give her the grandchildren she is apparently desperate for. But the men she keeps introducing me to are not my type at all. I’m pretty sure you’ll meet one of them, Harry, at the Grand Prix next Sunday. Maman is sure to have invited his parents and him.’ She turned to look at Thierry. ‘You are coming to that, aren’t you?’
‘Of course. Family tradition. Papa, he always insist we spend race day with Trent and Felicity.’
‘It will be hard for you this year,’ Olivia said. ‘But I know Dad will make sure you’re okay and I shall rely on you to rescue me from Harry – not to mention from my mother.’
Vivienne spent the rest of Sunday writing and managed to push all thoughts of her future into a deep recess in her mind after ‘that’ phone call with Jeremy. She’d think about the future another time. Today she would concentrate on the book.
It was four o’clock when her mobile rang, breaking her concentration, and she quickly glanced at the caller ID before smiling in relief. Natalie not Jeremy.
After the usual pleasantries, Natalie said, ‘I’ve spoken to Tim and I was right. He did suspect that Dad was playing away. He and the team had answered a call on the outskirts of town just after Christmas and he got a brief glimpse of him walking along, with his arm around the shoulders of a crying woman.’
‘Why didn’t he say something to you or even to me?’
‘Apparently he tackled Dad about it the next time he saw him and Dad assured him he was just comforting a friend who’d had some bad news. Tim did say he wasn’t sure he believed him at the time, but he didn’t have any evidence to call him out on it.’
‘Did Tim recognise the woman?’
‘Nope. Said the patient they’d picked up was critical and they had the blue lights and the siren on so they were going too fast and he was too busy after that.’
