Page 23 of A French Adventure
‘Have you spoken to Dad recently? Has he told you her name yet?’
‘No to both questions. Have you heard from him?’
‘He bombarded me with messages yesterday evening. I’d gone to a party and left my phone here, so I didn’t pick them up. He was very cross with me when he rang at six thirty this morning,’ Vivienne said. ‘Especially when I refused to do what he wanted me to do.’ She quickly went on to explain to Natalie about the house sale. ‘Told me I was being difficult because he wants to get on with his new life as quickly as possible. And then he called me a rude name and hung up on me!’
Natalie was silent for a second or two. ‘Dad might be keen to get on with this new life he wants, but do you have any idea yet what you’re going to do with your new life? When it’s all settled down?’
‘I truly have no idea at the moment,’ Vivienne answered. ‘For the immediate future, I am going to concentrate on what I came down here for, writing my next book. Oh, can you switch into video mode?’ she said, pressing the video button on her own phone. Time to change the conversation. ‘Look what I had done yesterday.’
‘Mum! I love it. That style really suits you. So how was the party last night?’
‘It was great. Maxine’s friends were all welcoming and next Sunday a couple of them, Felicity and Trent, have invited me to a party in Monaco to watch the Grand Prix.’
‘Tim will be totally envious when I tell him that,’ Natalie said. ‘Any news on our French connection?’
‘No, sorry. I haven’t had time to do anything with that yet, but I will soon, I promise.’
‘Okay, I’d better go, cakes to make for tomorrow. When I talk to Dad next, I shall make a point of telling him that you are having a ball down there,’ Natalie said, laughing as the call finished.
16
Vivienne thought about the conversation with Natalie as she prepared a salad and poached egg for her supper. Tim’s confession that he’d seen Jeremy all those months ago made her wonder how many other people knew that her husband was having an affair and had chosen not to mention it to her? In a way, she could understand Tim not saying anything to her, especially after Jeremy’s glib explanation. He’d been preoccupied with a patient and had had only a brief glimpse of his father with an arm around a woman. Nothing more than that. Besides, who wanted to accuse either of their parents of cheating? Would she have believed Tim back then anyway? She was conscious at the time that she and Jeremy were going through a rough patch but had thought it was nothing that couldn’t be sorted by sitting down together and talking. If Tim had said something, perhaps it would have spurred her into taking action to demand the truth about their marriage from Jeremy. On the other hand, it had probably been already too late to save their marriage.
Sitting up on the terrace to eat her lunch, Natalie’s question about what was she going to do with this new life of hers poppedinto Vivienne’s mind. A question she’d given the only possible answer to at that moment: concentrate on writing the new book. Otherwise, it was an impossible question to answer until she’d figured out what she wanted to do. Life as a single woman would take some getting used to. So many decisions to be made before a new normal life could resume. The biggest decision she had to make was where would she live once her home was sold? Could she bear to stay in the same town and know everyone was talking about her and Jeremy? Risk the chance of bumping into him and her in the supermarket or even simply walking down the street or in the park.
No, she’d have to move away. She hadn’t asked for this sudden disruption, but she was the one who had to pick up the pieces of her life and try to create a new order out of the mayhem. At least Natalie and Tim were adults. It wasn’t as if they were children who would be traumatised by the whole thing. Maxine had been right when she’d pointed out that while the two of them would obviously be upset at the family breaking up they would accept and move on with their own lives quicker than she would be able to. Vivienne was the one whose whole existence had been thrown up in the air and was currently crashing around her in pieces. And she was the only one too who could pick up the pieces and rearrange her life to give her a happy future by letting Jeremy and the past go.
Finishing her wine, Vivienne loaded the supper dishes into the dishwasher and opened the French connection file on her laptop. This was something from her past that she needed to investigate before she could consign that to history along with Jeremy. She stared at the two items. Jacqueline had left her tantalisingly little to go on. A sealed envelope, with the name Pascal Rocher and his address in Puget Theniers, in the Alpes-Maritimes, and a photograph of a couple who might, or might not be, her birth parents.
Vivienne took a deep breath. She’d start by googling a map to find the location of the village in the countryside behind Nice and then work out a way to get there.
Maxine spent the next couple of days at home, thankful she had no meetings with holidaymakers for any of the apartments, or clients for house viewings. The weather, all blue skies and sunny days, allowed her to spend the mornings gardening, leaving her subconscious mind to wander over and over the decision she needed to make as she pulled weeds and deadheaded flowers, in the futile hope the right decision would arrive in her brain in a flash, ready-made. With the temperatures hitting the high twenties by midday, Maxine was happy to head indoors for lunch and to spend the afternoons trying to read in the coolest room in the cottage: her bedroom.
Living in the same house, it was impossible to avoid some contact with Thierry, especially at mealtimes. He had clearly noticed she was quieter than usual when they met up – usually for dinner as she’d decided to skip breakfast most days – but so far, beyond a concerned ‘ça va?’ he hadn’t pushed, for which Maxine was grateful.
Part of her longed to talk to someone about her problem. Thierry would have listened and tried to help she knew, but she also knew she couldn’t bring herself to tell him how stupid she’d been and all the circumstances that lay behind the decision she now had to make. Pierre had been the only person she’d ever talked to about Daiva Toussaint, and that had been difficult enough. No point in burdening Thierry with the knowledge as well. Of course she’d have to tell him the truth if she did makecontact with Leonie, but until that happened there was little point in mentioning it.
By Wednesday afternoon, Maxine was close to making a decision and settling on a plan of action. When she was absolutely certain it was the right thing to do, she’d get in touch with the lawyer, send him a copy of Daiva’s letter and obtain the contact details. She didn’t have to do it immediately, she could wait until she was totally certain it was the correct thing to do. She could still decide against using the contact details when the solicitor sent them and consign all the Toussaints to her past.
Thierry was in the sitting room scrolling through his phone when she went downstairs ready to go to Vivienne’s for the evening.
‘You are going out?’ Thierry asked. ‘You feel better?’
Maxine nodded. ‘Oui, I’m having supper with Vivienne and Olivia.’ She hesitated. Thierry had obviously been more worried about her than she’d thought. ‘I amdesoléif I’ve been a little off since the party, but normal service resumesmaintenant,’ and she smiled at him.
‘Bon. I have to admit I was worried. It is not like you to be so quiet,’ Thierry said.
‘Merci. It was just the party, it was you know… a little overwhelming. I’ll see you later.’ And Maxine quickly left, hoping she’d said enough to stop Thierry worrying and not to probe further the next time they talked.
Olivia spent Wednesday morning down in Port Vauban Marina delivering flowers and commissioned arrangements to the various yachts. Driving the pink taxi home at midday, she thought about her plans for the rest of the week. Grand Prixweek was always a busy one for her. A couple of arrangements to create this afternoon for two of the large yachts moored in Monaco, plus the one she always did for her parents’ sitting room ready for the Sunday party. Timing was everything during the week because Monaco roads were closed at different times for practice and qualifying for the various road races that would take place over the weekend. Working out a timetable if you needed to get in and out of Monaco and sticking to it was crucial during Grand Prix week.
As she signalled to turn down the narrow lane that led to the villa’s garage entrance, Olivia saw Thierry standing on the corner. She gave a quick toot, coupled with a wave, and smiled as he began to make his way across the road to the garage.
‘Hi. Have you got time for a coffee or even lunch?’
‘A baguette from the beach snack bar would be great,’ Olivia said. ‘Give me a few minutes to put the leftover flowers in the cold room and I’ll be with you.’
‘I’ll give you a hand,’ and Thierry lifted up the nearest urn with its lilies and effortlessly carried it in while Olivia followed with two boxes.
